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ptersparkers · 4 years

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the art of eating pussy (5)

summary: upon realizing you lack skills in the bedroom when a touron asks you out on a date, you turn to jj, a self-proclaimed sexual deviant, for help.

warnings: smut, y’all.

notes: i haven’t been in the right headspace to right recently and wanted to give my reads something of quality and substance, not something to rush just for satisfaction. behold, chapter five.

co-authored and co-written with @storiesbymads. SHOW MY WIFE SOME LOVE.

add yourself to my taglist + series masterlist

JJ’s hung up.

You’d been spending less time at the Chateau in favor of spending time with Trent since it was the last week that he’d be on the island. His mind was racing, conflicted with the thoughts of your mouth on Trent and his lips on your neck. The night of the party had been the worst moment of the week and his jaw hurt from clenching by the time he ended up crashing out on John B’s couch. JJ always drank to forget and that night wasn’t an exception.

He knew it wasn’t just about sex with you anymore. It wasn’t about the opportunity for him to get off by the hand of someone else. It wasn’t about him taking advantage of you. There was nothing complicated about the two of you in the bedroom.

But outside of the bedroom, JJ’s head was spinning every time you said goodbye or forced him out the door because your parents were home. He didn’t have to think when he was with you; JJ knew what you wanted and knew what to expect. He knew that his time alone with you was the product of these lessons but that didn’t mean he had to think of this time as anything but passionate. When his tongue wasn’t down your throat, he was thinking about the tight feeling in his chest that left him wondering what was going to happen once you told him it was over because he didn’t want this to end.

JJ hadn’t thought about the lessons ending until he saw you tucked underneath Trent’s arm at the party. This whole situation wasn’t friends with benefits and he knew it, which is why it messed with his head so much. Yes, there was the whole “no strings attached” ordeal, but this wasn’t just one of you calling the other for sex. This was much more complicated. You were one of JJ’s best friends but the only difference is you’d seen him naked, intentionally.

His thoughts are preoccupied with the idea that once the lessons end, you might still be with Trent despite him no longer being on the island. JJ would have to go back to being just friends and he’d have to pretend that he never saw you naked. He’d have to pretend he didn’t revel in the thought of you trembling beneath him. The other Pogues, to his knowledge, had no idea that the both of you were fooling around and he didn’t know if it was something he wanted to disclose. On one hand, he wanted a second opinion on whether or not this was something healthy. On the other hand, he knew what they would say; that JJ didn’t care about catching feelings and it was unlikely that he would consider succumbing to being a boyfriend. He knew he’d expressed his disdain for relationships in the past, but now he wasn’t so sure.

You ended up skipping out on the last two beach sessions in favor of Trent. Pope had decided to stay behind on the sand with JJ while Sarah, Kiara, and John B. enjoyed themselves under the warmth of the sun and the contrasting coolness of the ocean waves. Pope could sense something was amiss when JJ was the first to propose having a relaxing afternoon and hadn’t shown up with his surfboard tucked underneath his arm.

“Something’s up,” Pope stated. “Something’s been up for a while and I didn’t want to say anything about it until I knew for sure, but something’s definitely up.” JJ shook his head.

“It’s nothing.” Pope nudged JJ with his shoulder.

“C’mon, man. You don’t want to surf, your mind is a million miles from where you are, and not to mention, this entire week you’ve been moody.”

“I’m not moody,” JJ muttered with a scowl, flicking at a clump of sand near his foot. Pope’s mouth formed a knowing smile. JJ sighed. “Okay, I’ve been moody.”

“What’s up? Is it your dad again?”

“No,” JJ replied softly. “I just think life is bullshit.”

“We all think life is bullshit.”

“Feelings are bullshit.” Pope’s ears perked with interest.

“Feelings?” JJ looked at Pope before looking back at the view in front of him, watching as Kiara had playfully splashed Sarah with ocean water. He wished he could feel that carefree.

“They suck,” he began. “I think it’s stupid that people are allowed to feel something for people and not know if they feel the same.”

“Are you talking about someone?” JJ paused.

“No,” he replied.

“Okay...” Pope trailed off. JJ sighed once more.

“What I’m trying to say, is, I wish we weren’t cursed with not knowing where the lines are blurred and I wish we could all say how we feel without consequence.”

Pope sensed that JJ was trying to speak metaphorically and project his emotions on a secondary situation. He nodded, trying to follow the blond’s train of thought. He pursed his lips as JJ spoke and wanted to understand what he was saying to the fullest extent, but the boy decided to let JJ talk.

“Have you ever thought about getting off this island?” JJ asked after a few moments of silence.

“What kind of question is that?” Pope asked, laughing. “Of course I do.”

“But really,” said JJ. “Not just getting off and seeing what it’s like. I mean, like, what you’re gonna be doing in twenty years and the people who are going to be in your life.”

“Sometimes,” Pope replied with a casual shrug. “I try to take things one day at a time. I never want to overwhelm myself.”

“Lucky you,” JJ muttered. “I see myself off of this stupid fucking island by the time I’m thirty. I don’t want to live in a place where I feel trapped and can’t say what I want to fucking say.”

“I want to be able to forget about the Kooks,” Pope chimed in. JJ nodded. “I kinda want to live in San Francisco.”

“I’d probably live in Europe or something,” JJ said. “Don’t know where but I’d want to experience life as far away from North Carolina as possible.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Pope asked. He knew he wasn’t.

“Yeah, man,” JJ replied. “Just got a lot of things on my mind.”

The idea of fooling around with anyone that wasn’t you hadn’t crossed JJ’s mind. He’d been to Boneyard keggers since the lessons began but the notion of flirting and bringing a girl back to the Chateau was way off his radar. The Pogues didn’t take much notice but JJ wondered if they knew something was amiss or if they’d say something about it if they did. If he was able to realize he hadn’t slept with anyone since he began “teaching” you, then they might have. JJ knew their worlds didn’t revolve around him, and the boy was still as goofy and troublesome as ever, but there was a seeded doubt that made him awkward whenever he was around his friends if you happened to be there.

It wasn’t that his stomach felt queasy or that his heart was racing. He’d be lying to himself if he admitted that. His head was clear when it came to how he felt about you and he wouldn’t hesitate rushing to your house if you called him for another lesson or if you just wanted to kick back with him in your room and jam out to vinyls you pulled out whenever you felt nostalgic. Before, he would never have considered approaching your side of the island but now he didn’t feel as small as he did when he didn’t have a reason to be there. Your parents were familiar with your friends and didn’t mind JJ stopping by, which gave him more of an incentive to visit you when he had had enough of the Chateau and his friends’ loud personalities.

JJ knew his head was clear when it came to how he was feeling. The only part that clouded his judgement was Trent and dealing with the different friendship he’d have with you. He was sure that if the Touron wasn’t in the picture, things would be much easier for him. Trent’s dark and slick hair reminded him of greed and filth. His boisterous personality reminded JJ of everything he never wanted to be and he couldn’t understand why you’d pay attention to him for longer than a quick glance. The Touron was casually cool, the type of person who wanted to say they were able to rub elbows with the socialites of New York City by posting it on his social media accounts. You, on the other hand, were down to earth and courageous about your future potential. He couldn’t fathom why you were so attracted to someone who was your opposite.

Your head had been spinning too. Trent was the perfect gentleman and he hadn’t given you a reason to not trust him. And yet, every moment you spent with him reminded you that you weren’t spending it with JJ. You couldn’t understand why you’d been thinking about his shaggy hair when he wakes up or the way his eyes squint when he laughs a little too hard. Trent was giving you his full and undivided attention, and you always felt guilty when you needed to force yourself back into reality because you had been zoning out, daydreaming of being anywhere else.

But JJ never seemed to be anything other than friendly with you. You opted to disregard how he acted during the lessons, summing that up to pent up sexual frustration and a genuine interest to help you out after years of teasing you. You weren’t completely naive; you knew this was a way for JJ to get himself off, much like it was for you. The only difference between JJ taking advantage of you versus not was the fact that you wanted him to teach you how to make others feel good and how to make yourself feel like a goddess in the bedroom. You weren’t exactly sure why there had been a lack of awkwardness between the both of you despite him being your best friend since birth. There was never a question of doubt from JJ when you asked him to help you learn. There was no laughing when you admitted your lack of knowledge. Perhaps that’s why your initial doubt disappeared the first time he asked you to kiss him.

Trent had apologized for the beach date when he’d gotten startled by strangers parking next to him and promised you he’d make it up to you. He came through on his promise after you got worked up before your dinner date. You arrived at the hotel he was staying at while his father attended an event on the other side of Figure Eight and his hand glided up the side of your dress. Trent wasn’t rough nor was he gentle; he was giving you what you thought you wanted but it didn’t feel as skilled or as tender as when JJ’s fingers were inside of you. With JJ, your orgasm approached as if JJ already knew everything there was to know but Trent took his sweet time making you cum.

You always cursed yourself for letting your mind wander innocuously to JJ when Trent’s lips were on your neck or when his fingers were toying with the hem of your clothing. There wasn’t much going on between you and Trent, sexually, despite him wanting to take it further. You were lucky enough that Trent verbally expressed his willingness to wait, but you wondered if that wait time had an expiration date. You wanted to make sure if it felt right before you were able to deliver on a promise. You knew that your lessons with the blond would come to an end the moment you two had gone all the way, or until you were ready to experience sex without JJ, and you always moved that thought to the back of your mind to avoid thinking about it.

By now, you felt guilty for spending the majority of this week with Trent. Kiara had texted you a few times but understood wanting to spend time with him until he left. As far as you could tell, neither John B. nor Pope cared too much because they were happy their youngest friend was happy with someone. JJ, on the other hand, you couldn’t read. You didn’t understand why it was so difficult for you to reach out to him first or comprehend him, which you were usually good at. Suddenly, you were overthinking the way he talked to you and if he chose to sit next to you or someone else. You were overthinking his lingering gaze either on your thighs or some girl who walked past him with a weird knot in the pit of your stomach.

You kept telling yourself none of that mattered because you had Trent and you were sure you knew how you felt. Trent treated you right, was willing to wait, and never made you feel second best for not being as sexually promiscuous as he was. Yet something was lacking and you couldn’t figure out what it was.

You tried not to think about it on your way to the Chateau. The screen door slammed shut as you walked into the living room to try and save yourself from the downpour of rain. After Trent had dropped you off when his father had called him during the middle of a movie marathon, you opted to see the Pogues and spend some time with them once you realized how many times you had declined their offer to hang out. You saw JJ already sprawled out on the couch, seemingly all by himself.

“John B’s out with Sarah,” he said casually, pushing himself up onto his elbows to give you some room to sit down. You nodded a thank you, crossing your arms over your wet torso in an attempt to warm your shivering body as you sat down. Glancing down at your chest, you silently swore as you noticed your red bra was, in fact, very visible under your white shirt.

“Nice bra,” he chuckled, trying not to ogle too long. JJ hoped his comment didn’t make you feel awkward; he was having a hard time talking to you because he didn’t exactly know where he stood with you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled but you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks.

“So…” JJ trailed off. “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’ve been good,” you nodded.

“And Trent?” he asked, attempting, and majorly failing, to hide the venom that laced his tongue. You mistook this as annoyance.

“Good,” you said, not wanting to talk about him anymore. JJ cleared his throat, his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, as he shifted on the couch so that he was sitting upright and facing you.

“You've been putting my lessons to good use?” he asked. He didn’t know why he’d asked. He had no desire to hear about you with another guy.

“You could say that,” you said. Were you really putting them to good use if you weren’t enjoying yourself with Trent nearly as much as you had been with JJ? You couldn’t tell JJ that Trent’s hands on you just sent your mind spiraling back to him or when Trent’s lips were on yours, it reminded you of that first night you started the whole thing.

“Oh? Does he make you feel good?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Because it’s not worth it if you’re not getting something out of it, too.”

“Uh, well-”

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he asked suddenly. He knew he was asking the question more for himself but he was desperate to have you again. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to show you how a real man treats his girl.

“What?” you were taken aback by the forwardness of his question. You watched as his eyes dilated, flicking back and forth from your lips to your chest.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You need to be shown what it’s like to be taken care of.”

“But you already-”

“Just let me do this for you,” he snapped. “Please.”

“Okay,” you said before turning your body on the couch to face him. You hadn’t stopped shivering since entering the Chateau not too long ago and your goosebumps increased as you watched JJ move closer to you. He used his right hand to pry your knees apart, positioning himself between them. Your heart rate picked up as he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, the cold air hitting your wet skin when JJ pushed the soaked fabric of your t-shirt up so that it rested just under the hemline of your bra.

“Up,” he mumbled against your lips, the vibrations forcing a soft moan out of you as you broke the kiss to lift your arms above your head. You let out a small laugh when your shirt made a sloshing sound against the ground. It stopped as soon as it started, however, because you felt JJ start applying open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones.

Feeling his body pressed up against yours stirred up all the daydreams you’d had every time you’d gotten intimate with Trent. You’d been in this position before with him, but somehow it felt better without the pretense of a lesson. You were under the guise that this wasn’t just about teaching you what you liked and what you didn’t. Part of you wanted to believe that this was more than a lesson you’d acquire from JJ’s depth of knowledge. JJ’s kisses trailed lower and lower until his teeth started toying with the waistband of your shorts. The throbbing between your legs was growing steadily and you let out a sigh of relief when he finally dipped his fingers into the waistband and tugged the wet shorts down your legs with effort because of the rain, dropping them on the floor with your shirt.

“JJ,” you whimpered as he took his time moving down your body. He slipped his hands under your knees so that he could place them on his shoulders delicately before he laid out on the couch with his face centimeters away from your nearly bare pussy.

He let out a soft laugh in disbelief at how incredibly soaked you already were. It was practically coating your thighs at this point and your cunt was aching in anticipation for his touch. All JJ could think about is how you let another man see you from this point of view, which was enough to give rise to JJ’s ego. His mission was to make you feel so good that you’d think of him the next time Trent put his hands down your pants; he wanted you to remember this moment and know what it was like to be eaten out by someone who was determined to make you orgasm like a holy grail.

JJ’s jealousy didn’t cause him to act rashly and dominate the situation. He started by pressing fluttering kisses to the side of your knee, his eyes flickering up to see you watching him intently. JJ began by tenderly kissing the inside of your thighs, making comments about how soft you are and how you smelled so sweet. He does all he can to make you squirm underneath his touch, loving that your gaze didn’t leave him even if you tried. JJ pressed a kiss to the waistband of your underwear and you whimpered at the thought of him being so close to you in a way that was more intimate than before.

He chuckled when he heard you whimper again and moved his mouth to kiss along your clothed entrance. You knew JJ’s game all too well and you knew he’d take his time teasing you until you were begging for it. It took a while to come to this conclusion, but you figured out that you enjoyed the slow pace before the big finish. JJ had taught you that when you reached an orgasm, it was less about the other party getting off by getting you off. The point of your orgasm was to make you feel like a queen in the bedroom, not like a used toy to get someone else off.

So when JJ used the pad of his index finger to move your underwear aside and toy with your cunt, you didn’t bother begging for his mouth. Instead, you closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his warm hands on you. JJ looked pleased at your reaction and wanted to make this moment last for as long as he could. His finger moved in slow circles before hitting a sensitive nerve that caused your hips to rise, to which JJ laughed and pinned you down in the cushions.

JJ pressed two delicate kisses on your entrance. His mouth was being coated in your slick and he licked his lips, closing his eyes to savor the way you tasted. His body inched forward in an attempt to be as close to you as possible before licking a stripe with his tongue pressed flat against you, causing you to let out a deep moan in satisfaction.

JJ’s tongue worked like magic, as if he already knew all of your weak spots and was discovering the different sounds you could make by his tongue. His hands were gripping your thighs and his eyes would look at his meal before back up at you, and you had taken the liberty to use your hands to tug on his hair when he had hit a pleasure point.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against you to himself, proud of how loud and unapologetic you were being. He swore that if the Pogues had walked in the door, he’d stop eating your pussy and show them how pretty you looked underneath him. But he knew they would all be at Kiara’s until the storm passed.

His motions were delicate until he recalled the thought of you and Trent together in bed. His tongue began to dart in and out of you at a faster speed with every increasing thought. Giving Trent a handjob. Trent stripping you out of your bra and underwear. His fingers inside of you. His tongue down your throat. His cock in your mouth. His cock in your - JJ’s - pussy. He knew he was irrational and wrong to think that last thought, but in this moment, your pussy was his for the taking and he was going to make your orgasm like your life depended on it.

JJ’s grip on your thighs became tighter and you felt locked underneath him. Your toes curled and your hips bucked at the pressure and pace at which JJ was eating you out. His head was moving like he was catching every last drop of your wetness before going back for some more. JJ had taken the liberty to lift his head and spit on your entrance before diving back in, his tongue so deep inside of you that you almost considered asking him to use his cock instead.

“JJ,” you muttered, tugging on his hair.

“Just cum, baby,” he urged. “I’m ready for you.”

You obliged and it didn’t take you that long to release. JJ lapped the white pearls that were spilling out of you and his eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he realized this was the first time he was seeing you, and tasting you, from this angle. JJ’s jaw was becoming sore but he paid no attention as your legs spread wider against the couch and your body moved to the rhythm of his tongue.

When you were coming down from your high, JJ couldn’t have imagined anything hotter than the sight and sound before him, but your fingers reached down to your aching core in oblivion and began toying with your clit as your breathing steadied. JJ watched in awe as your fingers moved in slow, delicate and circular motions, your bottom lip in between your teeth and your eyes shut. His mouth hung open at how totally, completely, and utterly fucked you were in this orgasmic haze and was pulled out of this fantasy when you tugged your hand away and reached for a tissue to clean yourself up.

JJ couldn't think of anything to say and neither could you. You settled on watching a movie in silence.

***

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#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow smut #obx x reader #obx imagines #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks #*#study sessions #the art of eating pussy

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jjk-anime-horray · 3 years

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Hot Wings (I wanna party)

Keigo Takami x Reader

“Imma fly, fly just like a bird

(But you are a bird!)

Oh yeah, you're right,

So let me fly just like a rocket, then”

Whenever Hawks, the winged number two hero, talked to you he always had to go out for a fly. No because he was frustrated by you, no, it was because he was flustered by you. Ironically, him taking to the skys was the way to bring his mind back to the earth instead if being in the clouds.

Letting the wind ripple through his glistening red feathers. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was a way to take his mind off of something he didn't know how to obtain. He didn't know how to get you.

"Fly so high where I need to come down for oxygen"

He can't let himself fly too high into the blue expanse above the city however, because if he can't see the bustling metropolis under him while he escapes he ultimately travels in his own little world again. That world where he can't stop thinking of you.

Your complexion, your eyes, your stature, your little quirks, your unique habits, your impurities, your faults, all of you, it's perfect to him. But, he still didn't know how to act around you.

"Cause once we start it, baby, ain't no ain't no stoppin' then"

The hero commission may have taught him how to be charismatic, but they sure as hell didn't teach him anything about himself. He was the number two pro hero who looked like a surf model on the out-side, only to have the emotions a confused teenager on the inside with a lot of issues, that only you really knew about.

He's known you for so long that he can't ever really remember a time with out you. He didn't know when he first fell in love with you. Was is when both of you were taken in by the commission? Was it when both of you hit your teen years? It didn't matter maybe he was always in love with you, but he didn't realize it and blamed it on his bird instincts.

The bird hero knows that he has only one shot at this, he knows that he's known you so long that it has to be perfect so things don't become awkward between you too. He wants to make sure he doesn't lose you. He wants to have a home with you, where both of you can be safe and not care about anything else around you in your little nest together. Where he can bring you shiny objects, chirp together. A place where he can embrace you in his arms and envelope you with his wings. A place where it was truly just you and him.

"Cause I just want to live my life, and party

All I want is to be free, and rock my body

Ain't nowhere around the world that I want to live

my life

In Rio

'Cause in Rio

In Rio, I realize"

Keigo wants to just be Keigo, he doesn't want to be the commissions prized pet that gets flaunted around everyone else who's in power. Every flap of his wings rushing though the sky marks another thought popping into his brain. He wishes he could have gone to college, get a normal job, have a normal life, be a normal person, but he doesn't mind the uncertainty in his life because you're in it.

You may not be his, but you're his perch, a stableness that a bird always needs to return too. Hawks is the selfless pro-hero who helps everyone. Keigo, however, is as selfish as they come. He want to have you all to himself, or have at least have everyone know not to mess with what he wants.

Keigo want the both of you to be free from where you came and where you were trained. He wants to take you into the skys in his arms, showing you all that he see's. Showing you his true feelings and thoughts about everything.

In the skys he realizes, that he doesn't just want to be your best friend, he want to be with you, a part of you, yours.

"I want to party (party)"

He wants to take you to neighborhood baroque's where everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows who everyone is.

"I want to samba (party)"

He want to put wrap his arms around your neck and shoulders, feet rocking side to side, bodies swaying left and right as you slow dance to the rhythm of music.

"I want to party (party)"

He wishes the two of you could be getting drunk at family holiday parties together, sitting next to each other on your aunt's couch watching the younger family members tear open the gift the two of you got for them in excitement.

"I want to samba (party)

I want to party (party)

And live my life (live my life)

I want to party (party)

And fly"

He knows most of his fantasies about his life aren't ever obtainable, he knows he's never going to be an average joe, he know's he's never going to go to college, but the you part to his dream, the you part was possible. And in that moment when he was miles above the dirt of the earth, he comes diving down back to it making up his mind. He wasn't going to wait for the you part anymore, he was going to come diving from the sky just to pick you up and soar to show you his world. There are many things this pro-hero cannot control, he can't control his boss, his working shifts, or anything else life might throw his way.

But this bird wasn't going to leave possible life with you up to chance. And the burst of wind and feathers flying in his wake only proved that.

#keigo takami #keigo bnha #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #hawks x you #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #weeb #anime #manga #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #bnha hawks

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queercapwriting · 3 years

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Hi Cap! I've really missed your weekly Sanvers drabbles. How about something cute with them doing a secret santa and they draw each other's name? Maybe they aren't even together yet but by the end of the gift exchange, they get a great/perfect gift plus a girfriend! :D

Maggie had no idea how her name even got added to this God-forsaken drawing, but she strongly suspected M’gann.

“Was this you?” she asked, halfway through her third round of beer. M’gann paused in wiping down the camera, face the picture of mild curiosity and innocence.

Maggie was pretty sure she knew better.

She flashed her phone toward the bartender, details of the DEO’s Secret Santa exchange on it. M’gann heaved the most affected shrug Maggie had ever seen.

“Was what me?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“It paired me with Danvers, M’gann. I suppose that was you, too?”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” M’gann nodded at someone down on the other side of the bar. “But I did hear her sister talking about how much Danvers used to like surfing.”

Maggie most certainly did not picture Alex Danvers soaking wet in the ocean.

No, she most certainly did not.

+++

“Kara.” Alex was lying on her back in her little sister’s living room, with her feet up on the couch. An open box of pizza was sitting on her stomach. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe start with sitting up while you eat, Alex, you know what happened with that pop tart when you were a senior in high school.”

Alex scowled. “It was a defective pop tart.”

“Alex.”

“I don’t even know what kinds of things she likes.”

Kara plopped onto the couch and swiped the box of pizza off Alex’s stomach. Alex glared, but worked her way up onto the couch. She took the pizza box back.

“Sure you do, you’ve been spending all that time playing pool together at the bar. And working all those cases. You can’t possibly only talk about work, Alex.”

Alex squinted. “I mean, we pretty much can. And do. She... she’s from Nebraska. And she... likes aliens? Not like in a fetishizing way, I mean, just - it - and guns. She likes guns? Sort of? It’s complicated. But she does like scotch. And beer. And -”

“And you are not getting her an alien or a gun for Christmas, so maybe we can do more brainstorming.”

+++

“Danvers.” Maggie tried to keep her tone even the next day, working some scene or another with Alex. Normally, she’d know everything about everything about where she was and what she was doing. Today, she was coasting on prior knowledge and the ability to... well, to detect.

Because if Alex Danvers was distracting under normal circumstances, well, knowing she’d have to give her a damn present at the end of the week was a whole new layer of brain scatteredness.

“Sawyer.” She thought maybe there was a smile in Alex’s voice - who did she get for Secret Santa? - but no, she was definitely projecting. Wishful thinking. Alex wasn’t even into girls. M’gann was being ridiculous. Sweet, but ridiculous. Because even if Alex was into girls, this was Alex damn Danvers. So far out of Maggie’s league.

“What’ve we got?”

She tried to follow Alex’s words rather than just the pitch of her voice and the way her body moved. The way she squinted her eyes almost like a glare when she was concentrating, or pushed her hair out of her face almost like she was annoyed by it when she was trying to see something closer. Or the way she licked her lips sometimes, and she’d probably taste like -

No, no, nope, absolutely not.

“So Danvers, um. Doing anything special for the holidays? You going home for Chanukah, or?”

“Pfft, no.”

Maggie tilted her head, but said nothing. She just passed Alex the dusting powder she’d been looking for, wordless, because more and more these days, they weren’t needing words.

Alex sighed. “My mom and I aren’t a great combination around the holidays. Especially since my dad’s been. Um, gone.”

“I’m sorry, Danvers.”

Alex smiled, more with her eyes than with her mouth. It made Maggie’s heart break and heal at the same time.

“We’ll get together when it’s not the holidays - less intense, less expectations. But I will miss the ocean. It’s always nice, going home to the ocean.”

Maggie watched something like regret flicker across her face. But only for a moment.

“What about you, Maggie? Going home?”

She ignored the way her stomach always flipped when Alex used her first name. When Alex just existed at all.

She made herself chuckle. “No, definitely not. Wouldn’t be welcome even if I wanted to. Home... home is wherever I happen to be at any given time, which is pretty much everywhere and nowhere all at once.”

“Sounds lonely.” Alex paused her analysis of whatever it was she was examining - Maggie had long since lost track of their scene - and met her eyes.

“Not all the time.” She said it while she held Alex’s gaze. She said it before she could think. Dammit. Now Alex was going to -

“Good. You don’t deserve to be lonely.”

Maggie wasn’t sure if she was grateful or enraged when the rookie she was training ambled up to them, asking for guidance on how to file one piece of evidence or another.

She thought Alex looked disappointed, but she was almost definitely projecting.

+++

“Merry holidays, Danvers.”

The sound of Maggie’s voice made her jump way too high to just be startled. She wished, not for the first time, that she had a much higher degree of chill around this woman.

“Sawyer.” Oh crap, did her voice squeak? Who was she, Winn? “What uh, what are you doing here?”

She glanced around the DEO like Maggie was about to be tackled by -

“Vasquez let me in.”

Ah. No tackling, then.

“Is everything okay, what -”

“Yeah, no, I just um. You’ve all got that holiday party thing tonight, and parties really aren’t my thing, so honestly, I’m gonna skip it, but I - I got put into that Secret Santa thing, and I got your name, so I just wanted to um -”

How Alex hadn’t noticed that Maggie had been holding something behind her back the whole time, she had no clue. Maybe because her hair was down, and she was fidgeting a little and it was more than a little bit cute, and -

“Happy Chanukah, Danvers. Or, Christmakuah, or whatever.”

She was pressing something into Alex’s hands, and she was smiling that little titled smile, and she was walking away, and -

“Wait, you’re not coming tonight?”

Maggie stopped but didn’t turn around, not all the way.

“They’re not really my thing, Danvers.”

“But how will you get the gift from whoever drew your name?”

“M’gann’s going. I asked her if she would -”

“I don’t want to give your present to M’gann.”

Dammit. Had she sounded desperate, or ridiculous, or -

Maggie turned fully around, now. “You drew my name, too?”

“Um. Yes. Merry Christmas?”

Maggie laughed. Alex tried not to hate how much she loved that sound.

“You’re not a party person? Fine. Take this -” Alex held out the package Maggie had pressed into her hands without looking at it. “And bring it to the bar tonight, before the party. We’ll exchange our gifts then. Okay?”

“Okay.”

+++

“You didn’t only enter my name in the damn pool, you arranged it so Alex and I would pull each other’s names?”

“Maggie, I really have no idea what you’re going on about, but I’d love it if you put some of those motorcycle mechanic skills to use on the ice machine right now,” M’gann said without looking at her, keeping her eyes on the garland she was stringing along the tops of the bar.

She thought about arguing with her only friend - well, maybe except Alex Danvers - in National City. She thought better of it, and contented herself to muttering under her breath while she fixed the ice machine and waited for Alex.

At least it gave her something to do.

“So you’re the person we all have to thank when M’gann can put ice in our drinks?”

Alex’s voice made her jump so hard she hit her head on the damn machine.

“Oh, Maggie, no, I’m sorry, come here.”

Before she could so much as say “ow,” Alex’s hands were on her, tracing the spot where Maggie had banged her forehead, so gently it was easy to forget how easily - and happily - this woman carried a gun.

Because of course - she was a doctor, too. Why wouldn’t she be a little bit of everything intoxicating?

“I’m okay, Danvers.”

“You’re okay when I say you’re okay,” Alex muttered, almost more to herself than to Maggie. But there was a small smile on her lips.

“Alright then. You think I’ll make it, doc?”

“Only time will tell. But you’re good enough for now to at least give me my present.”

Maggie hated the way it felt when Alex took her hands away from her. She would gladly conk her head and dignity on an ice machine every day if it meant Alex’s hands on her. Well. Maybe there were less painful ways... no. No no no nope. Just a gift exchange. Nothing more.

“So it’s pretty silly, really, but you said you miss the beach. So um.”

Maggie shoved the small package back into Alex’s hands and pretended not to hold her breath.

It turned out that watching Alex’s eyes mist over with the sensation of home was all Maggie wanted to do, like... ever.

“You like it?” she asked. Her voice didn’t sound like her own, but it also had never sounded more like her.

“Maggie,” Alex whispered. Maggie gulped, and smiled - because yeah, she’d actually done a pretty cool job.

It was a snow globe - sort of. Sand globe? Something.

She’d commissioned Brian to make it - the artistry he pulled off planet tended to look like magic on Earth, and that was exactly what she’d been going for - he’d owed her more than a few favors, anyway.

The snow globe was an exact miniature of a beach, complete with seagulls and sand dunes and way too much seaweed accumulating on the shore. She hoped that maybe, it looked like home.

“If you put your hands on the glass, it should transmit -”

“How is that possible?” Alex asked. The awe in her voice told Maggie it was working. Maybe she was the one who owed Brian a favor, now.

Because if the look on Alex’s face was any indication, the sound and smells of the beach were flooding her senses through touching the glass - just like she was there.

“It’s not much, but it’s -”

“It’s perfect. Thank you. Thank you. It’s... you...” Maggie’s heart leapt. Alex cleared her throat. “You’re going to have to explain exactly how it works to me.”

“Nerd.”

“Wait!” Alex set the globe down reverently, reluctantly, it seemed, which made Maggie happier than she’d care to admit. “Your turn.”

She gingerly placed a little red bag onto the table between them, looking anywhere but Maggie’s eyes as she opened it.

“Do you like it?” Alex asked, way too soon. Because speaking was not something Maggie remembered how to do, just then.

It was a Triumph, a perfect little replica, with gears that Maggie could already tell actually worked. With a license plate that spelled home, with an earth label instead of a particular state. Maggie held it close to her face, examining it with a reverence she didn’t know how to explain.

“It works, of course. There’s a neural link, in the bag, that you can just kind of put on your temple, and you can drive it around with your thoughts, sort of. It’ll connect to your real life one, too, in case you ever need your bike to come to you. And it says home, you know, as planet earth instead of just one state because yeah, it can be really lonely to feel like nowhere is home, but I don’t want you to feel alone, or lonely, and it also means that you’re your own home, and that’s actually pretty badass, and amazing, because if you were my home, that would be amazing, and oh my God please make me stop talking now -”

“Danvers.”

“Oh, thank Rao.”

“Why did you do this for me?”

“Because you’re my Secret Santa?”

“Danvers.”

“Sawyer.”

Maggie wanted to ask if she could kiss her. She wanted to ask if she could kiss her, and not stop, and take her home, and kiss her some more. She wanted to ask if she could show her exactly how perfect she found Alex’s ridiculous rambling, how perfect she found... her.

She wanted to ask, but this was good, this was amazing, and if she asked, it would ruin everything, and -

And then Alex’s lips were on hers, because Alex Danvers was nothing if not act first, talk later.

A whoop from across the bar sounded suspiciously both like Supergirl and Alex’s kid sister Kara. She smiled into Alex’s mouth.

“This is okay?” Alex asked, shyer than Maggie had ever heard her.

“Yes.”

“The present was good then?”

“The present isn’t why I’m kissing you, Danvers.”

Alex pulled back. “So it wasn’t good?”

“Oh my God, Alex, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She leaned her forehead onto Alex’s, because as much as she needed to keep kissing her, she also needed to breathe.

But it was the holidays, and they had motorcycles and beaches and each other, and there would be time for all of it.

“Worked better than mistletoe,” she thought she heard M’gann mutter, and honestly, she couldn’t disagree.

#sanvers #sanvers fic #sanvers holidays #oh wow it's been a while #fuck now this song is in my head #anyway #remember all this?

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years

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Three Days ~ 88

~*~Sebastian~*~

After the video call with my friends, I went back to the couch with a fresh glass of wine. I am blessed. Family, friends, co-workers, and a woman who loves me. None of us are perfect. I have people to call when times are tough. Today they called me, knowing I’d be struggling, only this time it was in a good way. Not long later Jessica called and invited me to dinner.

Pizza, beer, friends, and a toddler made for a good night. Giulietta thought I was much more fun than mom or dad. I guess they don’t let her use them like a jungle gym. When mom spoiled our fun and said it was time to settle down, I stopped the tears by promising to read her a story. Her choice. Like someone else I know Giulietta was asleep before I was halfway through. At this rate I'll never know how anything ends.

I sent the picture Jessica had taken to Emma. She'd wake up to it and with any luck send me back something fun. Which she did as soon as she woke up. Which was afternoon for me. Dinner break before I checked my phone. Emma struck the perfect balance between sweet and sexy. Her hair was messy with just her eyes peeking over a pillow she was hugging. Those beautiful green eyes I loved to look into. I couldn't see her smile so I could imagine it anyway I liked. The sweet one she often got right before she told me she loved me. Or the other one she got when she wanted me. I loved them both.

Our texts were broken up over the course of the day. Short bursts or long hours between. We talked most days at least for a few minutes. We talked about our days, shared memories, and talked about us. Maybe had phone sex. What didn't happen was whining about being apart or bitching about the time and distance. I didn't hang up feeling angry or guilty. I did my job, hung out with friends, relaxed during my downtime, and did a little shopping. Emma relaxed, did some studying, and practiced guitar. I missed her. She missed me. But we went on with our lives apart, making the best of the situation. It sucked, except it didn't.

I think this is the way it's supposed to be.

Thursday we wrapped for Paris. That was worth a party. Over the next four days production would pack up and move to Rome. I'd spend a day and a half on planes going from Paris to Dallas to San Diego. Then back to Dallas and on to Rome. The time zones were going to fucking kill me.

I called Emma when I got back to my room. I was drunk and grumpy. Hearing her voice helped. Seeing her face was even better. The way she told me exactly what she wanted to do to me and said all sorts of dirty things until I came... I wasn't grumpy anymore.

I had a headache when my alarm rang. I needed more sleep. Hopefully, I'd catch up on the flight. I was still debating going back to sleep and blowing off the weekend when my phone rang. Emma. It was the middle of the night for her. "Why are you awake?"

She laughed, "Making sure your drunk ass doesn't turn off his alarm and blow off the weekend."

I rolled to my side, mirroring her. "I wouldn't do that. I was thinking about it, but I wouldn’t do it."

"Such a professional. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Advil, breakfast, and a long nap on the plane and I'll be fine. How are you?"

"Good. Big plans laying by the pool with Mallory today."

"Sounds fun. I will be on a plane."

"Yes, but you will walk out of the airport into sunny California. Then spend two days being adored and laughing with your friends."

"That will be fun." I was honestly looking forward to that part.

Emma yawned. I smiled at her beautiful face, "You need to go back to sleep. I need to get showered."

She didn't argue with me. She was tired.

"Thank you for making sure I was up. I love you."

"I love you." There was my sweet smile.

I cannot begin to explain how very disorientating it is to board a plane at nine am, travel for fifteen hours, to arrive at three pm, which is only six hours after you left. I get to relive eight of the hours I spent on the plane. Only thing is, my body thinks it’s midnight. I slept some on the flight and I knew better than to go back to sleep. The closer to "normal" bedtime for this time zone I could get, the better I would feel tomorrow. Anthony and I had press then an autograph session, before the big Marvel event. Sunday was photo ops and an autograph session. Both long days where I was expected to be pleasant despite how inappropriate or rude fans got. Needless to say, a decent night’s sleep would be best for everyone.

I got to my room by four and quickly realized I couldn't stay there. I needed fresh air. I needed to breathe. I changed into shorts and took off to have a look around. There were several hotels in the area that hosted celebrity guests. We weren't all in one place. I'd requested a beach. It was a little farther from the convention center and I was confident I could wander unseen. Most people stayed right around the center since a lot of packages kept prices lower and being so close to the action was appealing. I wanted the ocean.

Down the beach I could see big boulders and took off that direction. I needed some flip-flops. The sand made me think of Emma. The water. The people surfing. The impending sunset. Breathing. I'd like to say the plan I was cooking up was a product of sleep deprivation. It wasn't. It had been bouncing around in my head since this morning as we lay in bed together thousands of miles apart. I'd dismissed it as selfish. On the plane, when sleep was impossible, and I was panicking, it didn't seem so selfish. I shoved the idea away because I knew it really was. The same reasons I didn't ask Emma to stay in Paris or go to Rome were valid here. Asking her to fly literally to the other side of the country to spend two days with me, asking her to amuse herself while I worked a chunk of that time, was peak me as a selfish asshole. The longer I sat on the rock watching the ocean the less of a bad idea it seemed. Maybe not less of a bad idea, but an idea I could give her a choice in, with the difference being if she said no, I wouldn't be angry or make her pay for not doing what I wanted. Growth in action. Hopefully.

I should check flights before I even think about calling. Or actually call, because I'm already thinking about calling. Might not be possible.

It was. I flipped my phone in my hands several times before hitting the buttons to call her. Apparently, I hadn't grown completely out of being an ass.

"I'm about to be an asshole."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "Uh oh."

"Yeah." I was going to do it anyway. "Fifteen-hour flight with little sleep because the turbulence over the ocean was a nightmare. I'm grumpy, exhausted, and lonely as fuck. I'm on the beach without you. I miss you. I can get you on a flight in the morning and if you come straight to the venue you'll be here before I have to do anything. It’ll be two days. I have to leave for Rome Monday. I know it's a shitty thing to ask, but will you come see me? So I can see you."

"I'd love to."

I was prepared to step up my game and her easy acquiescence caught me off guard. "You will?"

She nodded with a smile, "I miss you too."

I took a deep breath and let it out, "I was prepared to beg."

Her smile was almost a laugh, "While you begging sounds fun, it's not necessary. Do I need to pack anything dressy?"

"Fuck, I hope not. I have a pair of jeans, shorts, and sweatpants." It's amazing how much better I felt. I ran my hands through my hair. "You're flying out of JFK. Sorry."

"You booked the flight already?"

"Not many seats left. I wasn't risking it. You leave at seven, here at ten. My first thing is noon." I could see her grabbing her carry-on from the closet.

"I'm going to spend the night at your place. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

I scrunched up my face, "Underwear."

"You don't have underwear?"

"The one's I'm in and a spare."

"You may not like what I pick out."

"Emma, baby, I will wear yours as long as you deliver them."

"I think that's a little drastic."

"It's really not."

Emma laughed and touched her screen. I could almost feel her. I could definitely imagine feeling her. She almost gasped and broke into a smile, "I have an idea. I need to call Jill real quick. Give me five maybe ten minutes."

I nodded, "Okay. I'm going to lay here on my rock."

My rock was not soft, but I was very comfortable. I was very happy. The sky was blue and the sound of the waves was calming. I only had to wait until tomorrow to see Emma. It was going to be a good day.

A little more than five minutes later Emma was calling me back. "You've made my little sister very happy."

"Excellent!” I smiled, "How'd I do that?"

"We need to change my flight. Monday I'm going to Seattle pick up Olivia and take her back to New York with me. Then we'll meet up with the family in Chicago."

"That's perfect. You're not just coming out here for me."

She picked up on it. "Yeah, because seeing you isn't enough of a reason. You know I miss you, right?"

"I know, but I'm..."

Emma cut me off, "Stop there. I jump on planes to spend weekends on tour with dad. This is fun for me. Dad's doing sound checks, interviews, and charity shit while I amuse myself. You're not an asshole. I love this."

"You love this?" I did not love jumping on planes at short notice.

She was nodding as I spoke, "I love this."

"And you'd tell me to fuck off if you didn't?"

"Maybe, but this is your lucky day."

"No, my luck day was exactly eight weeks ago."

We talked for another ten minutes or so until she was loaded and heading into the city. We've talked while she's driving many times, but I wanted her to pay attention. The sun was going down where she was and it would be dark before she got to my place. I headed back toward the hotel and ordered room service. By the time Emma texted she was at mine and I was deep in a documentary, struggling to stay awake.

Emma ~ Safe and sound in your bed.

Naturally, she sent a picture. Sheet barely covering her breasts and one arm stretched out above her head.

I sent back a picture of me in the same pose, but making sure to show the empty side of the bed. I drew a red ✗ there.

Sebastian ~ Where you will be in my bed tomorrow.

Emma ~ Equally safe and sound Sebastian ~ More. Emma ~ I'm going to sleep. I will see you in the morning. Sebastian- Can not fucking wait

I was probably asleep before she was. By the time I woke up twelve hours later Emma was halfway here. I felt well-rested and excited for my day. Not just the Emma piece. Mackie and I always had fun together. I'd been sent the day’s itinerary. Noon was press, two thirty was an autograph session, and five was the big deal Marvel panel. We should be done by 6:30. Disney was having a party tonight. I had to make an appearance. It started at eight. That wasn't going to happen. Nine was more likely. I remembered it wouldn't matter because mice can't tell time.

At the venue I was led to a behind the scenes area. There was a large room, guarded by security, set with food and drink. Several smaller rooms encircled the larger area and some were labeled with company names. One of the largest was for Disney, with cloth wall dividers making several smaller rooms, where a stylist would be waiting to make sure Mackie and I looked presentable. Outside of the room was a loading area that was separated from the autograph booths by black curtains. I'd already ducked between them and gave fans nosing around my booth quite a surprise. Those were my favorite interactions. The ones without expectations. Security came over to make sure I hadn't been ambushed. I hadn't, but that was a perfect way to get away and I needed to talk to security anyway. I had them take me to the security office. Some lucky fans got a shot at a sighting of a Sebastian in the wild. I explained what was happening to the head of security and put Emma’s name on a list. They gave me a lanyard with her all-access pass and told me what door to direct her to. Security would meet her and bring her to me.

"About that." Call me paranoid, but I didn't trust they'd remember to have someone waiting for her. They'd call someone when she showed up and gave her name to the person with the list. "I need a Pearl Jam fan."

"Excuse me?"

"Someone on your staff is a Pearl Jam fan. Get them.”

He got on his radio, "Anyone out there a Pearl Jam fan?"

A voice came back, "Big Ed. He works all the shows up the coast."

I looked at my watch then back at the supervisor, "I need to borrow him for an hour."

His face read doubtful, but I was Disney. "Big Ed. I need you in the security office. Anyone see him? Send him."

A different voice, "On my way, boss."

Several minutes later Big Ed came through the door. I knew it was him because he was six-five and an easy two-fifty. He was his name. I held out my hand, "Hey, Big Ed. I'm Sebastian. Nice to meet you."

“You too."

"Walk me back to the guest area." We headed out and I waited until we were away from the office. "Do you know Ed's daughter?"

He smiled, "He has three. Which one?"

"The only one old enough for me to ask about."

"Emma. I've seen her at a couple of shows. I work security up the coast. Great way to see a bunch of shows."

I nodded, "I guess anything you miss at one you can catch at the next."

"Exactly." He pointed to his ear, "And you can always hear."

"Back to Emma. She's on her way here. I'd appreciate it if you would meet her and bring her to me."

"Is Ed coming?"

"No, he's," I stopped myself, "you ask her where he is."

He laughed, "I might take the long way back here."

"I haven't seen her in weeks. Not too long." Two is weeks. Barely.

Emma texted they'd landed. Big Ed changed where he wanted her to go and he headed in that direction. I sat down to wait for her to text she was here. I heard a familiar voice.

"Sebastian Stan? Is that really you?"

"Captain America?" I stood up and turned to the voice.

"Don't call me that. The pressure." Mackie hugged me, slapping my back much harder than necessary. "How jet-lagged are you?"

"Is that code for how much work are you going to have to do because I'm grouchy?"

"Maybe." We laughed.

"I had a good night’s sleep and I'm in a great mood."

"You seem twitchy. Why are you twitchy?"

"I'm not twitchy."

"Yes, you are. You're twitchy."

"If I'm twitchy it's because you're making me twitchy."

He pointed at me, "Ah ha! You admitted it. You're twitchy."

I rolled my eyes and scowled, "Emma's on her way. I might be a little twitchy."

"Here?" He pointed to the ground. With his eyebrows raised.

I smiled, "My girlfriend."

"Yeah, I got that. Plus, Evans told me."

"She’s not a secret." That felt good.

He asked and I answered. Talking about Emma is my second favorite thing having to do with Emma. First is being with Emma. In absolutely any way. My phone went off with Emma telling me she was here. I put my hand on Mackie’s arm. "Stay here. Right here."

#Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan Fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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littleredlie · 3 years

Text

Hearts (S1P5)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical and family secret’s spill as her younger brother goes through major life changes. Her relationship with her colleagues also alter as she weighs everyone’s decisions during the day. Based off S1E14 of Chicago Med

4.0k+ Words

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Marcus Fitzgerald, Will Halstead, Maggie Lockwood, Connor Rhodes, Stephanie Fitzgerald (mentioned), Don Fitzgerald, April Sexton Warning: mentions of rape and murder, idk what else ???, cursing ??? , patient death, mentions of pregnancy loss A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this one. We learn more about Morgan and her family. And Connor and Morgan’s relationship is altered. She also reconciles with Will. Let me know.

Part Four

“Dad? Is everything okay?”

Morgan’s father rarely called her. It wasn’t that they were distant, they just didn’t like talking on the phone. And Morgan always made the effort to fly out to Colorado Springs at least once a year.

“No, everything’s not okay. It’s Marcus.”

“Marcus? What happened?” Morgan stops in a vast hallway, her body looking out to the street that runs alongside the hospital.

“He dropped out of college.”

“Um,” Morgan thinks about what to say. “Dad, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that.”

“He’s not answering our calls and his roommate hasn’t seen him in a few days.”

Morgan and Marcus were close. But after Olivia’s death they grew distant, even though they lived in the same city. Occasionally, they would get together for lunch or dinner and they would try to spend birthdays together, but Morgan was busy (more like consumed) with work and Marcus was focusing on school.

“Dad, I just got back from a trip two weeks and I’ve been nonstop busy with work. I haven’t necessarily been keeping watch.”

“Well, when you get the chance can you please tell him to call us. Or even talk to him yourself.”

Morgan lets a sigh out unsure on how to handle the situation. “I’ll do what I can dad, but no promises. Marcus is his own person and after Olivia, things have been different.”

“They have been for us all Morgie. It doesn’t mean he should throw away his life.”

“Dad.” She sternly cuts him off before he could continue. “When I get a hold of him I’ll talk to him. You’ll only get him mad.”

“Now Morgan, I just want what’s best for him. I let him fly out there for college and he proves me wrong by being irresponsible. Stephanie is friends with the dean, she can reverse his decision.”

Her father continues, but a nurse walks up to Morgan gaining her attention. “Dr. Fitzgerald, your brother is waiting for you in the cafeteria.”

“Thank you.” Morgan nods and turns her attention back to her dad. “Dad, listen. I have an important case that I need to get back to. When I see or hear from Marcus, I’ll call you.” The older man tries to continue talking, but Morgan hangs up the phone and makes her way to the cafeteria.

When she makes it to the vast space, she easily spots her brother Marcus. He’s using his fork to push around a tomato on his plate and his leg is bobbing up and down, shaking the chair next to him.

“Hey Marcus. You haven’t been waiting long have you?” Morgan pulls the chair away from her brother’s shaking leg and sits down in it.

“No, I just got here.”

“Good.” Morgan pulls out her lunch, noticing how hungry she’d gotten. “So, what’d you want to talk about?” She asks then shoves a forkful of pasta in her mouth.

“I came to give you this.” Marcus pulls out a key and slides it over to his sister. Morgan hurriedly swallows her food to question him.

“Why’re you giving it back?”

“I appreciate you letting me stay in your apartment these past couple of weeks while Hayden’s gone.” Morgan urges him to continue. She pushes away her fettuccine alfredo dish and picks up the key.

“I told you, you could stay as long as you want. Hayden’s gonna be out for another two weeks or so.”

“No, I know that. And again thank you. But I’m actually leaving Chicago.” Marcus tries telling the news slowly, but it still brings shock to his older sister. Her eyes have widened and her eyebrows were almost aligned with her hairline.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too rushed. It’s not too late to go back to school or –”

“No Morgan. It’s like I said last night. It’s been a little rough on me and I just don’t think school’s for me.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“A friend of mine has some work in Louisiana for me.”

“And what exactly is your plan Marcus? You dropped out of school two weeks ago. Your name is still on the lease of your apartment. Are you planning on going down to Louisiana to couch surf? You haven’t thought this through.”

“Wow Morgan. Out of everyone, I thought you’d be more supportive.” He scoffs, a little offended. Morgan can see her brother pull himself away from her, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s not that Marcus. I’m your sister, I’m allowed to be like this. Criticize your actions. Worry about you.”

“Well you need to understand that this is something that I want to do?”

“Why? What happened two weeks ago that has prompted you to uproot your life?” Marcus glances away, looking anywhere but at his sister. This irritates Morgan a bit and she taps the table to get him to look at her. “You can talk to me Marcus.”

“Two weeks ago, I got arrested and was almost charged with drug possession.” The news shocks Morgan even more and now she’s the one to lean back into her chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

“I didn’t tell you because my mom didn’t want me to tell you. She used her connections to get the charges dropped.”

“She got the charges dropped? More than she ever did for me.” Morgan mumbles the last part, but Marcus hears her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The older sister makes a sucking noise with her teeth and shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Got into a fight at a frat party and got arrested, and instead of bailing me out, your mom let me spend the night in jail. And I had to do all the hard work to get it expunged.”

“Maybe that’s why she didn’t want me to tell you.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Morgan and Stephanie didn’t have the best relationship. It might have started from the fact that Morgan refused to call her ‘mom’ and had always called her by her name. Maybe even the fact that Morgan looked just like her mother. It could have also been the fact that Stephanie’s only son with her father, Marcus, looked up to Morgan as her replacement. Stephanie was always away on lawyer business; their dad had expectations for all his children to fulfill and it got a little overbearing; Olivia was an older teen that was out of the house by the time Marcus was four; and his older brother Omar was a kid himself, so most responsibilities that pertained to Marcus growing up, fell onto Morgan. She didn’t mind, but Stephanie did and it only created a bigger rift between stepmom and stepdaughter.

Take into account a bunch of other events that occurred since Stephanie married her dad and it’s no surprise that the two didn’t get along and had to restrain themselves during family holidays. When Marcus moved out to Chicago, he did it as a way to get closer to his big sister again and he also understood that the death of their older sister was hard on Morgan. But despite his efforts they never did get close as they used to be.

Morgan is pulled out of her thoughts when she realizes that she’s staring off into the distance. “Anyways, that all doesn’t matter. Your mom got you out, it doesn’t seem like that is a reason to leave.”

“Well our dad’s apparently had enough of my shenanigans this semester, so he cut me off.”

“He cut you off?” Morgan leaves forward again, her forearms accidentally slamming into the table too hard.

“Yeah. My grades have been slipping. I’ve been to more parties than lectures. And I guess the arrest was the last straw.”

“And instead of helping you out, he cuts you off?”

“I don’t really care. I’ve finally realized college isn’t for me and that I just want to find my own path.”

“Okay, Mr. Fortune Cookie. Are you sure? Maybe you shouldn’t abruptly leave and detach yourself from your family after something like that happened? Maybe you should stay with me a little longer.”

“Morgan, I love you. But you’re never home. Since I got here last year, you’re never available and I know that’s not gonna change soon. Dad and I aren’t talking. And I’m not gonna move back home just to be stuck listening to my mom trying to push me back to school.”

“You can at least find a job in a city you know. I’ll help pay for your rent.”

“You still have student loans to pay off and your own rent to worry about.” “What about Omar? He and Rachel have an extra room in their apartment in California. It’ll be a new town, but you’d have family.”

“I’m not moving into an apartment with my older brother and his wife, not while they’re trying for a baby.”

“Is there any way that I can get you to change your mind?”

“No.”

“Dad called, he might uncut you off.” She shrugs, trying anything to get him to not make such a rash decision.

“Morgan,” he takes his sister’s hands trying to calm her down. “This will be good for me, I promise.” There’s a smile on his face, a dimple poking out of his left cheek. Morgan tries to say something again, but her phone beeps, indicating that she is needed in the emergency room. She hesitates, not wanting to end this conversation. “Take it, I have to head back to my apartment to pack.”

“Marcus–” He gives his sister a look and she pulls out her phone. Yep, she was needed. She stands up and he does the same. “You better not leave without giving me a proper goodbye.”

“I won’t,” the 19 year old pulls his sister in for a hug and she hugs him firmly, kind of scared to let him go. “Why don’t we go out for dinner and bring Connor?”

“Connor?” Morgan pulls her body away from her brother, a confused look decorating her features. “How’d you know he was back?”

“I actually talked to him about this a few days ago.”

“I didn’t know you two were that close.”

“He’s a family friend. Friend of the family. I am also in this family.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll ask him.” Morgan shoves her brother slightly and then begins making her way to the emergency department. “Keep the alfredo. Connor made it.” She yells back to him, the abandoned food resurfacing in her mind.

❦

The second Morgan walks into the ER she spots Connor at the desk. She walks up behind him and places a gentle touch on his bicep.

“Hey,” he says when he sees her.

“Hey.” He turns back to the Mac computer, but she keeps looking at him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Marcus? You and I see each other everyday.”

“It’s not that I was keeping it from you, Marcus wanted to tell you himself. And he asked me for advice on how to tell you.”

“Oh,” she tilts her head to the side as if to get a better perspective. “ I didn’t know I was that difficult to speak to.”

“You have your moments Fitz, but telling you was really important to him. So I was willing to help.”

“Well thank you. He seems to be at ease with his choices.”

“Well I’m glad.” Connor nods, giving a little smirk to his friend.

“He’s invited us to dinner. Wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure.”

A ding resonates in the department and Morgan sees Maggie in the corner of her eye.

“Dr. Fitzgerald, trauma one incoming.” Maggie says, a light tap on the doctor’s arm before moving towards the ambulance bay doors.

Instantly Morgan grabs two pairs of blue gloves from a box on the countertop, throwing the extra towards the surgeon. “Come on heart doctor.” He chuckles, but pulls the gloves on and follows Morgan.

“18-year-old female hit a guard rail, flipped her car. Open left tib/fib, BP 90/75.” Everyone begins reeling the gurney into a trauma room. “Heart rate 130, GCS 10.”

“Alright, she’s gonna need ortho.” Dr. Rhodes starts. “Call X-ray. Alert the OR.” Maggie signals her understanding before putting the orders in her cube.

Morgan grips the sheets the patient is on to start the transfer. “One, two three. Transfer.” On her orders everyone moves the patient onto the treatment bed.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Maggie soothes. “Let go of the purse; it’s okay. Let go.”

“It’s okay.” Connor tries to comfort as well, seeing the hesitance in the patient’s eyes. “You can give her the purse, okay? You can give her the purse.”

Morgan moves away from the top of the patient and focuses on her other injuries. Morgan looks up to the screen; worry beginning to climb in her chest. Maggie leaves the room on a quest to find the girl’s family. Maggie takes her place next to Doris. “BP is crashing,” she says to the team.

“Pulse ox is 78.”

“She’s lost consciousness.” Morgan notices, taking a torch and flashing it into the girl’s eyes to gauge her reaction.

“Give me 100 of Sux, 20 of Etomidate.”

“Need a hand?” Morgan’s head raises to the sound of Dr. Halstead.

“Yeah, throw in a tube.” Morgan recommends and Will enters the situation. Morgan grabs the breathing mask and places it on Skyler’s face as the red headed doctor begins prepping the tube.

“She’s bleeding from somewhere.” Dr. Rhodes says. “Get the level one transfuser, trigger the MTP. I need the FAST scan and a chest X-ray.” The FAST scan is put in Connor’s hand as Will continues to intubate the girl. Morgan holds the breathing mask, waiting to move onto the next task to help the patient. Nurses surround the doctors giving off statuses and performing duties.

“I’m in.” Will says and Morgan hands him the breathing tube so that he can push air into Skyler’s lungs. He nods at her and Morgan gives off a smile before moving away.

“All right, there’s no free fluid in her belly.”

“Let’s get the X-ray in here. And increase O2 to the max.” Morgan immediately announces when Connor removes the ultrasound wand. Will puts on a lead apron, Connor places a board under the girl and Morgan heads out of the way.

“X-ray, clear.”

“Clear.”

The room continues moving as soon as the X-ray is done. Will looks at the results, analyzing the problem. “Her left side is whited out and her mediastinum has shifted to the right.”

“It’s a tension haemothorax.” Morgan mumbles, her hands moving to the drawer with a chest tube.

“Chest tube tray now. 36 French.” Connor says, and Morgan places it in his hand.

“Hand me the trauma shears.” Morgan asks April, who hands it to her. The doctor then cuts the girl’s shirt and disinfects the area. She moves out of his Dr. Rhodes’ way as he begins to cut into Skyler’s side. Blood begins squirting out of the cut while Connor tries to plug it closed. “We need more sponges.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“More four by fours.” Someone says.

“She tore something major in there.” Will exclaims as he tries to help his colleague.

“Transfuser’s here!” April vocalizes, pulling the machine.

As Connor continues with the chest tube, Morgan leads the way. “Alright, let’s hook it up. Start with the blood and the plasma.” The nurse starts to do what was directed and Morgan moves back to Skyler’s head. A few more things are addressed before Connor makes the move to go up to the OR. Together the team, excluding Morgan, wheel the girl in the direction of the OR.

The doctor throws the gloves in a trash can, making her way over to Maggie’s desk.

“You’re not going up with them?”

“No, Connor’s got it. Besides I was paged down here for something.”

“Yes, a patient of yours in treatment 4. Should be your last before you head up to OBGYN.”

Morgan takes the tablet with a smile and turns, heading to the new patient. It’s been two weeks since she got back from her vacation and the break has allowed her to enjoy her job. You could see it in the way she easily smiled and they way interacted with her surroundings. Kevin and Adam taking the case out of her hands, helped as well. Maybe life could be a little easier now.

❦

When it came to obstetrics and gynecology, it was not as hectic as the emergency room. And during her hours there, Morgan was able to slow her pace down a little. Sure at times it could get a little boring, but Morgan loved seeing pregnant women and delivering babies, the beauty of life.

She’s standing in front of the glass window of the nursery room. Babies sprawled in their little incubators. Some fussing, some sleeping, some peacefully looking at the dim lights about them. She’s so entranced, she doesn’t even notice the person walking up beside her.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” She turns her head to see a woman who’s also looking at the newborns. “Is one of them yours?”

“Oh no! I just like looking at them.”

“Understandable. The one right here,” she points to a baby with a light green hat,” is mine. Harley is her name.”

“Beautiful.” Morgan sighs out, a small grin on her face.

“Do you have kids?”

“Um, no.” The doctor chokes out.

“Do you want kids?”

The personal question shocks Morgan. It almost makes her faint. Lately she hasn’t thought about it; but usually whenever she was on the phone with her dad or Stephanie, they’d remind her that her biological clock was running out. “I think I do.” Morgan answers, unsure what kind of answer that was. “I was pregnant twice before, but after that I never thought of it.” The doctor had no idea why she just told the woman that. No one knew about her pregnancies, not Hayden or Connor, not her brothers or her dad. This was something she wanted to keep to herself, not like it was anyone else’s business.

“Well I hope that you figure it out.”

“Thank you,” Morgan stalks away trying not to let the revelation of her child situation get the best of her. She continues walking until she gets back to the ED. She resumes working for the last few hours of her shift. Her mind forgetting everything else going on in her life and continuing with work.

❦

“Hey Will, have you seen Connor?” Morgan asks after venturing through the ED looking for her dinner date. “We’re supposed to have dinner.”

“So now you’re talking to me? Cause it’s almost been a month.” He says, packing away some things in his bag.

“Yeah, I am.” She looks at him. He isn’t looking at her and Morgan understands why. “Will, I’m sorry, I am. Everything that was happening a few weeks ago was a nuclear bomb. You were going through your own things and I didn’t necessarily help.”

“You were a little hostile,” they both chuckle at that. Morgan steps a little closer, testing the waters a little bit.

“I know I was. When it comes to my family, I get a little defensive. Especially with what happened to my sister. Then you went a did something incredibly stupid and I just got mad at you. And everytime I thought about approaching you, you went and did another stupid thing. You’re a great doctor. Amazing. I don’t want you to ruin that.” The two of them are closer now and Morgan tries to show her sincerity. “You have been one of my closest friends these past few years and I didn’t want to lose you. I’m sorry.”

“I forgave you a while ago.” He answers back and Morgan releases a breath she didn’t know she’d captured.

“And I promise I will try to tell you about my family and other things. Just give me a little time.”

“Yeah, of course. No big deal.” He nods, his eyes grazing the features of her face.

“Thank you Will. I don’t deserve you.” Morgan throws her arms around him and he almost doesn’t have time to react as she quickly pulls herself back. “I’m sorry to rush this nice moment, but have you seen Connor? We’re supposed to meet my brother for dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. He was here just a few minutes ago. He was packing up to leave.”

“Damn, he must’ve forgot about dinner.”

“Morgan, you should know that our peds v auto patient didn’t make it. She died in surgery and I think it got to him.”

Taking a few steps back, Morgan nods, understanding the situation. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll go make sure he’s okay.” Grabbing the bag that was prepped before she went on her search for Connor, she heads out of the room and throws a quick wave to Will.

It’s a little cold when Morgan steps out and she tightens her coat around her. Connor’s car is still in the parking lot and the sight pulls her body towards him. As she gets closer she sees him crying. The scene demolishes Morgan’s heart and it almost makes her cry, her eyes wetting as teardrops sit unshed. Her hand raises to tap on the driver window and she sees her friend jump a little. His head hesitantly turns to look at Morgan and she offers a small smile. He just looks at her, unaware of what to say or do, but gladly Morgan does.

She walks around the front of the car and opens the passenger door, throwing her backpack in first and placing herself inside. The door slams shut and silence envelopes the two doctors. With no hesitation, Morgan reaches across the center counsel and takes Connor’s hand. Her thumb grazes his knuckles as his sobs calm down a little.

“I’m sorry about your patient Connor.” He turns his head and looks at her with a grateful look. “I already canceled dinner with Marcus. We can have it another night.”

“Thank you.”

“For the time being though, let’s go back to my place. We can watch movies and order pizza from that old pizzeria that we used to go to as kids. And you can’t say no.” Her other hand cups his face and softly wipes the tears away. “We’ll even drink wine or something. Whatever’s in the cupboards.” Connor’s hand clutches the wrist of the hand on his cheek, his thumb now soothing the exposed skin. There’s a small smile adorning his face and they almost reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry about dinner.” His voice is raspy, bothered by the crying he was just doing. But Morgan finds it cute and it only brings her closer to him.

“No need to apologize. Like we promised, we’d always be there for each other.” It’s intimate, the most they’ve ever been and it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if they had always been this intimate. And no one knew who moved first, but in a short moment their lips clashed against each other in a kiss that was long overdue.

Connor’s hand leaves Morgan’s and moves to cup the back of her neck as a way to bring her closer to him. The action, along with the temperature, sends a chill down her spine but the warmth of his lips soothes her. The tenderness of the kiss remains and they both decide to keep it gentle because these were new waters. His lips are a little chapped, but they compliment her soft ones and it parallels her callous fingers that are caressing his soft skin.

If Morgan could kiss Connor forever, she would. But they were still sitting in his car in the hospital parking lot. Their movements stop for a moment and they both sit there with their eyes closed, lips barely touching. When Morgan opens her eyes, he’s looking at her. There’s still a sad look present, but a small grin is pointed at her. She notices the dark scruff sculpting the bottom of his face and the tears sitting on his eyelashes. His eyes are on her lips as he feels an overpowering urge to kiss her again.

“We can also do more of that if you aren’t up for movies.” Morgan jokes before giving him a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, why not.” He whispered, willing to continue the private moment but also take a break from the day.

Part Six

#connor rhodes #connor rhodes x oc #connor rhodes x doctor!oc #one chicago #chicago med #gaffney chicago medical center #Chicago PD #Chicago Fire #chicago med fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #will halstead #maggie lockwood #april sexton

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

A-Z List of Fluff

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: An alphabetic list of yours and Steve’s dynamic relationship.

Warnings: none, mainly just fluff and very very slight mentions of violence but that’s it :)

A/N: I combined these prompts from multiple people, so credits to all of them <3 @goldenhour-goldenboy . this is a friends to lovers trope :) Some letters are repeated. bcI wanted to add in an extra concept. This is prolly gonna flop bc its not a traditional oneshot, but I wanted to publish something for y’all while I’m editing my WIPs

A= Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Steve loves everything about you, but the two things that really drew him to you was your smile and compassion. Your smile and laugh were extremely infectious - nobody could stay mad for long when you were cracking a grin. Despite having been through hell in the past: overcoming many hardships and enduring countless difficult wars, you managed to find it in your heart to keep faith in humanity and always held your head up high no matter what. You were always respectful and kind to everyone around you, and he greatly admired that.

B= Best memory (What is the best memory they have with you?)

One weekend after a particularly rough mission in Eastern Europe, Fury forced the Avengers on a team vacation to Bora Bora for two weeks. During that time, you and Steve had grown extremely close - taking daily sunset walks, surfing together, and swimming with dolphins. It was a jam-packed fourteen days to remember. He loved seeing you genuinely happy as you got to relax.

C= Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

You’d moved in to DC together after the Battle of New York, and often times you spent evenings on the couch eating takeout while wrapped up in each others’ arms, so cuddling is almost second nature for him. He’ll come up behind you on nights you’re in charge of cooking for the team, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you prepared dinner. He loves to cuddle and he’s built perfectly for them. His muscular figure and warm arms make the best cuddles. Sometimes, he’ll randomly come into your room in the middle of the night and snuggle up against you. You’ll wake up in the morning to see him holding you tightly like a koala, an arm draped protectively around your torso and his legs entangled with yours. The team likes to tease you about your close-knit relationship and as in love with him as you were with each other, you kept trying to deny it in fears of those feelings not being returned.

D= Dreams (What do they want to do in life?)

Steve is a very determined and headstrong man, with the desire to fight for his country and its citizens having been ingrained in the back of his head since he was a mere teenager. He doesn’t know when he’ll retire and give up the title of Captain America, but for the time being, he wants to keep doing what he’s doing. He loves his job and his teammates - he wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he knows he’d like to marry you and start a family with you someday.

E= Everything (You are my ___ (e.g my life, my world…))

“You are my infinity.”

F= Feelings (When did they know they were falling in love?)

You were on a quad mission with him, Sam, Bucky, and Wanda to take down a Hydra base stationed in northern Serbia. Steve was stuck in a fistfight with one of the agents and you could see another approaching from behind to ambush him, and you knew if you didn’t step up and do something, that he would die. So without a moment’s hesitation you ran into the crossfire, taking the bullet that was meant for him, straight to your stomach.

As upset as he was with you for getting injured, he couldn’t help the feeling of pride and awe in his chest at your unwavering willingness to lay your life on the line for those you loved; your selflessness.

And he knew in that moment, he’d fallen for you, and fallen hard.

G= Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Steve’s naturally a gentle person (though he’s an absolute beast on the battlefield, with those skills of his) and everyone on the team can clearly see he has a big soft spot for you. He’s always extremely gentle and very polite: holding the door open for you, putting his hand out in front of the elevator doors so you can step in, and makes sure not to squish you too tightly because his bear hugs can be quite strong. Essentially, the man is a giant puppy.

H= Hand/Hold (How do they like to hold? How do they like to hold hands?)

He absolutely loves holding hands. It’s been a frequent habit of his - both platonic and non-platonic. He’ll take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers together, and when he senses that you’re anxious about a situation, he’ll begin rubbing circles across your palm to calm you down. Like always, the team goes nuts whenever you two do so much as make eye contact, because you’re acting like a couple but aren’t doing anything about it.

I= Impression (First Impression)

From the moment you first met, you and Steve were attached at the hip. Having been 27 when he came out of the ice, and you being just a couple years behind him at 24, you were assigned to help him adjust. He remembers seeing you walk in with your radiant smile and your head held high, greeting him politely. He particularly liked how patient you were with him, taking him around the city and updating him on all there was to know, answering all his questions. By the time you both joined the Avengers Initiative, and the Battle of New York came and went, you were practically inseparable.

I= I love you (Who says it first?)

Steve does. You’re already very comfortable around one another that he doesn’t think before saying it. It was so out of the blue when it happened - you were in charge of dinner for the team one night when he came and kissed your cheek as a thank-you, saying a quick “I love you, darling,” before sitting down between Natasha and Sam, who looked just as shocked as you did.

“So are you guys dating or what?” Bucky questioned.

“No,” you and Steve replied in unison, though your cheeks were both bright red.

J= Joker (Are they into pranks?)

He’s not a huge prankster like Loki and Sam, but occasionally he’ll walk up behind you and whisper ‘Boo!” into your ear, making you jump and scream lightly, whacking him in the shoulder from shock. But you realize it’s just him, not someone else - and quickly burst into laughter. It’s impossible for you to get mad at America’s golden boy.

K= Kisses (How do they kiss?)

Contrary to your initial belief, he doesn’t mind PDA at all. You would often joke around about people mistaking you two as a couple because of how close you were. You’d greet each other in the morning with a kiss on the cheek (earning snickers from Bucky and Sam), and he’d say goodnight by kissing you lightly on the forehead.

His kisses are very gentle and wholehearted, yet filled with passion at the same time. You can almost never get enough.

Your first kiss wasn’t how you thought it’d be at all. It was on a Costco grocery run one Sunday afternoon when you were trying to reach up to one of the higher racks to grab something, struggling on your tiptoes. He offered to help you and as he pulled the item down, you’d grown rather close, literally - with your lips being just a few centimeters apart. Oh, screw it, he thought to himself, placing a hand on the small of your back and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours.

L= Little Things (What little things do they love/notice.)

Steve notices that whenever you’re extremely focused on something, you bite your bottom lip and an adorable little crease between your brows appears. He always likes to tease you about it.

M= Moment (Their favorite moment.)

Getting caught under the mistletoe at Tony’s party. As cheesy as it sounded, it was your guys’ favorite moment together. When his eyes landed on you in your shimmery gown, his heart began to race. You were the literal definition of a dream, perfection. And when he finally kissed you it felt like fireworks were going off in his chest, electricity shooting through his body as your lips met. It was only your second official kiss but everything about it felt so real, so true, so right - that he couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

N= Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Steve doesn’t normally go way over-the-top when it comes to gifts, but whenever it’s a major holiday or your birthday, he goes all-out. He’s a very good listener, so he’ll take note of the things you like that come up in conversation and take notes later, and will buy you those exact things. He loves seeing your face light up as you receieve his gifts - that’s when he knew he loved giving more than getting.

O= Orange (What color reminds them of their other half?)

Red. You’re bright-spirited and confident and kindhearted all at the same time, and not to mention powerful - just like the color itself. He can’t help but notice how good you look whenever you wear red - especially in your stealth suit with its’ burgundy highlights. He has to be paired up with Bucky all the time on missions so he wouldn’t get hurt while he was distracted with watching you fight.

P= Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Sweetheart, love, darling, doll, honey, etc. <3 (and once again, the team is frustrated because you’re acting like a couple but haven’t even started dating)

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Steve naturally has a better-than-average memory, but he remembers much more about you than the rest of the team does. He knows your birthday, your favorite color, your likes and dislikes, and every little detail. He remembers all the little things. He can��t help but remember everything when he’s so in love with you. And when he brings this up into conversation, it makes you fall even harder for him.

R= Rainy Days (How does he/she comfort them on dark days?)

You don’t have to tell Steve directly for him to be able to tell when something’s wrong. He knows you like the back of his hand, a skill nobody else on the team had. When you’re rather quiet after a rough mission or just feeling down in the dumps, he doesn’t talk, doesn’t ask any intrusive questions (he knows you hate it when people do that), and just pulls you into a warm embrace and holds you until you feel better. And usually, that’s all that’s needed to lift your spirits.

S= Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush.)

When he called you by a pet name for the first time. It was in the middle of an intense sparring match together in the boxing ring, the team eagerly watching from the sidelines as you circled each other. “You’re tough, but you’re gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear. You froze, taken aback, and in that moment of hesitation he whipped around and put you into a firm headlock.

“The tension is through the roof here, I swear to Odin’s beard,” Sam groaned. “Just date already.”

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Steve is extremely protective of you. He’ll make sure to walk on the outside when you’re walking down the sidewalk together because as he insisted to you, “your safety is my number one priority”, often pairs up with you on missions to look out after you and if not, constantly checks in via comms to make sure you’re alright. With the way he’s constantly hovering over you, the team likes to tease him for acting like a worried boyfriend or husband.

T= Talking (What do they love to talk about?)

Anything and everything that comes to mind, whether that be old memories together, favorite memories with the team, your childhoods, or what was on the news that day. You could go on talking for hours at a time - in fact, there were many occasions in which you stayed up all night together, sitting around on the sofas in the lounge with mugs of hot chocolate in hand and the fireplace on, warming your bodies as you spoke.

U= Universe (Use a metaphor, what are they to each other? (e.g he was the universe, ever-changing and mysterious.))

Before you became an Avenger, you were one of twenty-eight dancer-trained enhanced assassins of the Red Room Academy alongside Natasha. A doubtful fighter, you, along with Natasha, were taken under Tony’s wing to further your training with SHIELD. Before becoming an Avenger, your life was a mess. You lost your family at a young age, torn away from the life you’d known as a little girl, forced to grow up too fast. So meeting Steve was like taking a breath of fresh air. He was your safe haven. He was a life raft and you were lost at sea, his presence serving as a reminder that you were in fact, still sane and not just drifting mindlessly through space.

V = Vaunt. (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Obviously, his strength and speed. He purposely lifts heavier weights in front of you while you’re training in the gym with him. “It’s arm day today,” he’d whisper, sending you a flirty wink as he flexed his biceps. You blushed. Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes.

W= Why (Reasons why they love you.)

There are so many reasons for him to love you. One, you give him a sense of peace and happiness, of home. You were his home. He felt like he could trust you with anything, as you were very easy to talk to. Steve loves how he could just be himself around you, as well as your competitive nature - that’s why he always asks you to go on his morning runs with him. And he loves your kind heart. You’ve seen and experienced far more war, more bloodshed and violence than anyone should have to experience in ten lifetimes, and still, forced yourself to be kind and gentle, to soften your heart. He loves you with his whole heart and soul and wouldn’t trade you for the world.

X= Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Electric Love by Børns. After a nice dinner at Olive Garden together one Friday night, you decided to go on a little late night drive throughout the city. With the windows of the Audi rolled down, the wind in your hair as your face lit up and you grinned from ear to ear, you both sang at the top of your lungs as you made your way through busy New York. He fell in love with you even more, if that was even possible.

Y= Youtube (What are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?)

After several days of you pushing him to get Instagram, he finally made an account (quickly catching up to your 30-point-something million followers). He loves to post about you and your adventures outside of missions together and whenever he does, his followers go absolutely crazy.

Z= Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?)

An adorable mixed breed. You’re both left with cleared schedules on one Monday morning after breakfast, so you decide to head out to the shelter. There’s one dog that stands out to him above the rest, and as soon as he sees them come running up to you and jumping around you, he knows that’s the one. You settle on the name Dodger and take it home. The entire team spoils him to death.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #marvel one shot #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot

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pennylanefics · 4 years

Text

Soft Alphabet - Matt

a/n: here’s a new fic outline i first did with zapata :) i’ll be doing a few of these in the coming weeks, so pls don’t ask if i will be :) also i shut my laptop off before transferring this, so i can’t add a ‘keep reading’ link at the moment

•••

A - Affection (how do they show affection)

matt shows his affection through song. he’s not one for words, and sometimes finds it hard to express his feelings. instead, he’ll write a love song, detailing his love and adoration for you. he would record it exclusively, with just his voice and his guitar, and he would play it for you, and only you.

B - Balance (how do they balance you, work/school/life?)

he sees you all the time, basically. there is no balance. matt would rather spend time with you than his dad anyways, and when he’s with you, he’ll do schoolwork, which you make him do. the only time he doesn’t see you is when he’s working or with his bandmates.

C - Cuddles (do they enjoy cuddling? what positions?)

even if he doesn’t admit it, he loves to cuddle. it’s what calms him down after a long day of work and dealing with his dad. he’ll come home to find you in his room, the same place he told you to wait until he got home. he plops onto the bed and cuddles up to you, nuzzling his face into your neck and closing his eyes. you thread your fingers through his hair and comfort him as he rants about his shift, complaining about customers, his dad, letting out all of his thoughts.

D - Date (what was your first date?)

your first date is to a small concert in the park event. a few local bands were playing, excluding matt and his band, but he wanted to take you to a low key event. since you both bonded over music, he decided this would be the best option. so while the bands played in the background, you two chat and eat street food, even cuddling while the watching the bands. and because he’s matt and all, he kisses you sweetly at the end of the date, as he’s dropping you off at your place.

E - Excited (how excited do they get when they see you/are with you?)

matt tries to play it cool when he sees you, if he’s around people. like if you come to one of his band’s gig, he’ll coolly stride over to you and greet you. he doesn’t want people knowing that he’s a total softie for you because he will never hear the end of it from his friends if they do. but if you show up at his house alone, he has a huge smile on his face and is pulling you into his arms within a second.

F - Fighting (what happens when you fight)

your fights can get pretty bad sometimes. matt has a temper, so when he gets mad, he’s mad. you usually try to reason with him and keep him calm, but that doesn’t work all the time. he will blow up and say things he doesn’t even mean. you or him will either storm off to give each other some time to cool down before talking things out.

G - Gorgeous (pet names. what do they like to call you? what do they like to be called?)

basically any name in the book, matt likes to call you. baby, love, darling, sweetheart, gorgeous, beautiful. any name he can think of. and even though he doesn’t admit it, he enjoys the pet names you call him as well, including babe, lover, honey. he loves them so much and smiles and blushes every time you call him one when you are alone.

H - Hi (first time meeting)

you two first meet at the record store. you work there every weekend just to make some money, and one day, matt comes in looking for a specific album. he is in the store for a good fifteen minutes trying to look for it on his own, but he struggles. so, you walk over to him and ask if he needs help. he shyly admits that he does and tells you what he’s looking for. you then guide him over to the section and grab the album. he’s a bit embarrassed, but is happy that he finally got it. you quickly check him out, and that’s when he asks you if you’d like to go out sometime for lunch or dinner.

I - Insecure (what they do when you’re feeling insecure/vice versa)

matt doesn’t get insecure often, since he’s pretty confident and happy with himself. when he does, though, you are there to reassure him that he’s perfect to you. when you’re down, he tries his hardest to cheer you up with humor. he will pull funny faces, tell awful jokes, trying to get you to smile. when you finally do, he turns serious and gives you a long explanation of what he loves about you and how amazing he thinks you are. he’ll also give you many kisses until you feel better.

J - Jealousy (do they get jealous? how do they react to you being jealous)

surprisingly, matt gets insanely jealous. he knows that you would never cheat on him, but the idea of another guy flirting with you, looking you up and down at a party, or even just talking to you, makes him jealous. he doesn’t want any other guy flirting with you or even staring at you the way he does.

K - Kisses (where do they like to kiss you/how often?)

he kisses you whenever he has the chance to. when you come to visit him at work, he’ll take a little break and just kiss you, eventually getting told off by his dad. he also loves to make out, whenever. if you two are hanging out and he’s bored, he’ll just start kissing you, leading to a small, or big, makeout session, which can lead to more. he just loves having his lips on yours, it’s like an addiction.

L - Love (when was the first time they said i love you or realized it?)

it’s a little while until he says it. he’s not used to being in real, long relationships that aren’t just flings or friends with benefits, so it’s unusual and new for him. but, around six months or so, he can’t help but feel so strongly for you, so much so that he goes to his bandmates for help on what to do. he takes you to the hill that him and javed used to go to and just lays there with you, and that’s when he says it. he’s scared that you won’t feel the same, but thankfully, you say it back, making matt sigh out in relief.

M- Moving in (when do you decide to move in together)

matt gets so fed up with his father, he decides to move away from luton and find an apartment in the city, or close by, whatever he can find. when he tells you this, you’re of course upset that he won’t be around much anymore. but an idea suddenly pops into his head, and he asks if you want to move in with him. you are of course taken aback, as you’ve only been dating for about seven or eight months, but say yes anyways.

N - Newborn (their reaction to starting a family)

he has always been careful when it comes to sex. you two are still young, in your early twenties, and neither of you are ready to be parents just yet. but accidents can happen. you find out you’re pregnant shortly after your twenty-second birthday, which is when you and matt forgot a condom. when you tell him, he’s of course nervous and whatnot. but when your baby finally arrives, matt is full on ready to be a dad.

O - Open (how open you are with one another)

it’s a bit of a struggle getting matt to open up to you in the beginning of your relationship. he’s only used to quick flings or short relationships, so he’s never really used to being open in the first place. but as your relationship progressed, you sort of begged him to open up, since you felt like you still knew barely nothing about him. thankfully, he agreed and you two spent the entire night, cuddled up with one another, chatting about everything from your fears, where you see yourself in the future, everything.

P - Panic (how you calm them down when they’re scared/anxious/angry)

matt will just hold you close to him, whispering in your ear, running his hand through your hair, and gently sway you side to side to help calm you down. he can tell when a panic attack is coming on, so he is quick to pull you into him so that you are comforted the entire time. whenever you’re okay, he’ll give you a long, passionate kiss that takes your mind off of everything for a few seconds. when matt needs the comfort, you will play with his hair and allow him to cuddle up against you, or be the big spoon and just hold him. he loves the feeling of your arms around him and your hands in his hair. it always calms him down within seconds.

Q - Question (what you do when they come to you for help)

matt usually tends to try and solve problems on his own, but you always help him. he usually doesn’t make the best decisions, so that’s when you step in and offer your own thoughts, making sure whatever he plans on doing isn’t illegal or dangerous.

R - Recovery (how they/you help them after an injury)

since he’s a pretty reckless musician, he gets injured quite a lot at gigs. one time, he tried to crowd surf and the crowd wasn’t exactly ready or expecting it, so he fell straight to the ground, landing on his wrist. it ended up being a fracture, so he was out of the band for a few months while it healed. you took care of him the entire time; you even helped him shower, which included a few cheeky comments from matt.

S - Solution (how they resolve fights)

matt takes a day or two for himself to let the fight settle down before bringing it back up again. he figures two days or so is enough for it to simmer out. he comes to you, if the fight is his fault, and you two sit and talk everything out in a rational way. once things are resolved, you two cuddle to make up for the time that you were away from one another.

T- Touch (when they need/want your touch, what will they do? how often?)

he usually needs it when he’s upset or angry. you know his relationship with his dad, so whenever he comes to you after a fight or a disagreement, you know what to do. you’ll sit with him on the couch or your bed and hold his hands, running your fingers over the backs of them and over his palms.

U - Up ( waking up with them)

matt just loves cuddling in bed for as long as you can. if it was possible, he would spend all day there with you. but that’s usually not the case. you always stay with him the night before he has to work, and when he comes home, just to take his mind off his dad. in the morning, he never wants to leave your side and will give you kisses and hold you close to him.

V - Vacation (where they travel with you)

he takes you on a trip around europe during the summer for your year anniversary. from italy, to greece, france, germany, spain, anywhere you two can go. he loves spending time with you in fancy yet cheap hotels and houses, watching the beautiful sunsets with you from the balconies and touring around each city.

W - Wedding (how they propose, where you get married, honeymoon)

matt proposes at one of his gigs. he pulls you up on stage right before he sings their love song, gives a little speech, then proposes. the wedding is small, just your family and a few friends because matt wasn’t one for huge, extravagant events (unlike his parties), he wanted a tight-knit ceremony and reception. for the honeymoon, he takes you to ibiza, since his first time there was really fun and he wants to experience it with you

X - X-factor (what about you captivated them?)

your looks. let’s be real, i feel like matt goes for people based on looks more than anything. so the first thing he noticed about you was how beautiful you are. he was captivated the moment he saw you and wanted nothing more than to have a chat with you and get to know you more.

Y - Yawning (how they act when they’re tired)

matt is grumpy when he’s tired. he complains, he groans, he’s kind of awful to be around, really. but you put up with it because he looks so damn adorable when he is. he acts like this big, tough guy, but he looks like a soft teddy bear.

Z - Zzzz (how you fall asleep together)

he likes his space sometimes, so he usually falls asleep with his back towards you, or facing you. but he always has a hand on you, whether that’s in your hand, on your waist, or in your hair. other times, he enjoys a cuddle and holds you against his chest, his arm around your waist or under your shirt, on your bare back.

#matt #matt imagines #matt x reader #blinded by the light #matt blinded by the light #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman x reader #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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talesofpanem · 5 years

Text

The Interview

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: T for potty language, adult situations, mentions of substance abuse and minor character death.

Summary: This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time.

Author’s note: This is for the prompt ‘work’, but I just couldn’t get it done on time. Thank goodness for make-up week!

————

It feels like entering another world, driving through the grounds of the west campus. Everything is wide open, lush, green, alive, a huge contrast to the dirty and crowded city where I’ve been living for the past two years.

There are young people everywhere on the expansive lawns, throwing frisbees or leaning against trees with books or binders in hand, and not a cellphone to be seen. It’s like a utopian fantasy world, on the surface.

But I know better.

I pull up to the building where my appointment will be. Grey stone, old, but not yet old enough to be considered classic. Its architectural failings have been compensated for by brightly-painted window trim and shutters, and climbing vines clinging to the stones, bursting with purple flowers. Elegant, but only if you don’t look too closely. For all of its window dressing, it’s an institution.

I’d been instructed to wait in the lobby, arranged as a waiting room of sorts. It’s little more than a dozen chairs ringing the area, facing the double set of interior doors, faded industrial carpet underfoot. I settle into one, the sun-hardened vinyl squeaks in protest. The walls are covered with inspirational posters, pictures of sunsets and mountaintops with words of wisdom in bold print underneath. Motivation. Persistence. Achievement.

“Mr. Mellark?”

I jump to my feet as a young woman with glossy black ringlets enters the room where I’ve been cooling my heels for twenty minutes. She smiles at me. “They’re ready for you now.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I wipe my hands on my suit pants before picking up my portfolio. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about anything. Young Peeta Mellark was an outgoing, gregarious fellow. But I haven’t been that guy in a very long time.

The doors close behind me, electronic locks snapping ominously.

The young woman, Rue, she tells me her name is, leads me along a dim corridor, the floors polished to gleaming, reflecting scattered pools of light. “We only use emergency lighting in the offices on the weekends,” she confides. “Budget…” I nod. The schools where I worked while finishing my master’s degrees had all struggled with budgets too. Education is not a career that is steeped in money.

But working with children is what I’ve chosen. And this job, at this particular school, is the one I want more than anything.

Art therapist at the Panem Institute.

The Panem Institute is the preeminent residential facility for kids in trouble, kids struggling with substance abuse issues or mental health disorders. And unlike most centres of its kind, lack of funds is not a barrier to admission.

I can’t help wondering how different my life might have turned out if I’d had access to a place like this when I was a teen. Would I be established now, with a life I could be proud of? A wife, maybe even a family of my own?

Instead, I’m thirty, with a shiny new double MA in social work and art therapy, and precious little in the way of resumé experience. That the institute is even meeting with me is almost miraculous. Apart from student placements and volunteer work, I have almost nothing to show for my life.

But I want this job so badly I can almost taste it. This job, this place– this is why I’ve worked so hard the past six years, for the chance to make up for my own failings.

My childhood wasn’t fantastic, but it was typical by most measures. The youngest of three children, I was born upstate, in a quintessential white-washed all-American small town where everyone knew everyone else. My parents didn’t get along, but they stuck it out for the sake of us boys, which is retrospect was probably far, far worse for us than if they’d simply split.

Instead, beaten down by a life she hated and a town she couldn’t escape, my mother was cold, and often rough with us. Rye, Brann and I learned young to hide from her temper. She, in turn, hid in a bottle.

My dad, though, was my hero, mine and my brothers’ too. He coached our little league teams, came to every one of our wrestling matches, filled our lives with cookies and hugs. Shielded us from mother’s ever-increasing drunken and violent episodes.

Then midway through my senior year of high school, the unthinkable happened. My father, my kind, generous father, was murdered. Shot by some punk barely older than I was, killed for nothing more than the two hundred dollars in the cash register of the small family bakery my father owned.

I was devastated.

There was no one left to moderate my mother’s behaviour with my father gone and my brothers away at school. Down to one final obligation, freedom in sight, she made it her sole purpose in life to be rid of me as well. Or maybe she was just drowning in grief and alcoholism and wasn’t even aware of how she was acting, a theory my brother broached at the time. Whatever the reason, life at home deteriorated. Badly.

And like my mother, I sought refuge in a bottle. Or many, many bottles.

I’d already been offered a college wrestling scholarship based on my earlier performances. A good thing since I showed up at the state wrestling championship - my last ever high school wrestling meet and the first one where my father wasn’t a spectator - hungover as hell, or maybe still a little drunk, and ended up placing second.

College was supposed to be my escape, but by the time I got to State that September, I was far more interested in getting bombed than in studying or practicing.

Over the course of a year, I destroyed every dream I’d ever had, every hope, every plan, every relationship. I alienated every friend, every mentor, even, eventually, my own brothers.

And I hadn’t even cared.

Twelve years later, I’ve clawed my way back, one sober day at a time, through more ups and downs than I can even remember. Fought to become a man my father would have been proud of. But I didn’t do it alone. Therapists and counsellors helped me heal, and in doing so showed me how satisfying it could be to guide someone back from the brink, to help set them on the right path.

And that’s why I’m here now, standing sweaty-palmed but hopeful at the door of a boardroom. Interviewing for a job where I could change the lives of troubled young people like I once was.

My escort, Rue, pulls the door open and gestures for me to enter. The room is small and much brighter than the hallway, with a pair of large windows and pale wood reflecting the warm afternoon light. It takes me a moment to adjust to the brightness, to focus on the group of people waiting for me.

Then the bottom drops out of my stomach, and out of my world.

I never got blackout drunk. Consequently, I remember every stupid decision I made, every assholish word I said. And the recipient of one of the tirades I regret most is sitting across the table, her ebony hair pulled back in an elegant chignon.

Katniss Everdeen.

She and I went to school together, from kindergarten all the way through until I ruined my life. I had the worst crush on her back then. But until after we graduated from high school, she didn’t even know I was alive.

Imagine my shock when, a few months into my ill-fated college career, I ran into her at a party on campus. I’d had no idea she went to the same school. But I was well into a bottle of Bombay that night, and what should have been the start of an epic relationship, or at least a chance for me to talk to the girl I’d lusted after always, turned into a nightmare.

I was already slipping then, already on academic probation, already suspended from the wrestling team and constantly in trouble with my coaches. I was weeks away from losing everything - my scholarship, my sport, my friends. And every encounter with my professors, with my academic advisor, with the counsellor the athletic department had insisted on, every single one had impressed on me that I wasn’t good enough, though I am, in retrospect, certain that’s not what any of them had meant. But I’d had so much anger in my system then, so much loathing.

And Katniss, beautiful, seemingly unattainable Katniss, for some reason seeing her there triggered the deepest well of self pity to open in my chest. She was, in that moment, the embodiment of everything I’d been told I could never have. My gut clenches and my heart hurts as I remember the vitriol I’d spewed at her that night, the accusations about her character and motivations, every one of them utterly untrue. I’d called her stuck-up, selfish, a bitch, among so many other words. Katniss, beautiful, stoic Katniss hadn’t reacted at all, apart from a widening of her eyes and maybe a slight trembling of her lower lip. When I’d run out of filth to throw her way, she’d simply blinked and said softly, “This isn’t you, Peeta.” Then she’d walked away.

I have heard those words in my head a thousand times since that night.

It had taken another three years of couch-surfing and homelessness, of lying and begging and stealing to feed my addiction, before I finally hit rock-bottom. In an alley in the Capitol, with a bunch of other low-life scum just like me, I’d listened as they made plans to rob a convenience store a few blocks away. So desperate was I for the few bucks it would have garnered me that I was ready to go along with them… until I saw the gun.

The idea of robbing a little mom-and-pop convenience store at gunpoint was my come to Jesus moment. I was hunched in filth, hungry and so desperate for a drink that I was steps away from becoming the man who had killed my father.

The road back from that point wasn’t straight, and it wasn’t easy. I’d like to say that I never had another drink after that, but it’d be a lie. But I’ve been sober now for seven years and forty-four days, a purple medallion in my pocket reminds me every day how far I’ve come.

As does Katniss’s voice in my head, reminding me when I feel weak, when the cravings hit hard, that I’m not that person.

But she doesn’t know that. Looking across the table, she must be seeing the asshole who treated everyone, and especially her, like dirt.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Mellark,” an older, balding man says, smiling. I recognize his voice, Plutarch Heavensbee, the institute’s director, with whom I’ve spoken on the phone several times before today. I hesitate though, steeling myself to meet Katniss’s eyes. If she looks uncomfortable I’ll leave. It wouldn’t be fair to her if I stayed. As disappointing as it’ll be to walk away from this opportunity that I want so damned badly, I have only myself to blame.

I catch her gaze, silver pools in the sunlight, expecting her to be glaring at me. She’s not though, her expression is carefully neutral. But as if she sees the question in my glance, she nods.

Plutarch introduces the others in turn; Reza Seder, head of counselling services, Dr. Lavinia DeSantis, head of medical services, Alma Coin, head of security. “And of course you know Ms. Everdeen,” Plutarch says, his smile widening, and I can feel my eyebrows crawling up to my hairline. She knew I was coming, told the others that she knew me, and yet I’m still here. They’re still going to interview me.

“Hello, Peeta,” she says, in that smoky smooth bourbon voice that has acted as my conscience for years. And, okay, has narrated my fantasies too, if I’m being honest.

“I’ve already disclosed to the board that we grew up together,” she continues, “and they’re okay with my presence. But of course I’ll leave if it makes you uncomfortable having me here.” Her words and delivery are coolly professional, but beneath them I hear a faint note of pleading. She wants to be here, I just know it. And though I’m likely signing the death warrant on this job, I find myself asking her to stay.

This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time. But if I’ve learned anything from my primary therapist, Dr. Aurelius, it’s that I can’t run from my past. And if I’ve learned anything from AA, it’s that I can’t ignore my shortcomings.

Each member questions me, softballs to start - my education, my job experiences, my plans. I pull out my portfolio, walk them through the educational and therapeutic programs I’ve developed, outline what worked during my previous placements, what innovations I’d like to employ. They seem impressed, and I start to relax.

“You didn’t go to college right after high school, Mr. Mellark?” Alma Coin asks, her strange, pale eyes cold and judgemental. I stiffen; this is where previous interviews have gone off the rails. I’d never outright lie about my addiction, but I’m not keen to bring it up either. Even seven years sober, people are reluctant to entrust an alcoholic to watch over children.

“That’s correct,” I tell her. “I didn’t start my undergrad until I was twenty-four.”

“Why is that?” I could tell her that I couldn’t afford it until then, that’s true, or about my father’s death throwing a spanner in my plans, also true.

Katniss is looking at me, grey eyes wide and guileless. She nods again, and it feels like encouragement. I know what I have to say.

“I’m an alcoholic,” I tell them, bracing for their reactions. But nobody flinches. “I’ve been sober for seven years. But I started drinking in high school, and I lost a lot of years to the disease.” Across from me, a hint of a smile graces Katniss’s pouty peach lips. I take it as my cue to keep going. “That’s why I went into social work, and why I want to work here so much. To help kids like me. To maybe save some of them from the mistakes I made.”

There are nods around the table, no one looks particularly surprised. I don’t know whether Katniss has told them, or if it came up in my background check.

“And you’re not concerned that working with addicted children might trigger you to revisit your own demons? Your CV is completely lacking in experience with troubled youth.” It’s true, my field placements were all in middle schools, my experience as an art therapist mostly with kids with ADHD or autism spectrum disorders. The kids here by and large have much more complex issues, abuse and addiction and mental illness all compounded, often violent and criminal backgrounds too.

“I’ve spent years in therapy learning to cope with my triggers,” I tell Coin.

“That’s not the same as real-world experience,” Seder interjects. “These kids, the things they tell you, the things they’ve seen. It’s gutting.”

“I realize that,” I tell her, affecting the most professional tone I’m capable of despite the cavern that’s opened in my stomach, the knowledge that I’m nowhere near qualified enough in their eyes. “I completed a research project on intergenerational addiction in college and interviewed hundreds of young addicts.”

“That’s really not the same as interacting with them day to day,” Seder says, and it’s not cruel, but it feels dismissive.

“I also observed troubled youth in counselling during my practicum while I was in graduate school.” They know this, it’s in my resumé, along with letters of reference from the clinician supervisors. But Seder is shaking her head and Coin looks unimpressed and I can feel the opportunity slipping away.

“Peeta has volunteered as a mentor at the Children’s Hospital’s substance abuse treatment program for more than three years,” Katniss interjects, and every hair on my body stands on end. Because while that’s true, it’s also something that’s not in my resumé, something I’ve avoided self-reporting because it’s common knowledge that the program volunteers are all addicts in recovery themselves.

I have no idea how she knows that.

My gaze snaps to Katniss. Her expression remains carefully neutral, but there is the barest hint of a smile in her silver eyes.

“That’s an excellent program,” Dr. De Santis says, looking up from her notes for the first time. “They’re incredibly selective about who they choose to work with their clients.”

“They are,” I agree. The screening had been brutal, but it had been necessary, so many of those kids have lead lives that make mine look like a walk in the park and many are not shy about sharing all of the horrific details. “They can’t risk having the volunteers drop out or relapse. The kids need the stability of knowing that they can’t scare away their mentors. So many of them have had everyone else in their lives give up on them.” I swallow hard; it’s the reason I volunteer there. I’ve seen myself in so many of their faces, kids who use alcohol and drugs to escape the pain, kids who lash out and push away the people around them before those people can abandon them. Like I’d done to my teachers and coaches, my friends and my brothers.

Like I’d done to Katniss, all of those years ago.

“How do you find your personal experiences impact your work with those children?” Katniss asks, a gently leading question, and one for which I am so grateful.

“I can empathise with them in ways that their doctors and case workers often can’t,” I say, mostly tamping down the waver in my voice. Four sets of eyes watch me intently. “It’s the whole basis for the program, giving these kids not only guidance, but hope for their future. If I can succeed after all of my mistakes, after all I’ve done, then they can too.”

“And you intend on continuing to volunteer there?” Coin asks.

“I do.” I’ve already checked with the hospital about whether this job would constitute a conflict of interest, they assured me it would not.

Across the table, each of the interviewers smiles, even Coin, though her smile looks a little less genuine. But I only have eyes for Katniss. Because her smile feels like forgiveness. And though this is my dream job, I feel like even if I don’t get it I’ve accomplished something monumental here. I’ve shown Katniss that she was right, that nasty boy who hurt her, who made her feel small and alone, that person wasn’t me.

Plutarch claps his hands. “Excellent, my boy,” he says. “Now let’s talk salary.”

“I… what?”

“For the position.” At my expression, he laughs. “The interview is really just a formality,” he says, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “The job is yours if you want it.” He pushes a couple of papers across the table. A contract. “I know it’s a little less in salary than you’d make in private practice, but we offer a comprehensive benefits package. Take a couple of days to look it over and let us know.”

I don’t need a couple of days. I don’t need a couple of minutes. “I want the job,” I tell him firmly.

“Well then,” Plutarch booms with evident pleasure. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Mellark.” He reaches across to shake my hand firmly, and I can’t help my goofy grin. I got the job!

Plutarch informs me that their admin will get in touch with me over the next few days to file the tax and legal paperwork they need, and then I’ll begin at the start of the new term, some four weeks away. And I nod in all the right places, but my mind is spinning so fast I’m almost dizzy with it.

I shake each of their hands in turn, lingering just a bit longer to squeeze Katniss’s hand tightly. I thank each of them, but my gratitude to her means more. I think she can tell.

“Could you see Mr. Mellark out?” Plutarch asks Katniss, and she agrees, though she doesn’t meet my eyes.

I follow her silently down the corridor, towards the exit, the delicate tapping of her heels on linoleum almost drowned out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Katniss was a cute kid, tiny and scrappy, and she had morphed into a fierce and self-possessed young woman by the time we’d graduated high school. But now, at thirty, she’s an absolute bombshell. Still lean, but with delicate curves that her pencil skirt and blouse highlight perfectly. She walks with confidence, back straight, head held high. She’s more intimidating than ever.

At the electronic doors, she pauses, hand poised just above the lever that would release the locks. Then she sighs, and glances back at me over her shoulder. “Would you like to have a cup of tea with me? Catch up?” I’m nearly rendered speechless; not only is Katniss Everdeen willing to work with me, she’s willing to talk with me too.

“I’d like that,” I rasp, the first words I’ve spoken directly to her in twelve long years.

She leads me back into the building and up a set of stairs. Another corridor stretches in front of us, windowless doors set close together. “Our offices,” she says. Partway down the hall, she stops and pulls a set of keys from her pocket. A small brass plate on the door reads Katniss Everdeen, Lead Addictions Therapist.

Her office is small, and appears to be set up for both paperwork and individual counselling sessions with a tiny desk tucked back into the corner but comfortable looking couches dominating the space. She confirms my guess. “I see the lower risk kids here,” she says. “It feels less institutional that way.”

I can only stare, stunned, as she unlocks a cabinet and withdraws a tea kettle. I knew Katniss’s title here from Plutarch’s introduction of course. But until now, it hadn’t really sunk in, what she does. She’s an addictions counsellor. How utterly incredible that she went into the very field that eventually inspired my own career path.

“Sit, please,” she says over her shoulder. I slip off my blazer, draping it over the arm of the couch, then sink into plush microfibre. The ceramic clink of teacups and spoons and the sultry sway of her perfect posterior as she putters, preparing tea and humming just faintly are almost hypnotic. For all of the times I’d thought about Katniss Everdeen, I never imagined I’d ever actually see her again, and good lord she’s so much hotter than even my edgiest fantasies. “Black, right?” she says, snapping me out of my lurid thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” I say after a moment’s pause where I try to pull myself together and remember that she’s making tea, so that we can talk. So that I can apologize to her. As glorious as her ass is, I have no business looking at her that way. I lost any possible chance I might have had a dozen years ago.

But she knows how I take my tea. The last time I saw her, gin was the only thing I was drinking.

She sets a red mug in front of me, on the low table between the couches. But she herself sits beside me, instead of across from me, which surprises me. Though maybe it shouldn’t, since she’s a therapist. Knowing how to set someone at ease is part of her training. It’s backfiring in my case though, since her closeness feels intimate. I catch a hint of her scent, something fresh and green but with a little bit of spice, like a campfire in the woods. So perfectly Katniss. “How have you been?” she says, sipping from her own mug.

“Better,” I tell her, because she’s not asking to make small talk. In addition to knowing everything I confessed in the interview, she was there when my world fell apart, she saw first hand how shitty I was.

“I’m glad,” she says softly, and she smiles, and it’s so beautiful and sweet it nearly breaks my heart.

“I am so sorry,” I tell her, but the words are completely inadequate. How do you tell someone that they are not only your biggest regret, but also your biggest inspiration? “For how I treated you when I was drinking. You didn’t deserve any of that, and I have regretted it every day.”

“I know,” she says.

“And what you did for me today,” I continue before my nerve runs out. “I can’t begin to thank you. You not only gave me this chance when you could have told any of them I wasn’t worth considering, but you actively helped me in the interview.”

“You earned the job, Peeta. Plutarch was already convinced before you even walked in the door.”

“The others weren’t.”

She laughs. “I knew Lavinia would love you. And Alma, well, she doesn’t really like anyone, but I have a feeling you’ll win her over eventually.”

“What about you?” I can’t help asking. She’s treating me so kindly, but she can’t possibly have forgiven me. I know she hasn’t forgotten.

“I believe in second chances.” Her smile is softer, a little pained. “I knew you’d find your way back.”

“I was such a dick.”

“You were,” she agrees. “But I knew that wasn’t you.”

“You said that back then too,” I tell her, my tea forgotten. “I, uhm.” My neck feels hot and I rub it distractedly. “I hear you saying that, when I’m having a difficult day. It’s helped me so much over the years. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.” It’s embarrassing as hell to admit that. But she deserves the truth.

She snorts, and it’s a sound so at odds with her elegant presentation and with the seriousness of our conversation. My gaze snaps up to her face, she looks amused and abashed.

“You’re the reason I went into psychology,” she says, and my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “I was a biology major first year. But seeing how everyone failed you after your dad died, and how easy it was for you to fall…” she trails off. “And then when you came back to school to try again, sober and working so hard, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

“You were there?”

She nods. “Just for a semester. I was finishing my masters. I saw you a couple of times on campus, but you never noticed me.”

Honestly, that’s probably for the best. That early in my recovery I was still so fragile, just getting through classes took every bit of effort I had, and I spent so many hours with my sponsor and therapist back then I had no time for anyone else. “I wish I’d known,” I tell her. “But I had my head pretty far up my own ass.”

“You didn’t though.” She looks away, towards the tiny, narrow window on the exterior wall, barred, like all of the windows I’ve seen in this building. “I watched you. I’ve kept track of you over the years, when I could. Even then you were already working so hard to make amends.”

I was. And I can tell by that specific word that she knows why. One of the steps in AA is making amends for the shitty things we’ve done, at least where doing so won’t cause any further damage. In those early years, I’d concentrated mostly on my brothers, and earning their trust again. But I also spent time speaking with professors and coaches who I had alienated. It would have been far easier to start over at a different college, and likely would have been less triggering. But it’d have been a coward’s way.

“I never got a chance before now to apologize to you,” I whisper. She’d kept track of me, but I hadn’t made the same effort. Before the booze, Katniss Everdeen was that perfect, unattainable fantasy woman I put on a pedestal and never approached. And after, I locked her away, so terribly ashamed by my actions that I never sought her out, even though she would have been easy to find. I was terrified by how she might look at me.

But she’s clearly a much bigger person than I could ever be.

“I think the time wouldn’t have been right before now,” she says. “For either of us.”

We lapse into silence, Katniss still staring out the window, me fiddling with the mug I’ve picked up again. “Can I ask you something?” she says, and there’s something in her tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Of course.”

“That night… why me?” She’s trying to keep her voice even, I can tell, but the slight waver slays me.

“You were there, and I was a drunken asshole,” I rasp, but she shakes her head, glancing at me.

“It was more than that. The things you said…” she looks away, but not before I see the shine in her eyes. Not before I see the hurt I had been expecting all along. The knowledge that even all of these years later, my words continue to bother her is gut-wrenching. I feel like the biggest piece of shit.

“It was all bullshit, Katniss, the ramblings of an absolute lowlife shit of a human.”

“There’s always truth, even in ramblings,” she says softly. “It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been called those things. But we’d never even spoken before then. I didn’t know you even knew my name.”

“I knew you, Katniss. I’d always been watching you.” She turns back to me eyebrows raised, confusion in every line of her beautiful face. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want to make excuses for my absolutely inexcusable behaviour. But she deserves the whole truth. I drop my gaze to my lap. “The truth is, I had a huge crush on you, nearly the whole way through high school.”

She makes a little choking sound, and I can’t bear to look at her. I know I’m doing unfathomable damage to our potential working relationship, confessing like this. I’ll decline Plutarch’s offer, if being here will hurt her. But I can’t let her think that any of the awful things I said had even a speck of truth to them. I can’t let her take any blame.

“In senior year,” I continue, “I had finally convinced myself that I was going to talk to you, to ask you to the Valentine’s dance. But then…” I trail off. My father had died at the end of January, and everything else in my life had fallen away, sucked into the black pit of grief.

A soft, cool hand lands on my forearm, and I glance up. Far from looking disgusted, as I was expecting, Katniss is looking at me with compassion, even through her confusion. “When I saw you that night,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “I had already screwed up everything else in my life. I was just so angry at the world, but mostly at myself. I was drowning in regret and self-loathing. And you were there, and you were every bit as beautiful as you had always been. And you just represented everything I wanted so badly and had fucked up. My father was gone, my sport was gone, and the girl of my dreams was completely out of my league. And I lost it, lashed out at you instead of at the person who really deserved it. Me.”

“You didn’t deserve it either,” she whispers, and her eyes shine silver under a film of moisture.

I place my hand over hers where it still rests on my arm, and she doesn’t pull away. “I’m truly sorry, Katniss. Hurting you is the biggest regret of my life.”

“I accept your apology.” I squeeze her hand in gratitude, and a sad half smile ticks at her lips.

“I won’t take the offer,” I murmur, and her brow furrows again. “This is your career, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, being here.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t,” she says. “I’ve been watching you for so long, cheering for you from the sidelines. I feel like I know you. And I know you won’t ever repeat that mistake.”

“I won’t,” I swear. “I’ll always be an alcoholic, and there will always be a risk that I’ll relapse. But I’ve learned so much in therapy, about communication and managing my emotions. About coping. I have better mechanisms now, and a really great support group behind me.” It had taken a long time to make things right with my brothers, but they are my staunchest supporters now. And my sponsor, Haymitch, is a crusty old bastard, but he’d rip out someone’s throat before letting me down.

“Then stay,” she says. “I’d like to start again, if it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. Build up that friendship we should have had.” She looks down at our hands. At some point, she’d flipped her palm and I’d entwined my fingers with hers.

“Always,” I whisper in awe, and she smiles, that beautiful, elusive smile that I know will be the stuff of all of my future fantasies. And maybe, just maybe, the stuff of my future reality too.

#talesofpanem #tales of panem #makeup week #work #xerxia31 #submission #week 10

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ezra-greene · 4 years

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» • * — ( ALEX FITZALAN , CISMALE , HE/HIS ) . i think i hear modern loneliness by lauv coming from APARTMENT 2211 doesn’t EZRA GREENE live there ?? i heard they are a TWENTY-FOUR year old ARTIST/BARISTA from LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA but they’ve been living in the apartments for TWO YEARS . they come across a bit - PASSIVE AND - IRRESPONSIBLE , but they also seem like they could be + KIND AND + THOUGHTFUL . whenever i see them , i think of ACCIDENTALLY DRINKING PAINT WATER, NOSE HOOPS AND TATTOOS, AND TALKING TO CATS LIKE THEY’RE PEOPLE. . ooc . b , 21 , est , she/her .

TW: DRUG MENTION & MENTAL HEALTH

name - Ezra Greene

birthday - July 14, 1995

zodiac sign - Cancer

hometown - Los Angeles, California

height - 5′11″

sexuality - Bisexual

character inspiration - Nino Quincampoix (Amélie: The Musical), Spencer Shay (iCarly), Chris Miles (Skins), Phoebe Buffay (Friends)

ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ

positive - loyal, caring, passionate,

negative - passive, unorganized, irresponsible

likes - art, painting, smoking, partying, records, nature, baking

dislikes - his father, waking up early, working

- Grew up with celebrity lawyers for parents, so everything was always very strict and serious around their house He Spent the first few years of his life being raised by nannies, but as time went on his mom wanted to spend more time with him, so she quit being a lawyer to be a stay at home mom.

- Ezra absolutely adored his mom, whenever it was just the two of them things were much more relaxed. She was the one who introduced him to art. She bought him his first set of paints, and took him to museums. While his father always expected him to go to law school, his mother supported his dreams of going to art school. This led to a lot of arguments between his parents.

- When Ezra was fifteen his mom got sick, and not long after his sixteenth birthday she passed away. Both him and his father took it really hard, but instead of bringing them together it forced them further apart. Their house was mostly filled with silence, and Ezra’s dad started working more, which left Ezra home alone most of the time.

- When it came time for Ezra to go to college, his father insisted that he was to enroll pre-law. If he refused, he’d be cut off financially, so he did it. However, he didn’t care about his schoolwork and easily fell into partying, so by the end of his second year of school he was being academically dismissed.

- During winter break, before he was kicked out, Ezra came home to a new stepmother. His father hadn’t mentioned getting married until they were in the car nearly home, and it all came as a big shock to Ezra. Suddenly there was another woman sitting in his mom’s seat and drinking out of her favorite mug. It’s not that he doesn’t like his stepmother, she’s perfectly nice and he’s cordial towards her, but he can’t get past the feeling that she’s trying to replace his mother.

- His father cut him off after he was kicked out, so he spent about a year couch surfing and saving up money before he decided to move out to New York. He loaded up his car with all his things and drove cross country by himself, finding a job at a local coffee shop/record store and settling into his new apartment two years ago.

- Since he was a child he’s gone through what he can only describe as his ‘moods’. Sometimes he feels normal, sometimes he’s going a thousand miles a minute, and sometimes he can’t get out of bed. He often self-medicates to cope. He was on medication as a child, and he knows that he should probably get back on it, but he can’t shake the feeling that it would negatively affect his art.

- Is a really loyal friend, and will do anything for those he’s closest to. He’s always trying to help in anyway he can, and loves to spend time around the people he cares about.

ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｏｎｓ / ｗａｎｔｅｄｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｏｎｓ

Julian: “hometown” friend - Ezra met Julian while he was couch surfing in San Francisco. Julian knows him better than everyone else, and he’s always wandering into Julian’s apartment with a new painting idea.

Scout: Fake Girlfriend/Current Muse - Scout needed someone to piss off her parents, and well- Ezra thought it’d be fun. Turns out, he actually really likes her, but doesn’t know how to ask to turn their fake relationship into a real one.

City: Ex-girlfriend- this person hurt ezra badly, maybe they cheated or maybe they just had an explosive breakup. the relationship burned fast and bright, and either way ezra wound up getting hurt.

Wanted: Best friend - his #1 bestie, someone he can really rely on, ezra is the most loyal friend in the world so give him someone to be loyal to!!

Asher: Enemies - someone Ezra just doesn’t get along with, we can figure out the details later

Wren: Smoking buddies - The only thing Ezra loves as much as painting is weed, this would be someone who’s in the same boat

Wanted: Anything! Hmu for plots, I’m uncreative

#ten23.intro

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maia · 4 years

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A Complete History of My Salary & Wages

A few months ago, I listened to a podcast interview of Ashley C Ford where she laid out the details on how much money she makes, and from which sources. I’ve thought about it a couple times since then and found it very grounding and reassuring whenever I did, even though I am not on the same career path as Ford, and I had never heard of her before the interview. (I have since started following her on twitter though and highly recommend it).

If you follow me on twitter, you know I am brutally honest on all kind of intimate topics. It’s because I believe in the strength behind transparency and the impact it can create. Transparency is particularly powerful with salaries and compensation, and that is why we had transparent salaries at Pinch. Well, that’s my motivational vibe.

So I am posting my complete salary history here in the hopes that it is interesting or helpful to other people.

2007: ~$25,000 in wages

Spock hired me as a summer marketing intern: $2,500/month salary (with potential for a $1,500 bonus at end of summer).

I was 18 when I started at Spock and had my 19th birthday there. I adored working for Spock — it taught me that being excited about the internet could be a career. And my boss Jay was the first person who really believed in me, and was willing to give me enough rope to hang myself. He told me not to tell people I was 18 because they would underestimate me, that I should tell them I was 27. I told most people I was 27 until I actually was. At the end of the summer I decided to take time off from college and continue working for Spock. They brought me on full-time, at a $75k salary.

I had spent the summer living in Redwood City (where Spock’s office is) and renting a room for $800. After the summer I moved to San Francisco and sublet at different places, paying between $600 for a room and $1000 for a studio apartment.

2008: $28,307 in wages

Most of my friends left Spock, so it seemed like the right thing to do. I emailed SeeqPod because I thought they had the coolest product in all of tech at the time — a web app that streamed music from the internet on the iPhone! (this was before there were 3rd party apps on the iPhone). I told them I was really excited about what they were building and would love to contribute however possible and would come on as an unpaid intern. They interviewed me and I did a take-home project: writing a Product Requirements Document for a Hi5 App (Hi5 was the third largest social network after Myspace and Facebook at the time). SeeqPod hired me as a product manager, I think with a $60k salary. My boss Mike was the second person (in an infinite stream) to believe in me and take a big chance on me.

I didn’t have an iPhone, just a flip phone, but I was so excited about the idea of posting photos on the internet from a mobile phone that I set up a tumblr called https://www.maiaeats.com/ that would post new entries every time I texted it a photo or text. I recorded everything I ate in this way.

I went back to college for my sophomore year in the fall. When I left, the CEO of SeeqPod said “Maia, you are the most diplomatic person I’ve ever had work for me. I watch you in meetings help people take their foot out of their mouths and start espousing your idea as if it was their own”. SeeqPod said they would keep my equity vesting over the school year, and we planned for me to transfer to Berkeley the next year as a college junior, to keep working for them. SeeqPod got sued out of existence though, so I stayed on at Olin.

2009: ~$10k in wages

In summer 2009, one of my former colleagues had been impressed with my work at Spock and wanted me to run marketing at his startup, Archivd. I did, but unfortunately his company went under about a month after I started when his cofounder couldn’t get a work visa.

For the rest of the summer, I picked up a half-time job running social media at a startup called NationalBLS in San Francisco. I got another half-time job doing front-end web development for Sprowtt, in Palo Alto (like Kickstarter + AngelList). I lived in a basement in Oakland and had a terrible commute.

That fall, I lived in Cambridge and got a part-time internship at HubSpot while in college. It was magical to live in Cambridge and work for HubSpot… the best time I had during college. I think they offered me $14/hour and I surprised them by negotiating to $15/hour.

2010: $1,800 in wages

I worked full-time for Hubspot ($15/hour) for the month of January before I went to study abroad in Copenhagen for Spring semester. I stayed in Europe that summer and did not work the rest of the year.

2011: $0 in wages

I graduated college in May 2011, sort of… having spent the spring busy trying to convalesce from a horrible car accident in January 2011, I was behind on my school work and so I walked on stage at the ceremony in May but technically hadn’t graduated yet. My generous professors let me make up the work in summer/fall, and I got my diploma at the end of the Fall 2011 semester.

I sold stock I had bought during college with my income from my year off to pay for my life this year.

2012: $61,988 in wages

Desperate for a job, my friend Richa helped me find a role at the consultancy she worked for in January 2012, where I wrote XSL-T (it’s like CSS, for XML documents). I made $60k salary (less than I had made when I was 19), but I was grateful for the opportunity (and for the health insurance!). They originally offered me $55k, and I negotiated up a smidge.

At the end of the summer, I met Meg who was starting a new company, Rocksbox. She hired me as her first employee, a UX designer. I think Meg asked me “What do people like you make?” and I said “Something like $75k,” and she said “Ok, that seems fine.” My salary was $72k.

2013: $22,416 in wages

Meg invited me to join on as cofounder & CTO of Rocksbox. As a cofounder, I took no salary for much of the year.

I lived in a two bedroom apartment with several other people — my friend Katie and I technically shared a bedroom together with one queen bed and both spent most nights at our respective boyfriend’s apartments. The household hosted people from Airbnb in our dining room and I made an additional $5k on top of my $22k salary to put towards my rent.

I remember being exhausted, flipping Airbnb rooms. My boyfriend asked “This seems really terrible, why do you do it?” I said “…. for the money, obviously.” He said “Oh but you don’t need the money,” and I sat there quietly, thinking, what does it mean for one to need the money?

2014: $66,323 in wages

Meg raised $1.5M for Rocksbox, and I was able to take a higher salary — I think back to $72k!

We still hosted Airbnbs in our dining room from which I made an extra $3,300.

My lawsuit against the guy who hit me with his truck settled for $100k. My lawyer took 1/3 and transferred me $66,000: the most humiliating, exhausting, painful, least worth it money I have ever “earned” in my entire life.

2015: $84,725 in wages

I was making more from Rocksbox — my salary increased from ~$72k at the beginning of 2015 to about ~$150k towards the end of the year.

My roommates and I moved to a big fancy house with a separate bedroom where we could host people on Airbnb. Technically my rent was $2,400/month but with the Airbnb it usually netted out to $1,400. I made $2,400 from Airbnb this year.

2016: $67,769 in wages

I left Rocksbox (and my $150k annual salary) to start Pinch, where we paid ourselves $50k. Rocksbox bought back my unvested equity for $780.

This year, with the separate bedroom on Airbnb, I made another $9,220. In September my roommate and I moved to a different apartment and stopped hosting on Airbnb. My rent was $1,500.

2017: $58,686 in wages

Towards the end of 2017, our $50k salary at Pinch was really starting to hurt. We raised a bit more and upped our salaries to $100k. The money from my car accident dwindled. I moved to my own apartment for the first time, and my rent was $2,000/month.

2018: $121,277 in wages

In summer 2018, we sold Pinch to Chime. My job offer at Chime was for $175k.

Some of our offers for Pinch came with a signing bonus. I wanted to evaluate offers based on the people and the culture, so I told myself I would act as though I had received a signing bonus even if I technically hadn’t. When we joined Chime (no signing bonus), I bought myself a scooter online. It never arrived, and I eventually did a chargeback on my credit card.

2019: $195,834 in wages

My salary at Chime was increased to $200k early in 2019 as a market adjustment, where it remains today. In October 2019 I moved out of my $2,000/month apartment to couch-surf with plans to eventually move to New York.

Conclusion

I was really excited about the idea of writing this post and bringing transparency. The process of writing it out and reliving it all though… it feels bad. I think of myself as a happy person, but when I read this now, I feel for my younger self. I worked and scrambled and stressed out about everything.

I’ve tweeted before that my biggest regret of my 20’s is that I didn’t spend more money. It wasn’t received well by the financial responsibility crowd on twitter, but my guess is that they’ve had a different (and more stable) career history than I have. I do regret that I saved any money in my 20's — I should have spent it all, spent freely on frivolous creature comforts, used money to make my life easier whenever possible and worried less about the future. But of course, hindsight is 20/20.

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dvp95 · 5 years

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can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 2

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,884 for this chapter (9,268 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

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It's going to take a lot more than a couple of dissociative episodes between embarrassing himself on camera for Dan to, like, be comfortable with everything that hanging out with Phil might mean or might lead to, but he knows he has a bit of a habit of overthinking, so. He empties his entire suitcase onto the hotel bed and tries to find something suitably casual but cute, because he can admit that much to himself: he wants Phil to think he's cute.

Dan spends too long on his clothes, finally deciding on some ripped jeans and a striped jumper just as his alarm goes off. He eyes his hair in the mirror - he can either leave now and meet Phil on time, or he can straighten his hair and be half an hour late.

Shrugging at himself, Dan slips his phone and wallet into his bag. He doesn't care so much about his hobbit hair when he isn't going to be on camera.

"What is that," Dan deadpans.

"It's for vlogging," says Phil, waving the small camera around. He almost drops it and Dan steadies it. "Oops, thanks. Don't worry, I don't have to film you if you don't want, I just always need stock footage of Thor."

"For your endscreen," says Dan. He knows that, now.

Phil beams at him. God, those eyes are like a targeted attack without the barrier of his glasses. "Yeah! Anyway, hi!"

"Hi," Dan echoes, a smile tugging on his own lips. "I was promised a corgi, you know."

"I thought we could get coffee first," says Phil. He puts one of his hands in his jacket pocket, the other still clutching the vlogging camera. "I'm really bad at juggling my drinks and his lead."

"Fair enough. I'd drop everything, too."

When Phil laughs and turns to walk in the wrong direction, Dan allows himself a moment to just look before gently reminding him that the coffee shop is the other way.

Dan tracks the movement of Phil's hands as he talks about London so that he doesn't keep looking at his shoulders, his thighs. He's so expressive that he almost drops his camera twice more before Dan quietly takes it and stuffs it in his own backpack for safekeeping.

Phil looks good today in well-fitted black jeans and a bright red shirt under his denim jacket. There are pins on the pocket that Dan desperately wants to know the story behind. It all really makes Dan wish that he'd taken the time to pull the straighteners through his hair, but whatever. He thinks being late would have been worse.

"But you're from around here, right?" Phil says, interrupting his own tirade about the best tourist traps. "You know all this."

"Near Reading," says Dan. He holds the door of the café open, smirking when Phil almost keeps walking right by it. Phil sticks his tongue out. "I dunno, I didn't come to the city all that much. No friends and no money meant I just played RuneScape til my eyes bled."

"Oh my god, RuneScape," says Phil. "Talk about a blast from the past."

They chat about various websites they'd lost their teenage years to until it's time for them to order. Phil rolls his eyes when Dan hangs back, intending to pay for his own drink, and curls his fingers around Dan's wrist to drag him forward.

Dan is a little transfixed by the sight and feel of Phil's hand around him. The barista has to ask him four times what he wants, and he stammers it out like he's never spoken to another human being before.

Phil lets go of Dan to pay, chattering at the tired-looking barista until they smile, and Dan has to put his hands in his back pockets so he doesn't do something stupid like reach for Phil again. He doesn't even register that Phil has stopped talking to the barista and started talking to him again until Phil snaps his fingers in front of his nose.

"Uh, what?" Dan asks, blinking back to reality.

"You were on another planet," Phil laughs. He doesn't seem to mind much. "You wanna sit and talk or walk and talk?"

"Always sit," says Dan. "Unless you can lie down, I guess. Then lie down."

"I don't think they'll let us lie on the floor," Phil muses, taking their drinks from the counter with another bright smile at the workers. "But thank god, I didn't want to walk more than I have to."

Dan follows Phil to a table, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. "Then why did you offer, doofus?"

"Wanted you to think I was someone who walked just for the hell of it," says Phil. He's still smiling, it shouldn't even be allowed.

"I'd like you a lot less if you were," Dan jokes, stirring his macchiato absently. "I'm lazy as fuck, mate."

"Same," says Phil. "So how was BuzzFeed?"

"It was alright," Dan says, wincing. "They talked to us about memes from the show, kept calling us by nicknames we didn't consent to, and I swear they were just waiting for me to fuck up the whole time."

"Did you?"

"Not a lot," says Dan. "Just tripped. Didn't even fall."

With a quiet laugh, Phil raises his coffee cup. "Well, hello, let's celebrate that."

Dan snorts despite himself. He bops his disposable cup against Phil's and takes a long drink from it.

"How was your day, filming?"

The way Phil's face lights up when he gets to talk about making a video has Dan's heart doing double time. He talks to Dan about it with the same passion he'd talked about London, gesticulating a lot and smiling at Dan like he's the only person in the room. Dan hears everything Phil is saying but retains roughly zero of it, too busy looking at the way thin lines around Phil's eyes crinkle when he's happy.

"It's nothing too crazy," says Phil, as if Dan has any earthly idea what they're talking about. "But I always get so excited when I can do something more... I don't know, creative? Really put my master's to work."

"Your masters?" Dan asks, bewilderment knocking him back into the conversation. "Think it's a little early in the friendship to tell me about your BDSM shit."

Phil blinks at him and then laughs, loud, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. His blue-green-yellow eyes are sparkling as he looks at Dan like he's the funniest person in the world. "Oh my god, Dan, my master's degree. From uni. Where the hell does your mind come up with this stuff?"

"Pardon me," says Dan, "I need to go walk into traffic."

"So it's not just interviews you do this in," says Phil, still grinning. He gestures vaguely at Dan's entire being. "This is just... what you're like."

"Yeah," Dan says miserably.

"It's endearing," Phil assures him.

"So you have a master's degree," says Dan. He can feel the heat in his face, knows he's all red and patchy. He knows he looks and sounds ridiculous right now.

Thankfully, Phil allows him to change the subject with nothing more than a smirk. "I do, it's a post-production thing I spent way too much time on. You want to uni in Manchester, didn't you?"

"I did," Dan says, a little surprised by Phil knowing that. "I mean, I didn't finish uni, but I did go for a bit."

"I grew up near Manchester," says Phil, "so that kind of stuck out when I read up on you, because I was like, what if we had mutual friends back then? Went to the same parties? What if we passed each other on the street and I didn't know I was looking at someone who was gonna be famous? It was a whole, like, existential thing."

Dan's heart feels like it's going to burst, but he just laughs. "Me? Parties? Friends? Going outside? You're drastically overestimating my uni life."

"Guess so," Phil laughs.

Like it's second nature to keep the conversation going - and as a radio host slash YouTuber, it might be - Phil offers up stories from his own time at university and asks Dan a bunch of questions about everything under the sun. Dan barely has the presence of mind to answer them accurately, let alone ask any questions of his own, and it feels a bit like he's sitting for another interview. He doesn't mind much, though, because Phil listens so intently and is really good at jumping onto new conversation threads at points that feel right.

Before Dan knows it, their drinks are long empty. He could probably get another and just sit here and talk to Phil about video games for ten hours straight, but he doesn't want to give up the option of meeting Phil's dog.

They keep chatting while Phil leads the way to his place. Dan manages to think of some questions and ask them; Phil manages to get them hopelessly lost for a few minutes while trying to rattle off fifteen hamster names in a single breath.

Dan pretends to get a phone call when they reach Phil's stoop. He isn't sure he's emotionally prepared for being in AmazingPhil's flat, or Phil's flat for that matter, and he'd rather stand awkwardly on the pavement than deal with that. It's a narrow brick building, snug in the middle of a whole row of narrow brick buildings, and looking at it almost makes Dann feel claustrophobic after so many years in the boroughs of Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles.

He doesn't feel homesick for any of the places he'd couch-surfed or filmed in, exactly, but he does feel a little homesick for privacy from nosy neighbours. He feels like someone is watching him through their blinds right now, and knowing what he knows of the British elderly, there probably is.

All thoughts of America are thrown unceremoniously from Dan's mind when the blue front door swings open again and Phil reappears with Thor at his heels.

"Oh, look at you," Dan coos, his voice going into the soft one he reserves for cute animals and small children. He's crouching down before he can even remember giving his body the command, and Thor gives him a quizzical sort of head tilt.

"It's okay," says Phil. His voice is soft, too, way sweeter than Dan has heard it before. Dan wouldn't be opposed to hearing it more often. "Say hi, Thor."

As if he was waiting for Phil to give him the go-ahead - maybe he was, Dan doesn't know fuck about training dogs - Thor barks once and jumps up, putting his stumpy front legs on Dan's knees and allowing Dan to give him scritches. Dan's eyes well up a little bit and he chokes the tears back as he pets the soft, small, very good boy.

"Hello, oh my goodness, you're such a good, good boy, your fur is so soft and pretty and I would fall upon my sword to keep your tail wagging, do you understand me? Do you even know?"

"Oh, he knows," Phil says, fond. "Fall upon your sword?"

"I'm not even a little kidding," says Dan. He can't stop staring at Thor's puppy eyes and perked ears. "I'd legit die for this dog."

"Same, but he wouldn't even appreciate it," says Phil. He gives Thor's lead a tiny tug, and Thor yips, abandoning Dan to wind himself through Phil's long legs a couple times.

Dan grins like an idiot as he looks up at Phil, and Phil grins right back at him. It takes a moment before Dan realises that he's still crouched on the pavement and he's very much eye-level with -

He stands up so fast that he has to blink spots out of his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, totally," Dan stammers. He has no idea what they're talking about anymore. His brain has gotten tripped up on the idea of being on the floor in front of Phil like it's a record scratch. He's pretty sure that Phil can tell, there's no way it's not all over his flushed face right now, but Phil just laughs and lets Thor lead the way down the street.

"He's way better at navigating than me," says Phil. He sounds so casual. Dan is focusing on not walking into a lamppost. "And that's really good for some stuff, but he also brings me to the park when I'm trying to go to the shop."

"Right," says Dan.

"Oh, can you grab my camera?" Phil asks as if he's just remembered its existence.

"Yeah." Dan is thrilled to have a task that doesn't involve thinking about Phil's body more than he ought to be. He digs around in his bag and fiddles around with the settings on the camera while Thor takes a leak. "This is pretty cool. You want me to hold it for you?"

Phil grins. "You wanna film me?"

"That's not what I said, I -"

"Sure."

"- didn't mean - sure?"

"Sure," Phil repeats, tongue between his teeth as he smiles. "I don't usually have someone to help me out."

So Dan films some stock footage for the AmazingPhil endscreen, because that is what's become of his life, somehow. He gets a new perspective on Thor doing various dog things on the walk to the park, laughs every time Thor or Phil do something cute, and feels his heart start to swell more every time he sees Phil's answering smile.

As soon as they get to the dog park and take him off the lead, Thor is zooming off to bark with his friends. Dan keeps rolling and just turns the camera on Phil, who pulls a silly face.

"Is this what a day in the life of AmazingPhil is like?" Dan asks in his best announcer voice. Phil giggles.

"Honestly, no," says Phil. His hands are in his pockets and, despite a camera being on him, he isn't using his camera voice. It's all a very good look. "I stay home and answer emails until Thor forces me to stop working."

"I don't know if I could have a dog," Dan says. "I'm too fucking busy. Aren't you busy?"

"Gonna have to bleep that," says Phil, which Dan guesses is more as an aside to himself, since he doesn't pause for Dan to apologise. "Yeah, I'm really busy. Like. All the time. But I stopped being so careful for a little while, there, during some family stuff, and made a pretty impulsive decision or two. Thor was one of those, and I honestly don't regret it."

"Ooh, what else did you do? Get a tattoo? Join a cult?"

Phil winks. Tries to, anyway. He mostly just blinks a little out of sync like he's got something in his eye. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The cackle that's surprised out of Dan is not at all an attractive sound, but it makes the happy crinkles around Phil's eyes deepen, so. Worth getting it on tape. He's not even sure that Phil will use this footage for anything.

Dan turns the camera off and slips it back into his backpack so he can fully focus on taking photos of various dogs on his phone. He and Phil migrate to a bench where they don't have to interact with any of the other dog parents milling around.

"God, I love dogs," says Dan.

Phil laughs at him but nods in agreement. "So do I. Well, I love basically all animals, but dogs are the best kind."

"Is it good, having Thor?" Dan asks. "Even though you're busy?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "I mean, do I wish I could give him more of my time? Of course. But having something else relying on me to function has forced me to take better care of myself. I couldn't keep working myself to the bone when I had this tiny thing who needed attention and, like, proper routine."

"They do say that having animals is good for your mental health," says Dan. "Maybe the routine thing is part of why."

"Not to mention the unconditional love." Phil grins and whistles over at a group of small dogs, who all perk up. "Thor, c'mere!"

Thor happily bounds over to them on his stout little legs, and Dan coos when Phil picks him up, sets him in Dan's lap. The dog seems fine with this development, giving Dan's nose a lick.

"Oh, hello," Dan breathes.

"What do you think?" asks Phil. "Is it worth turning down some work opportunities for this little dude?"

"Yes," says Dan. He's petting Thor and feels his eyes start to water when Thor lolls his tongue out in a goofy sort of grin. "Yeah, I mean - I personally still move around too much to get my own dog, but it makes sense for you. If I had a home base, maybe I'd consider it more seriously."

"Yeah," Phil agrees, sounding happy. Then he clears his throat. "Feel free to tell me off, but can I get a picture of the two of you? You're just so sweet with him."

"Course you can," says Dan. "Tag me on Instagram."

When he looks up from scratching Thor's ears, Dan is taken aback by the softness in Phil's expression. It's gone as soon as it appeared, fleeting, and Phil grins as he pulls out his phone. "I just figured you wouldn't want to, like, make this a public thing."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

There are some people who he probably would mind that for. Usually the same people who call him Dan even after he says not to. They just want to seem closer to him than they are in order to further their own agendas.

Phil isn't like that. Dan has known him for only a handful of days, but the man is so genuine in every interaction they've had that Dan doesn't feel like this is put on to gain some kind of audience.

It's fun and easy to let Phil take silly pictures of Dan, teary eyed with a dog in his lap. It's just as easy for Dan to take the phone out of his hand and snap a selfie of the three of them. And it's even easier still to take shots and short videos of Phil rolling around in the grass once Thor has had enough of sitting still. They go back and forth for what might be actual hours, training their phones on each other like they're just regular friends hanging out.

By the time Phil puts his phone away, Dan's stomach is grumbling loud enough for the whole park to hear.

Phil laughs, but it isn't a mean one. "C'mon, I should get Thor home, and you need to eat."

It isn't an invitation to keep hanging out, exactly, but it isn't a dismissal either. Dan is impressed by Phil's ability to walk a line like that, to keep his own feelings on the matter a complete mystery.

As much as Dan would love to spend the rest of the afternoon following Phil around like a puppy, he has to spend some time recharging or he'll hate himself tomorrow.

"Yeah, my leftover Domino's is calling my name," Dan says lightly. "Then I've got to prepare myself for the pure horror that will be tomorrow's interviews with teen magazines, what the fuck, I'm not a Jonas brother."

"Nice teen reference," Phil deadpans.

"Shut up," says Dan. He scratches Thor's little head, looking down at him so he doesn't have to look at Phil's reaction to his probably-desperate-sounding, "We've gotta do this again."

"We do," Phil says, all warm and happy in a way that makes Dan flush pink, bite his lip. "I had fun."

"Me too," Dan admits. He sticks his hands in his pockets so he doesn't reach for Phil, fidgeting with the inner fabric. "Like, a lot of fun. I don't get to do this a lot."

"I figured - and neither do I. Text me when you're done your interviews tomorrow, yeah?"

It's a good moment for them to hug again, probably, but Dan doesn't think he can handle that. The more time he spends around Phil, the harder it is to ignore how badly he wants to feel Phil pressed up against him.

With a promise to text and an awkward salute of a wave, Dan tries to walk away. He only gets a few feet when Phil calls, "Oi, Dan, hold up a second."

Okay, so he's not getting away without another hug after all. Dan takes a deep breath to brace himself before turning to Phil again. "Yeah?"

"You," says Phil, smiling wide, "still have my camera."

Dan narrowly avoids facepalming by digging in his backpack and muttering apologies. Phil just keeps smiling at him. When he takes the camera back, Phil's fingers brush against Dan's wrist in a way where Dan can't tell if it's intentional or not.

"Sorry," Dan says again.

"It's okay," says Phil. He bites his lip, just for a moment, and then waves with the hand holding Thor's lead. "See you around!"

Messaging Phil is the only thing that keeps Dan sane through the next few days of both print and filmed interviews, the same questions over and over, publications dying for a new tidbit of information so they can be the first to talk about it. Dan is used to all of that, at this point, but it doesn't make things any less repetitive.

Phil sends him photos of Thor and chatters about his own day and generally gives Dan something to look forward to. Dan doesn't think he's ever hit it off with someone so quickly.

Granted, Dan hasn't actively tried making new friends since uni. He's an adult now, which means he's got work friends and people he plays MMOs with and a bunch of acquaintances on his Facebook who can't wait to catch up whenever he's in town.

That's not the way this thing with Phil feels. It's just as easy as their day together had been, talking about everything under the sun between their various responsibilities.

They talk about movies and television and video games, where they find that they've got a lot in common; and they talk about music and books, where they find they don't have much overlap at all. But Phil listens to Dan's rant on why Janelle Monáe changed the concept album game and so Dan, in turn, lets Phil waffle on about Stephen King in the middle of the night.

The fact that he has trouble sleeping afterwards is entirely irrelevant.

Dan learns a lot about Phil over these days. Not all of it is good, but nothing makes the festering warmth in Dan's gut start to recede. He's got a crush, and it's getting worse by the day.

"What a cutie," is Jaime's opinion when she sees the photoset on AmazingThorgi that Dan has been tagged in, which includes six pictures of the two of them and Thor at the park.

"He takes crap selfies," Dan tells her in case she wants to snoop Phil's personal Insta.

Jaime quirks her thick eyebrows in a way that makes Dan feel wrong-footed, like she can see directly into his soul. "I meant the dog."

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #dnp fic #words words words #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve

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