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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

Note

i'd like to hear some headcanons for your "georgie can see dead people" au! :0

oh thank you so much!! this is probably going to be a little messy, since i haven't actually started the fic, but!! here is something!! :) (also i am so sorry for all the sixth sense references. the actual fic will undoubtedly be worse.)

1. So the basic premise of this AU is that the end result of Georgie's encounter with the End is that, instead of losing her ability to feel fear, she gains the ability to see the dead. Everything goes the same otherwise: the protest, Alex, the dead woman, Georgie waking up days later at home, the months of strangeness and unfeeling. The difference is that when Georgie wakes up, she can see the dead woman, too. Never too close—only in corners, behind doors, in the window. And never always, but only in the moments that feel crucial. The moments where she's searching for something of herself. Her mother hugs her and she sees the dead woman over her mother's shoulder.

Georgie sees Alex, too, sometimes. Closer and more head on; she is always looking back. But she never speaks, and neither does the dead woman from the room. It isn't until she begins to see other ghosts that she realizes they can talk, if they want to. If they choose.

(Six months later is when Georgie figures out how to lock the dead woman out. She stops seeing Alex shortly after, except on occasion. Sometimes she'll see a flash of those familiar eyes in the mirror, over her shoulder, and they always seem to be apologetic. But Alex still never says anything. Georgie gets good at pretending that this doesn't hurt nearly as much as losing her.)

2. Jon is the first one that Georgie almost tells. Almost. They're honest with each other in a way that Georgie usually isn't, when they first meet, and she almost thinks he'd believe her. They talk about ghost stories all the time.

She mostly thinks about it when she sees Jon's ghosts. It isn't often but she sees them. He'll talk about what little he remembers of his parents, or pull out some old, faded pictures, and she'll see the faces reflected in the kitchen, the bathroom mirror, Jon's bedroom. He never talks about the apparition of a strange teenager that appears, once, when they both wake up sweaty from frantic nightmares and he refuses to explain, and Georgie doesn't press. He doesn't tell her about Mr. Spider and she doesn't tell him about the ghosts. Much as they love each other, they do still have secrets.

Georgie goes to his grandmother's funeral years later, even though they're barely talking at this point, and almost tells him then. Seeing him stand mostly alone at the grave, looking monumentally alone, and then a flicker of his grandmother behind him—she almost does. But still she doesn't. She's never told anyone before, and she and Jon aren't really in touch, so she just hugs him and tells him she's so sorry, and doesn't meet the eyes of the woman watching behind the fresh grave.

3. Melanie is another person Georgie almost tells. They still meet through their connections—Ghost Hunt UK, What the Ghost, and Georgie's power is (probably unsurprisingly) very useful for the paranormal podcast business. (All her episodes aren't pulled from real life, from her own experiences—that would be irresponsible, and there's more clout in retelling familiar stories. But sometimes when Georgie runs out of episode ideas, she'll visit a spooky place, write down what she sees, do a deep dive on the history, and fill in the gaps by attributing her sightings to "unnamed" witnesses.) She's met a lot of people in the ghost hunting business, but Melanie stands out, because they hit it off so immediately. Start hanging out outside of work drinks, at parties or pubs or research stints. Melanie starts inviting Georgie to consult on the show, or to collaborate, and Georgie uses what she sees to point Melanie and her team towards real sightings. Why not? Might as well have the horrible power be useful for something. Haley Joel Osment solved his problem by helping people, and this isn't the same at all (and that's a movie, anyways), but it is something.

So she and Melanie become fast friends, faster than Georgie is used to, and Georgie genuinely thinks about telling her. She trusts her, and she doesn't think Melanie would laugh, or call her a liar. (Melanie's got stories about not being believed, too; it's common in the paranormal business.) She thinks Melanie might be the right person, maybe. Just maybe.

(She doesn't end up doing it. She's still a coward when it comes to that. But it isn't because she isn't tempted.)

(The idea to tell Melanie comes before she starts seeing Melanie's father. But that fact doesn't help her decision, either. In quiet moments with Melanie, Georgie starts seeing the man in Melanie's framed photos in the shadows, looking at Melanie with sad eyes, calling her little moth. But Melanie can still barely talk about her dad, and the accident, and it feels even more wrong after he starts showing up, to tell her. Georgie worries Melanie might think she's making fun, or making something up to make her feel better, and she doesn't see this going well.

Instead she says, sometimes, I know your dad loved you a lot. Melanie says, Yeah, I know, too. Georgie says, And I bet he misses you, even though it isn't a bet; she knows. But she can't tell Melanie, and that's as far as it can go.)

4. The most significant time Georgie wants to tell Melanie, but doesn't, is the one she'll end up regretting the most in the end. When Melanie gets out of the hospital, first, and then when she comes back from India; when Georgie is basically the only friend Melanie has left from her old life, and therefore is probably the person Melanie goes to the most. The person Melanie confides in.

So Georgie is there to see it all. She'll be sitting across from Melanie in a pub, or beside her on the couch; she'll brush Melanie's hand with hers, or their knees will knock together, and Georgie will see flashes of blood, violence. Hear screaming. She'll see haunted faces out of the corner of her eyes: soldiers, doctors. Muzzles of guns. Once, a stained hand gripping Melanie around the leg.

She'll regret it, later, but Georgie doesn't say anything; she doesn't know what to say. She's never seen anything like this, even with over a decade of seeing ghosts. How is she supposed to explain it? She doesn't really know what it means. Melanie talks about war ghosts, and Georgie listens, and she rationalizes that Melanie will have to be okay. (She was okay, when it was her, and if—if this is something serious, something worse, than… then Georgie will be there. Melanie will have someone who understands.)

5. One night in February of 2018, Jon shows up back in Georgie's life, looking shell-shocked on her doorstep. He stands in the hall looking mildly terrified, when Georgie opens the door, and behind him stands a dead woman, looking desperate and furious all at once.

"Georgie," Jon says weakly. "I-I know it's been a while, but…"

"Jon! Christ, what happened to you? Are you all right?" Georgie says, trying to take in Jon and the dead woman all at once. (She is new—Jon must have had someone else close to him die.) She focuses on Jon, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"I… I'm fine." Jon's hands twist in front of him. "I… didn't know where else to go."

Georgie swallows hard and says, "Are you in trouble?" The dead woman is looking right at her. Georgie keeps looking at Jon.

"I… yes." Jon chews on his lower lip. "If… I know it's a lot to ask, b-but I… could I… possibly stay here for a little while?"

Georgie swallows hard. She has a dozen questions—what's happened, why he needs somewhere to stay, why he looks like this—he looks like he's been through emotional turmoil, through hell—and worse, why a dead woman has followed him here. But she doesn't know how to ask these questions. And she can't just turn him away. Jon helped her heal during one of the worst periods of her life, even if he doesn't know it. And she can do the same.

"Yeah," Georgie says, and leans forward to pull Jon into a hug—tentative at first, and then stronger, when Jon latches on like he needs it. "Y-yeah, Jon, of course."

Jon rambles out a frantic thank you, layered in with apologies and copious promises to pay rent, but it becomes harder to listen. Right over Jon's shoulder, the dead woman is staring right at her, her mouth hanging open. She's got long hair and glasses, and she looks exhausted, and it isn't immediately obvious how she has died, which is unusual. And she's looking right at Georgie. She says, suddenly, "Can you—can you see me?"

It isn't the first time a ghost has spoken to her, but it's a rare enough occasion to be shocking. Her throat is thick with surprise, and she can't say anything in front of Jon, so she just sort of imperceptibly nods. Holds the dead woman's gaze for a moment.

"Fuck," says the dead woman. "Thank—thank god, thank Christ, I…" She pauses and looks at Jon, then back at Georgie, still numbly hugging Jon there in the hall. "My name is Sasha," she says, and Georgie thinks of the scene in The Sixth Sense where the sick little girl under the blanket asks for help. "Can you… can you help me?"

(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)

#*pushes my Sasha and Georgie becomes friends agenda* yeah.... (so this is like the concrete plot points from this au lol. i havent decided #on an ending)#wtgfs #tma fic #sorta #tma au #jon & georgie #i wrote this #georgie barker sees dead people

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

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For a prompt, maybe Bobby having a job in high school where he teaches guitar to kids and Emily and Mitch mistakenly sign Luke up for lessons? (Bobby just doesn't sound like a teenager on the phone) Belated congratulations on the 500 milestone, btw ✨

Here you go, friend! I hope you like it! My first jatp AU fic lol :)

Read on ao3 here:

Here’s the thing: Luke already knows how to play the guitar.

Has he ever taken a lesson? Officially? No, of course not, because he’s not a nerd. But he’s been learning from YouTube tutorials for almost six years now, been writing his own stuff for four, been the lead singer and guitarist of an epic, legendary rock band for two. He’d say he’s pretty well covered in the “knowing how to play the guitar” department, without some crusty old guy showing him the chords to songs no one’s listened to since the 60s in the grimy basement of a church two hours a week.

And yet, here he stands, on the sidewalk outside said church, guitar case in hand and a truly menacing grimace on his face, staring up at the hand-painted sign on the door detailing “Guitar lessons for kids! Room B38” in big block letters.

“Well?” Alex, who drove Luke here because Luke is currently not on speaking terms with his mother and father out of pure unadulterated spite, claps a hand on his shoulder, already stifling giggles. “You ready for your lesson, kiddo?”

“I will kick you out of the band,” Luke threatens.

“Then you can walk home.” Alex jingles his keys teasingly, then tugs Luke into a quick hug. “Come on, man, I think it was a nice gesture. Try to make the most of it, at least your parents are trying.”

Right, because the whole reason Luke’s here is because his mom thought the lessons would be a good reward for Luke passing all his classes this semester. Because she heard him complaining that Sunset Curve needed a rhythm guitarist to fill out their sound and decided that meant he needed to learn how to do it himself, even though Luke tried to explain to her that he couldn’t play rhythm guitar and face-melting solos at the same time.

Of course, she didn’t listen, and then his dad found a flyer for this guy Robert giving lessons out of the local church, and before Luke could say no, the first month’s worth were already paid for and he didn’t have a choice.

And he supposes Alex is sort of right. At least his parents know what a guitar is. At least they’re trying to be somewhat, relatively supportive of his music, instead of pushing him to apply to college or get a job over the summer like they did constantly until he ran away for six months after Christmas and almost died (he’s fine now, but that near-death experience really changed his parents’ tune).

At least they actually acknowledge that he’s in a band at all, unlike Alex’s folks, whose friends think Alex volunteers at homeless shelters in his free time, or Reggie’s, who just don’t care.

Luke knows he’s got it good, compared to his friends, compared to himself a year ago. But that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it.

“All right, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Alex says, giving Luke’s shoulder another friendly squeeze. “Try not to pout so much, it’s unbecoming.”

Luke gives him the finger, and Alex’s laughter echoes behind him as he heads back toward his car.

And then Luke sighs, grips his guitar a little tighter, and heads inside. He’s already here, he might as well get it over with.

Room B38 is a tiny classroom deep in the bowels of the church, reserved for Sunday School or daycare or some other such activity. The door’s closed, so Luke knocks, and a voice from inside calls, “Come in!”

A voice that does not sound like it belongs to the crusty old man Luke had been picturing.

He frowns, wondering if maybe he’s in the wrong place, but tugs the door open anyway and maneuvers himself and his guitar inside.

There’s no crusty old man waiting for him. There is, however, a handsome (Luke can’t help noticing and then feels stupid for noticing), young man, no more than a year or two older than Luke at most, sitting in a comically small plastic chair and tuning an acoustic guitar.

“Hey,” Luke greets him, raising an awkward hand. “You’re… Robert?”

“Please—Bobby,” the guy corrects, laying his guitar down on the carpeted floor next to him so he can stand and shake Luke’s hand. There’s a gleam of confusion in his eyes, and he glances over Luke’s shoulder like he’s looking for something as he says, “You must be Luke’s… older brother?”

Oh, Luke is going to kill his parents. “Uh, no,” he says, clears his throat awkwardly. “No, um… I’m Luke.”

Bobby lets out an undignified snort, and then claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, still sort of giggling. “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just—most of my students are in the four to twelve age range? I thought you’d be, like, eight.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Well, I thought you’d be, like, sixty, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

“Not disappointed,” Bobby corrects, and his smile makes Luke’s stomach flip in a way he’d really rather not analyze too closely right now. Bobby nods down at the guitar case in Luke’s hand. “Should we get started?”

Luke’s tongue feels dumb and thick in his mouth, but he manages to stammer something vaguely affirmative, and Bobby grins at him.

They settle into the kiddy chairs across from each other, and Bobby picks his guitar back up while Luke pulls his own out of its case.

He briefly considers pretending to actually need guitar lessons so that Bobby will have a chance to show off, because Bobby’s cute and funny and clearly cares about music, and Luke doesn’t know how to flirt.

But Luke also doesn’t know how to play guitar badly. So they only get about twenty minutes into the lesson before Bobby stops and says, “You don’t need me, do you?”

“I really don’t,” Luke apologizes. “I play lead guitar in a band, I’ve been teaching myself since I was twelve, my parents are just—” he starts to say stupid, then remembers Alex’s words and amends—“a little clueless about this kind of thing.”

Bobby puts his guitar aside and leans forward in his chair. “What, have they never heard you play before?”

Luke resists the urge to roll his eyes. “No, they have, they just. We’re looking for someone—my band and me—to play rhythm guitar for us? My parents asked why I couldn’t do it, and when I explained it to them, they thought ‘I can’t play lead and rhythm at the same time’ meant I couldn’t play rhythm at all. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little, busies himself with putting his guitar back in its case.

“I could.”

Luke looks up, frowning. “You could what?”

Bobby raises his eyebrows pointedly, nods at the guitar lying at his feet. “Play with you guys. If you’re still looking for someone, I mean.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat, and a warm smile spreads across his face without his permission. “Seriously, man? That’d be amazing! Here, let me give you my number and you can come over sometime and meet the band.”

They exchange information, and Luke spends a little too long staring stupidly at the contact in his phone that Bobby has named “Guitar Teacher <3”.

“Plus,” Bobby says, and Luke looks back up to see him smirking as he returns his own phone to his pocket. “Now I get an excuse to see you again. Since you obviously don’t need the lessons.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“But, uh, maybe don’t tell your parents that. Cause I can’t give them a refund.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard

#prompt fill #500 followers aaah!!#my fics #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfiction #jatp fandom #modern day/everybody lives au #bobby wilson #luke patterson #alex mercer #lukebobby #lobby

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kurt-nightcrawler · 3 years

Text

Decay: part II

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: this talks about alcoholism, implications of sex, mentions of technical assault (Jessie kissed Warren while he was drunk and she made him think she was Mother Nature!), also we get into Warren’s backstory a bit. I’m not trying to make anyone out to be a villain, but the story overall is much more upsetting than usual.

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! Not exactly the mood needed right now— I am very sorry, but I’m working on a much happier piece for Mother Nature and Warren! I’ll try to have it out before the end of the month!

Part 1 if you need a refresher!

Warren didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened. He wanted to pretend it never happened. To just hole up the memory of the night deep into his mind. He always hid and pushed away trauma. Why should this be any different?

His friends wanted to get Alex or maybe even Charles involved, but he protested.

“It’s my word against her’s.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to support you, and Jean and Charles are telepathic—”

“What can I really do? Press charges? If I do that then and use Jean or Charles to back me up, it becomes a whole mutant’s rights issue. It’s not worth it.”

(Y/N) hated seeing Warren look so defeated. Jessie going about Xavier’s unscathed by everyone who wasn’t close with Warren, and him thinking it was his fault.

(Y/N) had said she must have eaten something bad at the Halloween party, causing her to feel sick and sprout poison ivy. Also why all the plants died.

If Hank and Charles could tell she was lying, they didn’t say anything.

Rumors started amongst students about what had happened at the party— if Warren had actually cheated on (Y/N), if he did something to Jessie, or if Jessie forced herself onto him.

Warren didn’t like the rumors involving (Y/N) in the mess. He didn’t like the stares and whispers they got when people saw them together.

“Poor girl, staying with him even after he cheated.”

“Maybe she’s too naive to realize.”

“I knew they’d never work out— (Y/N)’s too good for him.”

“I bet he forced her into going out with him.”

“I mean… he’s not ugly—”

“Yeah, but he’s not a good person and (Y/N) is!”

It made him sick to his stomach. Warren didn’t force her into anything— and he thought he had changed, that people were finally trusting him.

Guess he was wrong.

—

Warren wasn’t even paying attention in his environmental sciences class. They were watching a video on how a plant species can be invasive, required to take notes on it.

Warren was texting (Y/N), phone brightness turned down all the way. He just wanted to go to bed for a while and ignore the real world.

When the bell rang, dismissing students, Alex told everyone they’d finish the video, next class.

Warren got up to leave, but Alex stopped him.

“You doing alright?”

“Uh, yeah.” He lied. “I’m not in trouble am I?”

Alex hesitated to answer.

“No.”

Warren nodded, noticeably nervous.

“There’s a rumor going around saying you assaulted Jessie Rowe.”

Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. “I didn’t.”

“Okay… But something happened, didn’t it?”

Warren didn’t respond.

“Warren, you have to tell me what happened.”

“I got tipsy and she kissed me. I thought she was (Y/N), but then (Y/N) walked in and Jessie tried to act like I tried to kiss her.”

Warren’s eyes were pleading— pleading for Alex to not get mad at him for drinking, or mad at him for not speaking sooner.

“Um, no one got hurt, and now there’s just a rumor going around, so you can like, give me detention for drinking or whatever it’s fine—”

“I’m going to have to tell Professor Xavier,” Alex told him.

“Please don’t tell him I was drinking! I can’t— I won’t—”

Alex could see the desperation in his eyes. Warren had nowhere else to go. He, like many other students, depended on Xaiver’s entirely.

“You’re a good kid Warren— you’ve opened up to others, you were sober for almost six months, you have a good group of friends and even a girlfriend— Charles isn’t going to punish you. I just don’t want you to spiral down and lose all the progress you’ve made…”

“I just,” Warren rubbed his eyes. “Don’t wanna make a big deal about it. I’d rather it just blows over. Everyone will eventually forget about it anyway.”

“Are you aware of the rumors involving (Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so, this involves her and Jessie. I know—”

Alex and Warren turned their heads to the door. Someone was opening it.

(Y/N) stepped inside. Warren hadn’t shown up to the library during their shared free period like he said he would, so she was worried about him. Plus, he hadn’t been doing too well since the Halloween party…. Neither of them had been.

Her eyes were pink and purple— she was full of worry for her boyfriend.

“Oh!” She gaped, soon as she saw Warren and Alex sitting at his desk, in the middle of what looked like an important conversation.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” She asked.

“No. You can stay.” Warren told her. (Y/N) dragged a chair over and sat next to him.

“Right, as I was saying, Charles isn’t going to expel you, but he might want to make a police report. I’m not sure what good it will do, but—”

“I don’t want to. It’s not going to do anything but cause problems.”

(Y/N) was immensely confused. She had no idea what they were talking about.

“We’re gonna talk to Jessie, maybe a few of your friends, and knowing Charles, he won’t expel either of you. We’ll do everything we can to get the rumors to stop…”

Oh! It finally clicked in her mind.

It was about the party.

“Okay… Thank— thank you, Alex.”

“Yeah, we should go to Charles’s office— what class do you guys have next?”

“I have lunch.”

“AP art.”

“That’s… Ms. Burnwood, right, (Y/N)?”

She nodded.

“I’ll make sure your absence is excused.”

“Thanks.”

Alex took them up to Charles’s office. Warren then explained everything that happened, while trying to not get his friends in trouble for also drinking.

Jessie was brought up to Charles’s office and questioned. She caved pretty easily, with (Y/N) glaring at her the whole time, and amid their telepathic principal, lying wouldn’t do her any good.

Jessie was “grounded”— she couldn’t leave campus during the semester until after Thanksgiving break— she was also to stop encouraging the rumors, and had to talk with one of the school counselors once a week until they deemed it no longer necessary. Jessie’s parents weren’t in the picture, so notifying them wouldn’t do any good.

Warren’s punishment was less severe, he couldn’t be out later than nine on weekends, (just until Thanksgiving break) and he was required to go to group therapy to help him deal with his former alcoholism and past traumas, for the rest of the school year.

—

“You don’t have to tell me what goes on at group therapy.” (Y/N) told him.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone.”

Warren smiled a little, “I know.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) kisses his cheek.

Warren wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I hope it goes well… it should.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah… Here,” Her hand was in a fist. When she opened it, she revealed a daisy and a four-leaf clover.

“You don’t really need luck or anything but, um, I thought, you know—“

Warren accepted the small gift, taking it from her hand. “Thanks, baby. I love it.”

—

Group therapy was awkward. Warren hated it. He knew it would be good to talk about… well, everything, probably, but he had a hard time opening up to total strangers.

“Alright, in case you’re new or don’t remember, my name is Allison… We have a new member with us today, he’s going to be with us for a while.” Allison looked at Warren. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Okay… Um, my name is Warren.”

Everyone replied with, “Hi, Warren.”

“And um, I’m a mutant.”

Allison smiled, “That’s great! Do you go flying a lot?

“Uh, yeah.”

“What kind of metal are your wings made of?” A girl with washed-out blue hair asked.

“Titanium, I think.”

“Well, Warren, welcome to the group,” Allison interjected, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Now, we’re going to do an ice breaker of sorts, and then just have like, regular conversation. We can all go around and say our favorite color and why.”

Warren blinked. He didn’t— he didn’t have a favorite color.

“And don’t say you don’t have a favorite color. If you can’t pick a favorite, choose one you hate the least… We can start with Trey.”

Warren thought of color options—

Black? No. Black wasn't his favorite, despite being 95% of his wardrobe. It absorbed the most light, helping him blend in with the darkness and look tough, something he needed in Germany.

Blue— The color of Kurt— his roommate and friend, who he tried to kill. Twice. Something he still felt remorse over. And Apocalypse. The man who gave him the metal wings and tattoos, forcing him to aid in mass destruction, only to leave him for dead when he was no longer useful.

Red— the color of Alex’s plasma beams. And how the Horsemen were a result in him almost dying.

White and Silver— the colors of his wings. Past and present. How each reflected hardships from Warren’s life. How he hated them and a child and almost resorted back to that self-deprecation when they shifted into metal and the consequences finally sank in.

But what about green? The color of healthy plants that thrive. The color of (Y/N)’s eyes when she’s happy.

Warren liked the color, despite (Y/N)’s eyes rarely being green around him. However, it didn’t mean she was unhappy with him.

Her eyes were pink around him. A way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it. The pink meant she cared about him more than most people— that she trusted him, accepted him for who he was despite his past, and that she would be there for him when he needed her.

Not many people could say they would do those things for Warren, or that they had.

His father cared more about the family name and how his son couldn’t possibly be a freak. His mother didn’t want his wings to tarnish her image, and while she was still his mother, she left him on his own most of the time.

And how all his past relationships and flings— they didn’t have much meaning. There was never any real affection behind them. They saw the cage fighting king and wanted a piece of that.

(Y/N) looked past all of that. She saw how he responded to what life threw at him. She saw the tough guy act, the big softie, the broken boy who ran away in fear, the man who thought he wasn’t good enough— she brought out his good side, making him realize he deserved happiness, love, and a home, that when you hit rock bottom, you can only go up from there.

He decided pink was his favorite color, because it showed someone cared for him in ways he wasn’t used to. He would do anything to keep it around forever.

“Warren, what’s your favorite color?”

“Pink.”

He got a few funny looks. They were probably expecting him to say black, based on his general aesthetic.

“And why is that?”

“Um, it’s my girlfriend’s eye color… she’s also a mutant.”

Allison smiled, “That’s very sweet.”

She moved on to the next person, “Rose, what’s your favorite color?”

She said, “Green.” But Warren wasn’t paying attention to why.

The ice breaker eventually ended, and Allison shifted the discussion to other things.

“Now Warren, since you’re new, usually new members spend most of their first meeting talking about themselves. Just so we can get to know you and whatnot.”

“Okay… um… anything specific you want to know?”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Okay… So, I was born into a really small family. Just me, my mom, my father, and his brother. I don’t really know what happened to my grandparents. I never asked...

When I was three we moved from Westminster to Centerport.”

“Where’s that located?”

“Oh, uh, Westminster’s close to London.”

Allison looked impressed.

“I went to a private all-boys school when I was little. I don’t remember the name of it though.”

“Were you born with your wings?” Allison asked.

“No.” Warren responded. “They started to grow when I was eleven… I was terrified. I spent almost every day trying to rip them out… but once all the feathers are gone, you’re left with nothing but bone. It hurt like hell, but I used a pocket knife and a razor to try and cut them or at least file the bone down.”

“It wasn’t hard… but it hurt a lot. I spent so much time worrying about my wings and if people would discover them, that I started to fall behind in school… I wasn’t like failing or anything, I had access to all kinds of tutors and everything, but my parents quickly found out I was falling behind. My father was barely aware, telling my mom to ‘deal with it.’ She tried her best, but I was so scared of them discovering my wings…”

Warren sighed, “My parents had a beach house in Italy, and we were supposed to go there for my fall break. I was so terrified. I couldn’t go swimming, they’d see my wings… But I couldn’t find a way out of the trip. I was twelve at the time and my mom… She saw my back when I came out of the shower...”

“She screamed, and my father came running to us. When he saw my back, he was disgusted. The look on his face was drilled into my skull for years. And it wasn’t even that bad, they were just growing back after being cut, so they weren’t even that big… but I just remember how scared my mom was, and how disgusted my father was… I just started crying and apologizing, but it didn’t do anything.”

“We left our trip four days early and I was pulled out of school. My parents decided to homeschool me, which basically meant, cut all contact with everyone from school and have a few tutors come to the house.”

“Did you have contact with anyone outside of your home?”

“I saw some family friends, and one or two kids of my parent’s friends… my parents hired countless doctors and all kinds of people, doing tests on me, trying to find a “cure”. Every time they failed my parents just got more upset— I was becoming a waste of time and money. They were becoming more distant and cold, wrapping themselves up in their work, and I was locked up.”

“What happened to your wings?”

“My mom said the scars they would leave were ugly, but I was forced to let them grow out.”

“My parents were arguing a lot, always sad or angry… mostly because of my wings… I was getting tired, tired of hiding, tired of the arguing, I wanted it all to stop…”

“Can you please stop?” Warren thought he was going to cry.

His father glared at him, disgusted by the wings, and how his son was on the verge of tears.

Warren could hear his parents arguing from down the hall. That’s all they seemed to do when they were home— fight.

Warren blamed himself. If he was just normal. If he didn’t have those damn wings!

He wanted them to stop. He’d do anything to make them stop.

Warren thought about getting on to the roof and jumping. Not even flying down, just falling to his end. His end of suffering, and his loveless, lonely existence.

“Are you going to do it?”

Warren looked over his shoulder to find his father standing behind him. Watching him peer out the highest window in the house.

“No! I— I’m sorry! I wasn’t—”

His father scoffed. “Did I raise a coward?”

Warren couldn’t look him in the eyes. “No sir.”

“I’ve scheduled for you to have spinal surgery next week. Your doctor is coming to prep and evaluate you for it. This surgery should fix you.”

Warren’s eyes were closed, trying not to imagine the pain, trying to not cry in front of his father.

“Or you can fall out the window… in a freak accident.”

“So I jumped out the window. I didn’t fall to my death as he had hoped, but I flew. I flew far away. I flew across the Atlantic for a few hours before I started to get tired. I spotted a ship and I got close. It was a fishing boat, a large one. The crew let me stay for the night until they went back to land… After that, I flew from São Miguel to Cascais. From there I just kind of fucked around Europe.”

Warren sighed. Allison told him to take all the time he needed and he could stop if he wanted for the day. Let someone else talk.

Warren nodded and kept quiet for the rest of the meeting.

—

Alex picked him up when the meeting ended. Alex didn’t ask about the meeting. It wasn’t his business and he knew Warren would talk when he was ready.

“Where do the others think I went?” Warren asked.

“Training. They’re busy anyway, most didn’t notice you were gone.”

Warren silently nodded.

Alex pulled into Xavier’s garage, parking and letting Warren slip out and go up to his room.

Warren kicked his shoes off and laid on his bed, putting in his earbuds and playing some soft songs.

(Y/N) was heading up to Warren’s room to use his shower. She was covered in paint, for she helped clean up after the fourth graders used the art room.

(Y/N) knocked on the door, making sure no one was there before she entered.

Warren didn’t hear her and (Y/N) almost didn’t notice him laying on the bed. When she did, however, her entire demeanor changed.

“Hi, Angel!” She went over to practically smother him in light kisses.

Warren pulled out his earbuds and smiled. “Hi, Flower.”

“When did you get home?” She asked, scooting over to the open side of the bed.

“Like ten minutes ago. What have you been up to?”

“I got paint all over me,” (Y/N) frowned. “I was going to take a shower and wash it off.”

“You can do that. I was just kind of laying here.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“If you disassociate your whole day will feel off. You should take a nice relaxing shower with me, instead.”

Warren chuckled.

“Not like that, Bird brain!” She exclaimed. “We can use one of my lush bath bombs and my rose-scented exfoliator.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Warren joked.

“Eh,” (Y/N) shrugged before slipping her bra off and throwing it in the hamper.

Warren scoffed and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), peppering her neck in kisses. “How dare you!” He teased.

“Ah!” (Y/N) laughed. Warren’s lips on her neck tickled her skin. “That’s why I’m going to bathe.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll join you.”

(Y/N) hummed in victory, wiggling out of Warren’s grip, and headed into the bathroom to grab her stuff.

The last time she used the girls’ communal showers was before they were even dating. (Y/N)’s toothbrush made its way into Warren and Kurt’s bathroom, then her shampoo and conditioner, and then eventually most of all her other hygiene products.

(Y/N) set her soap and other things on the edge of the tub and drew up warm water, filling the bathtub up about halfway.

She sprinkled in rose petals and got Warren into the bathroom. They both stripped off their clothes and stepped in the tub. A bit difficult, for Warren had to fold his wings back and get in first, with (Y/N) practically sitting in his lap, face to face, but they made do.

(Y/N) dropped an orange bath bomb in the water and grabbed her jar of exfoliating scrub, rubbing it on her arms and legs to help remove the paint.

Warren closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“How’d it go today?” (Y/N) asked as she grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it onto her skin.

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry…” She murmured.

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t terrible… I talked a little bit about my parents.”

(Y/N) nodded as she applied her rose exfoliator onto Warren’s skin.

“I’m really sorry…” Warren let out. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.

“Baby,” (Y/N) looked into his eyes. “it’s okay.”

“I— I just—“ Warren hiccuped, letting out a choked sob and releasing some tears from his eyes.

(Y/N) rubbed his back, avoiding the tender spot around his wings, whispering, “Let it out, it’s okay, Angel.”

Warren silently cried into (Y/N)‘s shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him in comfort. The emotions he felt almost made him sick— love and affection— and a lot of it too. He couldn’t remember a time before when he felt like that. He never wanted to leave (Y/N)‘s embrace.

Warren lifted his head up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry— um—“

“It’s okay.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, leaving a kiss on each cheek. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Warren nodded.

“C’mere—” (Y/N) grabbed the shampoo from the bathtub ledge, pouring some in her hands, and then lathering it into Warren’s mop of curls.

Her hands gently massaging his scalp felt like a touch of heaven to Warren. He didn’t want to cry again, but he couldn’t help himself. (Y/N) was heartbroken at her boyfriend’s demeanor, but it was good he was letting it all out.

She finished washing his hair and drained the tub— them both getting out— Warren holding onto (Y/N) as she gently dried them both off.

“Thank you, He mumbled.

“Of course, Baby…”

—

Most of their dates shifted to either being at the mansion or during the day. Warren felt bad, having to limit things for them, but (Y/N) didn’t care.

“We can do more stuff during the day… And at night all our friends will be gone… We’ll be all alone…” (Y/N)’s tone was almost teasing. Warren had to chuckle to himself, she was doing her best to make the situation work.

His second group meeting was set a bit later in the day, around 6 pm on a Saturday. Warren told (Y/N) he probably wouldn’t be back until after dark.

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be here—” She motioned to her empty bedroom.

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” He teased.

“You too, Baby.”

Warren drove himself to his second group therapy meeting. Alex offered to drive again, but Warren felt bad having him taking time out of his day to drive him to group therapy.

Not everyone who was at the first meeting was at the second one— but Warren saw some familiar faces.

“Hey, Warren! Welcome back,” Allison greeted him.

“Hi.”

He took a seat near a guy in a grey hoodie with an eyebrow piercing.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to go around, say our name, and if we have any pets. If you don’t that’s okay! You can say, what kind of animals you’re interested in. Let’s start with Collin…”

Warren zoned out for a bit until it was his turn. He didn’t have a pet, and he didn’t really have an interest in a specific animal. People made jokes about him being a bird, but he didn’t necessarily have a connection with them.

“I don’t have a pet… My girlfriend has a lot of plants though…”

“Ooo! What kind?”

“Um… Almost all kinds— her mutation helps grow them and stuff…”

“That’s cool.” Someone commented.

Warren awkwardly nodded. The ice breaker continued around the circle, and when finished, Allison had some people give updates on how they had been since the last meeting, others talked about how they were feeling in general.

“Warren—”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Do you want to continue talking from where you left off last week?”

“I can, sure.”

The floor was given to him, and Warren continued his “backstory”.

“I ended up in Germany. Messing around, staying overnight on stranger’s couches. I tried to find work, but it was hard being almost 15 at this point and no papers… I ran into muggers and they tried to, well, rob me, but I fought back. I wasn’t very good but it got them off and away from me… I ended up in a bar… The last thing I remember was falling asleep and then waking up in a locker room of sorts. A bunch of men shouting in German, um, some in English, but basically I was told to go out into ‘the ring’. People were watching— shouting and cheering, for the other guy in the ring. He was kind of short and hairy, but he had these claws, and he could really kick ass. I barely made it out of there— I didn’t win— but I didn’t die. People enjoyed watching us. They cheered, calling him Wolve-something, and they called me, Angel.”

“I wanted to leave, but the people running the ring gave me some money and I found a place to stay for the night… the job offers weren’t exactly lining up… so I agreed to more fights. I got really good, fighting other mutants, probably in the same situation as me, but I quickly realized, kill, or be killed…”

Warren quickly realized people had very concerned looks on their faces. “I didn’t kill anyone! But I did beat them up pretty badly— the more fights I won the more money I got— and it was that or die… I did it for about two years before I met someone…

I was alone at a bar, I was bruised and a bit bloody, and this girl with purple hair came up to me. She was one of the guards in the fight club— she worked for some guy named Caliban, I think. I don’t remember… Anyway, her name was Betsy. She said she’d been watching me for a while, saying my fighting was impressive but could be improved… Uh, She offered to help me out, and we went back to her place. She helped clean up the blood on me, and um, then we made out, and I spent the night… This went on for a while, she’d watch me fight and give me tips and pointers, and we’d make out and stuff…”

“How long is, awhile?” Allison asked.

“Um, Like two-ish years? I don’t know— but um, we had this like thing going on, and I thought we were maybe dating? I dunno. But whatever we had I fucked up.”

Warren groaned as Betsy aggressively pressed her mouth against his. He had just won another fight and went back to her place to “celebrate”.

“God, B… I love you...”

Betsy froze, her body tensing up.

“What?”

Warren panicked, her face did not seem pleased. “It slipped out— I’m sorry—”

“No… You don’t mean it… We can’t be together.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I thought we were together.”

“Angel— this isn’t a relationship— we just fuck while I give you some pointers on your punches.”

“I know this isn’t traditional, we don’t go out on dates—”

“You don’t love me! We’re too young— I’ll lose my job. I spend all this time one you so I don’t lose my job, you’re the best fighter—”

“You keep me trapped here?” Warren asked, slowly piecing things together.

“It’s not like that—” She tried to explain.

“I’ve tried to quit fighting for almost a year now! I told you I wanted to leave, and this whole time you’ve been keeping me here?”

“You’re young and naive, and I’d lose my job, everything—”

Warren stood up, ignoring Betsy’s excuses.

“Where are you going?”

“Away. Since we’re not together and I don’t love you.” Warren slammed the door behind him and headed back to the ring. He needed to let out his anger.

—

Warren went on a winning streak— he won ten fights in a row— the feeling was borderline euphoric, the crowds cheering for their champion, Warren getting to sink someone’s teeth in or watch them fall to the ground.

Warren was amped up for his eleventh fight— the announcer was talking about his next opponent—

“The Incredible Nightcrawler!”

A lanky, devil looking, blue boy fell out of a cage onto the floor of the ring. Warren circled him for a moment before meeting him on the ground.

He wasn’t fighting, just teleporting around the cage in small bursts.

“Fight!” Warren yelled at him. “Or they’ll kill us both!”

The blue boy looked terrified, but he fought back when Warren attacked him.

At one point he managed to drag Warren against the side of the electric cage, burning his wing.

“Ah!” Warren cried out in pain. Suddenly he saw the blue devil escape from the bottom, so in a risky move, he flew up and ripped off the upper walls of the cage, and flew out. His flying was wonky and jagged for one of his wings was broken.

Warren had nowhere to go, so he went back to the one place he shouldn’t have—

Betsy’s place.

—

“I was drunk as shit and angry and this blue wrinkly man came with Betsy and some other girl I didn’t recognize, and he just held his hand out and metal grew out of my back and on top of my wings. I was healed, in a way, but also it kind of ruined my life. The blue man also just held his hand out and gave me these tattoos…”

“You weren’t one of the horsemen with Apocalypse, were you? Like last spring I think… Out in Cario?” One girl in the circle asked.

“Yeah… Um, I never killed anyone, and I don’t do that anymore. The X-Men took me in and I’m trying to get my shit together.”

“We don’t judge here, and from what I’ve heard, the X-Men do great things! Like the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man.” Others in the group murmured in agreement.

“You’re built like a transformer dude,” The guy sitting next to him commented.

“Thanks…”

“I think you can do a lot of good, Warren. You’ve spent a lot of time running from your problems, but you seem like you’re grounded now… I was told you came here because you relapsed.”

“It was an accident— I haven’t drank since.”

“And that’s good! It can be really hard to open up and talk about your past, but you did it…”

Warren nodded along to what Allison said.

“I think you can do even better if you acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them… and don’t be afraid, don’t push them into the back of your mind… I think— if you haven’t already— talk to your girlfriend about some of this. Doesn’t have to be a lot or all at once, but being open and honest does good in relationships.”

“Yeah, um, sounds good.” Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. He was terrified to talk about all of this with (Y/N).

She didn’t deserve the burden. (Y/N) was this innocent, happy, light in his life. Warren didn’t want to ruin that.

He thought (Y/N) was too good for him, and she would eventually realize that and leave him.

But he trusted her. He trusted (Y/N) with his life. Perhaps a bit foolish, but he rarely ever felt sure about those types of things. He decided to trust his intuition.

—

Warren drove home in silence.

He pulled into the garage and put the keys on the key rack before heading up to (Y/N)’s room.

He didn’t even bother knocking on the door. He just walked right in and flopped onto the bed, in (Y/N)’s lap.

She was surprised, but she quickly came to her senses and tried to figure out what happened.

“Baby?...” (Y/N) looked down at Warren’s face as she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear.

“I…” Warren burst into tears, all his bottled up emotions coming out at once.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Warren sat up and (Y/N) hugged him tightly.

“I have… things… I want to tell you… about my past…” Warren scrunched his nose.

“My parents and other stuff… but I’m scared.” He admitted.

“Warren, baby, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me whatever you need to, whenever you feel ready, okay?”

He slowly nodded, still crying.

(Y/N) kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, being silent and supportive.

“Can… Can you promise me… Promise me you won’t leave because of my past. I’ve done really bad shit and—”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.” She reassured him.

Warren wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his tears slowing down.

“Thanks…” He mumbled.

“Of course, anything for you, Angel.”

#warren worththington x mother nature #warren worthington #warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #x-men oneshot #x-men x reader #xmen x reader #ben hardy x reader #xmen oneshot #warren worthington iii x mother nature #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii x you #warren worthington x you #mother nature reader

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sparring-hyena · 4 years

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Can you write a Becca x mc fanfic about Becca having a amnesia after the accident and not remembering falling in love with mc ? And it would be interesting to see Becca still trying to flirt with Chris among other guys and MC getting all jealous and trying to make Becca fall in love with her again 🤣 you can also turn it into a series I think it might be long if you chose to write it

hi, anon! i love all the angst in this idea, so thanks for sending it my way. also, i don’t know if what i wrote is exactly what you wanted. it does check a lot of the boxes, but i think it might be a bit angstier than you were asking for, so i hope that’s okay. it kinda just happened.

Alex has found coping with the last four months easier when she doesn’t think too much about it. she thinks about the events that happened, acknowledges their existence, but refuses to go any deeper than that. it’s easier that way.

“have you talked to someone about it?” Abbie asks as they’re walking to the library. one afternoon “a therapist, maybe?”

“my parents suggested it. but, i dunno, it just feels weird,” Alex says.

“that’s fine, but just make sure you aren’t keeping everything bottled up. even writing stuff down might help.”

Alex smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “i’ll give it a go.” she won’t. “thanks.”

they step into the library and find an empty table along one of the walls.

“how is she?” Abbie asks once they’re both settled in.

Alex feels the question pierce her in the heart. “don’t know,” she says quick and empty, making an effort to keep her gaze fixed on the work in front of her.

“she hasn’t reached out to you?”

“no.”

“Alex...” Abbie’s voice is sympathetic as she reaches across the table to place her hand on Alex’s.

Alex pulls away. “it’s fine, Abbie. can we just-- i’d really appreciate it if we didn’t talk about that.”

“of course.”

and Abbie, true to her word, doesn’t bring it up again. they work in a steady silence for most of the afternoon, only parting when the call for food becomes too great.

“are you sure you don’t want to come over for dinner. i know Kaitlyn’s free tonight; we could have a girls’ night.”

“it’s fine. i’d rather try get an early night. thanks though.”

“anytime.”

Alex dreads the idea of being in her apartment alone, but she also knows that she wouldn’t be able to have a girls’ night and pretend that everything’s fine.

she steps onto her floor and doesn’t notice the person standing by her door until she’s only six or seven feet away. her stomach twists itself into knots and her heart thumps dangerously against her ribcage.

“good, you’re home. i was just about to text you,” Becca says.

Alex feels a slither of hope creep into her heart. hope that Becca remembers. hope that they can go back to what they used to be. hope that they can continue to build their life together.

“i found some stuff while i was moving that i think is yours.” Becca picks up a box Alex had completely missed. “Chris mentioned that you don’t have classes this afternoon, so i figured i’d drop them off.”

“oh. that’s um, that’s really nice of you.” Alex takes the box from Becca’s hands. “how are you?”

“fine. the pain’s gone now, so my doctor cleared me to return to normal activity.”

Alex nods and fishes her keys from her pocket. “so you don’t, like, remember anything then?” she tries to be nonchalant as she speaks, though she can tell from the way Becca pauses and looks at her, that any attempt at nonchalance fails.

“the doctor said i might not,” Becca says a moment later, her voice distant. “it’ll be easier if we can both accept that sooner rather than later.”

“i know,” Alex says, turning the key in the lock. “i’ll see you ‘round?”

“maybe not. it might be better if we stayed apart.”

“oh.”

“yeah.” Becca shifts her weight between her feet and looks around the bland and empty hallway they’re standing in. “goodbye, Alex.” she turns on her heels and leaves.

Alex listens to Becca’s footfalls fade as she gets further and further away. an i love you dies on her tongue.

it’s five months later when Alex sees Becca again. okay, that’s not totally true. Alex has seen glimpses of Beeca around campus in that time—apparently, her and Chris are close again. Alex decides not to think about what that means. but it’s five months after that conversation in front of Alex’s apartment that they’re in close proximity again.

she’s at a club. Kaitlyn and Abbie had dragged her out.

“just for some fun,” Kaitlyn had said.

“you’ve been cooped up in your apartment every night for months. getting out might do you some good,” Abbie had explained.

and Alex hadn’t had the energy to fight them. so now she’s here. in some club with sticky floors, flashing lights, and music that makes her bones shake. they snagged a booth along the back wall, and it was all going fine. they were talking, laughing, having a fun night, and then Alex had glanced to her right and caught a glimpse of Becca and Chris dancing.

“i’m getting a drink,” Alex says, getting up from the booth without waiting for some kind of answer. she pushes her way through the thick crowd and makes her way to the bar, returning to the booth a few minutes later with five shots of tequila on a tray.

“i dunno if i wanna do shots tonight,” Kaitlyn says as she eyes the tray Alex places on the table.

“good, because these are for me.” and then Alex downs each of the shots.

“maybe ease up a bit,” Abbie says. “it’s still early.”

Alex shrugs and disappears to the dance floor. Kaitlyn and Abbie share a concerned look before following after their friend.

Alex tries to forget about Becca. she really does. but it’s hard to do that when she keeps catching glimpses of Becca dancing with Chris. it’s when she sees Becca lean in close to whisper something in a Chris’ ear that Alex turns back to Kaitlyn and Abbie, and says, “i can’t do this,” and then runs out of the club.

she runs and runs and can hear Kaitlyn and Abbie chasing after her, calling for her to stop. she finally does when she’s a few blocks away from the club.

“what happened in there?” Kaitlyn says, placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“i saw her. she’s in there dancing with Chris. Chris. and i know i don’t have any right to be pissed or upset, because we aren’t together, and as far as she can remember, we never were together. but i am pissed and i really just want...” Alex trails off and very nearly collapses on the ground.

“want what?” Abbie says.

“her,” Alex says, voice broken and tears in her eyes. “this was a mistake. i shouldn’t have come out tonight.”

when Alex gets home, she crashes into bed and falls into a restless sleep.

Alex closes herself off after that night at the club. she still calls her parents every week. tells them that she’s fine and she’s getting out regularly. she tells her friends that she’s fine, just a lot of assignments to get done. another lie, and a blatant one at that.

it’s a Wednesday night when another change comes. there’s a knock at her door and Alex glances to the clock on the oven. wonders who the hell is at her door at eight o’clock at night. she checks the peep hole and sighs when she sees that each of her friends are standing out in the hall. James and Zig, Kaitlyn and Zack, and Tyler and Abbie. everyone except Becca.

“we know you’re in there, Alex,” James says, not angry or disappointed, just careful and understanding.

“we got you some food,” Kaitlyn this time says, and she even holds up a takeout bag of chinese. she can also see Zig and Zack holding two bags of groceries each.

she lets them. Zig and Zack deposit the groceries in the kitchen and begin putting the food away, and everyone else crowds into the livingroom.

they talk for an hour. they all get up and say their piece, never accusing Alex of doing something wrong. and by the time nine o’clock rolls around, the chinese has been eaten and her friends have convinced Alex to go to dinner at Tyler and Abbie’s on Saturday night.

“Chris, can you hang back for a sec?” Alex says just as everyone is filing out.

Chris smiles and nods. the others leave and then it’s just them left standing in Alex’s too small livingroom. she has no idea what her plan is now that she’s alone with Chris. there’s stuff she wants to say, but she knows she has no real right to. that doesn’t stop her from asking one thing. “please don’t date her. i know you two dated and then i started dating her, so i really have no right to ask that of you. but please... don’t date her.”

Chris smiles, warm and sincere. “i wasn’t going to,” he says, and then he opens his arms for a hug.

Alex easily steps into the embrace and is so glad they stayed friends. they’re so much better as friends.

“we’re only friends,” he says. “she’s just confused about everything and needs someone to talk to. believe me, she’s hurting just as much as you, she’s just doesn’t know it.”

Alex pulls away from the hug and offers Chris a genuine smile as she wipes away the tears she didn’t realise were pooling around her eyes.

“she’s your girl, Alex.”

“no she’s not.” that nearly kills Alex to say, but it’s the truth. the sooner she accepts that, the better. “but thanks anyway.”

Alex doesn’t know why she’s surprised to see Becca at dinner on Saturday night. she’s their friend. it’s good that she came, and it makes Alex smile knowing that Becca hasn’t been totally alone through all of this.

it’s awkward at first. they wind up in the kitchen together, alone, when Abbie ducks out quickly to use the bathroom. they just make small talk until Abbie comes back, and Alex hates that this is what their relationship has been reduced to.

they don’t sit together for dinner though, and Alex counts that as both a blessing and a curse. because she knows that had things been different, they’d have sat beside each other, Alex’s arm thrown over the back of Becca’s chair, and Becca’s hand resting on Alex’s thigh.

and then the night just sort of ends. people leave in pairs or groups of threes, and perhaps by some strange bout of luck, Alex and Becca leave together. it’s completely unintentional, and from the looks Tyler and Abbie are giving her, Alex knows that all she’d have to do is ask, and one of them would walk out with them.

but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she’s an adult. she and Becca can ride the elevator to the ground floor and walk out of the building together.

neither of them say a single word for the whole elevator ride. it’s only when they’re standing out on the street, about to go their separate ways, that Becca says something. “kiss me.”

and Alex had absolutely not been expecting that. she stammers out a response: “what?”

“i know you heard me.”

“yeah, but, why?”

“because you love me. and i may not know why you do or how that even happened, but the point is that you do. so show me that you love me, and kiss me.”

Alex can’t really help herself, because Becca looks nothing short of stunning standing in the glow of the street light. and Becca’s asking her to. so she has permission. she’s allowed to kiss her. so she does.

it’s the same but it’s not the same. she tastes the same, smells the same, even kisses the same. but it’s not the same. it’s not the same because they don’t share those important memories--that first time in the sorority, the spring fling, their dates at Uskea, all the nights in each other’s rooms, the whole of last year. they don’t share any of that.

Alex breaks the kiss. “i’m sorry, i can’t. this— it wouldn’t be fair. for you or for me.” she turns away, ready to leave and salvage whatever she can of herself when she gets home.

and then Becca grabs her hand, pulls her back, and kisses her again. and it’s exactly the same as the kiss they just shared, and yet it’s so damn different. Becca’s kissing her like she's desperate, like she’s making up for lost time. then Becca slides her hands down Alex’s back and into the back pockets of her jeans to pull her a little bit closer.

Alex pulls away in surprise, because this is her Becca. the Becca who calls her a dork and a cheeseball, the Becca who slow dances with Alex in the kitchen, and the Becca who slides her hands into Alex’s back pockets when they kiss.

“why’d you pull away?” Becca says, like she’s oblivious to what just happened. but the smile on her face tells Alex that she knows.

“you remember.”

“of course, i remember. how could i not remember after a kiss like that?”

Alex launches herself at Becca and pulls her into a hug. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too.” Becca squeezes back just as tight.

“we have to tell the others,” Alex says, pulling away to look at Becca again. “they’ll be so happy that you remember.”

“i have a better idea. let’s have one last night where this” —Becca gestures to herself and Alex— “is just ours. no pressure or expectations from everyone else. it’s just you and me. what’d you say, for old times’ sake?”

Alex grabs Becca’s hand with a smile and leads her away.

#becca x mc #playchoices #my writing #becca davenport #request #anon #the freshman #the senior #the junior #the sophomore

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

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Hello there, I don't know if your taking requests, if so I'm in desperate need of some mean Alfie, like the readers brother can't pay Alfie back what he owes so Alfie threatens him. So she storms into Alfie's house to give him a piece of her mind. And he is fuming first and basically tells her to get lost. But has a change of heart last minute and calls her back to make a deal. Maybe that she will go on a date with him😀 id love if you could include the date in the story but if not that's fine to. I think your a fantastic writer and I just wanted to let you know how much I love your work.

//Oh my lord I did NOT mean to get this carried away.

Jane’s younger brother was a nuisance. At least, that’s what the neighbors said. Jane would call him…troubled. He found himself in a group of unsavory young men who liked to cause trouble in the neighborhood.

Jane prayed that it was just a phase that he would grow out of. However, he was twenty, and she figured he ought to know better by then. She didn’t blame him for being so rebellious. Their parents had both died from the Spanish Flu. They left behind five children. Alex was the youngest, twelve at the time of their death, Lucille was sixteen, Bernard was twenty, Jane was twenty-two, and Isabella was twenty-four. They all tried their best to be a complete family after the tragedy, but it was so difficult. Especially when Isabella married just six months after, Lucille married two years after, and Bernard left for America four years after.

From then on, it was just Jane and Alex. She loved her younger brother dearly, but he was such a handful. His behavior escalated from getting in schoolyard fights to committing petty crimes. It was exhausting trying to keep up with him.

Finally, he made the ultimate mistake and came home with a black eye as a prize.

“What happened?” Jane gasped when she saw the state of her brother. He was hunched over, clutching his side, his face was swollen and bloodied.

“M’sorry.” He mumbled.

“Alex, tell me what happened. Who did this to you?” She demanded.

“Alfie Solomons, his men did it.” He winced in pain as he tried to sit down on the sofa. “I owe them some money. I can’t pay it though.”

Jane spent all her time working to provide for herself and her brother. She had no time to gossip or listen to people whisper about the famed gangster of Camden Town. So, she had little clue what sort of power the name held. “This is ending here and now.” She decided firmly. “I will settle this bet with Mr. Solomons if you go out and get a proper job and stay out of all this-this nonsense!” She snapped, finished with Alex’s behavior.

It seemed that the interaction with the Camden bakers had scared the young man well enough that he was willing to put that way of life behind and start on the straight and narrow. He nodded frantically. “But you can’t go to see him.” He warned. “Give the money to Richard, he’ll get the money to him.”

Jane wrinkled her nose in disgust at the mention of Alex’s friend. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was the one who lured Alex into a life of crime. “No, I’ll do it myself. I don’t trust him.” She decided with conviction. She began to go upstairs to get her savings that were hidden under the floorboard.

“No, Jane, listen to me!” Her brother urged. “Alfie Solomons is a fucking psychopath. He kills people for sport. I ain’t gonna let you go near him.”

“If he’s willing to kill someone over a couple of pounds, then that’s his problem. I’m not afraid of someone who will bully a twenty-year-old. Now go and put a cloth on your face to put down the swelling.” She ordered.

Alex looked worried but knew he wasn’t able to talk his sister out of anything. He could only hope that she would find Alfie on a good day.

~~~~~~~~~

Jane marched into Camden Town with fire in her eyes. She had two pounds in her pocket, almost two months of work for her, but her family came first. Alex could work back the debt he owed to her later. She would much rather this be a learning experience for him, something to shake him awake and put him on the right path finally.

She found the address where Alfie Solomons’ office supposedly was. There, a young man was keeping guard in front of double doors.

As she approached, he straightened up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Solomons.” She replied.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“An appointment? What is he, the bloody king? No, I’m here to pay back my brother’s debt.”

“Hang on, stay here.” He went into the large building and left Jane waiting. As she waited, she felt people watching her. People passing by seemed to take notice of anyone unfamiliar to the area, especially someone who was lingering around the bakery of Alfie Solomons.

A few minutes later, the doors opened again and the man beckoned her inside. “You armed?”

“Armed? No, of course not.”

“Do you mind if I check?”

“Yes, I mind, keep your hands to yourself!” She snapped.

“Yeah, see now I know where your brother has got that attitude from.” A voice boomed across the hallway leading into the bakery.

Jane looked to see the man himself. Broad-shouldered and walking like a soldier, he came into view in the dimly lit area.

“Pardon?” She wasn’t used to such a brash greeting.

“You’re Alex’s sister, ain’t ya? Look a lot alike, you two. Act similarly too. Figures as much. Boy who can’t keep his mouth shut looking up to a woman who can’t keep her mouth shut.” He stopped in front of her.

At first glance, Jane didn’t see what all the fuss was. He looked and dressed pretty simply, nothing outstanding. But then she started to pick up on the small details that made him who he was. The gold rings, the bracelets, the tattoos, the scars.

“Here.” She pulled the money out to give to him. She wasn’t going to waste her time on this man.

He tutted as he took the money from her. Looking at the amount as if she were merely throwing a few coins his way. “Oh, dear, this ain’t enough, love.” He shook his head as if disappointed.

“That’s what my brother gave you. That’s what he owes you.” She insisted.

“Something called interest, sweetheart. S’been over two months since I loaned your brother the money. So, his debt has been racking up interest, m’fraid. Nearly double this by now.”

Jane’s blood boiled at his audacity. “How dare you?” She hissed. “Who are you to act like some big shot who owns the world, aye?”

“It’s just business, love. If you don’t like it then I’m not sure why you’re even here. This is your brother’s debt, not yours. Shows what sort of man he is, having a woman settle his debts.”

She was seething at his cool demeanor. “Because I look after my family. We care for each other even when one of our own has made a mistake. It’s a shame you don’t know that Mr. Solomons. That just means you have no love in your life. That’s quite sad actually.”

His relaxed façade began to melt right in front of her eyes. “Aye? Who the fuck do you think you are that you can come into me business and speak to me like that?” He stepped towards her, his hand gripping a slender wooden cane.

“You had my brother beaten because of a couple of pounds. It doesn’t look like you even need that money. You seem to be doing fine on your own. Or is that how you make your fortune? By threatening people’s lives so they’ll give you money?”

Alfie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the way the world works. If you don’t like it, you can jog on. Let your brother handle it.”

“My brother will have no more dealings with you, Mr. Solomons. You can either take the money that I’ve given you or take nothing at all. My family isn’t giving you another cent.”

Alfie chuckled darkly. “So, you make the rules then, is that right? That’s funny that is. Little girl coming into my bakery to tell me what to do. That’s brave of you, innit?”

“I don’t hide behind other people. I’m not a coward like you.” She spat. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. You’re going to leave me and my brother alone.” She went to turn around but Alfie’s voice chased her.

“And would you care if I had your brother shot in the street?”

Jane spun around with anger radiating off her. “You are a monster.” Her voice raised louder. “If you ever even want to think about hurting my brother, you’ll have to go through me first.” She snarled before finally taking her leave.

Alfie frowned to himself. What was this feeling? Sympathy? Empathy? Amusement? Here was this beautiful woman who came storming into his life, ready to fight for her brother. She wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest and was true to her values. “Hold it.” He yelled after her.

She stopped and turned with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t say anything, just waited for him to speak.

“Here.” He walked over to her and handed the money back. “What’s your name?”

“Jane.” She replied, eyeing the money suspiciously.

“Well, Jane, you must know that you’re much braver than most men I’ve met. Other people in your position would be shaking in their boots. None of them would talk to me the way that you just did.” He said with a gentler tone.

She was a bit unnerved by the sudden change in his demeanor. There was no telling what his motive was. “That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“So, because I stood up to you, you’re going to give me back the money?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Call it an appreciation of your courage.”

Jane glanced over her shoulder at the door then back to him. “What are you playing at?” She questioned.

“No game, love. But, figure you see the same type day in and day out, yeah? Men, well can’t really call them men, boys really, who come in and out of your office, whinging on about this and that. Shaking in their boots ‘cause they’re so fucking terrified of mean ‘ol Alfie Solomons.” He pointed to the door. “Then, in comes a woman who is ready to take up arms for her brother against someone like me. Refusing to compromise. Well, something you wish you could see a bit more, innit?”

Jane felt herself relaxing a bit. Behind the scary façade of a gangster was really an oddly charming man. “Well, I’m sorry to say but there isn’t anyone like me.”

That got a laugh out of Alfie. “Fucking hell, you really are something else. You’re right though, ‘bout a one in a million I’d guess.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay, well…if you ever see my brother again, tell him to trot on. I don’t want him to go down the same path as…”

“As me?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to be rude.” Jane blinked. Why wasn’t she berating this man who had threatened her brother? Why was she staring back at him? Why was the way he was looking at her so endearing?

“And what am I meant to do if I run into you again?” He inquired as if it was just a casual question.

“Well…should we run into each other again, I should hope it’s because you’re trying to mend things. A gesture of condolence for your behavior.” She replied steadily although her heart was beating unnaturally fast in her chest.

The corner of Alfie’s lip turned up. “Well, that’s very good to know. This condolence, would dinner be good ‘nough?”

Oh, what a hypocrite she was. Admonishing her brother for dealing with lowlifes and now here she was entertaining the idea of going out with one of the most dangerous of them all. But there was something about him that was so alluring. “Perhaps. If you’re on your best behavior.”

“Well, I happen to think I clean up nicely. I can mingle with the toffs just as well as anyone. ‘Specially if it means making a beautiful woman happy.”

Jane felt her face go red. Things had taken such a drastic turn, she wondered if she was imagining it all. “Then I suppose it’ll be alright if you take me out.” She gave him a number to call.

But before she took her leave, she asked one more question. “Is it your charm that gets you out of trouble?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Love, I am trouble.”

#ugly crying asks

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