#why am i always flipped with a guy whose names start with a t

[aolechan]

Theo James as Edward Horniman in The Gentlemen 01x05

#so... yeah #theo james #edward horniman #eddie horniman #the gentlemen #the gentlemen netflix #theojamesedit #mancandykings #flawlessgentlemen #dailynetflix #tvedit #dilfgifs #dailymenedit #why am i always flipped with a guy whose names start with a t #tw smoke #chans

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 6

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6200 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language, mention of death.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

To an untrained eye, need and love are as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

Deb Caletti

Chapter 6

A low lit room- more fitting of an old jail than an art lock up- surrounds you with cool air that tickles the tiny hairs on the back of your bare neck, as you bend over double, digging through the equipment in the abyss of your bag. A gap forms between the waist of your jeans and t-shirt, revealing the tiniest bit of the lace edging from your bra band- a tantalising fact that catches Marcus’ breath, alerting you to his presence, “Hey, you ok?” you ask straightening up, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, uh sorry. Think I just had a bit of dust in my throat,” Marcus stammers, utterly thrown by that glimpse of your underwear, as he tries to clear his throat and remember the reason he was standing in front of you, “So, uh, yeah, um- we found a couple of signatures from Paul Guillaume and Albert C Barnes- weren’t they the guys we had to look out for?”

Looking over the papers with your cotton gloves still on, you pour over the shaping of the letters that made up the signatures of the possible previous owners, “I dunno. I’m not convinced- the positioning of the letters seem odd- like a crude rendition of someone’s signature. Almost like someone’s faking their mum’s signature to get out of PE class. Only the thing is, you know the movement of your mum’s hand as she signs something because you’ve watched her do it a million times before. Those signatures do not seem real to me, personally.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise as he crosses his arms, desperately trying to hide the smile that was creeping across his face. “You faked your mom’s signature a lot?”

“Poacher turned gamekeeper,” Élodie remarks as she crosses between the two of you, straightening your t-shirt up where it has caught upon the back of your jeans.

Marcus tries not to let his disappointment show. Calm down, Pike, you’re hardly a horny seventeen year old. But that was how you made him feel and certainly the uncomfortable pressure building in his jeans might prove otherwise.

“I don’t think we will necessarily manage to get this solved today,” you begin, “The section that Élodie looked at dates it reasonably within the time period but those signatures are now tingling my spidey senses. It’s probably going to need to be sent for further investigations at a proper lab. I’m about to look at it using the stereomicroscope- do you want to have a look with me?”

Marcus nods eagerly, earning a grin from you, and you start setting up the pieces you need- ensuring that the video camera is linked to your iPad so Marcus can see everything you are looking at in real time along with you.

Marcus drifts closer to the painting. You haven’t seemed to notice his closeness yet, and he half hopes you don't, as from where he’s standing the aromatically pleasing scent of your shampoo wafts dreamily from the dark shimmer of your hair.

“So tell me more about this piece. I love listening to you speaking about art. You make it seem like I’m looking over the artist’s shoulder as they’re painting it.” Marcus remarks, smiling when he notices the flush creeping over your cheeks that his words bring.

Impressed by your decision to play into his words rather than focus on how awkward you feel at the compliment, he loves how you fan yourself and flutter your eyelashes at him, “Monsieur, you flatter me! Well, looking at this piece it’s not difficult to imagine that Soutine may have had a longstanding beef with food. Though he was fascinated by food and frequently painted these edible arrangements, this stands as one of his most memorable and dare I say, raw interpretations.”

At these terrible puns, Marcus pretends to drum, “Ba da boom tish!”

“Do not encourage her!” Jacques shouts from the other side of the room where he is labeling the bags for the slide samples that Élodie had been collecting, “Once you acknowledge one pun, she’ll ensure that everything she says has one. Queen Nush of the dad jokes!”

“So at the meat of Soutine’s obsession,” Marcus half-snorts, half-groans, intending to encourage you as you add, “You find that a combination of not having anything to eat due to extreme poverty and using what food the family did have to practice Kosher traditions is largely to blame for his playing with his food rather than eating it.”

Marcus watches you flick through your phone so as not to interrupt the finally clear feed from the stereomicroscope focussing on how you bite your lip. You quickly google the Rembrandt that you want him to look at. “The remains of this omnivorous…”

“Oh you’re still gonna continue with that theme, yeah?” Marcus’ feels his lips curve at your humour, shaking his head at the ridiculous word play.

“Oh, I can keep this going all day,” you say with the cheekiest of winks, and Marcus hopes you will.

*****

“Omnivorous obsession,” you continue, “was based on his adoration of Rembrandt whose 1655 Flayed Ox was frequently salivated over by Soutine on his regular visits to the Louvre. Rembrandt’s carcass is noted for its vivid colors but when compared to Soutine’s, which was coated almost daily with fresh buckets of blood by his assistant, Rembrandt seems downright dull. The smell of rotting beef and fresh blood became so oppressive that neighbours called the police, who almost threw away the fermenting flesh before, what I can only assume was the Frankenstein-esque assistant, shooed them away like so many flies covering a carcass.”

“Always with the focus on the graphic elements of art,” Jacques calls out with a snort at your zombie-like impression before receiving a sharp nudge to his ribs to focus on the job Élodie has asked him to complete.

“Art is just a reflection of the things that humanity finds interesting and what can be more interesting to a temporal being than their own mortality or that of the creatures and objects that surround it?” At this statement, you tug Marcus’ coat sleeve away from the piece to come and look at the feed you have set up for him, “Come on you, we’d better focus or Élodie will have my guts for garters for not concentrating on what I should be doing!”

Marcus allows you to lead him over to a black metal folding chair to look at the feed, “So what are we looking for, Mademoiselle Pathologist?”

“Hah, did you just call her mademoiselle? She’s too old for that!” Élodie shouts in your direction.

Refusing to respond verbally to Élodie’s rudeness, you flick a finger up at her and turn back to Marcus, “Madame Pathologist will do- I am comfortable with my age. So what we are looking for are any bits of difficult to detect damage, fading, repairs and the ways paints and other coatings are distributed. Also if there are any strange fibres that we can spot using the double lens.”

Hovering the microscope over the bottom left hand corner, you start to scan the piece, “So what we’re looking for are any irregularities that we might not have picked up on a first scan that Élodie did to take the samples. The stereomicroscope helps us to understand the art in more 3D terms- so we can see something that generally looks flat becomes a landscape of hills and valleys.”

“Why’ve you chosen that corner to start?” Marcus probed inquisitively, wondering as to whether there’s method in your madness.

“Just felt like it!” You shrug and snort at his look of mock horror. “Nah, it’s where the signature is and ‘cos I’m not sure about the signatures on those documents you found, I want to take a closer look at Soutine’s over here. Kinda feels like a sensible place to start.” Your eyes squint as you drink in the images in front of you, snapping up when you hear a small grunt of consternation from your boss, “Have you found something, Marcus?”

“That’s weird. It kind of looks like the signature has been scratched into the art,” Marcus squints at the signature on the screen, reaching over to the table where the possible documents with Guillaume and Barnes’ scrawls lie, “Also, I am not an expert in graphology but the letter e looks consistent across the three names- they all arch at the same point.”

“Waouh- that’s a good catch,” Élodie agrees, pulling Jacques with her to look over Marcus’ shoulder at the finds upon the feed.

Jacques escapes Élodie’s clutch and starts to flit back and forth, checking between the painting and the feed with a mild look of confusion on his face, “This is preposterous. Why have they done the signature in a different medium to the one used to paint it? It’s almost like they want to be caught.”

“It looks like it has been lacerated by a needle,” Marcus scratches at his patchy beard in astonishment, “Spot on Jacques, it’s like they can’t even be bothered to hide their tracks.”

“Ok, I think we may have found one of our fakes,” a smile slowly creeps across your face, “Obviously, we can’t be definite -there are still so many tests that need to be done but I don’t think this is an original,” you shake your head with a half smile, “Élodie, I think we need to organise for this to be couriered back to the labs.”

An excited squeal from Élodie and a soft oof from Jacques puncture the cool air as she flies into his arms, squeezing him in sheer delight. As the pair embrace with joy, you and Marcus are left there- Marcus on the fold out chair, gripping the iPad tighter than necessary- I swear that man never quite knows what do with his hands- and you sitting cross legged on the floor with the stereomicroscope lying in your lap- grinning like idiots at each other.

✪✪✪✪✪

More coffee and cakes are devoured in the aftermath whilst you await a courier to come and pick up the likely forgery- you are not entirely sure that the blood in your body hasn’t entirely transformed into sugar and caffeine at this point. After checking alongside Élodie that the painting had been carefully loaded into a van, you sit next to her on the pavement outside the auction house.

“Do you know where Marcus and Jacques are?” you question as you sink onto the dusty ground next to her.

“Yeah, they’re inside taking an informal statement from the auction house owner before the local police quiz her properly,” Élodie rests her temple to your shoulder, “Today has been wonderful. I really like Marcus - from what I have seen of him. I think this will be a good move for you.”

“I do miss having you here though. Today feels like the first time I have had both of my arms. Since you returned to London, it has felt like a part of me has been missing.”

Hauling a deep breath into your lungs to try to quell that gnawing ache in your belly, you turn to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I am sorry, El. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start explaining what happened or even truly understand how everything fell apart so badly.”

The mountain wind decides to blow an icy gust that cuts through your clothes to the bones of you, “It was a normal undercover job- we’d been watching the comings and goings of the gang from a inside a local greasy spoon for ages-just trying to get a clear idea of what their patterns of behaviour were and it just all went South so quickly.

“Being a tiny caff on an industrial estate by the Thames, it was open 24 hours and the day it happened, it was during the middle of a night shift when the gang decided to up the ante. They’d obviously clocked that we weren’t exactly who we said we were,” you snort softly at the memory, “I mean Jas’ accent was a bit sus for being a short order cook but still.

“The gang openly marched the illegal immigrants out of the container and made them kneel in front of the caff as a lure to us, trying to get us to drop our cover. These fucking innocents just trying to find a better life and the evil fuckers just started executing them- one after the other. Jas just ran out there straight away- dropping his cover without any proper back up, a flak jacket or anything. His stupid, kind self trying to save at least one of them without a backward glance.

“I said the code word so we could have armed back up within minutes but I knew it wouldn’t be there quickly enough,” your voice starts to falter as your throat tightens over the words.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, chouchou,” Élodie squeezes the thigh nearest to her.

“I know but I should tell someone, somewhen. You’re probably one of the few who would understand.”

You pause, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you allow that stagnant, putrid box of memories to reopen, flooding your senses with the foul gangrenous smell of the past.

Having called in backup, you make the decision to slip out of the back door of the caff and run for cover behind the large communal bins. The incessant rain was giving zero sign of stopping and the noise was deafening as it bounced off the metal sides and drummed upon the tarmacked surface. You could barely hear the desperate negotiations that Jasper was trying to make for the lives of these poor, exploited humans.

From here, hiding amongst the shadows, you could catch the eye of one of the kneeling men and signal to him as to when he should try to make a run over to you. He’d reached his little finger out to the person to his right to alert them to the plan. Achingly slowly, tiny gestures had passed down the line of five remaining fellows, from person to person, notifying them of your presence and how you were attempting to save them.

You counted them down and then screamed for them to run. Gunshots rang throughout the air as they made a break for the supposed safety of the bins by you as blue lights and sirens swirled, announcing their arrival between the shipping containers. You counted them as they ran for their lives past you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

But the gunshots…

Jasper.

As you ran to your former partner’s lifeless form, three more shots rang through the air, taking out the associates who’d been ruthlessly gunning down their illegal chattel. Jasper lay there in the harsh headlight of the armed response unit car, his apron and chef’s jacket were no longer the starchy white that glowed under the strip lighting of the kitchen but his skin had taken on a similar pallid tone as his life force pooled around him, staining the oily surface with a bloody bloom. Knelt there with the grit from the floor biting into the skin of your knees, you held his head in your lap, stroking his cold cheek as a shadow cast across you both.

“He’s gone, Nush.”

Tears course down your face in tiny rivulets and spill into Élodie’s hair, “If I had said yes at Fourvière. If I had accepted the position St Vincent had offered me, he’d still be here. He would still be here.”

After putting a hand on each cheek, Élodie then taps you upon the nose making your red-rimmed, watery eyes look into hers, “You didn’t shoot the gun. You didn’t kill him,” she says so matter of fact that you almost feel an inclination to believe her, “You have to stop blaming yourself at some point.”

“He made the decision to go out there without back up or any protection. If I remember correctly, it was Jas’ decision to head back to London too, effectively ending the freedom you had out here,” she adds gravely, “Everyone has to make decisions, Nush. Ours just tend to have more life or death outcomes and remember, the choice you made- you saved five people.

“As for marrying him, you didn’t want to and I don’t know quite how to clearly say this but you don’t have to marry someone because they ask you. Or because you think it’s the right thing to do. You saying no to him, had zero implications in how his life ended,” Élodie smooths a tendril of hair that has escaped your plait behind your ear, “Your relationship didn’t have a true balance because you spent so long trying to hide it- everything feels so much more amplified if you are constantly watching your coattails.”

Rubbing the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions from your eyes, you turn to face Élodie, “What if that’s it? What if that was my chance of happiness?”

“Okay so you’re now fully in the ridiculous territory, idiot! So bloody naive,” Élodie rolls her eyes and slaps your knee, “ There’s no one person out there- nobody is perfect for you. There are just people who enter your life at different times and there is a certain compatibility…”

“Like you might want to jump their bones,” you giggle through the snot.

“Yep, that definitely helps! But after a while, other stuff comes up and again, you have to make those decisions whether you want to move to the next one or work at the relationship you have,” Élodie says frankly, “ Your first proper grown up relationship wasn’t ever truly allowed to develop into something normal and healthy but please don’t ever think for a second that is all you deserve or will ever get.”

“More happened than just Jasper’s death,” you confide in your ally.

“I know sweetheart. You tell me when you are ready,” Élodie pats your leg, “You will always have Jacques and I here for you. And I reckon Pierre would take you back in a heartbeat if you ever need to escape Marcus, not that I think you will.” You feel a little confused by Élodie’s last statement but don’t have time to swell upon it as the door to the auction house swings open.

Noticing two figures- one wiry and talking rapidly with his hands, the other broad and showing great interest in what the other has to say- walking towards you, you offer Élodie a hand up from your pavement seat. You feel a gentle hand brushing over your bottom and crane your neck to see who it belongs to, “Well, I’d hate for you to make my car any dirtier,” Élodie winks at you.

✪✪✪✪✪

The trip back to Lyon didn’t allow for any more rest for tired eyes against cool car windows. Excited chatter filled the car as between the four of you, you were all busily beavering away from making shouted calls to the science laboratories in Interpol- calling in favours to get your samples tested first- to fingers tapping on screens, flinging emails back to offices trying to inform everyone who needed to know. Although the journey was far longer, it felt as though five minutes had passed from the moment you’d left the auction house- the exhaustion from your disclosure to Élodie giving way to the adrenaline pumping through your veins with the excitement of having found a piece of the puzzle.

Jacques quickly parks in the Interpol car park, where you all pile out of the car, heading back towards the offices. As you walk together, you hear Marcus answer the phone to Andy back in London, filling him in on the events of the day- thankfully leaving out the parts where he’d talked you through a panic attack or accidentally held hands with him.

You didn’t need anyone else in the London offices thinking you were unprofessional. There were enough of those already.

Marcus. So much of the fear has ebbed away about the new role, and in such little time, thanks to your new boss. This straight-speaking American, who makes you speak up and want to stand up a bit taller. For the first time in what felt like forever, work doesn’t feel like a chore to pay the bills for a small, damp flat in South London. It isn’t so much the work as you know that like the back of your hand- it was that feeling of appreciation.

That feeling that someone sees what you can offer and values your contributions- not just as some rookie in an established office but as an equal. You know you are lucky- you get to use all the knowledge from your art history degree (oh how your family had groaned in consternation- doctor or lawyer- those were the proper options. Y’know, a proper career path not something seen as being so wishy-washy) and use it to protect the beauty of art from the shadier underbelly. Not that you could ever explain that part to your mum or her sisters, who just thought you were in some IT job with ridiculous hours.

In fact, it was the first time. You’d worked your way up from being a rookie with Stephens and although you'd got to work in a field with which you had a borderline obsession, you were still always seen as the new kid, even though others came and went after you’d joined and that got a bit wearing, especially when you’d hit your thirties and as you edged ever closer to your forties, it had bordered on the ridiculous.

But Marcus. He didn’t just listen to what you had to say, he positively encouraged you to speak- never expecting you to hold your tongue or wait for the “grown ups” to stop talking.

“Hey, Earth to Anushka,” those ridiculously warm eyes try to call your attention into focus.

“Sorry, heard you on the phone to Andy and took the opportunity to disappear with my thoughts for a bit. It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it?” you mutter as the knuckles of your hands almost rub holes in your eye sockets.

“Yeah, I thought we’d find zip on our first check as a team but that was something else,” Marcus nods, pouting his lips in thought, “I honestly thought it was an authentic piece when I found those signatures- just shows how careful we have to be with these crooks.

“You look about ready to collapse- that sleep on the way over, not help? I was about to ask if you fancied grabbing some dinner together but you’re dead on your feet.”

“Didn’t really get much sleep last night. Was kind of dreading what today would bring but,” your hand extends to squeeze Marcus’ forearm, “But you’ve made today far less painful than it could have been.” You feel a warmth creep through you, blooming from the spot where Marcus has placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles upon your skin.

“How about a slow walk back to the hotel, we grab some pizza on the way back and sit and watch Sharknado 4 this evening?” you suggest, still not removing your hand from his arm, ”I need to eat something other than breakfast pastries today.”

“Hmmm, I would say that dinner is the best time for breakfast food but yeah, probably best that we find something a bit more substantial,” Marcus relents reluctantly like a petulant child as Élodie and Jacques turn towards you both.

“Oh, why the sad eyes, Marcus? Has she been mean to you? ” Élodie teases, “We have contacts- we can make her disappear…”

Jacques shoots you a despairing look from under his arched eyebrow. The aching sadness returns in your tummy- you’ve missed them so much and missed out on so many special moments with them, “Oof, hey Nush! This isn’t goodbye- no matter the threats Élodie makes upon your life!”

Élodie leans in to sandwich you between the pair of them, “No, Marcus has given me your phone number and your email address- and he has promised me that even if you don’t respond to my communications, that he will send regular updates.” You look over at Marcus, who sends you a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders, flashing that goddamn dimple in his right cheek.

“Élodie, are you going upstairs to get everything ready?” Jacques questions his wife, “ There’s only twenty minutes before I need to pick up Xavier from my parents so I’d probably better head off. Can you grab a taxi home afterwards? Nush, I love you and I will see you soon.

“Marcus, it has been a pleasure. I will ensure that all the details are shared with you in London. Let’s keep the lines of communication open between us, oui?” A firm handshake was not the only thing to pass between the men, as Jacques pats Marcus on the back and they wordlessly share a thought, Marcus’ eyes flickering back to you with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s find food and a film before we collapse,” Marcus beckons you towards him with a wave back to Élodie and Jacques before they head off in their respective directions, Élodie’s hand stroking yours as she walks away.

✪✪✪✪✪

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing barefoot outside Marcus’ hotel room door, oddly nervous about knocking. Your hair hangs in waves around your shoulders, still holding some of the twisted kinks that the plaits you wore it in had formed over the course of the day, face scrubbed but you are second guessing your choice of wearing pjs to your new boss’ room. Not that they were in any way indecent- just a good old pair of cotton jammies from M&S and you’d kept your bra on underneath, because not even the worst war criminal deserves to be tortured by the sight of you with your bra off. Just as you were about to head back for a hoodie to perhaps offer an ounce more decency, the door swung open and a slightly surprised look adorns Marcus’ face.

“Hey, I was just about to check where you were. Pizza’s getting cold and you should probably have something warm in your belly that isn’t coffee today!”

“Oh, I was just going to swing back to my room for a hoodie,” you awkwardly mutter in the direction of the deliciously soft looking man, wearing grey joggers and a white t-shirt in front of you.

A small pout crosses Marcus’ lips, “Come on, if you’re chilly, the pizza’ll warm you up but if you’re still cold after eating, you can grab one of mine- that is if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he checks by lowering his eyes and gently lifting your chin.

Deciding not to keep the pizza waiting, you nod and shuffle past Marcus, the plush carpet deliciously soft underfoot, “I haven’t forgotten that we were halfway through a conversation this morning when El and Jacques arrived to pick us up. You want to tell me why you don’t feel like you are where you feel you should be?” you don’t look at Marcus as you ask him, picking the olives off the top of your pizza.

“I thought you said you like olives?” Marcus questions confusedly as he grabs a slice himself.

“Oh I do, but I’ll eat them afterwards as I like to savour them by themselves,” you giggle at your weird pizza eating habits, “Was that a wish to evade the question? Would you prefer to put on a film?”

“Hah, no! You’re full of quirks, y’know? It’s cute,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Cute?” you raise an eyebrow at this affectionate comment, “Eh, I dunno. I don’t think you can get to almost forty without embracing your quirks at some point.”

“I just hoped that by this point I’d be married with 2.4 kids, a dog and a nice house. Y’know, settled- never taking it for granted, obviously but comfortable with a family,” there’s a flicker of pain that passes through Marcus’ eyes as he speaks and it cuts through you like a knife.

“How on Earth are you not in a long term relationship with a lucky person? From what you’ve shown me over the past two days, you’re kind, considerate and thoughtful- although you should never tease a woman about her supposed snoring,” you pull an ugly face at him, sticking your tongue out and wrinkling your nose to diffuse the tension in his forehead, forcing him to laugh.

“Oh, I was married once and had long term relationships but neither worked out, sadly,” Marcus shrugs, focussing intently on his next pizza slice, “Can’t the same thing be said about you? You’re a beautiful, funny and intelligent woman and although you are a menace to yourself and those around you with a coffee cup in your hands, I don’t get why you haven’t been snapped up.”

Grabbing the pizza box and Marcus’ hand- pulling them both towards your room, you say, “Come with me.”

Thrusting the pizza box towards his hands, you put the keycard in the door and the light flickers to green. Guiding Marcus by the food container through the room to the balcony, you swing the French doors open to be greeted by a stiff Alpine air and the twinkling lights of Lyon spreading towards you.

“As you know from today, I was here in Lyon before. My partner and I were seconded here to work alongside Interpol on an art smuggling case- that’s how I knew El, Jacques, Pierre and everyone else from this morning’s meeting. We weren’t just work partners, we’d been hiding a romantic relationship for just over a decade in London as we knew that our supervisors wouldn’t allow us to continue to work together,” you clear your throat and see a flash of concern from Marcus seeing how much your hands were trembling.

He reaches for your hand with the lightest of touches grazing your ring and little fingers but not letting go.

Drawing a deep breath, you continue, “You see the beautiful cathedral up there- Fourviere?” you catch Marcus giving a gentle nod as he looks in the direction of your hand, the one he’s not holding, “Jasper asked me to marry him up there. And I, um… I said no.” Your eyes guiltily shift to the left after owning up to your shoddy track record.

“I mean, I did love him but I couldn’t offer him what he wanted or needed from life or from me. We’d hidden too long in the shadows and the thought of trying to explain everything to our families, to our friends, to our workplace was just too overwhelming. I had a lot more to lose than him.

“As you said earlier, our work is very much an old boys network and as a mixed race woman against a white man- who’d got his position due to a bit of nepotism as his uncle was our London boss- I stood to lose so much more. I have always had to work harder and to be a more impressive candidate to be taken as seriously as any white man in the room.”

“Had we returned to London as a married couple, there would have been so many unspoken questions about when we would think about having babies so there’d never be a chance of going any higher for me. And although seeing El and Jacques today- they have it so balanced. El was telling me that they split her maternity leave equally and that even now their baby is one, they have flexi working times so although they have such a little one and such intense jobs, they can still be there for bedtimes and neither of them be sidelined. But I know that’s not how it would have worked with us. Jas would have worked full time and I would have been a simmering pot of resentment.”

You notice that despite your confession that Marcus still hasn’t stopped holding your hand and regardless of the evening chill, warmth spreads through you at the thought that you haven’t entirely repulsed him with your actions.

“Where is he now? DId he ask for a transfer when you headed back?” Marcus gently questions.

“He took the ultimate transfer. We were working together undercover and he was shot multiple times trying to save some people from being murdered,” with a small shrug, you take your hand back from Marcus despite the comfort it is bringing you and cover your face. As you do so, he pulls you towards him, holding you tightly into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

With a gentle push back from his broad chest but without leaving his arms completely, you tilt your face up at him, “In fact, other than Jas’ death the bitterest pill was me being transferred out of the department. As you can probably imagine, a lot of shit went down after that night and a lot of the blame from it was laid at my door. Whilst it was all happening, I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with work colleagues and of course, your family can only know so much of what’s going on when you follow our line of work.

“So, I spent eight months in a stupid kind of limbo- being paid full whack whilst sitting at home, mourning a man who I’d been with for a quarter of my life but didn’t want to marry.” Shaking your head slowly, you continue, “That’s why I was a bit of a mess today- I kind of dreaded seeing everyone and how they might blame me for everything that happened with Jas.”

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart,” with that affectionate nickname confidently trickling from Marcus’ lips, you look up and smile broadly at him, “I am sorry that you went through all that. I have to be honest, as I am a terrible liar- there is a part of me that is glad that our paths have overlapped- I just wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“No,” you pat him upon his chest, “You don’t get to our age without some kind of baggage and in our occupation, it’s hard for most people to understand our commitment to our job.”

“Hah, you can say that again- that’s what ended my marriage. That and her new partner,” you scrunch your face in consideration of Marcus’ pain, your thumbs rubbing back and forth, “And the failed engagement is what brought me to London- kept seeing her and the man she left me for around the DC offices.”

“Let’s go toast to those ghosts and our converging paths with what will be now a very warm bottle of white wine and cold pizza,” with eyes widening in amusement you smile at him, your hands still on his chest and his hands on your back, “But indoors as it is fucking freezing out here, no matter how pretty it is.”

“Agreed,” Marcus chuckles deeply, moving his hands to rub some warmth back into your arms.

“Just going to grab a hoodie,” you call over your shoulder as you go back into your bedroom. As you rummage through your bag, you miss the flicker of disappointment on Marcus’s face that he wouldn’t get to smell your perfume on his clothes.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Hey,” that beautifully soft baritone meltingly drifted up from the sofa in Marcus’ room, “Comfy now? I hope you don’t mind but I chose Casablanca instead of Sharknado 4.”

As you cross the floor in socked feet to try and thaw them out from your balcony adventure, you shake your head with a lopsided smile, “Not ok,” but to put Marcus’ raised eyebrow at ease, you add, “It’s my favourite - but you’d better have tissues at the ready as it will make me a snotty mess.”

“Already prepared,” he holds a tissue box aloft, “It does the same to me too.”

Instead of sitting at the other end of the sofa, you grab a glass of wine from the table and slide into Marcus’ side- half sitting up, half leaning against him. He reaches over, pulling your head onto his shoulder, stroking your hair away from your face and there you stay, comfortably curled into his side. Not for the hour and three quarters of the film, but until rays of spring sunshine filter through the blinds the following morning.

Tag list of glory: If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

@astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @zukoyonce @absurdthirst @green-socks @pedropascalito @disgruntledspacedad @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #ppascaledit #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc reader

[bts-trans]

210204 BigHit’s Tweet

[네이버 포스트] 소복소복~ 방탄소년단의 2021 윈터 패키지 비하인드 대방출! (@ https://m.post.naver.com/viewer/postView.nhn?volumeNo=30646656&memberNo=51325039)

#BTS #방탄소년단

[Naver Post] Softly, gently~ The grand reveal of behind the scenes from BTS' 2021 Winter Package!

Naver Post Translation

Keep reading for a plain text version of the blog post! For a picture edit version, please check out our twitter post!

Title: [BTS] 방탄소년단이 강원도에 떴다?! 소복소복~ 2021 윈터 패키지 맛보기!

Title: [BTS] BTS popped up in Gangwon-do?! Softly, gently~* A preview of the 2021 Winter Package!

(T/N: A description for how snow falls. Jimin uses the phrase in his Soundcloud release ‘Christmas Love’.)

아-하!

Hi-A!*

(T/N: Stands for ‘Hi ARMY’, which is how Bangbell always starts these posts.)

안녕하세요 아미 여러분! 방림이 2월의 첫인사 드립니다!

Hello ARMYs! Hello and welcome to February!

방림이가 나타난 이유! 벌써 눈치채셨을 것 같은데요 그래서 더 긴말하지 않겠습니다!

The reason I have appeared is! I think you probably have guessed it already So I won’t spend too much time explaining!

네 그렇습니다. 방탄소년단의 윈터 패키지가 돌아왔습니다!!!

Yes, that’s right. BTS’ Winter Package is back!!!

이번엔 강원도에 나타났다고 하는 비티엣스!

BTS showed up at Gangwon-do this time!

윈터 패키지 촬영 현장을 어디 한 번 방림이 마음대로 공개해보겠습니다!

I’ll show you the Winter Package shoot the way I want to!

분위기 있는 모습으로 첫 촬영을 시작한 정국과 진

Jungkook and Jin start the first shoot off with looks that really have a vibe to them

비주얼 무슨 일이야..? 나 왜 웃고 있어..? 포스트 시작부터 웃음 짓게 만드네요~

What’s up with these visuals..? Why am I laughing? The post really makes you smile right from the beginning~

하지만 역시 이 둘에게선 장난을 빼놓을 수 없었다

But of course, these two can’t help but kid around

멋있게 촬영하면서 귀엽기까지 한 비티엣스 (눈물) 방림이 심장 돌려내..

BTS go from cool to cute in their photoshoots (sob) Give me back my heart..

바다+방탄=행복 예쁨 기쁨 천국 (대충 뭐 좋은 건 다..)

The sea + Bangtan = Happiness Beauty Heaven (pretty much everything good..)

비주얼 조합 머선 일.. 세상에 존재하는 좋은 수식어는 다 갖다 붙여야 형용이 될 것 같아요..

What is this combination of visuals.. It feels like you have to put in all the good adjectives in the world to be able to describe them..

방깨비 뚝딱 한편 나왔다..

Thump thump, an episode of Bangoblin is now out..

(T/N: A reference to the spell goblins say in Korean folklore, “thump thump, appear now, gold!”. ‘Goblin’ was also the name of a popular Korean drama that aired in 2016. The drama filmed in Gangwon-do as well. )  

사실 방림이.. 저 날부터 성냥 들고 다니는데.. 나타나 주질 않네요...

Actually I.. have been carrying around a match since that day but.. He doesn’t appear before me...

(T/N: In the popular drama ‘Goblin’, the female lead lights a candle to summon the male lead, who is a goblin.)

오랜만에 나타난 슈가! 비주얼 마구마구 터트렸다는 건 안 비밀~

Suga is here after a long while! The fact that his visuals have really exploded is no secret~

빼놓을 수 없는 투 샷! 바라만 봐도 믿음직스럽고.. 듬직하고..

Can’t leave out a two-shot! Just looking at them makes you feel like they’re trustworthy.. Dependable..

뭐 그렇더라고요 (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

Well I mean that’s what they say (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

분위기 뿜뿜 뽐내며 단체 촬영도 마무리!!

With some intense vibes The group photoshoot comes to an end too!!

이렇게 모여있으니까.. 방림이는 세상에 두려울 게 없어요..

When they’re all together like this.. There is nothing in this world that scares me..

호에엑!! 갑자기 이렇게 귀여워진다고?! 아미들 심장 180도 뒤집어 놓은 귀여운 지민 등!장!

Ack!! You’re telling me they suddenly got all cute like this?! Jimin is!here! To make ARMYs’ hearts flip a full 180

눈을 가지고 장난치는 정국을 보니.. 그저 어린 시절로 돌아가고 싶고.. (이런 소꿉친구 사귀고 싶고.. 속마음 아님)

When I look at Jungkook playing around with the snow.. I feel like returning to my childhood.. (I want a childhood bestie like him.. No, I’m not just revealing my inner thoughts)

그렇다..

That’s what it is..

어떻게 이래요..? 스노우볼 보다 쟈근 얼굴..

How is he like this..? A face smaller than a snowball..

방림이 눈 감아..

I’m closing my eyes..

이건 혹시 정국 쟁탈전? 방림이도 바아로~ 참여하겠습니다!

Is this perhaps a fight for Jungkook? I shall also take part immediately~!

피융~~~ (튕겨 나가는 소리 아님..)

Pew~~~ (That’s not the sound of me bouncing off..)

지진정 조합.. 바라보기만 해도 재밌어.. 바라보기만 해도 행복해..

The JiJinJung combination.. It feels fun even if you’re only looking.. I feel happy even if I’m only looking..

호비 생일 혹시 10월 4일로 바뀌었나요..? 아.. 1004... 라는 숫자밖에 떠오르지 않아서요..

Hobi have you perhaps changed your birthday to 10/04..? Ah.. 1004... is the only number that comes to mind..

(T/N: 1004 in Korean is ‘천사/cheonsa’, which is also the word for angel.)

이 사진을 보니 내가 눈사람이라니..!

When I look at this picture Suga shouting ‘I can’t believe I’m a snowman..!’

를 외쳤던 슈가가 생각나는데요..?

comes to mind..?

(T/N: A reference to Suga’s Weverse post from 25 Dec 2020, where he posted during BTS’ performance on SBS Gayo Daejun.)  

이렇게 멋진 눈사람 있으면 제가 사겠습니다.

If there are snowmen this cool out there I will buy them.

이 조합은 바라보기만 해도 해피해피 힐링 유닛~★

Just looking at this combination makes me feel happy happy Healing unit~★

슈가: 아 호비랑 사진 찌거야지 (주섬주섬)

Suga: Ah I need to take a picture with Hobi (Fumbling)

찰칵!

Click!

방림이 좋아하는 사람 손~~ 저요 저요!!

Raise your hand if you like Bangbell~~ Me, me!!

아아.. 이거 아닌가요..?

Ah.. isn’t that what this is..?

어떠한 컨셉도 소화력이 대단해!!!!! 귀염+멋짐+#$(+($*%( 기타 등등 = 천재만재라는 뜻

His ability to pull off any concept is incredible!!!!! Cute+cool+#$(+($*%( etc etc = he’s a genius

새하얀 눈 속 알앤뷔♥

R&V in the pure white snow♥

왜 울고 있는지 여긴 알앤뷔 뿐인데 (Feat. 네시)

Why are you crying It’s only R&V here (Feat. 4 O’CLOCK)

(T/N: Title of RM & V’s collaboration song released on Soundcloud on 8 Jun 2017.)

알앤뷔 좀 안 착한 것 같아요…

R&V look like they’re not nice...

방림이 마음속에 안착! >.<

They’ve made a nice safe landing in my heart! >.<

(T/N: Wordplay on the Korean words for ‘not nice’, which is ‘안 착한/an chak-han’, and ‘nice/safe landing’, which is ‘안착/an-chak’.)

이 사진을 보고 슈가의 자리가 탐나는 아미 손! (1/7777777777777777777)

ARMYs, raise your hand if you’re eyeing Suga’s position! (1/7777777777777777777)

아~~~~~~~~~~~ 미

AR~~~~~~~~~~~ MY

라고 외치는 것 같은 귀여운 단체 샷!

Is what it looks like they’re shouting in this cute group shot!

웃음만 가득했던 즐거운 스키장에서의 촬영도 마무리되었습니다!

The fun ski photoshoot full of laughter has now come to an end!

혹시.. 강원도 유형문화재이신지..? 제 눈에는 뷔주얼 난리 난 조각상만 보이는데요..?

Are you perhaps.. Gangwondo’s tangible cultural asset..? All I see is a statue with V-suals that have wreaked havoc on my eyes..?

아니.. RM씨.. 이러면 안 피곤해요…?

RM.. come on.. Aren’t you tired...?

이렇게 멋있으면 하루 종일 아미들 머릿속을 돌아다니잖아요 촤하하하하!!

When you’re this cool, You keep running around in ARMYs’ heads all day bwahahahaha!!

세상.. 나이는 나만 먹네..

Good god.. I’m the only one ageing..

멋진 모습 보여주다 귀여운 표정도 찰칵

While showing us how cool he is We get a snapshot of his cute expressions as well

(사실 바람에 눈이 시렸다는 건.. 어.. 모른척해요..)

(Actually his eyes were stinging because of the wind.. ah.. just pretend you don’t know..)

마치 슈가를 위해 존재한 풍경처럼 배경과 너무나 잘 어울렸던 촬영!

It’s as if the landscape exists for Suga He really matched the background so well in this photoshoot!

잘생긴 애 옆에 잘생긴 애 옆에 또 잘생긴 애 옆에 또 잘생긴 애...!!!

A handsome guy next to a handsome guy next to another handsome guy next to another handsome guy...!!!

그거 바로 방탄이야!!!!!

That’s Bangtan!!!!!

손에 낀 장갑도 귀엽고.. 머리에 눌러 쓴 모자도 귀엽고.. 꼬부랑 앞머리도 귀여운 그저 갓 홉!

The glove on his hand is cute.. The cap on his head is cute too.. The curled bangs are cute too That’s God Hope!

똑똑.. 타지에서 오신 분이 있으시다면서요? 아아 여기 계셨네요!

Knock-knock.. I hear there’s someone visiting from out of town? Ah, so he was here!

정국이라는 판타지..

This fantasy called Jungkook..

(T/N: A play on the word ‘타지/ta-ji’, which means ‘out of town’ or literally ‘another place’, and ‘판타지/pan-ta-ji’, which is the Korean spelling for ‘fantasy’.)

길 잃은 강냥이..? 제가 데려갈게요!!

A pupkitty who’s lost his way..? I’ll take him!!

윈터 패키지 촬영 내내 리즈 갱신의 갱신을 거듭한 박강냥씨

Park Pupkitty goes through golden era after golden era throughout the Winter Package shoot

귀염 뽀짝 뽀짝 모든 모멘트가 귀여웠던 꾹, 찜, 홉 유닛 촬영!

Cutie pies The unit photoshoot of Kook, Chim and Hope, whose every moment was cute!

멋진 풍경 속에서의 비티엣스를 마지막으로 방림이는 포스트를 마무리해보려 합니다!

I’ll wrap the post up with one last picture of BTS against an amazing view

이제는 빠지면 아쉬운 셀카 타임!!

Now it’s time for what has become a must-have, selfie time!!

비티엣스의 귀엽고 멋진 모습들을 가득가득 담은 2021 BTS WINTER PACKAGE에 많은 관심 부탁드리며,

2021 BTS WINTER PACKAGE is full of BTS’ cute and cool sides, please show it lots of support!

방림이는 정말 마지막으로 보너스 사진 한 장을 두고 인사드리겠습니다!

I’ll give you one last bonus picture and then I’ll say goodbye!

또 만나요! 아-뿅!♥

See you! A-Poof!♥

(T/N: Short for “Bye ARMY! Poof!”, which is how Bangbell always ends these posts.)

귀엽다_귀여워_보자마자_소리_지를_수_밖에_없는_사진_철푸덕_소년단.JPG

Cute_TheyreCute_You_CantHelpBut_Scream_AsSoonAsYouSee_ThePicture_BoyscoutsGo_Plop.JPG

[Note]

본 포스트는 빅히트 엔터테인먼트에서  직접 운영하는 포스트입니다.

This Naver Post account is personally run by Big Hit Entertainment.

[End Note]

Trans cr; Aditi & Faith | Typeset cr; Laura & XPXOXD @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

#210204 #ot7 #bighit #official #twitter #naver #bangbell #blogpost #photo #bts #bangtan #2021 bts winter package

[firebrands]

Naaaaaadine! Please do Evil Exes for Bingo!

!!!!!!!!!!! I FINALLY DID IT

bad blood, T, 2.7k | stony bingo prompt fill “evil exes” | on ao3

Pepper chokes on her iced coffee when a tall, blond, beautiful man strides up to Tony and envelopes him in a hug.

“It’s been too long, Tony,” he says.

Tony has colored considerably, and looks a little disgruntled. Pepper tries to be as subtle as possible when she elbows him, waiting for an introduction.

“Pep, this is Steve. Steve, Pepper.”

Pepper composes herself and shakes Steve’s hand. This was Steve Rogers? The worst man Tony had ever met? Impossible. Steve Rogers was a common enough name, she thought. Tony must have meant someone else.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says, grinning. “So what brings you to the gallery?”

Pepper blinks, still reeling from the introduction. “I told Tony that there was a new artist displaying his work,” she says. “And I guess… you’re him?”

Steve laughs. “Really?” He turns to Tony. “I’m so glad you came, Tony. I’ve missed you.”

Tony looks up from his phone, doing his best impression to look disinterested. “Pepper didn’t leave me much choice,” he says, which isn’t actually a lie. Pepper had pulled the best friend card and offered to pay for lunch, and Tony had only agreed when she had promised to stand up and protect him from his ex, whose art was being displayed.

Pepper takes a sip of her coffee as Steve tries to engage Tony in conversation. Tony had used words like awful, horrible, terrible when he had explained why he didn’t want to go. Worst of all, he’d never told Pepper (or Rhodey, or anyone) why they’d broken up. When Pepper had tried digging, Rhodey didn’t have any answers for her. Back in college, he said, they were the picture of a perfect couple. Then… they weren’t. Tony didn’t talk about it. Ever. Something about this was fishy, and Pepper was going to get to the bottom of it.

“How long are you in town for?” Pepper asks, smiling at Steve despite Tony very obviously stepping on her shoe.

“Just two weeks,” Steve says, still smiling and looking absolutely charming. “I have another exhibit in a different gallery, and I might hold a quick workshop.”

“That’s lovely,” Pepper says, sliding her toes from under Tony’s. “Maybe we can all grab dinner, if your schedule isn’t too full.”

Pepper doesn’t need to look at Tony to know that he’s frowning at her; she can feel his irritation come off in waves.

“Or not,” Tony says.

“I’ll make time,” Steve says. “But for now, I have to go—my curator’s been waving at me for the past minute and I don’t want to piss him off any more than I have.”

Pepper nods and smiles. “It was really nice meeting you, Steve.”

“You too! And it was great bumping into you, Tony.”

“Yup.”

“Well, here’s my card. Just let me know when and I’ll be there.”

“I will!”

“Or not!” And at that, Tony stomps away.

***

“Okay, tell me what happened,” Rhodey says, sighing as he sits down on Tony’s couch.

Tony’s pacing around the room, looking close to tearing out his hair, and Pepper is perched on the armrest beside Rhodey, sipping on a cup of tea.

“She—” Tony whirls around and points at Pepper. “Asked my ex to dinner.”

“He’s just so nice, Tony! I want to get to know him,” Pepper says. She has the good sense to look chastened, but Rhodey wonders how much of it is sincere.

“Whose side are you on, anyway!” Tony whirls around and points at Pepper as he speaks. “And you!” He turns to look at Rhodey.

Rhodey holds his hands up—a practiced gesture, as he’s used to these outbursts from either of them.

Pepper sighs. “It’d help if we just knew why you broke up, honestly.”

“Why does it matter?” Tony asks, deflating all of the sudden and sinking down to sit beside Rhodey. “Why can’t you just believe me?”

Rhodey slings an arm over Tony’s shoulders. “It’s not that, and you know it,” he says. “We’ve always got your back.”

Pepper sets her cup aside and wedges herself beside Tony. “I’m sorry,” she says, hugging Tony and kissing his cheek. “I was just curious.”

Tony nods, still looking a bit put out.

“It’s been five years, Tones,” Rhodey says, rubbing his shoulder. “Guess we figured you’d be over it.”

“Yeah. He just doesn’t seem all that bad.” Pepper rests her head on Tony’s shoulder, and Rhodey playfully tugs on her ponytail after she speaks. Don’t bring it back there. She disregards him and continues. “What did he do, anyway?”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans before burying his face in his hands. “Exist,” he says, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey man, if you really don’t want to go we won’t force you,” Rhodey says, gently pulling Tony back up. He gives Pepper a warning look over Tony’s head.

“I know.” Tony sighs.

Pepper purses her lips, trying to hide a smile. “So do you want to?” She asks, before pulling Tony into another hug.

“Shut up,” Tony whines, half-heartedly trying to get out of her grip. After a short tussle, Tony rights himself up and scoots closer to Rhodey. She looks close to pulling him back into a hug, but her phone beeps.

“Dammit, that’s me.” Pepper dusts herself off. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says. Pepper leans down and kisses them each on the cheek before leaving.

Tony sighs. “That woman.”

“We just don’t understand,” Rhodey says, fiddling with one of the buttons on the couch. “But you don’t need to explain if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, draping himself over Rhodey. “I don’t either.”

Rhodey pets Tony’s hair and makes a small, inquisitive sound.

“Just.” Tony sighs again, long and deep. “Who gave him the right, you know?”

“Huh?”

“To look so good,” Tony murmurs.

Rhodey lets out a small laugh. “Well, Tones, you don’t look so bad yourself. At least, most of the time.”

Tony flips over and glares at Rhodey. “I resent that. I am the picture of perfection at all times.”

Rhodey nods sagely, and smooths down Tony’s hair. “Yes, always. My apologies.”

Rhodey tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, and he’s about to fall asleep when he hears Tony whisper, “I don’t trust myself around him.”

“Why?” Rhodey sits up and looks down at Tony. “What do you mean?”

“I just can’t, okay?” Tony covers his face with his hands again. “I can’t.”

Rhodey shifts and moves Tony to sit up so he can look at him properly. “You know, even back then he never seemed like a bad guy,” he says, trying to catch Tony’s gaze. He tilts Tony’s chin up and looks at him sternly. “But I swear to god if he hurt you—”

“No.” Tony ducks his chin and looks away. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay.” Rhodey leans back and pats his lap, and Tony lies back down. “But promise me that if he did hurt you, you’ll let me punch him.”

Tony laughs softly and closes his eyes. “Yes, I will, honeybear. Now it’s nap time.”

Rhodey sighs, settles in, and wonders what on earth Steve could have done all those years ago that Tony’s still affected.

***

Natasha knows that she has this power over people that make them spill their secrets. She uses it wisely, most of the time.

Tony slides into the booth with their drinks and says, “Please do not ask me about what happened with Pepper yesterday.”

Natasha takes a sip of her drink. “Okay.” Of course, Pepper had already filled her in over what had happened, but Natasha respected Tony’s boundaries and didn’t want to pry—it was unbecoming.

They’re silent for a moment, and Natasha’s just about to bite into the olive of her martini when Tony sighs very loudly and snaps.

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask him to dinner!”

Natasha chews, swallows, and dabs her lips with a tissue. “Who?”

“Steve!”

“Who is Steve?”

“My ex!”

“And we hate him, yes?”

“Yes, Nat, he is the fucking worst okay and we bumped into him at an exhibit and Pepper made googly eyes at him and said we should all catch up over dinner.” Tony takes a deep breath after his tirade, then deflates. He sips on his whisky sullenly.

“Did she really?” Natasha asks, leaning over the table. “Where are you going?”

“No she didn’t,” Tony mumbles. “I mean, I don’t know, she has his card or whatever, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

Natasha nods. “I agree. Especially after what he did.”

Tony looks up with a start. “You know what he did?”

“Well, no. But it must have been awful for you to still be so salty about it.”

Tony huffs. “Yeah.”

Natasha sips her drink and pops another olive into her mouth. Yes, she was curious, but she knew better than to push; Tony was more hyper-verbal than usual tonight, and she always liked being people’s sounding board.

“Well—” she starts.

“I can’t believe—”

They both stop, and Natasha laughs. “You can’t believe…?”

Tony sighs again, and downs his drink. “He asked me to marry him, it was awful, and I hate him.”

It’s a good thing Natasha decided against taking a sip, else she would have choked on it.

“What?”

Then Rhodey and Pepper arrive and Rhodey offers to buy a round and Natasha stares at Tony as he and Pepper talk about what to get for dinner.

***

Tony had gotten home so late last night that he still feels a little drunk when he wakes up. He downs a glass of water and crawls into the shower, the world still spinning when he steps out, and digs around his closet. He curses himself for forgetting to have his laundry done, and reaches into the recesses of the cabinet in the hopes of something decent to wear.

His fingers catch on something, and he pulls it out with a sigh of relief—only to yelp and drop the shirt when he sees it.

He stares at the hoodie on the floor, faded a little in the collar and at the cuffs, from how often he’d tug them. Tony squats down and picks it up, his heart clenching as memories come unbidden.

Even if he’s all alone, he can’t say why he hasn’t thrown out Steve’s favorite jacket. It didn’t even fit him properly, and stopped smelling like Steve years ago. He does remember—quite shamefully—that it’s the one thing of Steve’s he didn’t give back. After what had happened he’d packed up everything that reminded him of Steve and given it to him, except this.

And Steve, ever the considerate, kind, loving man that he was, never asked.

He remembers when Steve first leant it to him, months into their relationship. They’d gone out for a walk, and despite Tony’s own jacket he was shivering. The leaves had turned gold and red, and the breeze brought the reminder that winter was on its way.

Steve had slipped it off and given it to Tony, and after a token protest, Tony had put it on. He’ll never forget how brightly Steve smiled at him then—not that he ever wanted to.

The memory leaves a sour taste in Tony’s mouth. Even now, after all these years, he can’t fathom why he reacted the way he did. They’d talked about the future often enough, daydreamed about living together, about moving back to New York and starting a life.

They were good together. Great, even, now that Tony has had a fair share of relationships to be able to compare. Still, the years he spent with Steve were some of the happiest in his life, but the way they ended only served as proof that maybe the best things weren’t meant to last.

Tony sits down on the bed, still holding the hoodie. He was wearing it that day that Steve had upended everything.

He had just finished his dissertation defense, and Steve had invited him over for the weekend to celebrate. Steve had prepared a picnic for lunch, and the spring air was cool as they lazed on the blanket and ate sandwiches.

Tony remembers lying down and staring up at the trees, blinking as the sun peeked through the leaves.

“This is literally the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life,” he said.

“More than all the other times you’ve said that?” Steve teased, lying down beside him but propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at Tony.

Tony turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, definitely.” He pushed himself up a little and kissed Steve, his heart feeling so full it could burst.

“I love you,” he said.

Steve brushed Tony’s hair away from his face, smiling dopily at him. “Marry me,” he said.

Tony jumped up so quickly he ruined the artful arrangement of food in front of them.

“What?”

Steve sat up and looked just as panicked as Tony felt.

Then Tony ran.

 Tony sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of the jacket. “God,” he says, and feels his voice echo around his apartment. The hours that followed Steve’s proposal were some of the worst in Tony’s memory, and he decides to make himself some food to get his mind off it.

Rhodey arrives a little before lunch, and looks surprised to see Tony awake.

“Well, that’s a look,” he says, setting down two cups of coffee.

“Thanks,” Tony says. He’s been in a dour mood since he’d stumbled upon Steve’s jacket. What’s worse is that he didn’t have anything else to wear, and he felt a little unhinged by virtue of his outfit: Steve’s hoodie and a pair of very old jorts, fraying at the hem.

“You making lunch for two?”

“Guess I am now.”

Rhodey stands beside him and watches as Tony sullenly pokes his omelet.

“We gonna talk about—”

“I had nothing else to wear, okay.”

“Okay.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Rhodey leaves to set the table.

“I guess Nat told you,” Tony says.

Rhodey freezes, the dinner plate in his hand hovering just above the table.

“I know it’s dumb.” Tony sighs and brings the dishes over. “At this point it’s just embarrassing.”

“Frankly, Tones, I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word.”

Tony swats Rhodey on the back of the head. “You’re welcome for lunch, asshole.”

Rhodey laughs, and for a while they’re quiet as they eat.

“So why’s it embarrassing?”

Tony frowns. “Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you want to psychoanalyze me?”

“Ugh, please. I’m not Natasha.”

This shocks a laugh out of him. “Okay, fine.” Tony takes another moment to gather his thoughts, scattered as they are. “I just kept saying he was awful because it was easier that way. I never wanted you to know why because well, it’s dumb and I know you liked us together.”

Rhodey levels him with a look. “I don’t care who you’re with, Tony. I don’t think anyone’s ever going to be good enough for you. But you were happy, so I was happy. Simple as that.”

Tony bites down on his lip, which feels dangerously close to wobbling. “Rhodey, you are honestly my favorite person in the whole world.”

“Well, don’t let Pep hear you say that,” Rhodey says, laughing a little.

They don’t talk anymore about Steve after that, instead recount the shenanigans they’d gotten into the night before. Rhodey leaves after helping clean after lunch, and before Tony realizes it, he’s alone again.

Under the carrying tray of the coffee Rhodey had bought is a slip of paper, and Tony picks it up. It’s Steve’s card.

Tony sighs. A few days ago, when they’d bumped into Steve, he’d felt a shame so deep that he couldn’t even face him. But Steve had looked so earnest and sincere, like there was no bad blood between them. If Tony’s being honest, it’s not like there ever was any, anyway—it was just easier to paint Steve as the bad guy rather than ever admit that maybe Tony was wrong. After all, he’d never met anyone quite like him, never met anyone who understood him the way Steve did.

Tony bit his lip and pulled out his phone. He typed in the number on the card and held his breath.

Maybe they could just try and be friends. Like Rhodey said, it’s been five years. Besides, he’s probably married already anyway, or at least dating someone; it’s unfathomable that no one would snap him up.

The line rings, and the automated trill is cut when it’s picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s Tony. You free tonight?”

---

like my work? buy me a ko-fi

#stevetony #superhusands #stony #evil exes #tony stark #steve rogers #pepper potts #james rhodes #natasha romanoff #TONY'S FRIENDS CARE ABOUT HIM #BUT THEY'RE ALSO QUITE CONCERNED

[lucy-268]

Revelations

A/N - This is ‘the talk’ and it takes place a week after Regrets. You can find that on my masterlist. Also, this meets the requirement for the @choicesweeklychallenge​. You belong to me can be found in bold.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to PB

Warnings: none? I don’t think even language.  

Series/Pairing: Open Heart - Ethan x f!MC (Charley Valentine)

Word count: 4,466

*****Thursday*****

“Has Denver General sent us any more information, or will I just find out when I get there?” June asked.

Consulting his notes, Ethan answered her. “Dr. Morgan said that he would send us the remaining test results as soon as he gets them. He’ll be sending them to all of us, so if you want to discuss the case with any of us we’ll all have the same information.”

June never looked up from the report she was reviewing. “I doubt it will be necessary.”

“Regardless of whether you think it’s a necessity, you will keep me informed of the case.” Ethan reminded her.

“Of course, Ethan.” June said. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to get ready for my flight?”

“You don’t want to hear about my new patient?” Baz asked her.

June glanced at him. “My flight leaves in less than three hours, so no. At least not right now.” She gathered her files and left saying goodbye to the rest of the team.

“Baz, what is going on with your new patient?” Charley asked.

“Late-onset Chediak-Higashi Syndrome. For me as an immunologist, I find it extremely interesting, especially as the patient is thirty-two and just diagnosed.”

Charley looked between Baz and Ethan. “Is this a team patient?”

“No. This is a patient of Baz’s. We will have a new patient coming in on Monday for which you will be primary.” Ethan held up a folder.

Baz briefed them on his patient, excusing himself when he received a page saying the patient was being admitted.

“And then there were two,” Ethan handed her the folder.

She flipped it open and read through the file. “Twenty-five year old male. Diabetic. Joint pain and muscle weakness.” Charley looked at him. “Do you know what it is and you want me to figure it out?”

Ethan shook his head. “I have a couple of ideas but I don’t know for sure what it is. You should have several ideas right now.”

“The symptoms can be just about anything. You said he gets here on Monday ?”

He nodded. “He’s already been to Mass Kenmore several times. Even though we have sent a release signed by the patient, Terrance hasn’t sent the files to us. So we may start with spinning our wheels testing for things that they have already tested for and eliminated.”

Charley studied the file again. “Did you see the iron levels here? I think the first thing is a liver biopsy?”

“Are you telling me that’s what you are going to do, or asking me if I think that’s the right choice?” Ethan asked her.

Her head snapped up. “That’s what I’m going to order. I’ll even have the order written so the test is run as soon as he’s admitted.” Charley met his eyes. “What?”

Ethan smiled. “There aren’t a lot of doctors who could have figured out to start with that test after reviewing a file for less than fifteen minutes. Let alone a second year resident. So I am impressed.” He reached over and stroked the back of her hand. “You often impress me.”

She turned her hand and laced their fingers. “It’s Thursday.”

“So it is.”

“Last week you texted me and said we would talk on Saturday.”

“Yes. And we decided we’d have dinner at six.”

Charley met his eyes. “You aren’t going to change your mind?”

“We’re meeting at my apartment. I’ll be there. We are long overdue for the talk. And I’m sorry for that.”

Charley smiles. “Will I finally get my chicken?”

“You will not. We’ve made the chicken together,” he held up his hand when she was going to interrupt, “this time, we’ll make something else. You plan the meal.”

“We may have made the chicken together but I never got to try it.”

“I want to see what you come up with. You can create any menu you want. Email me what we need and I’ll go shopping.” Ethan smiled at her.

Charley considered for a minute. “Anything?” When Ethan nodded, she continued, “My grandma had an amazing pot roast recipe. We could roast it in the oven or use a crockpot. It’s always best if it cooks on low in the crockpot, so that would take about seven or so hours. I’ll email you the list, and I guess I’ll be there late morning. I guess we’ll also have lunch together, too. That’s alright, isn’t it Ethan?” She didn’t even wait for his answer before she left the office.

Charley watched the office door to see if he was going to come after her and inform her they would not be spending the entire day together.

Ethan sat at his desk, he smiled as he realized that life would never be boring around Charley Valentine.

*****Saturday*****

Sienna pushed open Charley’s bedroom door. “Are yo-” Sienna stopped mid-sentence. She heard several loud thuds and  wanted to ask if Charley was okay, but she did not expect the scene she witnessed. She also didn’t see her roommate. “Charley!”

“I’m here,” Charley called, pushing herself out from under the bed. “I was looking for this shoe. That I can’t wear now. Thank you, Lucy!” The shoe had become a chew toy for their pet.

Lucy, their fennec fox, sat in the middle of Charley’s bed, looking proud of herself.

“Forget the shoe, we understand what happened to it.” Sienna looked around the room. “Was there a bomb? Are you telekinetic? Did your closet and dresser decide to vomit every article of clothing you own into your room?”

“I’m looking for something to wear, and I don’t have anything! I got off at five yesterday, I should have gone shopping!”

Sienna remembered the day a couple weeks ago when Charley got home late clad in someone else’s clothes. Based on her own conversation with a certain someone, Sienna had a pretty good idea who. Now she was frantically trying to find something special to wear. “What’s his name?”

Charley froze. “What’s whose name?”

“Obviously, the guy that you’re spending your day with. The same one you were with when you came home wearing clothes that were way too big for you. So, who is it?”

“No one,” Charley stated. “I’m not spending the day with anyone.”

“Yet you canceled on Bryce and me for today.” Sienna picked up a Columbia t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a rip in the knees. “Here, put these on.” She smiled. “I mean, if you aren’t doing anything special today, it doesn’t matter what you have on.”

Charley looked at the clothes that Sienna tossed on her bed. She had to leave for Ethan’s before Sienna would be leaving to meet Bryce, and she still didn’t know what she was going to wear.

Sienna watched her. “I heard that Dr. Ramsey also has today off. And he did when you had your second day off two weeks ago.”

Charley froze and looked to the door. “Everyone else is working today and they’re gone?”

Sienna nodded and sat down on Charley’s bed. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“So it wasn’t just the one night when he spent the night here?”

“That day we went to the country club and later I went to his apartment to talk to him? That was the first time, and the night after my hearing was the second. It was also the last time.” Charley sighed. “Then he went to the Amazon so we could ‘reset’ since he would be my director supervisor.” Charley sighed. “Since he’s been back he says we need to stay away from each other, but then he’ll kiss me. Today we’re going to ‘talk.’ We’ve been supposed to talk since right after the softball game, but it kept getting delayed.”

Sienna smirked at her. “You had on his clothes the day you came home.”

Charley's face turned red. “We spent the day together with his dad in Providence. We took his dog for a walk and I fell into a mud puddle.”

“You’ve met his family!”

“His dad. He hadn’t told Alan that he was bringing me with him. Ethan had never taken anyone home with him before, not even Harper Emery.”

“Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Emery were a thing!” Sienna’s mouth dropped open.

“I don’t know if it’s really common knowledge. Aurora probably knows. I saw the two of them talking once and it seemed intimate. It was the day before they announced the opening on the diagnostics team. I did ask him about it later and he said he likes to keep his private life private, but he did say they had an on-again, off-again thing but it ended permanently when she became chief.” Charley rested her head on her hand. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t tell anyone.”

Sienna mimed sealing her lips. “I thought that you and Bryce were kind of together.”

“We hooked up a couple of times but we both agreed to be casual.”

“And with Ramsey, you don’t want casual?”

“I don’t.” Charley chewed on her lip. “Sienna, I’m terrified about today. I know that everything is going to change.”

“Well then, let’s get you ready.” Sienna picked up the t-shirt and jeans. “This probably won’t do; we’ll find something else.”

Charley was just getting ready to leave when her phone rang. She looked at the caller id and sighed. “If you’re calling to cancel-” she started.

“I’m not,” she heard his rich baritone as well as a smile in his voice. “I had to go to the hospital to pick up something. If you haven’t left yet you can ride with me. I’m outside your building.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Charley disconnected, smiling.

Soon they were in his apartment. She kicked off her shoes at the door and stood there when he walked further into the apartment. He got half way through the living room when he realized she wasn’t with him. He turned to find her at the door. “If we want to make this pot roast we need to go to the kitchen.”

Charley gave a nervous laugh and stepped away from the door. She tossed her purse on the couch as they walked into the kitchen. They washed their hands and Ethan pulled his crockpot out of the pantry while Charley pulled the roast out of the refrigerator. She saw the printout from her email with the image of her grandma’s recipe. Ethan gathered the rest of the ingredients while Charley brewed a pot of coffee.

“Why the crockpot instead of a roasting pan in the oven? I saw the recipe had directions for both with cooking times for either low or high in the slow cooker.”

“It tastes better and is more tender.”

Ethan smirked. “It does not. And we need to use the Dutch oven even if it’s just to brown the roast.”

“Maybe it doesn’t do a lot for the taste, but it is more tender.” Charley watched as the coffee finished brewing, standing  with her back to him. “It takes longer to cook in the slow cooker on low and I wanted to spend more time with you.” She gave a short laugh. “Funnily enough, now that I’m here, I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

She turned to face him. “I think that today may change everything, and I’m hopeful but I’m also scared. I’ve been wanting to sit down with you away from the hospital with just the two of us for so long, but now that we’re actually going to do that...” She bit her lip.

“Now you understand why I’ve been putting it off. But I’ve done a lot of thinking. And I talked to Naveen. We are long overdue. Today will change everything but we will be in agreement with it, I think.”

Charley nodded. Ethan turned back to the counter.  “Let’s get this set for dinner, fix lunch, and talk.”

Charley browned the roast in the Dutch oven while Ethan chopped the vegetables and herbs. Once the roast was in the crockpot, Charley cooked the onion. Once they started to soften, they added the rest of the ingredients, including the coffee. “Why coffee?” Ethan asked.

Charley smiled, watching the mixture simmer. “Is this a quiz, same as ‘why neat’ that first night at Donahue’s?”

“Genuine curiosity. As much as I love coffee, I’ve never had pot roast cooked in coffee. I found the recipe interesting.”

“It helps to tenderize the meat and gives the gravy a richer flavor.”

Once the gravy and onion mixture was cooked, Ethan poured it over the meat and set the timer. While Charley washed the accumulated dishes, Ethan fixed salads for lunch. They took their plates to the living room and sat side-by-side on his sofa.

“You talked to Naveen about us.” When he nodded, she continued, “I talked to Sienna.”

They fell into a silence while they ate. Charley glanced at him every so often.

He pushed the last piece of lettuce around on his plate before finally setting the plate on the coffee table. He turned to her; she mimicked his moves and faced him.

“Ethan, I’ve said for a while that a relationship with you is an easy decision for me. It’s what I want. I think that we could be good together, amazing even.”

Ethan nodded. “I know. You aren’t the problem, I am. I want to be able to push you to be the best doctor you can be.”

“You can do that professionally, regardless of any personal relationship we have. I can take criticism from Dr. Ramsey and know that it isn’t coming from Ethan.”

“You’re assuming that I can also have that division.”

That got Charley’s attention. “You’re Ethan Freakin’ Ramsey. You can do anything you try to. If you want to make the distinction you will. And if you cross the line, I’ll let you know.”

“Another problem-”

Charley put her hand on his arm. “If you just want to list a lot of potential possible problems, why are we even having a discussion? Earlier you said that today would change everything and you thought we’d be in agreement.” She folded her arms across her chest and focused on a picture hanging on the wall. “If you thought that I’d change my mind about us, you’re wrong. If you thought you could list all the reasons why we can’t be together and why you won’t be with me, I was right to be nervous about this. If that’s-”

Ethan reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him. “What I want to do is identify the obstacles or potential obstacles we face so we are both aware of them, and to decide how we need to handle them in the future.” He wiped a tear out of her eye. “Because in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I very much do want to be with you.”

Charley grabbed his hand and kissed his palm before lacing their fingers together. She smiled at him. “I’m sorry for my outburst. Continue, please.”

“Another problem is the board. They don’t like interoffice romances. Naveen seems to think this won’t be an issue. He seems to think that as long as it isn’t impacting the care of the patients, or the bottom line of the hospital, they wouldn’t care, nor would they even need to be aware. I disagree with him on this. I think the board makes it their business to know what goes on in the hospital.”

Charley interrupted again. “I know that there are married couples at the hospital. Was it a problem when you and Harper were together?” Ethan drew in a deep breath when she asked that. “If you don’t want to answer that you don’t have to.”

“I will. It was not a problem and the board did not have an issue with it when she was head of neurosurgery and I was a fellow on the diagnostics team. If our relationship would have continued when she was chief or if I had been a surgeon, it would have been a problem. Any other couples at Edenbrook do not work in the same area, and one member of the couple is not another’s supervisor.”

Ethan continued, “I don’t want anyone to think that you got the position on my team because of our relationship. I don’t want anyone to have any doubt about that. You earned it.”

Charley nodded. “I did earn it. You weren’t even the one who put me on the team. Naveen did.”

Ethan agreed that while that was true, many people at the hospital could have thought that he asked Naveen to do that.

“If anyone has doubts, I graduated at the top of my class at Columbia. Not near, I was ranked first. In fact if anyone had ranked all med school graduates my year from around the country, I’d probably be in the top fifty.”

Ethan laughed. “Someone did. And you are higher than that. You are somewhere in the top twenty. I’m not going to narrow it down more than that for you.”

“Based on that, I think I earned the right to be on the team. Not to mention helping to cure Naveen last year. Our relationship had nothing to do with it. Well except for the fact you inspired me to go to med school in the first place. And I wanted to work with you, which is why I came to Edenbrook.”

“We probably don’t want to advertise our personal relationship at work. The hospital has a wonderful gossip network and we’ll need to be careful. That being said it probably won’t be long before everyone knows about us.”

“That sounds okay. But some people will know. I told Sienna and you told Naveen. My roommates will know I’m seeing someone, and will make it their mission to find out who.” Charley wasn’t sure if she should mention the next part, but figured she might as well. “June does, or she thinks she does. At least that was what she implied the day I caught her with my personnelle file.”

Ethan froze. “She had your file?”

Charley nodded. “She said that she reads the files for everyone she works with. She tried to tell me you asked her to get it for you, but I knew you wouldn’t have.”

“I’ll deal with her when she gets back from Denver. Your roommates and Naveen are fine.”

“If my roommates know Bryce will also know; and if Aurora does, Harper might.” Charley looked up at him. “Can we talk about Harper?”

“I thought we already had.”

“You ended things when she became chief. If she wouldn’t have, would you still be together, do you think?”

“We would not. We were together because it was mutually beneficial to the both of us. But we were never going to last.”

She smirked at him. “By ‘mutually beneficial’ do you mean it was convenient and the sex was good?”

“Yes.” Ethan said. “But then last year something happened that I knew would never lead Harper and I together again.” When Charley tipped her head to show she was interested in his answer, he continued. “Last year, an intern showed up and turned my life inside out. And I can’t get her out of my head.”

Charley started to move towards him, and he stopped her. “What about the scalpel jockey?”

Charley lips twitched. “His name is Bryce.”

“I’m aware, and you didn’t answer the question.”

“We hooked up twice, once at our housewarming party and again once after we were at Donahue’s. We almost did the night we researched treating Mrs. Martinez, but you’d already kissed me in Miami. I wasn’t interested in anyone else at that point.” She looked at the ground before meeting his eyes. “Bryce is a friend and a good one. I trust him. I also know if I ever did want a relationship with him, I’d have that choice. I don’t, and Bryce respects that.”

“As long as he knows that you belong to me.” Ethan pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her.

“And you belong to me!” Charley shifted slightly on his lap and felt his hardness under her thigh. “We could continue this in the bedroom.”

“A very good idea.” As Ethan stood and lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom.

Several hours later, they were laying with their legs tangled together, voices soft in the quiet room when an alarm on her phone beeped.

“Somewhere you need to be?” He kissed the top of her head.

She pushed herself up. “Actually, yes. The kitchen. I need to start the vegetables.”

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a robe that on him would reach mid-thigh. He tossed it to her, before grabbing another for himself. This one hit him at mid-calf. “You could have this one if you wanted.” She indicated the robe she hadn’t yet tied. It fell below her knees.

He snorted. “Be responsible for you tripping in this one? I don’t think so.”

As Charley gathered what she needed for the roasted cauliflower, Ethan grabbed the green beans. Charley explained that sometime they would fix potatoes with the roast, but her grandfather grew up near Idaho and often decided he wanted anything other than potatoes, so they would have cauliflower. “I don’t like raw or steamed, but I really like them roasted with this mustard sauce.”

Charley watched Ethan pull a cake plate out of the refrigerator. “Dessert?” At Ethan's acknowledgment she asked what it was. He wouldn’t tell her, saying he wanted it to be a surprise.

They worked efficiently together in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Ethan selected a red wine for them and opened it to let it breathe. He carried their plates to the dining room table.

“This is good; the coffee does make the gravy richer.”

“Grandma knows best. My grandfather grew up in Spokane and grandma in Seattle. They had a restaurant in Seattle that my dad and all my aunts and uncles worked in while they were growing up.”

“You have a big family?”

“My dad had three brothers and two sisters. But even though they had six kids, my grandparents only had four grandchildren. There was my brother and me; we grew up in Pennsylvania. My one uncle had two boys and they were in Oregon. All of my dad’s family is in the northwest and we didn’t see them often. My dad moved there after he retired and I started med school.”

Ethan watched her. “Are we going to talk about your mom’s family?”

Charley shrugged. “Not much to tell. Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was in college. She was an only child and you know why I don’t talk to her.”

As they cleared the table and kitchen he asked her what he had been wondering about. “Why did you decide to do your residency in Boston with most of your family now out west?”

“It doesn’t feel like home to me there. I figured I could do my residency anywhere; it wasn’t a commitment to stay somewhere for my life. It’s only three years.” She smiled at him. “Besides coming here let me learn from the best.”

Ethan poured coffee and set the mugs on a tray with two dessert plates. Charley watched as he lifted the cover off the cake.

“Lemon! How did you know lemon was my favorite?” Charley couldn’t resist. She swiped her finger on the edge of the cake to collect a sample of icing. She popped it in her mouth.

“I asked Sienna the other day and she told me.”

Charley stared at him. “She helped me get dressed this morning and she didn’t say anything!”

Ethan laughed. “You need help getting dressed in the mornings?”

She felt her face redden. “I… well… um. I didn’t know what to wear this morning.”

“I would have gone with clothes, but I understand that some people are fussier than others.”

“I wanted to look nice.”

“You always look nice.”

“I thought that I always looked satisfactory.”

Ethan cut two pieces of cake and added them to the tray with the coffees.

“I thought we could take these into the bedroom. If that would be satisfactory to you?”

She nodded and he carried the tray to the bedroom and set it down on the bed. He flipped a switch causing the gas fireplace to spring to life. Charley picked up her cake and snuggled back against Ethan. “I like the fireplace here.”

“I don’t often use it.”

“Why tonight?”

“Must be the company I’m keeping.”

Charley turned and straddled his lap. “You better be careful. This company could end up corrupting you.”

“I look forward to it, if that’s the case.” Ethan rolled her unto her back.

Several hours later, Charley looked at the clock. “I should go home. I have to work tomorrow and my boss can be tough if I’m late.”

“If you stay with me, I’ll be sure you’re not late,” Ethan buried his head in her neck.

“I don’t have clean clothes for tomorrow.”

“You can either grab some scrubs from the locker room or ask your roommate to bring something for you.” Ethan pointed to his dresser. “I cleared both of the bottom drawers for you, if you want them.”

Charley chewed on her bottom lip. “You knew what the outcome of our talk was going to be before we actually talked today. When did you decide you wanted-”

“The night of the softball game, when I kissed you.”

Charley stared at him. “Then why did you keep putting me off when I wanted to talk?”

“Because I kept coming up with all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together. And I decided not to do that anymore. I’m tired of avoiding whatever it is we have.”

“Why do I get the two bottom drawers?”

“You’re shorter than me!” He indicates the drawer on the right. “You actually do have clean clothes in there. What you wore when we went to my dads. You at least have something to wear to the hospital.” Ethan watched her. “Any other concerns for tonight?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

Ethan shrugged. “Yes, but it’s one of the standard ones dentists hand out. It should be fine until we can get you one to keep here.”

Charley put her head on his pillow. “Then I can’t think of a single reason to get out of the warm bed right now.”

He turned off the light and slipped under the covers with her. “Neither can I.”

Tag list (if you want to be on or off let me know) @oofchoices @openheart12​  @jamespotterthefirst​  @ohchoices​  @catchinglikekeronsene  @aylamreads​  @nerdydinosaursweets​  @eramsey28​  @txemrn​  @starrystarrytrouble​  @queencarb​  @thegreentwin​  @lion-ess24​  @caseyvalentineramsey​  

@choicesficwriterscreations​  @choicesweeklychallenge​  

#dr ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan jonah ramsey #open heart fanfiction #open heart #choices open heart

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Fearless

A/n: This is the first in a series for the Monster Smash Halloween project for Ksmutclub! I am attempting to do all seven BTS members with a supernatural (read: spoopy) theme by the 28th.

Summary: Min Yoongi doesn't want anyone moving into the house he's been haunting, especially not someone who reminds him what it feels like to be alive.

Warnings: is it considered unprotected sex if he's a ghost? Teasing, clothed sex, some angst Ghost!Yoongi is horny yet soft, reader is kind of a top really, less spoopy than horny, praise, dirty talk

Word Count: 2276

Min Yoongi doesn't like change. Change makes him anxious, it always has, even before....well....before.

He feels his chest tightening nonetheless when you view the house, eyes wide and bright, surveying his bedroom like you're imagining all your stuff in there.

Yoongi hates you on sight. You must have drifted through life, being that pretty, with a bright smile.

People make him more anxious than change, and a beautiful girl in his space? Standing in the living room, inches from where he'd taken his last breath?

It felt oddly intimate.

Imagine being anxious when you have no heartbeat to speed up, no breath to get short.

The movers start bringing your things in before you know it and he sulks, pushing over boxes marked fragile, laughing when it's blamed on one of the younger movers.

Yoongi doesn't particularly like to scare people, but it's easy. Just a few toppled boxes and the movers rush out of the house, and he can't help but smirk as you struggle to bring everything in yourself.

The first night, you curl up on the couch with a book and he watches you for a couple of hours, the line of your jaw, how long your legs look, and he's angry at himself for looking.

He's more angry at the way he wishes he could wrap a hand around your ankle, brush the hair back from your face.

He's the most angry for suddenly feeling lonely after god knows how many years of shuffling around the house, content in his solitude.

So he makes the lights flicker, and when you get up to check the breaker, he hides your book down in the couch cushions.

You're frowning as you look for it, and how does he feel his heart speed up when it isn't even fucking beating?

It's weeks of this, of him toppling over your drinks, hiding your books, flipping the breakers, slamming doors, doing everything he knows has worked in the past, but you're unbothered. You're...fearless.

He's never appeared to anyone before, never even known that he could, and when he appears to you, it's completely by accident.

Yoongi doesn't watch you shower, he's never been that kind of guy, but he can't help how his eyes catch the curve of your ass when you walk around in a men's t-shirt and panties, can't help wondering whose shirt you're sleeping in.

His throat tightens when you go up to the attic and find the box he'd left there, full of his clothes and books, and part of him hopes you throw it away, but when you don't, when you squeal in surprise at some of the books, gently fingering the pages, it's his chest that tightens.

The night you end up seeing him, just for a moment, you'd washed the box of his shirts and you were wearing one of them, a black one, with the bottom knotted to show your stomach and a pair of black panties, dancing around in the kitchen, making popcorn.

He feels his lips curling in a smile, watching you, and he wonders how long it's been since he's smiled.

Yoongi finds himself crouched behind you as you lie on the couch, reading over your shoulder, that night, and he tells himself that it's because he's bored and not because he likes the way your shampoo smells, likes the view of your legs stretched out on the couch.

It’s almost 3am, and he kind of likes that you’re an insomniac, because he had been once, when he was alive, and he tries not to think about why that pleases him so much.

You huff out a breath, frustrated suddenly, and he stands to come around and see your face, frowning down at you.

You slide your hand down what used to be his shirt, slip a thumb beneath the waistband of your panties, and if Yoongi had still had lungs, he would have surely stopped breathing.

When you slide your hand further down, slipping beneath your panties, fingers finding your core, he crouches down again, watching your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut.

He hadn't even known that his anatomy still worked this way, that he could still get this hard, that his heart could thud against his chest, hands aching to touch you.

You hitch in a frustrated breath and your eyes pop open, widening a bit, and Yoongi realizes you can see him.

***

You don't commonly fantasize about anyone in particular when you touch yourself, and you've been single for so long you don't even conjure up past experiences anymore.

So when you can't quite get there, alone on your couch, you're shocked to open your eyes and see a pair of hungry brown eyes, a man crouched down in front of you, black locks falling over his face.

He's gone just as your breath catches, as heat floods through you.

That night, when you dream, it's of those hungry brown eyes and pouty lips, how his tongue flicked out to the corner of his mouth.

He seems familiar, and you wonder if it's someone you'd seen in passing, someone you'd been attracted to.

It isn't until days later that you go through that box you'd found in the attack and that one Polaroid of the same man, except this time with a gummy smile, eyes softer, that you realize that all the flickering lights and lost books weren't just your imagination after all.

It doesn't even occur to you to be scared, you've grown up seeing things that other's couldn't, believing in things like the tarot and the other side, and nothing about the energy you felt here seemed malignant or frightening.

You wait a few days, and you stop feeling the random rushes of cold, there's no flickering lights, there's no more hiding your books or toppling your glasses.

After two glasses of wine and a particularly trying day at work, you speak out loud.

"Are you shy now?" You ask, tipsy enough not to feel stupid in case you're talking to yourself.

You wait a few seconds, and nothing happens.

"Do you only show up when I'm half naked?" You continue, smirking a little. You slide down one strap of your camisole, revealing a bit of cleavage.

When nothing happens, you huff a little, but then the lights flicker.

"Aren't you afraid?"

You flinch at the deep voice right next to your ear, shivering at the sudden chill, but it isn't from fear.

"Takes a lot to scare me," you murmur, and turn your head to see him sitting there, right next to you, close enough that if you moved slightly, your thigh would touch his....if you could touch him, that is.

You're not sure how this works, but you're insanely curious to try.

He chuckles a little. "You're fearless."

"Do you like fearless girls? Or...did you? Before?"

"When I was alive, you mean?" He gives you a half smile. "Didn't know very many. I worked too hard to date much. Worked myself to death, really."

"Do you get bored, hanging around here? Is that why you watch me?"

He flushes, looking away from you, and you wonder how a ghost can blush. You find yourself wondering...

"I didn't mean to spy."

You smile at him and reach out to touch his collarbone, not knowing what might happen, but it works, you feel his skin soft beneath your hand.

He takes in a sharp breath, eyes widening. "You...you touched me."

"I...I did some research," you admit softly. "It's the witching hour, the time when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest. My name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

He swallows hard, staring down at your hand touching his collarbone, and then looks back up to your face. “I’m Yoongi.”

You swing your leg over his waist to straddle him, impulsively, and his breath hitches again, and he's cold to the touch, trembling under your fingers when you wrap your arms around his neck.

"What are you doing?" He breathes, eyes searching your face.

“Don’t you ever get lonely, Yoongi? Don’t you miss being touched like this?”

He smirks at you then. "I think maybe you're the one who is lonely, doll. Looking for a phantom lover?"

"You offering?"

"Doesn't look like you're gonna move out anytime soon. And you keep prancing around in my clothes..."

He slips a hand under your t-shirt, spanning his fingers up your ribcage and hissing in a breath between his teeth.

"It's been so long since I've been been able to touch someone," he says, looking into your eyes almost in awe.

"So touch me," you breathe.

It's so slow, how his hands move up under your shirt to palm your breasts, your nipples tightening and not just from the chill.

He lets out a low groan when you arch your back.

"I don't think I was ever this hard when I was alive," he mutters, and you roll your hips against his erection, eliciting another strangled moan from him.

"You know what's great about having a phantom lover?" You murmur into his ear.

"What's that, doll?" He sounds distracted, voice muffled against your skin as he kisses the base of your throat.

"You don't need condoms."

He hisses in another breath and moves his hands from your breasts to unbutton his jeans, huffing in frustration when he fumbles.

"These aren't even real," He mutters, and when you giggle his eyes dart to yours, something so soft in them it makes your heart speed up.

"You're so beautiful when you laugh."

He moves his hand to your face and your throat goes tight. You don't want to think about what happens after, if he'll disappear forever, if you'll pine over your phantom lover for years, so you unbutton his jeans for him, freeing his cock from the denim, and he looks down at your hand instead of your face.

"Oh, fuck." He mutters, bucking into your hand, and he moves his hands to your hips, lifting you up to rock you against him.

When you just roll your hips, stroking his cock slowly, watching precum drip down the head.

His breath is hitching in his chest and he buries his face in your neck. "C'mon, doll. Y/n. Don't tease. We...we might not have much time."

Your throat tightens again at the thought and you push the crotch of your panties to the side, holding him at the base until you slide down on him completely.

"Oh, fuck!" He cries out, throwing his head back against the couch, throat working, hands kneading your hips.

"Oh. Oh." You mewl.

You don't know what you'd expected, but he was so warm, pulsing inside you, just like he was alive and breathing, and you rock forward for friction, adjusting.

Yoongi sits up straighter on the couch, rolling his hips beneath you, and he catches your mouth with his, and his tongue is warm, too, he's warm all over as if he's coming to life and you press closer to him, wanting more.

He breaks away from you, breathing hard, watching you ride him, an awed and almost pained look on his handsome face.

"My pretty little doll, look at you. You're so good, so perfect. You're going to make me come. You're going to make me come in that tight cunt, but I want you pulsing around me, want you to come first, yeah?"

The way he’s praising you makes your skin hot, your head dizzy.

He grabs your hips, thrusting up into you, dragging his cock along just the right spot as you grind against him for pressure on your clit, and when you come you cry out his name.

You feel your cunt pulsing around him, tightening like a vice and he throws his head back again before kissing you hard, nipping at your bottom lip.

“You feel so fucking good, doll. You feel like heaven. It was worth all these years being alone just to feel you, you know that?”

He lets loose a string of curses when he spills inside you, and his come is warm too, almost hot, and none of the biology of this makes any fucking sense but you can’t care when you can feel his heart thudding against your chest as he presses you to him, when you can feel his lips planting soft kisses along your shoulders.

You play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, looking at the clock over his shoulder, and it’s nearing 4am.

You hug him tight, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. “Will you disappear after the witching hour is over?” You ask, voice hoarse.

He pulls back enough to look at your face, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek.

“I...I don’t know. You’re the one that did the research,” he jokes, but his half smile is a bit sad.

“Will you come back?”

He seems to think for a moment, and your heart seizes in your chest.

“I won’t leave. I never leave this place, and I damn sure don’t plan to now, after this. After you.”

You sigh in relief, but it’s shaky, and he leans up to kiss you, soft, and then you yelp as he disappears, making you plop down on the couch with a thud.

You feel cold, suddenly, cold and empty because whatever he’d left inside you was as gone as he was, and tears roll down your cheeks.

It’s not until the next morning, until you grab for the novel on your nightstand and it isn’t there, that a smile spreads across your face.

#ksmutclub #kscproject #2kwords #monster smash #ghost!yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi imagine #suga imagine

[xoluvx]

Peter From Chemistry - P.PxReader

Warning: initial fluff, but some smut at the end & swearing

Summary: You meet a cute boy in your chemistry class & though he seems to be interested, nothing really come out of it. Until he texts you one night asking if he can come over. Oh and did I mention? You’re both hiding something.

Word Count: 3.5K

Alright, so this stemmed from a personal experience. Obviously my person wasn’t Peter Parker and they were definitely no Spider-Man. BUT I thought it’d make for a cool Peter imagine. & there’s nothing better than pulling from personal experience. Also kinda had a hard time figuring out how to end, so enjoy or whateva!

-

You stumbled into the cold classroom, gripping the strap of your backpack lazily resting on your shoulder. Your eyes shifted to the clock hanging on the wall. 9:02am. Shit, you were late. Two minutes, but still late. All the seats were taken and now you were awkwardly standing there trying not to cause a scene.

“Nice of you to join us, please take a seat.” Too late.

You searched the room for an empty seat and quickly made your way to an empty stool. The only empty stool. You dropped your backpack on the floor, settling down into the seat. You briefly made eye contact with the boy sitting across from you. It was obvious he was trying hard not to acknowledge you, spare you some embarrassment for walking in late, but his brown eyes caught yours for a second. His lips forming a tight line smile.

The first day of classes always sucked. Syllabi were thrown around; awkward icebreakers were always a must and there were always those uncomfortable silences amongst strangers. You were done with the buffoonery. But alas here you were flipping through the four-page packet compromised of your chemistry course calendar, assignments, and tasks for the next few weeks.

The voice of your professor faded in and out as you skimmed the classroom. You could probably count the number of women in the room with one hand. Your professor being one of them.

You were quickly pulled out of your trance when you heard the professor say, “Okay so please give your name, major, year and why you’re taking this course.” You tried really hard not to roll your eyes. Didn’t professors have any better ice breaker? Better yet, couldn’t they skip it all together? You weren’t here to make friends, you just needed to pass.

You leaned your head on the palm of your hand as you hear people introducing themselves. You really couldn’t care less, until the boy - that one with the big doe eyes and tight line smile - started speaking. He cleared his throat, furrowing his brows. “Um, my name is Peter. I’m a first year undeclared.” The teacher, whose arms were folded, nodded her head. “Why are you taking this course, Peter?”

You watch the boy fumble on the stool, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. “Considering a chemistry minor,” he said giving her a small smile. You tried hard not to smirk, glancing at the dorky pun t-shirt he was wearing; this kid did not look like he needed the course.

Now it was your turn. Having been through this same ice breaker for multiple classes, you were quick. “My name is Y/n. Second year, electrical engineering and physics double major. Minor in chemistry. Taking this course for my minor.”

You felt everyone’s eyes fixate on you. You were used to it. The only pair of eyes that mattered were those of the boy across from you whose mouth had fallen open absorbing in the information. You looked at him briefly, noticing his brows furrowed, one of them unruly. You looked away and towards the professor giving her an awkward smile. “Great, impressive y/n,” she said motioning towards the next student.

That’s how the class went for the next hour and forty-five minutes. It was pure torture. After a painstaking review of the course, the syllabus and the expectations, the teacher closed the class with a quick explanation of the final project.

Final project? You thought to yourself. On cue the professor spoke. “I know the final project is ways out, but this is going to be a partner project so I am giving you the opportunity now to start thinking of who you want to partner with. This is worth 45% of your grade. Partner choices need to be emailed to me by this Sunday. Class dismissed.”

You sighed softly taking in the information, the room quickly engulfed in chatter. People were already busy finding a partner, jotting down numbers, exchanging details. Most of the people here looked like they knew each other. You, never straying from your group of friends and keeping your circles separate, had no idea who you were going to partner with.

As people started exiting the room, you hopped off your stool, grabbing your backpack from the floor. You swung it over your shoulder pulling your phone from its side pocket looking through your texts: roommates wanting to meet up for an early lunch.

You opened the classroom door, ready to leave when you felt a faint touch on your shoulder. You flinched turning to face whoever had touched you. It was the boy. You’d almost forgotten about him.

You walked out of the room, him following close behind.  “You want to be partners?” He asked holding tight to the straps of his backpack as he walked next to you. You looked away from your feet to look at him. He had a look you couldn’t quite read. Expecting? Nervous?

You tugged a piece of hair behind your ear and shrugged. “Sure,” you say calmly. Though inside you were freaking relieved you didn’t have to go out of your way to find a partner. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he was cute.

You see him struggle to get his phone out of his hoodie pocket. Fingers fumbling with the material. You try to restrain a laugh, but a small noise slips through your lips. He finally gets a hold of his phone and pulls up a new contact card. He nervously hands you the phone, cheeks burning from the incident.

You smile, typing your phone number into his phone along with your name. You save the information and hand his phone back before turning on your heel. You keep your face turned to him as you walk away. “I’ll see Thursday,” you say throwing him a small smile before turning your back on him, making your way towards the dining hall where you were meeting your roommates.

Peter stood there, phone in his hand, watching you walk away. He watched as your hair bounced ever so slightly with every step you took. He looked down at his phone, a big goofy smile spreading across his face.

-

You were sprawled across your couch after lunch with your roommates. Hands resting on your belly as you watched one of your roommates working on the coffee table.

Chemistry was the only class you had today, now you had to wait two days to see the cute boy again. You debated whether or not to tell your roommates knowing they’d tease you. He was only a freshman, after all.

Noticing the sudden silence, your roommate looked up putting her pencil down. “What’s on your mind?” she asked. You looked down at her, one of your fingers twirling a piece of your hair. You couldn’t keep the information to yourself any longer, it was just begging to burst out of your chest.

“There’s this cute guy in my class,” you say, mind drifting to thoughts of the boy.

Your roommate quickly got up pushing your legs off the couch so she could sit. “Okay, tell me more!” She pried resting her face in her hand, resting on the couch’s arm chair. “I mean there’s not much to tell. He’s in my chemistry class. We’re partners.” You see her eyes light up mouthing partners using air quotes. You kick her leg, rolling your eyes. “Stop, he’s like super innocent looking.” You say sighing thinking of how awkward he was when asking you to be partners.

Your conversation came to a halt when your phone vibrated. It was resting on the coffee table. Quickly reaching for it, you noticed you’d received a text … from an unsaved number. Curious, you opened the text notification.

‘Hey, it’s Peter. Peter from chemistry.’

You gulped, a small smile forming on your lips. You flashed the phone towards your roommate. “Peter from chemistry,” you say testing how the words sounded slipping off your tongue. Your roommate raised her eyebrows giving you a small joking silent clap. You laugh and look down at your phone, debating what you should say. You settle on a simple Hey.

‘Do we have homework for Thursday?’

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. You knew this was just a ploy to talk to you because the syllabus had all the homework assignments for the rest of the quarter.

‘No homework :)’

Your reply was short and sweet. The three daunting dots popped up on the bottom of the screen and disappeared just as fast. You sighed putting your phone down.

-

You slipped on to the same stool as the last time you were in this room. This time, you were 20 minutes early. Excessive, yes, but you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself again. You were immersed in your phone, scrolling through social media when you heard the screeching of a stool being pulled out in front of you.

You tried hard not to look up, but not able to resist you quickly glanced up from your phone. Your eyes met Peter’s. He gave you a small smile as he lowered his backpack to the ground. “Hey,” he says playing with his hands now resting on the table. “Hi,” you reply.

You’re not going to lie and pretend like you weren’t hurt by the fact that he never texted you back. You spent all day that Tuesday and the following day wondering if he was going to text back. He never did. Now you kind of resented him for it. He clearly knew you had no homework, yet he went out of his way to try to start a conversation and left you high and dry.

The rest of the class didn’t go any better. The professor lectured. There were awkward glances between you and Peter. Uncomfortable silences when the professor asked your table to “discuss”. You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

-

‘Can I come over?’

The text that flashed on your phone screen as you laid in bed made your heart skip a beat. It fluttered and you feel the thumping all the way up at the side of your face that laid on the pillows. You opened the text, watching the familiar three dot bubble pop up.

They appeared and disappeared and you wondered what he could be typing.

It’d been a few weeks since that awkward incident. By this point, you and Peter had pushed past the awkwardness focusing on the reason you had his number in the first place. The final project. Yeah, you’d gotten to know a few details of his life (as much as he’d let out), but there been no significant moments that made you believe he was into you.

Until now.

‘I want to see you.’

The second text made your fingers cold. The thumping of your heart picked up its speed and your hand could hardly hold on to your phone. But they did, long enough for you to drop a pin and a simple ‘text me when you’re here’.

It hadn’t been more than five minutes when you received a text from the boy letting you know that he was outside. How the hell did he get here so fast? You wondered. He lived on campus, the house you shared with your roommates was a good few minutes’ walk from the dorms.

You struggled to get out of bed, the nerves of meeting him outside of class. At night. It was too much for you. You were a confident person, yeah. But this boy just seemed to make you all mush all the time.

Grabbing a grip of yourself, you pushed your body off the bed. Feet making instant contact with the cold floor, sending shivers up your spine. In the attempt of mentally preparing yourself to greet Peter, you’d forgotten to change into something “visitor friendly”. Your large t-shirt fell mid-thigh barely hiding your small athletic shorts that clung to every nook and cranny of your behind.

You tugged on the bottom of the shirt pulling it down.

‘It’s kinda cold out here’

You blushed reading the text, feeling bad you’d taken so long. You rushed down the hall and towards the door. When you opened the door, Peter had his hands deep within the pockets of his jeans. The flimsy material of his navy-blue jacket hardly shielding him from the cold.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize opening the door wide enough to let him in. He brushed past you blowing air up to his upper lip and nose trying to get warm. You felt your body tingle at the slightly bit of contact you had made with the side of his arm.

You’d also completely forgotten about your outfit until Peter had settled into your house his eyes lingering. His eyes shifted from your bare thighs up to fabric that poorly covered your breasts. You folded your arms, clearing your throat before guiding Peter to your room. You were too afraid your roommates might walk out at any instance.

He nervously followed, playing with the zipper of his jacket. When you’d reach the door of your room, you turned back to Peter giving him a small nervous smile. Peter cleared his throat, stepping into your sacred land.

“You can sit,” you spoke in a soft voice patting the space next to you on the bed. Peter rubbed his hands together, still cold. Yet, he removed his jacket revealing his toned arms in a tight shirt. One you’d never seen before. You bit the inside of your lip, your throat suddenly dry.

Peter slid his body next to yours, his hands crossed on his lap. There’d been zero physical contact, but somehow this felt very intimate. There was a silence, not awkward, between the two of you. It was soon filled with the rustling of your covers moving under your body as you shifted your weight. Peter cleared his throat shifting his eyes to meet your gaze.

“So… you wanted to see me?” you ask, the awkwardness now settling in.

You didn’t feel awkward being in his presence. You felt awkward that he seemed to be the one to always make the first move, but never followed through. Not but ten minutes ago he was asking to come over, stating he wanted to see you. You’d caught a glimpse of the confident Peter you hoped was deep inside, but now he was sitting at the foot of your bed playing his fingers nervously.

“I – I just …” For someone who was wicked smart, he couldn’t articulate a coherent thought. Your hand rested on the exposed skin of your thigh watching Peter’s lips move nervously. 

Peter’s eyes were fixated on you. Yours were fixated on his lips watching his bottom lip quivered as you inched closer. There was an obvious attraction. An unexplainable pull. Two forces destined to be together. The beating of your heart became louder and obvious as your body neared Peter’s, who was now matching your own movements.

You brushed your nose against Peter’s, familiarizing yourself with his breathing. He tilted his head, your lips brushing ever so slightly before pulling away to brush your nose. You gulped; the anticipation too high. The hand that was resting on your thigh moved to hold on to Peter’s arm feeling the way his bicep flexed when he felt your delicate touch.

His lips were parted, inches from yours. You were so close you were practically exchanging breaths. He’d exhale and you’d inhale. Peter brought his right hand to the back of your neck, massaging the sensitive area. His mouth still so fucking close to yours, but never actually touching.

You whimpered, your hand falling down to his thigh gripping it tightly. A plea for more.

Peter’s tongue curiously traced your top lip. He clenched his jaw, still gripping to the back of your neck, before repeating the action on your bottom lip. It took every fiber in your body to control yourself, letting Peter take the lead. He had been the one asking to come over after all, you wanted to see what he could do.

He dug his fingers deeper into your neck eliciting a moan. The moan that sent him over the edge. He attacked your lips with his own. Hunger in each nip and tug at your bottom lip. His tongue brushed your bottom lip begging for permission. You open your mouth inviting him in.

Your tongues danced, so glorious. The feeling rushing all the way down to your core. Your body pushing itself against his side as he played with your hair, faces moving this way and that.

You brought yourself to sit on your knees, hovering over Peter. Both your hands finding their way to his face working on tilting his head to give you the best angle to devour him.

His free hand had cupped the bottom of your thigh and was slowly creeping up your ass and towards your back. You shivered under his touch, his hands still cold from the minutes he spent waiting for you.

“Do you want this?” He asked pulling himself from your grip. Searching your face for answers. You eagerly nodded, the lust slipping through your lips when you felt his hand reach under your shorts to squeeze the supple skin.

He pulled you down so you were straddling his lap. Your lips reconnected. This time it was soft and deep. Your lips connecting and reconnecting as your faces titled in opposite directions every few seconds.

You felt his fingers digging into the sides of your waist, his hips bucked longing to feel your every movement. You ground your hips into his, whimpering into his mouth.

Fuck you, Peter from chemistry. You thought melting under his touch.

& fuck you he did.

-

The birds outside your window brought you out of your slumber. Feeling your tense body, you stretch into a starfish before hitting the back of Peter’s head.

You retracted your hand, mentality cursing. You hadn’t forgotten about last night. Hell, it was going to take a long time to forget about the way he listened to your body. The way he made you quiver. The way he licked the skin under your ear sending you into a fit of moans and whimpers.

How the hell did this boy know how to do all this? And better yet, how could you get him to do it again?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt the body next to you shift his weight. A low groan escaping his lips as he brought his arms up to shield his eyes from the sun peeking through your blinds.

You bit your lip watching the veins in his arms and the way his hair was pointing in all different directions. He was a god. No doubt.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He mumbled his arms still slung over his eyes but an obvious smirk had taken over his lips.

“HA” you replied turning your back to him, a sad attempt at hiding your flushed cheeks.

It wasn’t long before you felt his body molding on your back, his arm wrapped around you bringing you closer. The tip of his nose caressed your shoulder. You settled into the embrace as he planted a kiss on the same spot. Then the nape of your neck. And finally that sweet spot right below your ear.

“We should get out of bed,” you whisper bringing your hand up to your nightstand to grab your phone. Peter eyed your movements. You pressed the home button to check the time and as soon as your lock screen flashed, Peter’s body went limp.

Noticing the sudden shift, you turned your head towards him as much as you could asking what was wrong.

Peter, still collecting his thoughts, finally responded. “Why do you have a picture of Tony Stark and a little girl as your screensaver?”

Your brows furrowed moving your body so that you were now fully facing Peter. “You mean a picture of myself? ... with my dad?” You asked confused clutching to the comforter.

Peter’s mouth was suddenly dry and he was trying really hard to swallow the shock. “Your dad?” He asked hoping you’d say you were pranking him.

You sat up, pulling the sheets to cover your breast. “I thought you knew? Everyone here knows who I am.” You say referring back to the obvious knowledge. You were an electrical engineer and physics double major with a chemistry minor for fucks sake. Try saying that five times.

Peter laid flat on his back, groaning and placing his palms on his eyes trying to process the information. Did he really just have sex with Mr. Stark’s daughter? Worse. Did she know he was Spider-Man?

“Wait if you’re Tony Stark’s daughter why are you never at the compound?” He instantly regretted saying that knowing he had definitely given up his cover, if she didn’t already know.

“How do you know that?” She asked. Confusion written on her face.

Peter groaned again. Should he tell her? Or should he risk having her snoop around and find out by someone who wasn’t him? 

“I’m Spider-Man!!” He blurted searching your face for some form of comfort or understanding.

Your mouth formed an O. Why did this lifestyle, heroes and whatnot, follow you everywhere? I mean apart from the fact that you were Tony Stark’s daughter and it was kinda written in your cards. You groaned coming to terms with your fate. 

Goddamit, Peter from chemistry. Fuck you. You thought straddling his lap. His hands instantly finding his favorite parts of you.

-

PART TWO 

Masterlist ♥

#peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #spiderman

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 12

The Midwest Started Another Cult

Northern Ireland POV

"STOP STARTING FUCKING CULTS!" DC yelled at the states we approached. The state in front of group smiled.

"It's not a cult." He said as the states behind him chanted 'Mid-West Best' while circling a tractor. What the fuck did I walk into, because if it's not a cult it's definitely some sort of human sacrifice. I am very scared about what answer I'm going to get. I should've know America's children weren't going to be normal.

"Ohio I can tell when you start cults because you've started five." DC said to the state, Ohio. They've started five cult? What the hell is going on with America's kids? Is he even aware of this? I mean, probably, since these states aren't insistent on keeping it a secret. Another state, this one having a seal on a light flag flag rolled her eyes. She had a purple shirt with a Viking head in it, and jeans.

"We haven't started five cults. We've started two." She said. I don't see how that answer is better.

"Minnesota you shouldn't be starting cults in general!" DC yelled back. Exactly! Why have these states started cults?

"Oh so Illinois can make gangs but we can't make cults?" Another state asked. His flag was dark blue, once again containing a seal. He had overalls and a plaid shirt on.

"NO CULTS NEBRASKA!" DC yelled at the state before turning around to yell at another state, this one had a white flag with a seal and the words Illinois under it. He had on a suit and was trying to leave.

"Hey D. I'm sure we can settle this a civilized wa-" He began before DC but him off.

"NO BRIBING ME!" She shouted before turning to the other states, "STOP CHANTING! THIS IS THE USA NOT A CULT."

"D, the US is definitely a cult. Accept it." Said the state with a dark blue flag, holding a coat of arms. He had an earring in, alongside a jacket, winter hat, and jeans. Well that comment was a bit concerning.

"Hate to agree with Bitchigan, but he's right." Ohio said, scowling at the state who flipped him the middle finger. Oh no, that's the state everyone talks about Ohio fighting, right? This isn't going to end well.

"And Dad said to keep Ohio and Michigan from fighting." Another state chirped. She had a dark blue flag with a coat of arms, that had a sunflower above them and the words 'Kansas' underneath it. Her outfit looked like Dorthy's from 'A Wizard of Oz'. (America made us watch the movie, better than I thought it would be).

"So you started a cult?" DC asked. Nebraska smiled.

"It works pretty well." He said. Or maybe that comment was more concerning. I had no idea what was going on to be honest. DC and these states acted like this was normal, but what they were doing was the complete opposite of normal. Nothing that had happened since we arrived here, since we found out about America's kids was normal.

America wasn't as okay as he wanted us to believe, America was a union, England was keeping a secret about a dark part of America's past, and now the first states to become a part of America wanted to talk to my brothers while I had to watch DC deal with a cult, a fucking cult, that some of the states started.

America was always a strange person, and his country seemed strange sometimes, but...but all this was just so, so much stranger than I ever expected.

"Are cults normal here?" New Zealand asked. Michigan laughed.

"We're the United States. Nothing that's normal for you exists here." He said, smiling slightly. It was weird, hearing the states refer to themselves as the United States. I had always associated that name with America.

But they are the states mentioned in his name, so it makes sense. I was confused. This was such a large shift that I didn't see coming, that no one saw coming. The world superpower was a union. It's not like a this was a first, the USSR was a union. But America hid the fact that he was a union from most of the world.

And he hid his personality. Seeing him interact with the states was so different than the loud, cocky, slightly egotistical America I knew. But my brothers said America acted the way he did a long time ago, before I was born, before his Revolution. Sure, they said, there were differences. He was more mature, more broken, but it was the America they knew.

This was an America I had never seen. This is what made his new, his actual personality terrifying to all of the younger countries. We had never seen this America before. And this America was so different than ours. I shook myself out of my thoughts as the conversation continued.

"That makes sense." Australia said. Ohio rolled his eyes.

"Of course you would understand. You're like the Florida of the world. Except Florida's a state and you're a commonwealth-continent-corporation thing." Illinois said. Did he say corporation? Australia wasn't a corporation. What is he talking about?

I turned to Australia to see that his face had paled, and he looked surprised. New Zealand's eyes widened and he grinned.

"Oh my god." He said, amusement in his voice. Australia's face turned red, and he hid face in his hand.

"You're a corporation?" I said, amazed and confused. When the fuck did that happen? How does a country become a corporation?

"It's a long story." He said, refusing to look up at us. New Zealand began laughing his head off. Australia was not going to live this down. I looked back at DC and saw her trying to get some of the states to leave.

"Come on D! Do we have to leave?" Illinois asked as DC pushed him, Ohio, and four other states away. One of the states was female, and her flag was a vertical tricolor consisting of blue, white, and red, similar to France's, except the center white stripe was bigger than the other two. The white stripe had an eagle holding a ribbon.

The other girl's flag was dark blue, with a gold torch that had rays coming out of it and nineteen stars. She had on jeans and a white t-shirt, both of which were stained with a black substance, grease, I believe.

The first boy's flag was blue, with a coat of arms and the words 'Wisconsin' on the top and the '1848' on the bottom. The other boy had a flag that consisted of three horizontal of red, white, and blue stripes, with a coat of arms in the center. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

"Yes. You guys can leave. We don't need all of you here. You guys are the biggest region and I'd rather not overwhelm them. Also, they don't  need to deal with a fight breaking out as so as they meet you. Go do something useful." DC explained.  The girl who had the similar to France's flag rolled her eyes, but walked off towards the fields.

The other girl and Illinois both walked over the the garage. Ohio and the other two walked off, and I wasn't sure where they were headed. DC sighed and turned back towards us.

"Good now Ohio's gone. Can you guys stop starting cults?" Said a state with a sky blue flag holding, like most of the state flags, a seal with the words 'South Dakota' on the top and 'the Mount Rushmore State' at the bottom.

"I though you liked the cults?" Nebraska said. The state shook her head.

"The cult thing is strictly a you, Iowa, and Kansas thing. Everyone else just goes along because they don't care. Aside from Illinois, who, like always, definitely has an ulterior motive." She said, with Michigan, Minnesota, and the last state, whose flag had a bald eagle above the name 'North Dakota' with a shield that was blue and had thirteen red and white stripes on top of it's chest and a ribbon in its mouth that read 'E Pluribus Unum', all nodded in agreement.

"South's right." Minnesota said, pushing some of her hair out of her face. "Oh and I'm Minnesota by the way, the Land of 10000 Lakes."

"Right, introductions. I'm the State of Michigan, the Great Lakes State. I'm obviously much better than Ohio and if you say you like him, you're banned from my state forever." Michigan said. That seemed extreme, but I didn't know the extent of the rivalry between Ohio and Michigan past what I had been told, so that could be normal for him.

"He's also called the Mitten State" Nebraska added in. Michigan blushed. I wonder if he was embarrassed by that nickname, just like Connecticut seemed to be embarrassed by his nickname of the Nutmeg State.

"Don't call me that. Just because the Lower Peninsula looks like a mitten doesn't mean I should get that nickname! It's embarrassing." Michigan said. Michigan looks like a mitten? I made a mental reminder to look at a map of America's states to see what the rest of the states look. How did Michigan end up looking like a mitten?

"Michi used to like the nickname till Ohio started using it to make fun of him. It's a shame." Kansas added in.

"Okay moving on from Mitten over here-" South said, not even pausing as Michigan cut her off with a cry of 'Don't call me mitten!' "I'm South Dakota, the Mount Rushmore State. You can call me South, but if South Carolina's around just call me Southie. That's what everyone does."

Man there were a lot of people whose names were south something, from South Korea or South Sudan to South Africa. Keeping track of which south you were talking to was bad enough, but now we had South Dakota and South Carolina to deal with. At least the states aren't going to o meetings, because keeping track of five souths would be a nightmare.

"Why didn't we think of coming up with south related nicknames for the countries whose names state with south?" New Zealand asked. I shrugged and the state that had North Dakota written on his flag stepped forwards.

"I'm North Dakota, the Roughrider State. Call me North, unless we're around North Carolina, because then, like South, I get called Northie." North Dakota said. Oh come on can't people be creative. There was already North Korea and North Macedonia, and I was called North as well. Five people called South and five people called North.

Well most people just called North Macedonia Macedonia since no one else shared that name like the rest (or most) of the people stuck with a cardinal direction in their name.

"I'm Northern Ireland, but I get called North." I said. North Dakota's eyes widened.

"Dritt!" he exclaimed before giving a resigned sigh. "Well I'll be Northie for now then."

"I'm Nebraska, the Cornhusker State. Home of the Josh fight." Nebraska said. Josh fight? What was that?

"Josh fight?" Australia asked, finally pulling himself away from his embarrassment. Nebraska nodded.

"Yep. A bunch of people with the name Josh decided they were going to fight over the name Josh to see who gets to keep it. Little Josh won." Nebraska explained, serving only to confuse me more. What did people do in America?

"The Josh fight was started by an Arizonan, so you can't claim all the rights to the Josh fight Braksa. Anyways, I'm Kansas, the Sunflower State." Kansas said.

"Well its nice to meet you." New Zealand said, "Now can you explain to us how Aussie's a corporation?"

"Please don't!" Australia said, his facing turning red from, what I assumed was, embarrassment. I smiled. Embarrassing your family was fun, and I was very curious to know how Australia became a corporation. I opened my mouth to say something, but another state, New Hampshire, ran up to DC and cut off our conversation.

"West and Ginny got into a fight about how West became a state! Most of the South and New England got involved. Del, Tucky, Souri, and Mary trying to stop it and Mont and Flor got France and Canada to leave, but since Dad's asleep they just decided everyone should leave." New Hampshire said.

"Perkele!" Minnesota said before turning to me, "Sorry, but Ginny and West fighting brings up what happened in the 1860s, and trust me that's a complicated and touchy subject for us all. We can meet with you later, and get to know you better later, but trust me, this isn't the best time for you to be here."

There was the 1860s again. What happened then? What was so horrible that it traumatized a nations for over a hundred years?

———————Time skip brought to you by the crazy Minnesotan Awart———————

After we got back home, thinks had calmed down, and we once again spent time thinking over what we had learned. Britain and France were in the kitchen, having a hushed conversation. Scotland had his head in his hands while Wales loomed it be in deep thought. Ireland also looked in deep thought, shooting occasional looks toward England, who just looked guilty.

"Why do things have to be so complicated?" Ireland eventually muttered, breaking the silence in the room. I sighed. I didn't know. Sometimes I wished I had the experience my brothers did. Then things wouldn't always seem so confusing.

"I don't know. Maybe England does." Scotland responded, still, like the rest of us, not over England's secret keeping.

"I'm sorry. But, the situation that happened in the 1860s I cannot talk about. You're going to have to get America to tell you himself." England said. I sighed again.

How on Earth are we going to do that?

#secret states by weird #weird’s wattpad stories #countryhumans #statehumans #writing

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[roskimag]

I Pinned You From Across the Zoom

By Tori Frank

When you have them pinned, that’s how you know it’s real. The anonymous owners of @usc.missedconnections on Instagram discussed zoom romance and the seductive mystery of having an admirer behind the screen.

Imagine Gossip Girl, but make it all horny college students deprived of casual touch. That is the drama of @usc.missedconnections. If you don’t avidly stalk their account, you either have an unheard of self-confidence that doesn’t require any external validation, you deleted your Instagram in a fit of quarantine frenzy, or you haven’t heard of them yet, and you’re very curious about the previously stated analogy.

See the bio of the @usc.missedconnections page: “Have a message for the person whose zoom you always pin or saw from 6 ft away? Anonymously send your missed connection below!” Below sits the google form where all the virtual action happens: the flirts, the cat calls, the compliments, and the subtle roasts. It really is a good time, somewhat making up for the lack of classroom banter that would normally occur.

I sat down with the students who began the account, and we chatted about the new sensation that is dominating everyone’s feed.

Tori: My roommates and I have been following your page pretty actively, as I think a lot of people have been recently.

@usc.missedconnections just surpassed 3000 followers in the few months since their origin on September 30th, 2020

T: It’s definitely very entertaining, especially with Zoom making everything a little bit more boring and separated. It’s been really fun to follow @usc.missedconnections and see what’s the tea! To begin, how did you come up with the idea of creating this account?

Connector 1: I was between USC and another school out on the East coast. Some good friends that I went out and visited there showed me the [Instagram] page at that school, and I was like, “Hey that's a cool idea, that looks like a lot of fun.’ I texted _(Connector 2)_. I was like, “Hey here’s some dumb idea, we’ll get 50 people, we’ll get 2 responses a day. It will be kind of fun to just post them,” and we just grew from there.

T: So how many posts do you guys get a day now?

Connector 2: It’s actually ticked up a lot in what, the past like 2 weeks-ish? For a long time we had a solid 100 just in the bank, and then we slowly [opened them], but it's been 200 plus starting just recently, which is weird. We started posting more frequently to catch up.

Connector 1: Yeah I presume we get about 30-ish on average a day.

Are you intrigued yet? About 30 lucky students across the online campus are being called out for some reason another, be it their sexy voice, their mustache, their wall decorations, or the way they eat their oranges. And on the flip side, about 30 people a day are shooting their anonymous shot through the account. With anonymity of course comes a certain audacity to get real freaky over the submission form. I wondered how freaky it could get.

T: Do you post all of the ones that come, or is there some sort of filtering process?

Connector 1: We’ve had a couple instances where people have been mentioned or certain organizations that have been mentioned have requested for us to take the post down, so we’ve always just respected that if we’re ever asked to take the post down for whatever reason.

Connector 2: I periodically will go through, and I’ll be like, “This one’s weird, I don't think we need to post that,” and then I'll delete it.

_(connector 1)_ idk if you know that I do that, but um…

Connector 1: Oh probably. I mean, I’ve deleted one before.

Connector 2: Yeah, when I’m doing them sometimes I’ll be like ‘this is a little weird how can we phrase this in a way that's not exactly… yeah.

T: Yeah, what’s like the line? Because I think a lot of the time some of the things can be kind of… creepy… I mean the whole thing is like…

Connector 1: (cuts in, chuckling) Kinda creepy 

T: (agreeing) Kinda creepy, right!

There have been submissions such as:

“To ____, Did you know if you rearrange the letters of Coronavirus you get “carnivorous”? Which makes sense because I want to spend the next 14 days of quarantine eating you”

and

“____ in BUAD 497, my only motivation for coming to class is being able to pin your video and look at your beautiful face for two hours”

Connector 1: It’s interesting, um, when we first started it, we talked, and the thing we were worried most about was like cyber bullying, and I personally haven't seen many posts. You get the offhand sarcastic comments, um, which are pretty funny sometimes, but I don’t know if we... we don't really have a set filter. If we feel like something’s over the bar, then we’ll kinda edit it out. Of course a lot of the time too if we’re iffy on something we’ll text the other person and be like ‘hey what do you think of this’ so, it's no distinct line, but our goal is never to make anyone uncomfortable.

T: Yeah, I think generally it's been pretty positive, a lot of affirming things. Even sometimes not romantic, like just positive comments which is pretty cool, and it's good to see that that's been going on. 

Aw so sweet, fellow Trojans getting along so well. But this is a juicy topic. Playing the role as the reporter, I had to get the inside scoop.

T: Do you ever get messages about yourself?

Connector 1: I’ve had 2

Connecter 2: Yeah he’s had 2, I haven’t had any and I’m mad about it. I want one

Connector 1: I gave you one

Connector 2: You gave me one but I knew it was from you so it didn’t mean anything.

T: So you’re not only the owners of the account. You’re sort of participating in the game as well.

Connector 1: Oh, it’s always a blast when like you’re reading through and you know the person who it's getting written about and you’re just waiting. Yeah, that’s like my favorite part of it, and also the guessing games sometimes are a lot of fun too.

Connector 2: For a long time people were scared to tag people that it was about in the comments, but now there’s no hesitation. People will just tag everyone, which I think is really fun.

Its also fun that we don’t give the full last name because then its kinda funny when you get a really generic “Sam B” or “Lucy J” and 6 different Lucy’s get tagged and half the time we know who it really is because we saw the last name and then edited it out.

T: Why don’t you include the full name?

Connector 2: I think it’s more fun. (shyly shrugs) It’s about keeping the mystery, you know? Who could it possibly be about? 

Connector 1: We do get a lot of requests though because of that, where people are like, “Hey, is this me? Can you tell me who sent this in?” and we're like “I don't know.”

Connector 2: Yeah people DM us every day asking for things, and also sometimes people don't understand that we have a forum in our bio and they send it in thru DM, their missed connections, which sort of ruins the anonymity and its sort of embarrassing for them bc we have to be like, “please submit it in our bio,” and they have to be like “oh god now they know”

T: It’s almost like a masquerade. 

Again, I am imagining Jenny Humphrey wearing her golden mask at the Constance Billard School for Girls Masquerade Ball, prancing around Nate Archibald without him having the faintest idea of who he will be kissing. Maybe this is a little different, but the spirit is there!

T: Looking through your posts of course, a lot of them are, “Oh, I have your screen pinned, I watch you all the time in class” Do you guys do that? Do you think that that's like, Zoom behavior now, or is that still cringe?

Connector 2: Idk if I’d pin for a whole class, but I’ve been known to take a look, and based on all the things we’ve gotten sent it I guess people do. If you’re in a lecture thats boring, fair enough. I can't fault you for that. It’s so weird right now, so who knows?

Connector 1: I think it's really fun also, like, people get really creative too. A lot of them are really general but we just posted one today that had a Kanye reference. We get poetry sometimes. I love the poets. It’s a lot of fun for us and I think other people get to read the more fun posts then, like “hey I saw you”, when saying “hey I saw you” does make it, I guess, easier to match, but it’s less exciting for everybody else

T: To match... going off of that, have you heard of any success stores?

Connector 2: I have not but I desperately want to know. I think if people get married we legally have to officiate the wedding. We’ll go public to officiate the wedding. We’ll break anonymity for that.

T: Do a little daft punk moment

Connector 1: Yeah exactly. The [ones] behind the mask.

T: Do you think you want to continue it next year or post COVID in general?

Connector 1: Yeah, I mean I want to.

They talked about potential future: color schemes, contemplating a purple theme or the classic USC colors. I can tell that the account is only growing from here. It’s not like there is any shortage of desperate college students!

T: That’s exciting. I’m excited to see where the account goes!

Connector 1: Us too

T: I’m also looking forward to hopefully getting a post about myself. I have not yet. I know you guys are hiding it

Connector 1: Oh yeah, well with the 200 post back log I’m sure it’ll come out soon...

#usc #uscroski #roski #roskimag

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #298

“i don’t like what i am becoming  /  wish i could just feel something”

Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Do you wear necklaces or earrings more? Just my tragus piercing, really. I only ever wear a necklace sometimes if I'm taking a "nice" picture. Rings or bracelets? I currently don't wear any bracelets, but I do always have one ring on. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Is your current crush younger than you? By just a couple years. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? Yes; he's very tan, especially his arms from being a mailman. Ranch or barbeque sunflower seeds? I don't like sunflower seeds. Do you know the first five books of the Bible in order? No. Do you have a pet fish? Nah, they're not my thing. Do you believe being gay is a choice or a "disorder"? Neither; I believe it's a genetic mutation. It defies biology and the very motive for life, but I always say that a mutation does not, in any way, equate to "wrong." I am extremely adamantly pro-gay rights and bisexual myself, so I can't shit-talk it. What are some of your favourite sounds? Crunching leaves, rain gently tapping on windows, windchimes, birdsong... mainly nature sounds. There are others, I'm just blanking right now. Are you a warm weather or cold weather person? Cold, 100%. What time do you wake up? What for? This spans over a massive gap, honestly... I can wake up as early as 5 or as late as 9:30. Most often, it's pretty early, and I call that my "trial" of being awake, lol... because I will almost without fail go back to sleep for a couple more hours. Hell, that happens even if I sleep on the later side. Do you ever listen to music to fall asleep to? I used to do that in middle and maybe some of high school, I think; I'd fall asleep with my iPod on and earbuds in. I haven't done that in a very long time, though. Could you spend the rest of your life with someone who had bad taste in music? ... Yes? Their taste in music has nothing to do with them as a person???? Do you still talk to the person you fell hardest for? No, and it's best I don't. Have you ever wanted to get drunk and get your mind off everything? Yes, and that's how I found out I'm far from a lightweight. I wasn't going to drink more than I actually wanted to drink just to get wasted. Did you love playing hide and seek as a kid? Yeah. Who is the last child you held? My youngest niece. Have you ever woken up not knowing where you were? Maybe for a few moments after my surgery? I don't really recall. When is the last time you made the wrong choice in anything? Every fucking day when I decide what to do with my time. What is the most interesting thing in the room you are in? My snake, I guess. She's a champagne morph ball python. When washing your hands, do you wet your hands or put soap on first? I put on soap first. When was the hardest you ever cried? What was the circumstance? Probably when Mom literally dragged me home after I tried to walk to Jason's to talk the night of the breakup. I lost my fucking mind. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet? I don't think I have any. Coke or Pepsi? Coke. I hate Pepsi. What is better: cute smile, or amazing eyes? A cute smile. What song are you listening to? "Drilled a Wire Through My Cheek" by Blue October is on currently. Name your best friend(s): Sara. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nope. Last night you felt? I wasn't suicidal, but still kinda wanted to die lmao. Do you still watch Disney channel? No. How do you like your eggs? I only enjoy them scrambled, and preferably with cheese. What’s your all-time favorite song? "False Flags" by Massive Attack. If you could be any TV character, who would you be and why? Idk, I don't watch TV enough. Maybe Donna from That '70s Show. Very strong and independent, outspoken, and not to mention she has great taste. I find her to be a good female character to look up to. Do you ever come up with really good ideas for stories or movies? Do you do anything with them? Yeah; I'll try to integrate them into RP characters and plots. What sort of things do you post on your Tumblr? Vintage photos, screen caps, girly things? It's a Markiplier cesspit lmao. Sometimes I'll reblog shit I find funny. I've been very inactive on it, though. Have you ever had a dream that you couldn’t shake, even for days after you woke up? Oh yes. When was the last time you felt like a nuisance, or unwanted? Recently, I'm sure. When was the last time your dreams were crushed, or at least hindered? I dunno. How’s school going? I'm not in school. Are you angry at anyone right now? Myself. The last person to say they loved you? Mom. When is the last time you laughed hard? Hard? I'm really not sure. Are there any words on your shirt? No, it's just a blank black tank. Does it take a lot to make you cry? NOPE. Do you tell your parents everything? No. Do you get bored easily? I'm bored to the point of thinking being dead would be more fun at some point almost every day. I have anhedonia badly. I'm honestly starting to think I've over-medicated to a numbing degree so am trying to wean off some things. Have you ever burned someone's picture? No. How long was your last nap? Maybe three hours? I was really, really tired, though. Can you name the last time you felt happy? Probably when Sara and I talk-talked for the first time in a while. When was the last time you played with sidewalk chalk? Oh, I have zero clue. Probably not since I was a kid. Do you have friends obsessed with World of Warcraft? Bro wtf don't @ me. Have you ever punched a hole in the wall? No. Have you ever told someone you hated them? The only time I've seriously said that was to my dad before we reconciled after the divorce. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to? I actually don't remember... Favorite thing to do on Facebook? See The Memes. Do you wear flip flops, regardless of weather, all the time? I SAID don't @ me. What is in store for your future? I both do and don't want to know. Have you ever seen a live bat? Yeah. I adore bats. Do you chew on straws? No. Do you have any trophies? Yeah. Who’s the last person that creeped you out? Some guy who walked into the store I was at with Mom, continuously looking back and forth. Would you believe an ex if she/he said they love you? Well, that would depend on the person. Have you ever been kissed in the rain? Yeah. Anything exciting happening soon? My half-sister and her kids are visiting tomorrow and staying for a few days. It's a surprise for Mom. Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? You could say these surveys kinda are. I don't have a designated "diary," though. When was the last time you took a painkiller? What was it for and did it work? I had womanly issues a few days back, and yeah, it helped. Have you ever had to go and rescue someone because their car broke down? When was the last time that happened? I mean, I've driven /with/ Mom to do so. I myself don't drive. What’s one sweet/candy you miss from your childhood? Is this item something you can still buy or has it been discontinued? Y'all remember Baby Bottle Pops??? 'Cuz I do, and I love those fuckin things. I still see them sometimes in gas stations. When was the last time you used some kind of moisturiser? A few days back for my hands. They were painfully dry. If you’re under lockdown/stay at home orders at the moment, are you struggling or managing okay? A bitch is s t r u g g l i n g. Has anything positive come out of the pandemic for you? Fuck no. Do you wear a watch? Is it analogue/digital? Does it it have things like a step-counter in it? No. Do you have any gifts from Christmas that you still haven’t opened or used? Not used, yes. Well, then some things are still in their boxes, but they're unwrapped. Do you know how to tie a tie? If so, who taught you? No. Who was your last missed call from? Did you ring that person back? Some number I didn't recognize, so no. When was the last time you had some kind of problem with your internet connection? Is this something that happens often? A few days back. It has occasional instances where it'll go out but come back on shortly. Do you have a favourite celebrity chef? No. Do you prefer pizza or pasta? Pizza. Have you ever volunteered anywhere before? What was the reason behind doing so? Once at PetSmart when they had dogs to adopt out, which was for school volunteer hours. I spent time with them, giving them attention and taking them outside. I also had two other animal-related volunteer days, but each was only a few hours because my fucking weak-ass body couldn't handle them. Have you ever been truly obsessed with something? What was it and how did you come to feel that way? I have an incredibly obsessive personality; I could probably name near on a dozen or so things I've been genuinely obsessed with. I don't know what it means to love in moderation. Some are/were pleasant obsessions, some aren't/weren't. Does it bother you when people turn up at your house without asking or waiting to be invited? Yes. Are you taller or shorter than average height? I'm the average for an American woman. Do you have any family members whose beliefs or ways of life completely embarrass you? YUP YUP YUP YUP. Are you scared of heights? Yes. When was the last time you lost something of great sentimental value? Did you ever end up finding it again? I don't know. Have you ever injured anyone in self-defense? No. What food do you find to be the most filling? Is this something you eat a lot of? In relation to its portion sizes, oatmeal or eggs. I can't have a whole lot of either. I wouldn't say I eat either a lot, but oatmeal is more common. Have you ever heard people talking badly about you behind your back? Did you confront them about it? Yes, and in at least two instances. Do you consider “home” to be the place you were born, or is it somewhere you create for yourself? I consider it to be my childhood home; not the one I was actually born in, but only because I was way too young to remember and we only lived there like, maybe two years into my life. Have you ever experienced having to leave your home due to a fire, or due to the threat of fire? No, thankfully. When was the last time you felt you were in a dangerous situation? When we had a serious tornado warning Christmas Eve. Yes. In winter. Are there any superstitions that you believe in? Which ones and what are your reasons for doing so? No. Are there any series of books/films that you never finished - either because you got bored of waiting or just lost interest? Oh, I'm sure. I Wouldn't say I lost interest in a lot though, I just wasn't interested enough, like for The Hunger Games. Which theme park is your favorite? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Like, just one. Do you eat healthy? I try to be, at least. Though I've been doing very poorly about it lately because I'm a emotional goddamn eater and am having a very hard time. Do/did your parents fight often? They're divorced for a reason. Do YOU fight with them often? No. Would you say that you're respectful? I hope so. Are you a fan of Green Day? Yeah, I love them. Would you rather have 4 kids at one time or never have a kid? Jesus Christ, never. I don't want any anyway. Do you think 'friends with benefits' relationships really ever work? No. Do you or have you ever known a drug addict? Yes. Do you turn off the water while brushing your teeth or leave it on? I always turn it off. No reason to waste it. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Lots, if you include my half-siblings. Are caterpillars more cute or disgusting? I tend to find them cute. What's your homepage when you bring up the internet? Google. Was the last book you read for fun or was it for some type of assignment? It was for fun. Have you ever dated someone you met online? Yes. Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? Depends on who's asking. Do you own any band tees? Oh, I have lots. Off the top of my head, some that I frequently wear are Metallica, Otep, and Korn. Do you know someone who wears a wig? No. Have you ever kissed someone under fireworks? I don't think so. What kind of dressing do you eat on your salad, if any? I strongly prefer the Olive Garden kind, but I also enjoy ranch. What genre of music do you listen to the most? Metal of some sort. Have you ever dated someone who was way overprotective of you? No. Do you personally know any cops? No. How many different colleges have you gone to? Three. How much stress can you handle? Not much at all. How confident are you in achieving your dreams? I ain't got the slightest clue by this point in my life. What is one thing you thought you’d never do but have done or are doing? There's a lot of things, most bad, some good. Do you have to take medication for any mental illness? A lot. Do you like looking at pictures? It depends on what's in them. Specifically pictures from my past, that's usually a big no. Do you believe the dead can have connections with the living? I guess in very vague ways. Which family member do you get along with the most? Well, define "get along with." I by far have the strongest relationship with my mom, but we fight sometimes. As for who I stay on the most stable ground with, that's probably my dad. Would you ever be able to become a vegan? I know I couldn't, but I'd love to. How did you meet your newest friend? Who even IS my newest friend... Have you ever watched the show Teen Mom? What did you think about it? No, and I think it's an awful fucking idea for a television show. Put a spotlight on and money into teen pregnancy, yeah, that's a genius plan. Are you old enough to remember MySpace? Yeah. Do you think you’ll be a good mother/father? I wouldn't be. Do you have trouble deleting your text messages? I don't need to. Is there something that you haven’t told anyone that you actually would like to tell someone? No. Have you ever been called a tease? Yeah. Do people ever make fun of your religion or lack thereof? No. Do you say/do things a lot for shock effect? No? What was the last compliment you gave a guy? I probably told my nephew Ryder he was a good brother. Was one of your grandpas in a war? Maybe? Idk. I never knew either well at all. Have you screamed in a pillow before? Yes. What do you like more, acoustic or electric? Electric. Have you ever ordered something off a commercial on television? No. What's worse, having someone mad or disappointed in you? Disappointed. Do you still consider Pluto a planet? Yes. Didn't they reinstate it as one, anyway? Right now, are you at a high, leveled, or low point? What's lower than "low?"

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''i am machine'' by three days grace

[obscure-sentimentalist]

flommy, 13

Prompt from this list: “Is that my shirt?”

“Is that my shirt?”

Tommy looks down, tugging at the black cotton fabric. “Hey, who’s to say I’m not a fan of…” He squints to read the stylized font upside-down, and one eyebrow arches once he makes sense of it. “Wait, no way is that an actual band name.”

“Oh, no, Mattress on the Freeway was legendary,” Felicity contradicts, carefully controlling her voice so it comes out as a breathy, awed gasp, and any laughter is kept bottled up. “They sold out at major venues, everybody loved them. And this,” she taps a pink-painted nail over the well-worn white lines of a minivan carrying the namesake mattress that’s printed across the shirt’s chest, “this is a collector’s item.”

Almost unconsciously, Tommy’s hand drifts up to catch Felicity’s, entwining their fingers and pressing both to his heart. “They were that bad, huh?” he asks, fighting the grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“The worst,” Felicity laughs, tossing her head back as the façade melts away. “At least, terrible even by teenage garage band standards. Some guy in my high school English class, who wouldn’t have had anything to do with me otherwise because all of this,” she waves her free hand in a vague gesture to herself, “was tacked onto the awkwardness that comes preinstalled with being fifteen, asked for my help in building his band a webpage. Couldn’t pay me, but he also knew just enough that he couldn’t ask it of me as a favor. So, in exchange for my services, I got a free first-edition t-shirt to mark their pre-successful days.”

Tommy frowns at that, casting his eyes up as he tries to break that all down. “Let me get this straight: some kid in a garage band expected you to pull together a website for free, yet he and his buddies had enough money to print off shirts that are decent-enough quality to still look this good after over a decade?” He glances back down at the graphic, and then at Felicity, perplexed. “If they had that sort of money on their hands, you’d think they’d have done a better job of budgeting.”

Felicity’s eyebrows skyrocket in amusement at that. “You’re seriously asking why a group of teenage wannabe rock stars didn’t have better financial planning beyond blowing all their money on making merchandise? You,” she pokes him playfully on the nose at that, “whose frivolous expenditures carried well into your twenties.”

“Hey, I never denied that I’m a hypocrite.” Tommy grins, slipping his free arm around Felicity’s lower back and gently sliding her in closer. “And it is a very comfy shirt, I’ll give them that. Slightly snug fit, but I think that speaks to how perfectly chiseled I am.”

“So modest,” Felicity teases, before leaning in and placing her cheek to Tommy’s chest, right alongside their still-clasped hands. “They didn’t even ask me what size shirt I wanted, just gave me a quick ‘thank you’ and threw it at me. Lucky for me, it made for a perfect oversized sleep-shirt, which is how I’ve always used it.” She snuggles into the fabric with a happy sigh, the sound of Tommy’s heartbeat a comfort under her ear.

It’s a brief moment of bliss, before Felicity’s brain catches up and her eyes snap back open.

“Wait, how did you even find this?” she asks, alarm slowly rising in her voice as she pulls back. “You weren’t wearing it all day, were you?”

Tommy frowns, dropping his hand from Felicity’s back to pull at the fabric again. “No, I swung by your place to get changed quickly before heading over here, and I knew I had a black t-shirt in the load of darks we washed a couple days ago. Thought I saw it on the drying rack, flipped it right side-out without looking at the front, and yanked it on as I was running out the door.”

“Okay, okay, so no one’s seen you in it yet,” Felicity says hurriedly, pinching the bridge of her nose and pushing her glasses up. “We can still fix this. You keep a spare change of clothes down here too, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Tommy starts, before it turns into a surprised yelp as he folds over and his head disappears under the shirt collar at which Felicity is now tugging. 

“Great,” she replies, voice strained as she works to free the tight-fitting fabric. It gets a bit easier once Tommy—surely still a bit confused, but willing enough to go along with it—blindly latches on to the underarms and pulls, but it’s still going to take a bit more work. “Because this is a sleep-shirt, and I’ve definitely worn it to girls’ night sleepovers with Sara and Laurel. And I can’t have you trying to tell Oliver that this is, like, some ironic thrift store find or whatever the first explanation that comes to your mind is, because that’ll just get him all Suspicious Glare-y and it’ll bounce from you to me and he’ll figure it out, so…” 

The shirt suddenly flies off, sending Felicity tottering back on her heels with a frightened squeak. Before she loses her balance altogether, though, Tommy’s hands snap up to grasp her wrists and gently pull her back upright. 

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, hands shifting from Felicity’s wrists to instead rest on her shoulders. “Listen, I know it was initially my idea for us to keep things quiet as we start to get a feel for… well, us, and you agreed. But I also don’t want it to feel like we actively need to keep things secret.” Tommy leans in, pressing their foreheads together in reassurance. “So if a t-shirt for a strangely-named band is how our relationship gets revealed to our friends, I can more than live with that.”

Felicity hesitates, wringing the shirt in her hands as she considers the situation. While Tommy had indeed been the one to suggest that they keep their budding relationship under wraps—never, he made clear, because he was at all uncertain or embarrassed; he’d simply wanted them to just be—Felicity had felt the same. It had been nice, sharing something just between the two of them, but keeping things so private was also so very limiting. No beyond-platonic affection exchanged while the team was around. Carefully-coordinated nights out that wouldn’t draw attention to them. Whatever evasive maneuvers they’d had to pull that one time Thea was angry with both Oliver and Roy and came to her other brother for comfort, which had coincided with Felicity staying the night at Tommy’s. 

Giving up their little bubble of secrecy would be tough, but it was a more than fair trade for what they’d earn with opening up. 

“I’m still going to want this back,” Felicity warns, waving the shirt to punctuate before she tosses it onto Tommy’s left shoulder. “You’re borrowing it, that’s all.”

Tommy just laughs. “Rest assured, it’s yours.” Tilting his head, he presses a gentle kiss to Felicity’s lips. “And so am I.”

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #flommy #flommy fic #the Read More seems to be acting up so bear with me...

[rufousnmacska]

Hi can I request for another modern manorian fic?

This is unforgivably late so I apologize anon! There is more to come, hopefully in the next week.

Museum Day

Part 1

Dorian cringed and covered his ears as shrieking kids ran up the steps to the museum. They moved by him like water flowing around a rock and he wondered again why he’d agreed to be a field trip chaperone.

When he caught sight of his little brother laughing with his friends, his doubts vanished.

Hollin was still struggling with their father’s death. And with their newly arrived uncle who’d stepped in to take over as CEO. Having grown the family business to a sprawling, multi-national company, their father had become a greedy bastard. Dorian supposed it was necessary to reach that level of success. Still, the man had treated his sons relatively well. If withholding affection and attention was treating your children well.

Uncle Perrington made Dorian Sr. look like father of the year material. Hollin was certainly no angel, but no kid deserved the verbal lashings Perrington dealt out.

Dorian had one more semester of school and then he’d take Hollin and leave. In the meantime, chaperoning his brother’s class trip to the museum was the least he could do.

A teacher started to form the kids into groups and Dorian peered through the revolving door to the main entrance. The building housed both a natural history museum and an art museum. As a fifth-year architecture student, he’d spent some time in the art wings, but had never ventured into the other side. All those bones and stuffed animals never appealed to him. The kids’ excitement was infectious though, and he found himself eager to get started.

Once within the towering entry hall, Dorian took his group aside to wait for a tour guide and then buried his head in a map of the building. When Hollin and his friends became suddenly and uncharacteristically quiet, he looked up to see what had caused it.

His eyes met those of the guide, and as one, their jaws dropped in awkward recognition.

*****

“Why can’t I buy you a beer?”

The dark-haired princeling seemed to have a problem with her getting her own drink. Even if Manon hadn’t known he was a Havilliard – probably a lesser known cousin or something – his clothes pegged him for a rich boy. Gray pants and a blazer - who the hell wore a blazer to go out on a Saturday night? - and short curls that looked too messy to be anything but carefully arranged. Some spoiled brat out with his friend, looking for cheap booze and easy hook-ups in the bad part of town.

She glanced over to where Asterin was holding his friend against the wall, kissing him while his hands groped her ass. With an annoyed sigh, she had to admit their plan seemed to be going well for one of them. Turning back, she found he’d moved his bar stool an inch or two closer to her.

People hitting on her was common, and something she usually dismissed with a look that was scary enough to send them running. Being hit on here though… It didn’t happen. Ever. Most of the bar’s customers were family or people she’d known half of her life, making them family all the same. That was probably why Asterin had practically launched herself at that guy. He was fresh blood.

Just like the princeling, Manon caught herself thinking.

The moment the two had walked in, his blue eyes were locked on her. Manon had turned away, not interested. But a little later she’d turned to see him smiling at some joke his friend had made. Which lead to her getting caught staring. Which lead to Asterin abandoning her for the tall blonde and opening the door for this discussion over who was buying the drinks.

“Because I said so.” His grin widened at the growl in her voice and Manon had to look away before she got thoroughly trapped in it. “Besides,” she returned the grin, adding a knife sharp edge all her own. “I’m not drinking tonight.” She surprised herself by almost telling him she had to work early the next day. But he didn’t need to know that.

“As it happens”, he said, reaching back to get his glass of soda, “neither am I. So let me amend my offer.” He made a show of looking her up and down. But not in a creepy way. It was thoughtful and a little exaggerated and she had to bite back a smile. “You look like a Shirley Temple kind of girl…”

“Oh my god,” Manon groaned, unable to keep from laughing. And before she could stop him, he was ordering one for her.

*****

It was her. The white-haired witch from that bar he’d never been able to find again.

Chaol had called her a witch after hearing about that night. How else to explain Dorian’s obsession to find her. Or Gavriel never shutting up about the blonde he’d hooked up with.

“You’re both idiots,” Chaol had said. Only to be smacked on the arm by his girlfriend.

“They’re bewitched,” Yrene said. “Not idiots. I think it’s romantic!”

Chaol just shook his head. “So those women were witches. That doesn’t mean these two,” he pointed at his roommates, “aren’t idiots.”

Dorian had tried to retrace their steps. He remembered the parking garage they’d parked in, but from there, he’d had no luck. Gavriel, too drunk that night to recall getting there, was useless in the search. But he helped, being just as eager as Dorian to find it and the blonde again.

And now, here she was. About to lead him and a bunch of kids on a tour of the museum.

“Manon.” When he looked up from her name tag and found her still staring at him, eyes blazing gold, he allowed himself one self-satisfied smirk. She’d insisted on no names that night. “I’m Dorian,” he said, enjoying the sight of her reddening cheeks. But then her eyes flashed wide for a second in understanding and he wished no one had ever heard of his family.

“Can we see the T-Rex or are we just gonna stare at each other all day?” one of the students yelled, causing the group to break out into laughs and a cheer of agreement.

Smoothing out her oversized museum shirt, Manon cleared her throat and began calling out rules for the tour. Dorian listened dutifully, trying to ignore the memories of that night playing through his mind.

*****

Alcohol would be the perfect excuse. But unfortunately, there was no excuse for the dancing. Manon was not someone who danced. Especially here, in her father’s bar.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. When they were teenagers, she and her gang of cousins and friends would sing and dance to whatever cheesy 80’s songs were still working on the old jukebox in the corner. But that wasn’t really dancing.

She’d never slow danced with someone before.

After an hour or two of flirting and laughing, and another god awful Shirley Temple, the princeling had convinced her to dance with him. What was she supposed to do when Asterin changed the song midway through? She couldn’t just walk away when the music slowed. That would be rude.

So here she was, dancing in the arms of a Havilliard while another slow song began, trying not to think about how good he smelled. Or felt. Or might taste.

Asterin and her blonde were dancing too, but not seriously. They were swirling each other around, paying no attention to the music. She always admired that ability of Asterin’s to just not give a fuck and have fun.

They’d both had a similarly shitty upbringing, so Manon often wondered why she was incapable of letting go like that. Then she’d remember how much more Asterin had suffered, remembered that it was as much a defense mechanism as anything. She of course had her own defenses as a result of growing up with their grandmother. Once they’d escaped, and she’d found her father, Manon had thought she’d let those walls down a bit.

Having her first slow dance at the age of 26 might be a sign that she hadn’t.

When the song ended, she looked up into gemstone eyes and decided she wanted to have some fun of her own.

“You want to get out of here?”

 *****

This was a nightmare. Truly awful. She didn’t know how her day could get any worse. This was why she never did anything fun. This was how her luck worked. Of course the one guy she has anonymous sex with would show up at work for a goddamn tour with a bunch of kids.

And, I’m wearing the ugliest damn clothes I own, she thought miserably, leading the group up to the second floor.

The kids seemed to be enjoying themselves at least.

Manon was not overly fond of children. Usually they were fine. But more often than not, they had a way of seeing right through you and blurting out whatever secret they’d uncovered. Leading school groups was a price she was willing to pay for the experience and connections she was gaining at the museum. And she’d learned that if she kept talking, kept asking questions, kept them entertained… The next thing she knew, it was over.

This group was doing well, answering her questions, asking a lot of their own. It would have been perfect. If not for the princeling - basically a true prince she knew now - whose eyes followed her everywhere and saw every blush that crossed her cheeks and every glance she stole in his direction.

Directing them all into a room, she ignored Dorian as he passed her. After everyone was inside she began to talk about the displays of rocks and minerals lining the dark walls. This exhibit was one of her favorites because of the reactions it got. With the T-rex and triceratops skeletons just downstairs, people gasping at a bunch of rocks was always a highlight of giving a tour. The second she flipped off the main lights and hit a switch to activate the UV lights, the kids oohed and aahed at the brilliant reds and greens and blues of the fluorescent minerals. The UV moved from rock to rock, spotlighting each one in turn. Manon was supposed to name them as they were featured, but she usually didn’t, letting them just enjoy the show.

It was mostly dark, so she risked a glance towards Dorian. He was standing with a boy she assumed was his brother, even though they looked nothing alike. The smile he wore was reminiscent of the one that had ensnared her that night. A smile that seemed to come so easily, so often. A smile she didn’t think herself capable of. When he turned in her direction, she brought the lights back up and lead them to the next exhibit.

*****

Being Gavriel’s designated driver was never fun. It didn’t happen often since he rarely drank. But that was the problem. He was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, and a heavyweight when it came to lugging his ass home. Chaol had once thrown out his back trying to help the guy up the stairs to their apartment.

So when they’d started the night with Chaol bowing out, and Gavriel needing to unwind from exams, Dorian was expecting an evening of babysitting and boredom. Even Gavriel’s insistence that they find bars in sections of the city they’d never been to before wasn’t enough to rouse his interest.

Until they’d found this place. Until he’d seen her. Standing at the bar in jeans and a sweater, her silvery white hair falling down her back in a messy braid. Blood red lips and black nails. The exact opposite of what most women he knew wore on a night out. And she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The thought had made him laugh. It was such a cliche. But even cliches could be true sometimes.

And now she was pulling him out a back door and down an alley.

Dorian was stone cold sober. So why did he feel like he was floating? Why was his brain buzzing and his heart pounding? She glanced back at him and smiled as she led him onto another street.

Oh, he thought, grinning back. That’s why.

There was nothing in his system except her.

They stopped at a door and before he could try to figure out where they were, she had it unlocked and pulled him inside. And before he could say anything, she was kissing him.

It took every ounce of self control he possessed, but he needed to ask. So breaking apart from the softest lips he’d ever kissed, he said, “Wait. What’s your name?“

With a smirk that set him on fire, she said, “No names. Just fun.” Then, more seriously, she asked, “Do you have a condom?”

He pulled a couple out of his pocket to show her and she rolled her eyes, still smiling. But then he hesitated. As much as he wanted to know her name, Dorian realized that if she told him, he’d have to give his. He could lie, but he didn’t want to do that with her. And if this one night was all she was willing to give him, he’d take it. On her terms.

“I’m at your command,” he said, losing his breath at the heat that overtook her at his words.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” she teased as she took his lower lip between her teeth. Dorian groaned and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. “Down the hall. First door on the left,” she said, sounding out of breath too.

As he carried her to the bedroom, Dorian uttered a brief, silent thank you to Gavriel for dragging him out tonight.

*****

“Have dinner with me?”

Manon’s eyes slid over to him as the kids ran off into the gift shop, where the tours always ended. They were left alone. No distractions, no excuses.

Dorian knew he was probably crossing a line. He’d done his best to pay attention as she’d led them through the various halls and galleries, but there were a few times when she’d caught him watching her and not the exhibits. She’d been flustered once or twice by him though. Which was why he decided to throw his luck to the wind and just ask.

“What was your favorite exhibit?” she asked, watching the kids as the other groups from their school joined them.

“Excuse me?” That was not the answer he’d been expecting.

“Was there a certain dinosaur you liked? Or one of the dioramas? Maybe something in the Hall of Minerals?” Manon finally turned to look at him, her face expressionless. “What was your favorite part?” She repeated the question a little more slowly, enunciating each word.

He hesitated, sensing a trap. The answer forming on the tip of his tongue - You, of course - would undoubtedly spring it and send him limping home with his pride in ruins.

“Uh…” He fumbled through his brain for something, anything, as he realized he’d been silent for too long. “The dinosaurs. I liked the giant winged ones.” It wasn’t a lie, they were his favorites. And not just because her voice seemed to grow more excited while talking about them. For some reason, they seemed more unbelievable than the other fossil skeletons, more fantastical and amazing. But under the pressure of her piercing stare, there was no way he’d remember any of their names.

Giving nothing away to signify if he’d given a good reply, she simply asked, “The raptors?”

Dorian tried not to sound relieved. “Yeah, the raptors. They were cool. Frightening as hell, but cool.” Manon made a disappointed sigh and he knew instantly that he’d fucked up.

“Raptors are birds of prey. Or small carnivorous dinosaurs. Like Jurassic Park.” She curved a finger that sported an exceptionally sharp nail. “The giant flying ones are pterosaurs. Which are reptiles. If you’d been paying attention, maybe you would have known that.” Stepping closer to him, her voice soft and lethal, she said, “Perhaps if you could answer my question properly, my answer wouldn’t be no.”

Before he could say anything to defend himself, Hollin rushed over and grabbed his hand. As his brother pulled him towards baskets of fake fossils for sale, Dorian glanced back at Manon. She was basking in the satisfaction of tricking him. But there was something else there besides the smooth as cream smile. Her eyes were blazing with a challenge.

He was pulled away again and when he looked back, she was gone. As Hollin picked out his souvenirs, Dorian decided the two of them should start coming to the museum more often. His brother enjoyed it, and there was the extra benefit of getting Hollin out of their toxic home. And he clearly needed to bone upon his dinosaur names.

To be continued…

I don’t think tags are working, but just in case…

@itach-i @nestasbucket @manontrashbeak @bookishwitchling @jimetg98 @mis-lil-red @chloe123love607 @sierrareads @yourfacesickens-me @awesomelena555 @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @blackhavilliard

fanfic master list (includes the link to my fics on AO3)

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #manorian au #my writing #anon ask #pterosaurs are not dinosaurs #lol the more you know #they do fascinate and scare the shit out of me tho #i have nothing against shirley temples!

[thehomeforthehopelessromantics]

After All This Time Part II:

(I also have no idea how many parts this is gonna be)

(I just love writing angst sooooo)

A month later…

“Why do we always watch this movie? I cry every time,” Neo whined, wiping some of the tears off his face. Moe was here too but when the end scene came up she went and my room and refused to come out until Neo was done crying. Moe was as big a baby as he was so having both of them crying would be totally overwhelming for me.

“Because it’s my favorite movie and you love me.” I rubbed his back soothingly. The ending of Dead Poets Society is absurdly devastating, but I’ve watched it so many times I’m cried out.

“I need to love you less. This is ridiculous,” he mumbled into his palms, trying to still himself.

“You want to go get ice cream?” I offered, knowing that he was a big kid and ice cream always made him feel better.

“Yes, please,” he sniffled and I had to let out a laugh. Works every time.

“Let me go get Moe.” I went to my room to find Moe completely passed out, sprawled across my bed. I shook my head, letting out a sigh. 

Tossing on a random T-shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans and my combats, I grabbed my keys, and a sleepy Moe who was coming along so I could drop her off at home since she had work in the morning and my big blubbering friend who was wearing a pastel pink hoodie and jeans. We got in the car and I dropped Moe off and then drove us to his favorite ice cream spot. A little shop called, Delights. We both ordered chocolate chip cookie dough and went to wait for our order.

“Y’know the guy I was telling you about?”

“The guy you’ve been completely sprung on? Nope never heard of him,” I said with a straight face as he shoved me back playfully.

“Anyway,” he drawled. “I was talking to him the other day. He tried the ice cream from this place and said he had a friend he had to take here. The guy is trying to get over some girl who apparently left him high and dry. Poor guy.”

I little bit of guilt shot through me as I thought of Blu, but I brushed it off when I heard the door open. Glancing up over I saw two guys at the door and I heard Neo gasp and chirp happily, “Dally!”

Before I knew it he was hugged up with a guy who’s face I recognized instantly. I swear my heart dropped to my toes as I looked behind him and saw the exact person I didn’t want to see.

***

Blu’s POV

“I don’t know why we’re here,” I grumbled. I just wanted to stay at home and be miserable and miss her and watch her favorite movie. Instead I was dragged out of our dorm and to this stupidly happy looking ice cream shop. Delights. What an abnoxiously happy place. Disgusting. “We’re here because someone recommended it, I love ice cream and you need a pick me up,” he said, looking at me pointedly. I just rolled my eyes. I knew his heart was in the right place, but this was the last thing I needed.

“Is this ‘someone’ the guy you’ve been seeing? How long has it been now? A month?” I taunted, taking some joy in watching him turn red at the mention of his guy. Every time he came home from a date, he’d have this dazed look in his eyes and when I ask him how it was he just said “Splendid.”

Dalton is one of the strangest people I’ve ever met, but honestly I don’t know what I’d do without him. How many friends are willing to try and help you get over someone you haven’t been with for a year and half now?

We walked in and I squinted as I took in the bright colors. The walls were a bright baby blue with pastel pink details and it overall kind of hurt to look at. “Dally!” I heard a very obviously male voice say happily before running over and hugging him. I laughed as I repeated the funny nickname to myself. Dally? What is this? The Outsiders?

I almost choked on that laugh when I looked over and saw her. Staring right at me. I know I’d seen her like a month ago but that was all the way across the room. Here she was just a few feet in front of me– a few steps and I could have her wrapped in my arms again. I swear it took everything in me not to just hold her and not let go ever again.

“Hey, babe,” Dalton grinned, hugging the boy who had latched onto him. My attention diverted to them for a second before going back to (Y/N) who was now staring at the floor, fidgeting uncomfortably. “What are you doing here?”

Pulling back, the guy rolled his eyes. “Me and my roommate watched Dead Poets Society and I got upset so she brought me here.” Turning, the guy ushered (Y/N) over and I saw the look on Dalton’s face change.

“This is my roommate-” “(Y/N)?” Dalton asked incredously, looking over at me nervously. I knew he was worried about me, but right now being this close to her was the clearest my head’s been in months. “Hey, Dalton.” She mumbled, still refusing to look up from the ground, biting her lip.

“You’re Neo’s roommate?!”

“Roommate and best friend since forever.” She smiled ruefully. “I swear, I didn’t know it was you Neo had been seeing recently, I wouldn’t have-”

“Nice shirt,” I chimed with a smile.

I’d recognize the Michael Meyers flipping you off shirt anywhere. It was mine and still far too big for her and still looked better on her than it ever did on me. I’m shocked she still has it. 

Glancing at her shirt confused, she understood and huffed and shut her eyes. I knew it was almost unhealthy how hard I was watching her, but honestly, you couldn’t have paid me to care.

She opened her mouth to say something when the guy at the register called her name. Turning she went and grabbed her ice cream and I saw him slip her a piece of paper that when she turned around she rolled her eyes at and threw away.

When she got back to where we were standing the guy, whose name I’m assuming was Neo, looked at her like she was crazy. “Did that guy just give you his number?”

“Yeah, so?” She shrugged and I felt my jaw clench.

“Why’d you throw it away? The last date you’ve been on was high school! Go get that number out of the trash,” he demanded

Dalton and I made eye contact with each other, both clearly confused. Did he just say the last date she’s been on was high school?

“Shut up, Neo,” she mumbled lowly to him, giving him a pointed look.

“What? No,” he insisted. “You need to go get that guy’s number. He’s cute!” I almost laughed at how Dalton’s face shifted.

“He is?” Dalton asked amusedly.

Neo look flustered for a second before hitting Dalton’s chest. “Shut up.” Dalton in turn grabbed the hand that Neo now had against his chest and kept it there, smiling. “Now like I was saying, high school was way too long ago for you to not-“

“Does he not know?” I interrupted, looking at (Y/N). The fact that she didn’t answer me was answer enough. Her best friend had no idea that me and her were ever together. Talk about a slap in the face.

“Know what?” Neo asked innocently, looking at (Y/N) questioningly. “Wait, how do you all know each other?”

Taking a deep breath, she screwed her eyes shut seemingly dreading what she was about to say. “I know Dalton through Blu.”

“And what do I not know?” Neo turned, looking at her pryingly. When she didn’t respond immediately he put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “(Y/N/N)?”

“He’s an old... associate.”

“Associate?” I said incredulously and I saw her wince, eyes still closed. “Do all kiss all your ‘associates?’”

“He’s my ex… something.” She opened her eyes as Neo looked between the two of us in shock.

“Ex-boyfriend,” I clarified without even thinking. There was no way I could stand here and let her try to claim I was just some over attached hookup or an fucking associate.

“We weren’t official,” she snapped back, her voice firm but when she looked over at me something in her eyes wavered slightly.

“Not official?” I raised my eyebrows in shock. “You’re kidding me right?”

“Does it sound like I’m kidding?” she said, looking at me with annoyance, If I wasn’t so dumbstruck at the fact that she doesn’t think we were official, I’d’ve had to stop myself from kissing her cause she look so adorable… okay I have to stop myself from doing that anyway, but I’m less inclined right now.

“So you tell all your ‘not boyfriends’ that you love them?” Her eyes hardened as she stayed silent, the only indication that she’d even heard me was the fact that I saw her hand clench around one of the cups. “Or are you going to deny the fact that you’re the one who said it first like you want to deny that I was,” and still am, “yours?”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and rolled her eyes, mumbling a quick, “I don’t have to deal with this.” Before handing one of the cups to Neo and then buzzing past me faster than I could comprehend. I almost turned to grab her and stop her from walking away again. I wanted to keep fighting with her. I don’t care if it turned into an all out screaming match, just hearing her voice put some energy back in my bones.

Dalton stopped me before I could get her and keep her in reach. I tried to shake him off but he wasn’t having it. Looking back, I saw her figure walking off into the darkness and into a car that I’m recognized was her blue bug and I felt my heart sink.

I almost had half a mind to slap Dalton for not letting me go after her. “Let go of me,” I scowled, mumbling angrily as he let go and my feet went on auto pilot towards the door when Dalton came and stood in front of me.

Alright, now he’s starting to get on my nerves.

“You’re not going out there, Blu.”

“Why the hell not?” I asked irritatedly. “She’s right there and I’ve been dying to talk to her forever.”

“Yeah and it’s gonna be another lifetime before I let you get this close to her again,” he said with finality in his tone.

I glared at him, hoping he would crack under my stare, but he looked totally unaffected. “I’m not asking for your permission to go have a conversation with my girl.”

“Ex- girl,” he stressed, looking me hard in the eye. “You seem to forget that the bitch broke your heart once upon a time. I’ll be damned if I let her do it again.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to not call her a bitch when I was cut off.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” I heard Neo who I forgot was hear say from behind me. Dalton’s face paled as his eyes shifted over to Neo. Turning, I swear I saw fire shoot through his eyes. “That ‘bitch’ is my best friend and has been forever and I’ll be damned if I let you talk about her like that.”

Dalton’s body language changed the longer Neo talked. I glanced outside, debating if I should just go and let them hash this out but something about the hostile tension in the air made me stay put, just in case. I already knew this conversation wasn’t gonna end well.

“Well Blu has been my best friend too and last time I checked he didn’t break (Y/N)’s heart like she did his.” He crossed his arms, giving Neo a glare.

“I don’t care what she did or didn’t do, don’t call her a bitch, Dalton.” If I thought he wasn’t mad before, the hostile nature of his tone cleared that right up and told me in a fight Neo might just be the one to watch out for. Something in his eyes said that he was capable of way more than he let on.

“Or what? You’ll stop seeing me?” Dalton snapped back, a sarcastic laugh leaving his throat. “For her? Any goddamn day of the week,” Neo sneered.

“Do it then. Make’s no difference to me.” I could’ve slapped Dalton again, but now it’d be for being such a damn liar and a hot head when he’s mad. He knew that he’d care if him and Neo stopped seeing each other. He’s been crazy about him for longer than they’ve been seeing each other.

“Consider it done, babe. Now if you’ll excuse me I’d like to leave the assholes convention and go back to my best friend.”

“Yeah you do that.” He rolled his eyes as Neo walked past him, intentionally shoulder bumping him in the process. Shooting me a glare he left the building and Dalton stood in that same spot, fists balled up at his sides.

“D?” I said hestiantly, unsure of how he was feeling. “Are you okay?”

He snapped around with a swift “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes to collect himself. “Let’s just go home.”

We left the ice cream shop and I could tell we were both hoping the same car would be in the lot.

***

(Y/N)’s POV

“So do you want to explain how exactly you managed to be in a whole relationship and I didn’t know?” Neo asked pryingly. If it was anyone else I would think that they were pissed off, but I knew him better. He was hurt that I didn’t tell him.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell you,” I tried to reason, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road rather than looking at my best friend who I just wanted to hug right now.

“A simple ‘hey, by the way, I’m seeing someone’ would’ve done!” he huffed, head snapping in my direction. I winced slightly. I knew I should’ve told him about it right away but I just couldn’t. I don’t know why.

Maybe, because you knew that you actually could see yourself with this guy in the long haul and it scared the crap out of you.

“I just.. I didn’t know how to tell you. It started out innocent flirting and I thought nothing would come of it.” “How do you go from innocent flirting to I love you to strangers all while your best friend has no idea, (Y/N)?”

“Look, I will tell you the whole story when we get home I swear, just please let my heart stop racing. I wasn’t prepared to see him tonight,” I practically begged, my hands clenching the steering wheel. Neo stayed silent for a moment until he sighed and nodded, putting one of his hands on my leg and squeezing it reassuringly.

We made it back to our apartment and went inside and instead of kicking off our shoes and cuddling on the couch we took off our shoes and got changed into our pjs before I went and sat on his bed, preparing myself to say what I should’ve told him a long time ago.

He sat down across from where I sat on the foot of the bed cross legged. “So you ready to explain?”

I nodded my head and took a deep breath. “Okay so… I met him by accident. It was the beginning of the semester I was rushing to get to class and he was standing with Dalton and their other friend Cole and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I ran into him. He helped me pick up my stuff and we talked for a second and then I went to class. When I opened my notebook I saw that he’d somehow written his number and the words ‘when you see this call me’ on it. And I mean come on, I’m not blind, he’s attractive, so I called him after class. I became friends with him and the guys and sure we would flirt, but it really was innocent at first.”

“What changed? When did it stop being innocent?” Neo asked, shifting to sit cross legged. My whole body heated up as I thought about it. I was suddenly glad that the lights were dim cause the look on my face would’ve been enough of an indicator as to what happened.

“Well we were all hanging out at Blu and Dalton’s and we were drunk off our rockers. Cole was on the phone in the Blu’s room talking to his girlfriend and being all pouty about how much he missed her and Dalton was passed out in his room and I was in the kitchen with Blu…”

“You and him? Drunk and alone? Sounds like a great time,” he taunted cheekily and I shoved his shoulder, laughing slightly.

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. “So I was sitting on the counter and he was leaning on it next to me and for some reason we couldn’t stop laughing. Literally nothing was funny and yet all I remember doing was laughing. And…”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, holding my sore sides with a ridiculously big smile on my face. “I think that we shouldn’t have had that last shot of whatever it was that Cole gave us,” I giggled, not even being capable of remembering what the name of the drink was.

“Probably not,” he mused, staring at me with bright eyes. I suddenly felt self conscious under his stare.

“Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?” I proceeded to run both my hands over my face multiple times, trying to get rid of whatever was on my face.

I heard him let out a laugh as he grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands from my face, making me aware that he was now standing in front of me, between my legs.

“Why are you so damn cute?” He huffed with a smile.

“Genetics?” I offered, totally unsure of how to respond to that. Maybe if I was sober, I’d have half a mind to blush or say something witty but right now I didn’t even bat an eye.

He chuckled, slinging my arms around his neck before grabbing me by my hips as my breath caught in my chest. He let out a deep sigh. “I really wanna kiss you,” he mumbled, eyes dropping to my lips.

I almost choked on my own spit as my jaw went slightly slack. “But we’re friends. Friends can’t kiss friends. That’s a rule or something right?”

“Friends can kiss friends, there’s no rules in friendship,” he argued, tugging me closer. Some small part of me knew I should stop him, but I didn’t even care. I liked his hands on me and how it felt being this close to him.

“Yes, there are,” I insisted, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling it to emphasize my point.

His eyes closed for a moment when he let out a short laugh before opening his eyes again. “If you don’t want me to kiss you then I don’t think you should do that again.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to kiss me,” I drawled, rolling my eyes, thinking that this was obvious. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a long time. I just said we can’t because we’re friends and friends don’t kiss friends.”

“So you do want me to kiss you?” he asked with a smirk.

“Duh, that was I just said. You’re really bad at keeping up with stuff, huh?” I rambled before I could stop myself and I saw something in his eyes shift. 

“I guess I am,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against mine. “I just... if I said we weren’t friends anymore could I kiss you?” 

“You don’t want to be friends anymore?” I pouted, my heart hurting at the thought of it. He shook his head slightly, eyes glazing over. 

“I don’t wanna be your friend. I want...” he whispered, moving to my neck where he placed soft kisses going up toward my jaw, “to kiss your neck.” 

His head came back up, face hovering dangerously close to mine. I felt myself lean in slightly and my eyes fluttered. He took the hint and pressed his lips to mine. We should’ve been moving slower considering it was our first kiss, but with both of us having too much alcohol coursing through our veins, being gentle and tender went straight out the window. 

Every kiss was heated and intense, like it was the last time this would happen. I pulled on his hair and he moaned into my mouth before letting one of his hand trail down my leg, lifting it to keep it secure around him. The other hand moved up to my neck, settling at the base of it and squeezing slightly. One of my hands clamped around the wrist of the hand that he had on my neck while his tongue invaded my mouth. God, everything about him was intoxicating.

I let one of my hands travel down his chest and up under his shirt and within seconds he was detached from me and the shirt was being thrown somewhere in the room. I grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and brought him back to me. Maybe I looked a little desperate and needy, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He didn’t lean in to kiss me this time, just bit down on his bottom lip and stared at me.

“Hey, don’t do that,” I chastised as I grabbed his face and leaned in to kiss him, separating his lips and biting down on his bottom one. “Biting you is my job,” I whispered seductively and he let out a low groan, his grip on me tightening. 

“God, I wish we were alone,” he admittedly breathlessly, eyes roaming all over me before settling on my eyes.

“We are alone,” I teased, feeling a little more sober.  “You know what I mean smart ass.” He rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. 

I hummed out of amusement. Seeing him this riled up was fun. “I’m sure I don’t.” I trailed my hands down his chest, stopping just shy of his waistband as my eyes followed before looking back up at him. If he didn’t look like he was tempted to say screw it and take me right here on the counter before, he sure as hell looked like it now. “We should probably make sure that Cole isn’t dead.”

“Cole’s fine,” he insisted, gripping my hips tighter, as if preparing to not let me move away from him.

“Put your shirt back on Blu,” I ordered, taking my hands off him and putting them on the counter next to me so I can lean back. 

“What if I don’t want to?” He leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my head so it landed on my cheek. He let out a chuckle. “You’re not gonna make this easy are you?” 

“Make what easy?”  “Wanting you,” he said as he made eye contact with me. “It was hard enough before I knew what you tasted like. Now I think I’m screwed.”

I reached up and ran my hand through his hair briefly. “You poor unfortunate soul.” 

Reaching up, he covered my hand that was on the back of his neck with his own hand. “Did you just quote The Little Mermaid at me?” 

“Put your shirt back on and maybe I’ll answer that question.” 

He let out a sigh, seeing that this was a fight he wasn’t going to win and reluctantly removed himself from me and went to put on his shirt. I jumped off the counter, stumbling slightly before starting to walk back towards Blu’s room, where we left Cole. I felt Blu follow me anxiously, the air around us more charged than usual. Even in my drunk haze, I knew that we’d just crossed a bridge that there was no coming back from. 

“Whoa, that’s... hot,” Neo gushed as I came back to reality. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me what happened?! You know I live for dirty details.” 

“I just didn’t, I couldn’t,” I tried to explain. “Every time I started to tell you, I chickened out and then I fell in love and was a complete goner and then I was breaking things off with him and it just never came up. You were finishing your senior year and I was already a freshman. I didn’t want you getting caught up in my drama.” 

He reached out and slapped the side of my head. “Ouch! What the hell was that for?” I asked irritatedly.

“I’m your best friend stupid, it’s my job to help you deal with your drama.” He shook his head at me. “So why did you break up with him?”

“I didn’t break up with him, we weren’t even-“

“Spare me the bull, (Y/N). You said it yourself you were in love with him. Y’all were official. So why the break up?”

“I... It just wasn’t gonna work.” I let my head drop, staring at the palms of my hands. “I wasn’t any good for him.” 

“Why not?”

“I just wasn’t. I knew what kind of girl he needed and I’m never gonna be that, so I left,” I mumbled with a heavy heart. 

“You knew what kind of girl he needed?” he asked, looking as if he was about to face palm. “Are we taking about the same guy who looked half ready to tackle that guy who gave you his number?”

“Stop that,” I laughed slightly, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me, I know I’m not what Blu is looking for in the long haul. It was easier to break it off sooner rather than later.”

“What is it that you think he’s looking for?” He asked, giving me a flat look, laying down across the bed.

“I don’t know, someone more...” I searched my brain for the correct word to explain it. “Consistent?”

“Consistent?” He repeated, sruching his face up at me.

“Yeah. Consistent,” I repeated with more surety, shifting to lie on my stomach next to Neo. “I’m flightly and my feelings change fast. The whole time I was with him I was so scared I was gonna go to a party with Moe or something and I’d get too drunk and carried away and I’d mess everything up. Once early on I’d gotten caught up dancing with this guy and had to stop myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of doing something like that to him. I just...”

A deep sigh left my lips as I let my face fall onto the soft blanket underneath me. “You know me, Neo. I change feelings more than most people change their underwear.”

“You’re giving some people too much credit on how many time they change their underwear,” he joked and I reached out and hit his shoulder playfully. “Babe you’re overthinking this. You’re consistent enough to have dealt with me for the last entirety of your life thus far—and we both know I’m a handful.”

“Oh absolutely,” I laughed, “Poor Dalton has no idea what he’s walking into.”

I expected Neo to laugh with me but I was met with silence. Looking at him, I saw him staring down at his palms, not a trace of amusement on his face.

“Neo?”

“I’m not seeing Dalton anymore.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. “Why?”

“He called my best friend a bitch. There’s no coming back from that,” he said, trying to come off like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He called me a bitch?”

Neo modded his head, humming in confirmation. “He was talking to Blu when he said it.”

“Dalton you can’t stop seeing him just cuz-“

“Yes, I can, (Y/N).” His eyes came to meet mine with a hard sure look in them. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. No one is allowed to bad mouth you and still be apart of my life. I’d pick you over anyone, just say the word.” “B-But you really like him,” I said and he looked away from me and sighed, clearly thinking of Dalton.

“That doesn’t matter.” He shook his head as if trying to shake away the memories.

“Yes it does,” I insisted, leaning over him to grab his phone off his nightstand. There was no way I was gonna let my best friend’s love life suffer because I’m a coward. “What are you doing?” He asked confusedly as I unlocked it. “Calling Dalton.” 

“What?” he almost screamed before lunging out at me trying to grab the phone. I kept it out of reach and went looking through his contacts. He jumped on top of me, practically straddling me and took it back. “You are not calling him.” 

“Why not? You like him, he likes you,” I stressed. “You and Dalton shouldn’t be fighting because me and Blu.”  “I don’t care, I don’t want to see him. He called you a bitch and had the nerve to get mad cause I got upset. I don’t want to see him and I don’t want to talk to him, (Y/N). I mean it,” he said demandingly and I sighed and nodded my head. I knew better than to argue with him on this, even thought I knew he didn’t mean half of it.

***

“You should come home,” Lorelei pleaded. “I’m going insane without you guys.”

“Lori, Junior Year is not that horrible,” I laughed, rolling my eyes as I laid down on my bed, with my feet where my head should be. “Yeah it sucks and you’re gonna wanna kill yourself but you’re a big girl, you’ll survive.”

Lori was Neo’s younger cousin who adored Neo more than anything. And there’s nothing Neo loves more than being adored. So (as soon as Neo stopped treating her like a little kid) she became our resident baby back home. That one freshman who was hanging out with a junior and a senior all the time in high school? That was Lori.

“But I cant do another year without you guys let alone two!” She exaggerated and I laughed, shaking my head.

Forever the drama queen.

“We miss you too, Lori. Honestly we could use the comic relief right about now,” I mumbled, not really meaning for her to hear it but not being able to stop myself from saying it.

“Everything okay out there?” She asked, conern lacing her voice.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just got some boy drama, nothing super spectacular. Other than that we’re aces babe,” I joked, letting out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You two always have boy drama.” I could practically hear the eye roll in her voice. “I wish I had your luck with guys.” Her being the youngest and Neo being super protective she never got the chance to do much dating. She thinks it’s because she’s unlucky but honestly? She’s gorgeous, she’s got her mother’s red hair and her fathers brown eyes and she’s one of the sweetest people I know and an absolute hopeless romantic. The second that she wants it (especially now that Neo is living with me and can’t breath down her neck anymore) she’s gonna have guys kissing the ground she walks on.

“Oh trust me,” I drawled, “You don’t. I’ve actually made a little bit of a mess recently which is why we have boy drama.”

“Ooo... do I get details?” She askes excitedly, probably already invisioning the movie/teen romance novel storyline I’ve been living.

“Yknow sometimes I forget that you and Neo are related and you never failed to remind me that you are.” I chuckled.

“And, we’re dodging already,” she said knowingly. “Whose the guy?”

This girl is gonna do amazing in psychology.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Who he is...” I trailed off slightly, picturing all the soft early morning smiles and kisses we shared, seeing the broadness of his smile and the adorable in his eyes. “Who he is isn’t important,” I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. “It’s his friend, Dalton. They like each other but Dalton called me a bitch and Neo wasn’t having it and now they won’t even look at each other and I know Neo is upset by it.”

“Wait, why did he call you a b-word?” I smiled a little, hearing the fact that after all these years she still won’t curse.

“Ugh, I’m gonna have to explain aren’t I?” I sighed, running my hand through my hair.

“Yup,” she said happily, obviously pleased that she’s gonna hear the story.

“I hate you, have I ever told you that,” I teased, going to my bed and curling up, clutching my childhood teddy bear to my chest.

“Several times actually,” she said with mock serious and I let out a laugh. “Now spill.”

“Alright alright, so there’s this guy. We...” Fell in love. “Has a thing a year or so ago and Neo had been seeing this new guy and what are the odds of the new guy being my...” I paused, stopping myself from saying my guy. He’s not mine anymore. “The guy I used to mess with’s roommate and one of his best friends.”

“So they’re not speaking because this Dalton guy doesn’t like you cause you and his friend don’t speak anymore?”

“Pretty much.” I sighed, digging a hand into my curls in frustration. “I’ve tried to convince Neo to just talk to him, but he’s as stubborn as a mule.”

“It’s a family trait,” she beamed and I smiled, really wishing I could hug her right now. I haven’t seen her since Neo and I moved in together. “But in all seriousness. You know Neo’s not gonna talk to him, right?”

“Sadly I do know that, I just wish-“

“No wishing,” she cut me off abruptly.

“No wishing?” My face scrunched up as I tried to figure out where she was going with this.

“Nope.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? My best friend-“

“Needs a little push.” I could almost hear the grin on her face as it began to click.

“Lorelei... are you suggesting I bypass Neo entirely and go talk to Dalton for him?”

“I would never suggest such a think,” she gasped overdramatically. “But if you were to do it, I wouldn’t say it was a bad idea.”

“Have I told you that I love you lately?”

“You don’t tell me enough,” she mused.

“If this works, I promise I’ll fix that,” I laughed.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I’ll call you later and let you know how it goes.”

“You better or I’m gonna come up there and beat you with your favorite nude pumps,” she threatened.

Shaking my head, I said “Later Lori.”

“Later babes.”

I heard there phone click off and sat there for a second before putting on my shoes and jacket and grabbing my keys.

This better work.

@jermeeeeee hope you like it hun

#crush #crush imagines #fluff #imagine #angst #angst imagine #best friends #ex lover #stubborn #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i might write

[noonachronicles]

A Dance with the Devil

Choi Seunghyun/ TOP X Reader

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Light cursing, mild blasphemy. 

Genre: Fluff?/Humor?/Fantasy?

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble, but I’ve never been very good at keeping to that word count restriction tbh. Requested by Anon, #24 (24. “I’m sorry? You’re telling me you’re supposed to be the Devil? … Funny, you look nothing like I’d imagined.”) & Tabi. This is the first thing I’ve written in almost a year. So sorry if it’s terrible, but also not sorry because this is the first thing I’ve written in almost a year and I’m over the moon that I was finally able and inspired enough to finish a thing. I genuinely hope y’all enjoy though! 

It was supposed to have been a relatively sunny day. The first day in what felt like weeks that you wouldn’t need to carry around your umbrella along with everything else. However, it seemed that the weather was a fairly fickle bitch.

You’d only been strolling around downtown for a couple hours when you felt the first drips crash down on your head. The dark clouds rolling over the tops of the skyscrapers of the city quickly. As grey gloom filled the sky, it filled your mood as well. Before you could make it to the closest metro entrance the rain was really pouring down. Unprepared, you had to stop, and dipped quickly into the nearest shop. Observing quickly that it was a record shop you smiled, it was probably a store you would have stopped in anyway.

Convenient, you’d thought to yourself. You started to the right. Flipping through the large cardboard packages to find a cover that could catch your eye. Music was playing over the store speakers, a trippy, rock song from the 60’s. The air in the shop smelt like sandalwood and vanilla incense. You hadn’t noticed anyone else in the shop yet, so you assumed the owner must be someone much older.

Still shuffling through old records you imagined him clearly. A salt and pepper head of hair, mostly salt, pulled back into a ponytail that hung down his back. An old Led Zeppelin T-shirt that used to be black, but was now gray. Much like his hair. A pair of old jeans with holes that they’d earned not holes that had been predesigned. You filed the image away and smiled to yourself, hoping you’d be right.

The music playing in the store, in various genres and from various decades, along with the countless records to keep you company kept you from checking the time. You’d had no idea how long you’d been in the shop and had forgotten all about the fact that you’d still yet to see a single other person. You had several records in your arms and were nearly halfway through the store when one of your favorite songs started playing.

There was something about soul songs. It never really mattered where you were or what kind of mood you were in. Your body would just involuntarily start to move. Something barely noticeable at first, just a bop of your head, and then it moved through you. A roll of your shoulders, a pop of your hips. Stevie Wonders’ Superstition was almost halfway over when your realized you were full blown dancing down the middle row of the store. The words of the song falling from your lips. You felt okay about it, there still wasn’t anyone around, so it wasn’t hurting anyone for you to enjoy yourself.

“Very superstitious… nothing more to say...” you sang lightly, as you bopped your way down the aisle and then back, “very superstitious… the devil’s on his way.”

You dropped your bags, from the other stores you’d been at on the ground and began to spin, holding the records you’d grabbed close to your chest, feeling the song. Eventually the song finished, as they often did, with your unabashed dancing finishing with it. You let out a puff of air as you looked down to collect your bags. That’s when the clapping came from somewhere up above. You looked up to see a loft that you had genuinely not noticed at all the entire time you’d been there.

The sight of another human startled you and you jerked back, bumping into the row of records, dropping the ones that had been in your hands. An incredibly handsome man was leaning over the railing, clapping as he smiled down at you. He looked nothing like the old, rocker, record shop owner you’d dreamt up, not in the least. This man, this handsome young man. He was tall, long, lanky. He looked both very big and intimidating, and yet somehow fragile and precious as well. A smirk lingered on his lips, one of his thick, dark eyebrows was perked up in amusement. His eyes were more than you could handle, even from as far away as he was. He was looking at you, of course, but it was more than that. It felt like he was absorbing you completely, so much that you had to look away. Your feet seemed like a more appropriate subject to stare at.

“I’m so sorry.” you said shakily. “I didn’t realize there was anyone else here.”

“You didn’t think there would be some sort of employee...in a store?” he asked, with a clear lightheartedness.

You dared to look back up at him. You weren’t sure of what you’d been hoping for but he was still just as handsome as before. Now his smirk was a full smile and you were melting. “I figured someone would be here. I guess I just forgot about it, since I had been here so long and hadn’t seen you.”

“Well don’t stop on account of me.” he shrugged standing up to his full height, you knew that even if he were standing in front of you, you’d still be looking up at him.

“Excuse me?” you said finally leaning down and grabbing the records you’d dropped.

“Dancing.” he grinned down at you before turning around to do something else. His voice still carried down to you, “Dance harder even. And you could sing louder, there’s no harm in it.”

“I don’t- I’m not going to dance in front of a stranger.” you scoffed. “Now that I know you’re here.”

“Why not?” he asked turning back around, peering over the railing, “Where are you from?”

“Where am I from?” you asked confused.

“That was the question I asked.” he nodded.

You sighed, “I’m...from here.”

“Oh,” he exclaimed,  as if surprised, “I had assumed maybe you came from that little town in Footloose.”

“Hah. Hah.” you said sarcastically as you turned back to the records.

“I’m serious. What’s your favorite song to dance to?” he asked, “No, nevermind. I got it.”

You flipped through two or three more records. The store music had stopped playing and you could hear shuffling up in the loft. Then you sighed, your curiosity becoming too much, and you looked back up.

“Got it!” He exclaimed from somewhere out of view.  

“You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance. You didn't even want me around…”  the song by The Contours began and your eyes widened slightly.

The man, whose name you still did not know, popped back into view. A smile that showed just how pleased he was with himself spread across his face. You watched half mortified as he started to shimmy down a set of stairs that lined the wall. He kicked his long legs out in a less than graceful manner, stopped halfway down the stairs to stick his butt out and shake it unceremoniously, and then hopped down several others. You covered your mouth, your laugh, as he continued on. Shaking his hips, throwing his limbs all over the places with little to no coordination.

“What are you doing?” you asked, as he reached the row you were in.

“What you should be doing. Dancing.” he grinned, he twisted his hips with every step he took, getting closer and closer to where you stood.

You shook your head no, “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not dancing.”

Now, standing just in front of you, he plucked the records from your hands and put them on the shelf before grabbing your hands in his.  With too much enthusiasm he made you twist with him to the song, “Anything can be dancing if you believe hard enough.”

So began your casual and strange friendship with Seunghyun. It was relatively more relaxed now. Although he still, and often, made you dance with him in public. You’d gotten used to it. Not comfortable per say, but you knew it was going to happen and that there was no stopping it where he was concerned.

As the months you spent together turned to years, he became much less intimidating than he was that first day. You still thought he was handsome, it was likely that you always would, but he was more than that now. He was kind of a dummy, which was your favorite part, your bingu. He was silly and had this willingness to look like an idiot in front of others that was so uncommon in other people. He just didn’t care what anyone thought about him. You envied it, mostly because you knew that the freedom he got from not caring was what made him so happy.

He also became a great friend to you. Supporting you in every endeavor, talking you through plans and ideas, stoking the fires of all of your passions where others never really seemed to care. Seunghyun also seemed to have a unnatural knack at knowing when a guy you were dating was a piece of garbage. Or you just seemed to have an unnatural knack at only finding men who were garbage and he knew that about you. He talked you out of staying in bad relationships for too long and always seemed to know how a guy would end up disappointing you. He was also the first one, every time, to suggest you get back into the game. Rooting for you, knowing someday you’d find the perfect person.

Sitting across from Seunghyun one afternoon at your favorite cafe, you’d become pretty certain you did find the perfect person. He was sitting leaned back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, the Sunday paper unfolded in his hands. You were sure he was single handedly keeping print news alive, the grandpa. Just another thing to love about him really, as you sat with your paperback book open on your lap, unread for the last half hour.

Over the paper you could just see his coiffed hair and the tips of his big ears. On the table sat his half full cup of coffee and a plate with just the top of his muffin. He’d already eaten the rest, he just liked to save the top for last. Your plate was just crumbs by now and your coffee was nearing its end.

“Hey…” you said grabbing his attention. You put your book in the bag at your side.

Seunghyun folded his paper and placed it next to his coffee. He turned his body towards you. Giving you his full focus, as he always did. He smiled, “What’s up?”

“Do you remember the other day,” you paused to take a nervous breath, “we were talking about how I liked this guy. You told me to just get over my fear and ask the guy if he wants to go out sometime?”

“Yeah, of course.” He popped the entire muffin top in his mouth like it was a grape and chewed for a moment. You watched his sharp jaw work as he maneuvered the pastry so it was in one cheek, making him look like half a chipmunk. “Oh! Did you do it?”

You gave a small smile, watching a few crumbs fall from his lips to somewhere in his lap. “Not yet. Um, well, you see… It’s you.”

“Who’s me?” he asked absentmindedly grabbing his coffee mug and taking a gulp to clear his mouth of muffin.

“The guy. The one I like, it’s you. Maybe would you want to go out sometime?”

You watched as he lifted his face to you, watched as his eyebrows went from creased in confusion to raised in understanding. His mouth fell into a sort of ‘o’ shape and then he just stared.

“Ah, yes. My biggest fears realized.” you nodded, trying to ignore the burning embarrassment in your chest.

“No! It’s not…” he sighed uncomfortably, “I really like you. That’s why I spend so much time with you, you’re maybe the only person I do like, on the whole planet.”

“But…” you interrupted.

He tapped his long fingers on the table trying to find the right words to say, “However, there are just some things about me you don’t know, that you wouldn’t like. There are reasons we can’t be together, without you making some major sacrifices. I wouldn’t want you to waste your time on me.”

“Sure, Seunghyun, it’s fine. Whatever. Let’s just pretend this moment never happened.” you said rolling your eyes.

“I’m serious! I -” he paused, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth for a second in genuine contemplation.

He leaned forward and used his stupidly large hand to bekon you closer. Suddenly, you realized, everything about him that had made butterflies flutter in your belly moments earlier, seemed annoying to you now. You leaned forward despite that.

“What?” you said with a little more bite than necessary.

“I’m... the devil. As in Satan.” he leaned back a little to check your reaction.

Your face remained completely stoic as you processed the confession. Then came a small smirk, that grew into a full smile, and then before he knew it you were leaned back in your chair laughing hysterically. You clutched at your chest, desperate for air. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks. Seunghyun sat forward in his chair, elbows on his knees as he watched your reaction intently.

“Ohhh,” you said finally able to gasp in a couple of satisfying breaths, “that was good. That was really good.”

“What?” he asked confused.

“I mean, I’m sorry? You’re telling me you’re supposed to be the devil?...Funny, you look nothing like I imagined.”

“How did you imagine I would look?” he asked, you assumed, still playing along with his bit.

“Hornier. More horny? Having more horns.” you casually, verbally processed your thoughts, “and you’re missing a tail for sure.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying devilishly handsome?” he asked framing his perfect face with his hands.

“Sure, but you can’t dance for shit.” you pointed out.

“What- what the hell does that have to do with anything, number one. And number two, yes I can!” he argued.

“There’s that other saying as well, dance with the devil?”

He shook his head looking a little annoyed, “That’s not what that saying means.”

“Oh?” you thought about it for a moment, and chuckled. “Oh!”

“There we go.”

“Well, anyway. I’ve been rejected, not a lot but enough, and that was the most unique excuse by far. So, congratulations on that I guess.”

“It’s not an excuse. I really am Lucifer. The Fallen.” he almost looked genuinely offended, you thought to yourself.

“Yeah, okay.” you said sarcastically, “I believe you.”

“Don’t wink at me!” he whined, “I’ll take you to hell right now!”

“Oh yeah? You’ll take me to hell?” you smirked.

“Yes!”

“You’ll take me right on down and give me a tour? Show me where the magic happens?” you snickered.

Seunghyun stood, frustrated and slammed his palms flat on the table before shouting, “It’s not a joke! I am the devil!”

The entire cafe turned toward your table, save for a guy near the door with his headphones obviously up too high. Seunghyun didn’t even care, he just looked down at you, fuming. His big ears pink at the tops. Not bending at all to his display you grabbed your iced coffee and placed the straw at your lips. You took a long, exaggerated sip and then placed the cup back down, never breaking eye contact.  

“You done, Luci?” you asked calmly.

He sat back down and sighed, “I am the devil.”

“So what if you are?” you asked, his eyes shot up to look at you like you were a mad woman. “The devil wasn’t even that bad. In most cultures he’s not some evil entity, just so you know. And even if you looked at it from religions that do consider him evil it’s because he questioned God, and what’s so wrong with that? Shouldn’t we always question authority? Don’t those in power just want to stay in power? Of course God would make him out to be some asshole, he was coming for his throne.”

Seunghyun smiled lightly at your words as you continued on, “Even if you were the devil, that just means that the devil is actually also very funny, and smart and he’s kind. That would just make him supportive, and passionate. It would mean he’s incredibly handsome, and a horrible dancer. But also the kind of guy that does it anyway because it makes him happy. And shouldn’t we all just do the things that make us happy?”  

With very little warning, Seunghyun stood up and leaned his long body over the small cafe table. He grabbed your face between his two big hands and kissed you, hard. He sucked your lip like he was sucking up your soul and you wanted him to. You lifted your hands to cup his face. His jaw sharp on the palm of your hand, his hair tickling the tips of your fingers. You groaned in disapproval as he pulled away and sat back down. You took several seconds, eyes closed, rubbing your lips together. Giving your spirit time to float back into your body before looking across the table.

“Add kissing to the list of reasons the devil isn’t so bad.” Seunghyun smiled, but the look on his face was still quite serious.

“What if- “ he held up a finger to stop whatever snarky comeback you’d opened your mouth to say. “Just let me finish.”

Placing your thumb and pointer finger together, you zipped your mouth shut. You’d hear him out. He was, after all, very committed to this joke.

“If I was really the devil, would you still be interested in that date?”

“It depends, is the Prince of Darkness looking for something long term or just a hook-up?” you asked.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“With you?” he said eyeing you as you sat before him, he smiled again, “Long term. The longest term. Eternity.”

A blush bloomed across your cheeks, he was so cheesy. “Then yes, I would still be interested in that date”.

“Okay.” Seunghyun gave a deep sigh and stood up. He reached his hand out to you, waiting for you to accept.

“Where are we going?” you asked standing up and grabbing your bag before dropping your hand in his.

“I have something to show you.”

You kept pace with his long stride as he walked you to the door of the cafe. With your hand in his, trusting his direction, you looked inside your bag to check for your essentials. Phone, keys, and wallet. Just to be sure before you go too far away from the cafe that you had them. You heard the ding of the bell hanging from the door of the cafe as you dug your free hand in the bag to feel for your wallet. Seunghyun had stopped walking and you stopped by his side, still shuffling through your things until you finally found the wallet. Content that you had all your things you looked up for the first time since leaving the table.

“Unholy shit.” you muttered, your eyes widening at the sight.

Instead of the city street you’d been expecting there was a massive castle made out of what you thought looked like obsidian. Large towers surrounding the castle held orbs of flame in red, orange, blue and white suspended in the air above them. Somehow this place was both everything you had imagined hell would be and nothing at all like it. It wasn’t just all black skies and fire pits. There was a softness to it, it felt like an endless sunset streaked across the sky above you. The temperature was not uncomfortable and the mere fact that you’d had that thought made you laugh to yourself.

Turning around you realized the door to the cafe was gone. In its place was a large stretch of mostly desolate land. Trees with large trunks and long, thin branches, were peppered across the land like the graveyard of a forest, and all that was left was skeletons. Further away you could make out sharp peaked mountains. You turned back to Seunghyun, half expecting him to turn into the red horned caricature he was often portrayed as, but he wasn’t. He was still him. Still handsome in his black, button down covered in red polka dots and his tight black jeans.

“Okay, you’re the devil.” you said, “I believe you.”

“Are you scared?” he asked, “I can bring you back.”

You looked at him for just a second before squeezing his hand that was still holding yours. “I’m not scared, and I don’t want to go back.”

“You want the tour then?” he asked with a shy smile and you nodded enthusiastically, how many people could say they’d had the chance?

As he walked you up a long path to the obsidian castle you asked, genuinely curious, “Why the record store?”

“You don’t know already?” he asked, “I love to dance.”

#Choi Seunghyun Scenario #Big Bang scenario #kpop scenario #TOP Scenario #Request #completed request #prompt challenge

[tonysopranosfeverdreams]

@glennatohowerton

42. “Why are you shaking?”

64. “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything.”

It was 3:27 am, the last time Dennis checked his watch, which meant that Mac has been out for approximately 6 hours.

 He was on a date with some  asshole named Sean, who appeared from the grindr profile that Mac had gleefully waved in his face over their shared cartons of Chinese takeout earlier that night, to be all of 25 years old, and, undeniably, a total beefcake. When Dennis  had made some snide remark about the kid probably needing to be home in time for curfew, Mac had just laughed it off in between mouthfuls of vegetable lo mein (stolen from Dennis’s plate), his eyes scrunching up at the edges. It made him look younger, somehow, vulnerable.  Dennis had stared at the table.

Mac had bounced out the door donning a dark green t-shirt, sheer and fitted so it clung to his muscles.  Mac’s hair was soft, ruffled, and he looked more confident and at ease than Dennis had seen him in  years, casting a bright  smile over his shoulder while Dennis not to wait up for him.  Dennis had nodded. Dennis had counted the beer stains on the beige living room carpet. Dennis had thrown a mug against the wall. Dennis had cut his fingers picking up the tiny pieces of china that covered the kitchen floor. Dennis had paced the length of the apartment over and over for approximately 45 minutes.

Inevitably,  Dennis finds himself awake in the middle of the goddamn night, taking generous swigs from a bottle of whiskey he had unearthed from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, and flipping aimlessly through channels featuring scantily clad women on a quest to find their soulmate while jump-starting their model careers and rich housewives whose faces were more plastic than flesh and bone- who talked too much but said nothing. He ultimately settled on some nature channel showing a series that documented different species of birds. Tonight, they were talking about blue jays, he noticed, watching as one of the stern-looking little  birds soared across his screen to settle on a tree branch next to another.

Blue jays mate for life, apparently. Dennis hadn’t known that.  The soft drone of the narrator served as adequate background noise for Dennis’s increasingly loud, alcohol-fueled thoughts.

It was fucking ridiculous, really. Dennis knew Mac had been with men in the past, so he really shouldn’t be so fixated on the happenings of Mac’s date. For all the grief Dennis gives him, he realizes that Mac is an objectively attractive man, and now that he’s happily out of the closet,  there’s no reason he shouldn’t be out playing the field, catching up on the feelings and experiences he’d pretended not to want for the past thirty years, embracing the parts of himself he’d tucked carefully away from the outside world (or only acknowledged in the dim backrooms of seedy bars, caught in the middle of glittering crowds of moving bodies on the dance floor, drunk enough for a moment that he forgot what he was so afraid of in the first place, under some spell  that inevitably broke the next morning. This thought makes Dennis’s chest constrict sharply, a dull, aching feeling he can’t quite pinpoint).

But now, Mac was healing. Mac was growing. Mac was out with a man with dimples and a six pack who was probably laughing at all of his stupid jokes, touching his arms lightly as he leaned in to whisper something in his ear, making Mac’s cheeks flush and his eyes gleam in the same way they would whenever Dennis would dole out a rare compliment or words of praise.  Mac was out with a man who presumably had a career and goals and real adult relationships, who could wake up in the morning and eat three meals a day like it was nothing, who would probably call Mac baby when he’s sober and let Mac hold his hand; someone who wouldn’t lash out at him with unnecessarily sharp words, but would make him feel good about himself,  who would give him Valentine’s presents and stay to make him breakfast in the morning. Mac would like that, Dennis thought.

Dennis pictures Mac as he always looked first thing in the morning padding quietly out of his bedroom blurry eyed and sleep-soft, expression warming when he lays eyes on Dennis. Imagines someone else seeing him like that every day. Dennis thinks of getting drunk with Mac, leaning heavily against his shoulder on countless late night walks home from the bar, peering up under his lashes to catch a glimpse of Mac’s face; his gelled hair falling messily across his forehead, mouth open in concentration on getting them both home in one piece. The smell of his old leather jacket mixing with his dollar store shampoo and cologne samples ripped from men’s magazines, his arm tightening around his waist when Dennis inevitably stumbled over an empty beer bottle or groove in the sidewalk.

He thinks of Mac as a teenager: the two of them sitting silently in his room after his father went to prison for the second time, Mac’s arms circled tight around knees, his gaze fixed vacantly on the paint peeling off his bedroom wall, sitting closely enough that the outside of their thighs just touched. He thinks of Mac as he might be when he’s older, with more specks of gray painting his dark hair, more wrinkles around his eyes, but with the same unchanging, almost childish smile.Thinks again of Mac dating, maybe even getting married, someday. Growing old with someone.

At this point, Dennis realizes he is having difficulty breathing, his breaths coming out shorter and quicker than they normally would, his heart beating so loudly  he swears it echoes in his ears. The adrenaline sets in. Dennis goes to take another swig of whiskey to calm himself down, before he notices the bottle is empty. Fuck.  He immediately senses that has to get out. He has to get out of this fucking apartment and flee to somewhere, anywhere else. He is vaguely considering going to the 7-11 down the street to pick up a 12 pack of beerbeer, and at least burn off all this weird fucking nervous energy when his thoughts are interrupted by sound of the front door opening.

Mac’s moving as quietly as possible, as if trying not to wake anyone up. Painted in the yellow light from the hallway, he kicks his shoes off and gently sets his keys on the kitchen counter, before he notices Dennis sitting on the sofa.

“Jesus Christ, Dude!  I had no idea you were awake,” he all but squawks “Fuck, man, you almost gave me a heart attack”

“Sorry,” Dennis offers, tonelessly.

Mac exhales through a tired grin, stifling a yawn with his fist as he steps closer to Dennis,  flinging himself into a chair opposite the couch and stretching his arms over his head. Dennis’s gaze lingers the curve of his upper arm, his fingers resting lightly against the back of the chair.

“Oh man, at first I was super worried I was gonna get catfished, and it was gonna turn out to be like a  gross old woman or some shit like you see on tv, you know?” Mac makes a disgusted face, lip curling up dramatically before laughing. “But then I get to the Rainbow and it turns out Sean is like. An actual personal trainer, and he sells his own line of like, protein shakes, I think?  And like, I’m pretty ripped dude, but I mean this dude is absolutely shredded, like way more bigger in person than the pictures.”

As Mac proceeds to talk more about his date (who apparently had been very interested in watching Mac’s Project Badass tapes, though Dennis expected this was mostly to get into his pants), Dennis finds his focus drifting.  Mac has a stray piece of glitter decorating the skin just above the collar of his t-shirt, Dennis notices absently, glimmering mildly in the faintly lit room, and drawing attention to the part of his body where the meat of his neck meets collarbone, surprisingly delicate.

Dennis looks down at the floor, then forces his eyes back on the tv screen, barely registering  the shapes of the tiny, brightly colored creatures collecting twigs to build their nest together. Vaguely, Dennis wonders what would happen  if something went wrong. If nature maybe fucks up now and then and one of the birds can’t figure out how to build nests properly, was born without the instinct, or just doesn’t know what to do when the time comes, and he fucks it all up? What happens to him then? Does he just fly away?

Mac must notice that something is off, because he stops talking.

“Dennis. Dennis dude, are you okay?” He looks genuinely confused, as his gaze skates across Dennis’s face. Suddenly his eyes widen, his brow creasing with worry.

“Dennis? Why are you shaking?”

Was he? Dennis hadn’t noticed.

“I’m going to get you a blanket, man. Just wait here a second.” Mac’s wringing his hands, biting his lip as he stares at him earnestly,  like he does when he realizes Dennis hasn’t eaten all day or when Dennis finally emerges from the bathroom after having locked himself inside for the better part of the night.

The softness, the sincerity of the expression makes something in Dennis snap, and all he hears is static electricity, all he sees is red.  Just as Mac  turns to go get the blanket from his room, Dennis calls out to him:

“So fucking typical isn’t it? You’re so desperate for affection you’ll open your legs for  the first decently attractive person who gives you the time of day, as if they actually give a shit about you” he punctuates the sentence with a cold, strangely strangled sounding laugh, schooling his expression into one of mock pity.

“ Anyway, this guy was probably just bored, looking for a quick lay to kill some time. Absolutely pathetic.”

Mac freezes from his position in the doorway, his back stiffening, and Dennis’s entire body goes suddenly cold with dread. But Mac just stands there, with his back to Dennis, as the seconds tick unbearably onward.

“Come on!” Dennis croaks, desperate now to evoke some kind of reaction. “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything!”

Mac turns slowly back to face Dennis, and when he does, Dennis sees an array of emotions plastered on his face; there’s pain etched into his features, and anger, but worst of all there’s this strange acceptance, like he had half expected Dennis to lash out like this, like he’s had years and years of practice. His voice is carefully controlled when he speaks next.

“Yeah, well, if I’m so pathetic, if I’m so desperate, then why the fuck did you come back in the first place? We were finally starting to get back to normal or like, I don’t know maybe an even better version of normal when you waltzed back in without any kind of explanation or apology for leaving us alone for over a year, Dennis.” Mac’s voice cracks, the way it does when he talks about his dad in prison, the way it does when he can’t but help but allow his carefully maintained facade of toughness to drop for just a moment.

Dennis sits frozen still, stunned. He wasn’t expecting this. He doesn’t know what he expected. Dennis doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but Mac’s eyes are glossy when he continues

“There were… weeks, Dennis. When I couldn’t get out of bed, when Charlie would come to make sure I was….” he flounders  “to make sure I was okay. And even after that I was trying so hard not to think about it I did so much stupid shit just trying to forget about y-to forget about it ” He clears his throat, raises his head slightly to look Dennis in the eye. “I was in a really bad place, man.  You leaving didn’t just affect you.” He pauses, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. Dennis swallows, suddenly, against, a growing lump forming in his throat.

“And now you’re back and you keep talking about how much you hate me, or how annoying I am, or how much you wish you didn’t live with me?” he chuckles bitterly. “So what I’m having a hard time understanding is- why? Why, Dennis? Why did you leave your kid and your cushy life with Mandy and come back to Philly, back to our home if I’m so goddamn terrible?”

Mac has these bright pink splotches  high on his cheeks, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion.

Dennis is paralyzed. He wants to flee. He wants to reach out and touch Mac. He wants to become as small as humanly possible, so small that no other person can ever see him again. He feels wetness forming on his cheeks, has no idea how it got there.

Mac’s body visibly deflates as he takes in the scene before him. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a long moment, features softening. Moving quickly, he steps closer to Dennis, reaching out to touch him, hand  hovering near his shoulder before he thinks better and it drops to its side.

“Fuck, man. It’s late.” he forces a watery laugh, hand running through his own hair. “We’re just tired, saying shit we don’t mean.” He won’t quite meet Dennis’s eyes. “I’m going to go get you that blanket.”

Mac exits the room, and swiftly returns with the soft blue flannel blanket from his own bed, wrapping it loosely around Dennis’s shoulders with gentle, careful movements. He sits next to Dennis on the couch, leaving enough space that their legs don’t touch, but Dennis can still feel some of the warmth radiating from his body.

“Did you know that blue jays mate for life?” Dennis asks, abruptly. Mac pauses in his fussing with the blanket to lean back enough to look into Dennis’s eyes, cautious and confused. His whole face shifts, like he’s on the brink of something, but can’t fully bring himself to understand exactly what’s taking place.

“What? I don’t-” he starts

“Their whole life,” Dennis manages, feebly maintaining eye contact, his nails digging into his own thigh as he forces himself onward. He chokes on his words for a minute before continuing.  “ It’s just the one.”

“Dennis,” Mac breathes, his eyes wide with confusion, and fear, and something that looks suspiciously like hope. He reaches out and this time grabs Dennis’s hand where its curled into his thigh, squeezes it tight. “You’re okay. Dennis,  it’s going to be okay.”

And for the first time,  Dennis thought, maybe it was.

#macdennis #macdennis fic #iasip #iasip fic #sorry if there are errors i only got to proofread once #also sorry if this is bad im not really a fic writer #my writing #my fic