#except the last two i just had to retake those caps since the first time i was playing i put all my graphics on low during the end | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

threeletterslife · 4 years

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Cuss Out

→ summary: As a senior in an old, cockroach-infested school, you’d honestly rather die than take a zero period class at the asscrack of dawn. But there’s a quiet boy who sits next to you that keeps you from ditching. He’s kinda cute (although you’ve never really seen his face). Yikes. But as they say, actions speak louder than words, right?

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: this was supposed to be fluff until i realized how fucking funny this whole situation is so now the majority of it is crack | high school!au

→ warnings: profanity as always

→ wordcount: 2.3k

→ a/n: inspiration hit because i hate my physics class and guys this is like my FIRST crack fic on tumblr after having a depressing fic streak 🤭 i hope you laugh as much as i cackled when i wrote this shit

Say you're on your deathbed. Your right leg is already crossing the thin line that divides life and the afterlife; you begin to feel your body succumb to death. But an angel appears. She sparkles, glimmers, and asks if you would like a second chance. You nod your head frantically. Anything to see another day, another sunrise. But the angel says there is a price to pay. She twirls her long, curly blonde hair with a perfectly manicured, dainty finger.

She leans in and you catch a whiff of Bath and Body Works' Beautiful Day perfume. It makes you feel uneasy. You don't trust that smell.

"If you want a second chance, my dear Y/N," she sings, her voice light and feathery. "Then you must retake AP Physics C."

I what???

Your daydream skids to a complete stop and you jerk awake, hands flying to steady yourself and eyes wide in confusion.

You look around your stupid zero period AP Physics C class to see if anyone had witnessed your embarrassing actions. But it looks like everyone else is half asleep—except those crazy kids who are actually taking notes. You breathe a sigh of relief before turning towards your uptight teacher, Mr. Chung. He's droning on about magnetism again, his posture annoyingly straight and voice fairly high-pitched—like he never went through puberty. Honestly, if you hear him say 'right-hand rule' one more time, you might just raise your own right hand and slap the shit out of the nearest person. And that person happens to deserve a good slapping, in your opinion.

She's the pesky girl in front of you that won't stop spritzing her stupid perfume in ten-minute intervals. You swear to the heavens you used to like the scent of Beautiful Day. But now, it makes you want to throw up.

Yes, AP Physics C is the epitome of a hellhole.

What's more, you don't know anyone in the class, which makes everything worse than it already is. You wouldn't be surprised if some kids in the period thought you were mute—rightfully, too, because you've never spoken a single word. Frankly, you don't feel the need to.

God, lecture days are the worst. Mr. Chung yaps on and on about a subject that frankly, you don't give two shits about. You're only taking this to fill up your schedule, anyway. Besides, the only unit you enjoy in physics (electric circuits) is over, which means everything else is tedious and stupid.

You don't know how you're going to survive another few months of this.

Then again, you suppose something does keep you coming to your zero period class every day. It's the only thing that actually keeps you from ditching.

There's this quiet boy that sits right next to you. As a fairly reclusive person yourself, you know shy people don't really catch people's attention. But he does.

Well, you barely even know what he looks like since he wears a cap covering his face or pulls a hood over his head every day. So you can safely say the boy doesn't interest you because of his good looks. He piques your interest because he is weirdly considerate.

You're a zero period class, which means when you come into the classroom, the stupid chairs are set on top of the stupid tables so the janitors can clean the stupid floor. It's such a fucking pain in the ass to have to haul your rather heavy chair back down at seven a.m. in the morning so you can sit on it for fifty-seven instructional minutes.

You've embarrassingly struggled over putting your chair back down for the first month of school. But after that first month, magically, your chair would be put down for you.

The boy who sits next to you would be the only one near your seating row. So you know it's his doing. But strangely enough, your seating row consists of four seats. He only puts down the chair for you and himself.

It's an awfully sweet gesture that doesn't go unnoticed.

And he's been doing that every day without fail since last year.

Honestly, it's your senior year and you wouldn't be too against ditching your zero period class, but he keeps you grounded. You need to come every day to see if he puts down your chair. It's the only interesting thing going on in your life, anyway. College decisions are out, you're completely stress-free and you're only coming to school so the office doesn't report you to your parents.

Come to think of it, you're not even sure what the boy's name is. Jeon... Junook? Joonuk? You've only heard his friends call him by his last name, so that's what you've been calling him in your head.

Jeon.

It sounds kinda dreamy.

Yikes. I cannot be possibly falling for a boy I haven't spoken a word to.

But even the way he makes sweater paws with his oversized hoodies is fucking adorable. And sometimes, his head droops a bit, which means he's dosing off again. See? You have that in common with him. Both of you can't stay awake during Mr. Chung's lecture.

You applaud anyone who can stay awake through Mr. Chung's monotonous lectures, actually. Okay, back on track, though.

You've been keeping your little crush on Jeon to yourself for months. You're sure your secret will stay with you when you graduate this stupid hellhole that they call a school. You can't wait to leave this cockroach-infested high school. Well, you'll miss your friends, a couple of teachers, of course. And you'll miss Jeon too... But other than that, you can't wait to leave.

The sound of Mr. Chung yelling at a fellow student makes your daydreaming come to a halt. You sigh. Every week, that man gives out at least one detention. You figured your best bet to not get one is to not talk at all. It's been working so far, too.

You look over at Jeon to see how he's faring. But his head is on his desk, his arms covering his face entirely.

Must've had a rough night.

You're contemplating whether to wake him or not. Mr. Chung might go on a serious rampage if he catches someone so blatantly ignoring his oh-so-important lecture. You're just about to muster up all your courage to speak your very first word to Jeon—and your first word in the class—when something scuttles beneath your feet.

You freeze.

Oh, fucking hell no.

It is what you think it is.

A big, fat, ugly, winged-ass roach.

It twitches its antennas almost sinisterly, and you scream silently, mouth open in shock. If it flies straight at you, it's game over. You're logging out of the group chat of life.

Ohmygod. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Okay, if you're smart about this, you'll get out of it without a major heart attack. You slowly tug your feet up to your chest, hands shaking and eyes glued onto the disgusting insect.

Apparently, the cockroach does not like being called disgusting in your thoughts. It twitches its antennas again as if to give you a warning signal.

Bitch, you curse at it.

You regret doing that.

The fucking cockroach hears you. And the next thing you know, it's flying straight at you with what you assume is blind rage.

You have no time to think. You scream the first words that come to your brain, "FUCKING SHIT," before nearly falling out of your chair to escape the terror of the fugly cockroach.

The roach manifests itself on your backpack, probably smug about the terror he'd just caused you.

Meanwhile, the whole class is staring at you. You, the quiet, shy girl that some people didn't know existed.

And for the first time, you're able to get a clear look at Jeon's face. His hood had fallen off of his head from the force he had jerked awake when he had heard your vulgar cussing. He's beautiful. His slightly long, curly hair brushes against his wide, doe eyes, and he's staring you down with a shocked look on his face. Your lips part as you examine his features. Oh fuck. I didn't expect that to be under the caps and hoods. And the fact that he's intensely meeting your gaze... You flush, unable to take his blatant stare, you turn away to see your teacher shaking his head at you.

"Y/N. That was unacceptable behavior," Mr. Chung's stern voice yells at you from across the classroom. Your teacher looks a bit shocked at your outburst as everyone else in the room. "We do not... partake in such profanity."

Your eyes grow larger as you stutter, pointing at the cockroach on your backpack. "I-I! Mr. Chung—"

"Detention, Y/N. I'll see you after school."

"I—" you start, fists clenched and eyes watering up with frustration. "I'm sorry, but there was a—"

"WHAT THE FUCK?! THERE'S A BIG ASS FUCKING COCKROACH. HOLY SHIT!"

Your eyes bulge out as you see Jeon of all people yell at the top of his lungs. His voice is surprisingly soft even when he's using it to shriek vulgar profanities. He turns back to grin at you, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Before you can even react to his unthinkable gesture, Mr. Chung begins to yell:

"Jungkook! That is absolutely unacceptable. Profanity will not be tolerated in this classroom! Both of you! Detention after school!" Your teacher huffs. Jungkook. You perk up at the sound of Jeon's actual name, a stupid smile blossoming on your face. Bad timing, though. "What are you smiling about? You know what, both of you leave the class until you are able to behave yourselves."

Humiliation tinges your ears red as you hang your head low. God forbid you were being chided by your teacher like you were back in freshman year.

"There's a cockroach on her backpack, Mr. Chung," Jungkook protests, crossing his arms.

Warmth floods through your cheeks as Jungkook defends you.

"Did I ask?" Mr. Chung counters to your utmost disbelief. "Leave your backpacks and get out of class. We'll talk when the period ends."

Fuck.

Jungkook looks over at you, shrugging. He mouths, Oh, well, we tried. Let's go.

Wait, alone time with Jeon Jungkook outside of class? Maybe the cockroach was a sign of luck. Even so, you shudder as you look at the disgusting piece of shit sitting on your backpack. The ugliest luck on Earth, that is.

You maneuver your way around your bag, quickly following behind Jungkook as he struts out of class as if nothing had happened. You feel the eyes of all of your classmates on your back and you would be lying if you said you weren't sweating up a storm.

The moment you're out of the class and away from the windows and door of the room, Jungkook lets out a large sigh of relief.

"That was one hell of a cockroach," he laughs, his nose scrunching up cutely and bangs falling in front of his eyes.

"Y-Yeah," you manage to answer. "Sorry. I think I might've gotten you in trouble..."

Jungkook grins. "Pity. Guess I'll have to spend time with you in detention."

"Do you think Mr. Chung will kill us?"

The boy snorts, casually leaning against the wall and gives you a sideways glance, tilting his head curiously to look at you. "That man's all talk and no action. He hasn't put a student in detention in thirty years... Although he seems like he does every week. I think we'll be fine."

You nod, cheeks turning red as Jungkook stares you down.

"You know, I've been meaning to talk to you for a while," he confesses, smiling softly at you. "But I'm always drowsy zero period, so I didn't want to say something stupid. You really woke me up today. Thanks, honestly."

"O-Oh," you mumble, "yeah, um, no problem. Oh, and thanks for putting my chair down for me every day."

"No biggie," Jungkook grins. "Oh, and by the way, you free this weekend?"

"Uh, yeah," you say, nodding, heart beating as you realize what this is going to lead to.

"Good!" Jungkook exclaims. "I've always wanted to take you out sometime... Is this Saturday okay?"

You nod, too shell-shocked to speak. Turns out the shy boy isn't so shy at all. He'd been quiet because he was tired.

"Great!" he says, clasping his hands together.

The rest of the conversation flowing nicely. The two of you are really getting to know each other. And you find that your instincts had been very accurate—this boy is godsent.

When the bell rings to signalize the end of zero period, you're honestly a bit disappointed. For the first time, you wish your zero period dragged on longer.

"Well, it was so nice getting to you know," Jungkook says as he waves his phone. "I'll text you the details about our date later!" He begins to walk backward away from you, waving.

You watch him like you're entranced in a deep, magical spell.

"Y/N?" he calls when he's several feet away from you.

"Yeah?" you answer.

"You know, I didn't know you were such a cuss out!" he says, winking at you. "Would've never pinned you as the type!"

You giggle, shaking your head. "Speak for yourself!" you call back, making Jungkook grin wider. "And Jungkook?" God, his name sounds so right, rolling off your tongue.

"Yeah?"

"You forgot your backpack, silly. It's still in the classroom."

"Oh shit!"

masterlist

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook crack #jungkook fluff #jungkook #bts fanfction #cuss out #i imagined this whole story line in my chem class #this was originally supposed to take place in an ap chem class but then physics whipped my ass more than chem so #i kinda laughed writing this #i'm kinda lame

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scarlettswxtch · 5 years

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HEARTBREAK HOTEL

Pairing: Bucky x Reader / Steve x Reader

Description: Set in post-civil-war. The Avengers have been back together for a while now, you return to the compound after Tony asks for your help on a mission. After months of being MIA, you haven’t seen your team in a while and two certain super soldiers are who you’re dreading to see most.

Prompt: “After everything I’ve done for you!” / “That I didn’t ask for!”

Word count: 4,979 (omg)

Warning: ANGST ANGST ANGST™️, all my fics are intended for 18+ readers

A/N: Firstly, Whew! This was the first ever angsty fic AND I've ever written and damn if I didn’t cry a bit. I kinda like how it went so...I may make this a mini-series? Let me know what you guys think and I’ll get to it. Secondly, I such at summaries so I’m v sorry lol.

This is for @moonbeambucky’s 5k writing challenge!! The prompt is above :) again, congrats on your milestone Tara, darling ❤️ and thank you for letting me participate, it was super fun to explore the angsty side of fanfiction with that lil prompt :))) I know it’s from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend which is a comedy show but, I felt like writing something a little dark and sad hehe, hope you don’t mind + i hope you enjoy it ✨

Also a side note - I got my info about Aleksander Lukin from here if anyone’s wondering.

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Listen for the full experience •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Song(s): Rebekah - Jack Vallier for Bucky x Reader / Girlfriends - The Academic for Steve x Reader

Softly splashing water droplets hit the car windows as you were driven onwards. The skies are overhung with a blanket of grey, so much so that you can barely tell the difference between the sky and clouds. Despite car rides feeling tedious, the rain is commonly calming - you watch raindrops race down to the windows. The occasional wave of a puddle can be exciting, but right now you’d rather be outside in those puddles than stuck in this car.

It was almost midnight, Tony had called you 5 hours ago, pleading. His voice unusually tired - worn, even. As if he’d been yelling for hours. The team needed your help for a mission and you went despite the circumstances - greater good and everything. Your eyes closed over.

“Honey, come on...it’s - we can’t do this without you” Tony was using his soft voice. Tony never used his soft voice unless it was serious. You heard the helpless plea behind his voice and you faltered.

“Is he there?”

“Who?”

“You know who Tony” you clipped, impatient. You knew he would be, but you needed to hear it. This was pathetic and your heart sped.

“He is...but we can arrange-“

You cut him off. “No. Send a car for me, I’ll be there.” And with that, you cut the line off.

The car came to a sudden stop and your eyes fluttered open. “Is here ok, Miss?” The driver asked.

“Here’s fine, thank you” normally, you’d accompany your gratitude with a smile. But, not tonight.

It was still raining as you stepped out of the car. You didn’t want to move, despite the feeling the rain soak your hair, clothes, shoes. The sunset was long gone, leaving only a starless sky. Puffs of grey cloud had swooped into the air like an armed patrol and had surrounded the moon from all sides. There was nothing more that it could do but sit and wait for itself to be completely engulfed by its attackers, you couldn’t help but relate to that. The compound loomed before you and you wondered what level of hell you were in.

“Kid! What the hell? Are you trying to get sick?”

Tony appeared in front of you, snapping you out of whatever daydream you were in. His arms encircled you and you found the strength to hug him back.

“Cmon, let's get inside before we both freeze,” he says, all gentle as he guides you to the hall. He has both his hands on your shoulder, watching you with carefully. His face flickered with something joyless. “Teams missed you, honey.”

A soft, pained smile took over your features and you squeezed Tony’s hand despite yourself “I’ve missed them too,”

That unspoken question lingered in the air ‘Why won’t you come back?’ ‘What can I do to make it better?’. You hadn’t seen most of them in months, except Natasha and Wanda. They were your girls. They weren’t simply good friends, they have become part of your soul. When life became a storm they were the boat that kept the briny water from entering your lungs. They were love when you needed it and you thanked them with all that you were. Yet the storm wasn’t over; the winds raged, seeking to crush what was left of you.

You cleared your throat. “Let’s not keep them waiting then,” you said, uncharacteristically cheery. Tony saw through it but he said nothing.

You began walking, eyes flickering from wall to wall. This compound that was once your home felt like nothing but a stranger to you. You felt tears prick at your eyes and you blamed them on the vases of blossoms which gave off a cloying scent that made your eyes itch. Denial is a great thing.

“Ladies first,” Tony said as the elevator doors opened. You stepped inside despite your body screaming for you to flee. Tony grabbed your hand, you hadn’t realised you were trembling so much. You looked at him in silent gratitude as he drew small circles against your wrist, calming you as each second passed. The tough girl act never did convince him.

It was shortly after the battle between Cap and Tony. You were certain Stark would never forgive you for siding with Steve. Yet, you were surprised to find out how he’s done everything he could to keep you off the files, keep you off Ross’ radar. Nobody would ever know you were part of the whole thing. For all they knew, you had been helping Pepper with overseas business in Australia, oblivious to the circumstances back home.

Your heart swelled when you found out. Tony was like a father to you, always had been. That’s why it broke your heart to fight against him. He knew it was for love, so he forgave you for your blatant naivety. His little girl, “Always so easily fooled,” He had told you as you stood at his doorstep, eyes brimming with tears as you told him everything, told him how he was insufferably right from the beginning.

“You want me to kick his ass?”

You shook your head, “I just wanna come home”

He took you in as if you’d never left.

The elevator doors opened and you stepped into the conference room, eyes downcast - too afraid to see your friends. You could feel every pair of eyes watching you, glued to you. Your eyes shot up and your gaze instantly connected with the man sitting at the head of the table, all beautiful and strong like he’d always been. His eyes were the ocean, so full of life yet so uncertain. You remembered how his blue-green hue carried his emotional currents, before you could breathe you would always drown. Except this time they were blank, the warmth they once radiated replaced with betrayal and hurt - your heart clenched. Oh, Stevie. God, you wondered if he’d ever forgive you for disappearing like that.

You wanted nothing more than to run to him, have him scream bloody murder at you as you wrap your arms around him - pouring out those words that perpetually lingered in your mind, forever unsaid: “It's been forever and many days since we last spoke; I'm sorry. In this time we have become new people, yet at our core we are truly the same. In all honesty, I need the asylum version of friendship more than I need air, water or food. I need to be sheltered and nurtured until my shattered soul has repaired enough to function and give love into the world. I love you either way, yet I am asking with my heart in your hands, if you will be the harbour in this storm that has come to my shores.”

He looked away from you, jaw clenched. The room was unbearably quiet and you dared not look towards the icy blue gaze which pinned you down, his features working with a dilemma of his own.

You realised the room only had half the team. Nat, Wanda, Sam and Clint were missing. That left the room with Steve, Tony, Vision...and Bucky. Tony must’ve sensed your confusion because he filled you in seconds later, “We sent a team out to check a HYDRA base in Rio. They’ll be back tomorrow morning”. Great. Just your luck. You had hoped at least Sam would be around. Sam was the perfect friend and he would at least be able to distract you.

You nodded and took your usual seat near Steve. You could see him tense, clearly uncertain about your proximity.

“It’s nice to have you back,” says Vision from across the table and you smile at him warmly in thanks. Bucky was beside him and you could feel his gaze on you- you could feel it from the moment you stepped in the room and how it hasn’t left you since. You didn’t look at him. Fucking hell, the room couldn’t feel tenser if it tried.

Tony clapped loudly to get everyone’s attention “Alright kids, here’s the deal”, he begins, a small remote in his hand as the projector flicks to an image of a man in his middle 40s. You hear an intake of breath from Steve and Bucky’s metal arm shift in what you could only guess was surprise and discomfort. “Cap and Tinman should be pretty familiar with this guy,” Tony says. You studied the screen - he was attractive for his age, to say the least. Salt and pepper hair, dark blue eyes and olive skin now slightly wrinkled with old age.

“Aleksander Lukin, owner of Kronas Corporation, born in the Soviet village of Kronas some time in the 1930’s” Tony continues and you frown.

“1930s?” You asked, “Wouldn’t that make him-“

“89? Yeah, it would. We can only guess his slow ageing is a product of HYDRA’s serum experimentation. Lukin's village was used by the Red Skull as a base of operations during the Second World War. Soviet troops attempted to retake the town, Rodgers assisted them but Lukin's mother was killed in the course of battle.”

Tony flicks to the next image “Vasily Karpov, took Lukin under his wing. We sent Romanoff out to Russia to investigate further after Karpov was killed. Turns out Lukin was left in custody of a large cache of special projects developed over the decades, including the Winter Soldier.” You saw Bucky clench his jaw from the side of your eye. Your instincts wanted nothing more than to reach over and comfort him, but you remained still.

“He sold some of these devices to the highest bidders to raise funds. Some of those weapons went to A.I.M, which was taken town 3 years ago, courtesy of yours truly. Lukin has been under the radar until a few days ago when we got some intel that he’d got his hands on the reality-altering cosmic cube.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y take the wheel,” Tony said, and the projection of the cube appeared. It was small and somehow looked like it was made of glass and marble.

F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice took over the room. “The Cosmic Cube is thought to originate from space. It seems that it is a living being in embryonic form. It contains its own consciousness, seemingly patterning after the consciousness of an unknown being.“

“Thank you darling” Tony tells F.R.I.D.A.Y as he points at the projection “That’s what we’re looking for”

“The entire time we knew the Red Skull all he wanted with that cube was to rule the world. Wouldn’t put it past Lukin to want the same” You heard Steve say - he was using his serious ‘Captain America’ voice “It is absolutely imperative we get it off him” he finishes and your eyes lift to Tony.

“What’s the plan?”

“You are,” He said and you lifted a brow. “Luckily for us, Lukin has a soft spot for gorgeous women. It’s absolutely essential you distract him by whatever means necessary,”

You pursed your lips “Why didn’t you get Natasha to do this?”

“Natasha’s high profile, ever since the whole Accords thing, everyone knows her face.”

You nodded and Tony continued. “This is a highly sensitive undercover mission. We got some information a few days ago about a gala being held in honour of Lukin, to celebrate the firms ‘biggest milestone yet’. We can only guess they mean the Cube.”

Tony turns, flickering the screen once more as an aerial view of an incredible large castle comes into frame “Gala’s being held at one of Lukin’s residences. I had F.R.I.D.A.Y do a scan of the building and turns out there’s an underground facility. Heavily guarded, heavily supervised.”

Tony throws Lukin’s mission file at you “Learn that like your life depends on it. We can’t have any slip ups” you nodded, slightly offended. You were one of the best master spies in the game. You and Nat were absolutely unstoppable together. There was nothing you weren’t good at; martial arts, acrobatics, expert marksman, hacker, interrogator, pilot - were all in your resume. Nick Fury wouldn’t just hire an idiot.

“I assume this isn’t a one-woman mission?”

“No. We wouldn’t just send you there alone,” Steve said.

Tony’s lips pursed “Tinman and Steve will accompany you to the gala” Fuck, you cursed inwardly. Nothing could be worse than that information. “Nat and I will be on coms back at the Quinjet in case you need backup.”

Tony waved his band at you and Bucky “I know things haven’t been peachy between the two of you but it’s important you don’t let emotions get mixed up in this. So, sort it out soon so you don’t fuck up the mission.” You bit the inside of your cheek in anxiety, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you as you stared into the distance, sparing neither of them a glance. Steve twitched in his chair, and you wish he’d reach out and touch you - ease your distress and tell you everything would be ok because he’d be right here. Like he used to. But he remained still, not like you deserved it anyway. You knew this moment was coming but, you had hoped with every ounce of your being that it wouldn’t. Fun fact, kids: deflecting does nothing but postpone the inevitable.

“Alright. Class dismissed” Tony said and with that, you grabbed your file, shot up from the chair and left the conference room faster than lightning.

This is how it goes: everyone’s got a bone to pick. You had one to pick with yourself when you decided to fall for James Barnes. Falling was definitely the easy part. Yes, it was like bliss - sometimes, you wanted to reach up and grab onto something to stop yourself from plummeting but, you grasped thinning oxygen instead. Now you’re left here, half dead. When it is your love that kills you, no destruction is more laughably ironic than that of the self.

You remember the moment he broke you - your skin lit with righteous fury and you wondered if this was your punishment for loving someone more broken than you were. You remember how you used to lie beneath him in bed, or how he’d simply look at you from across the room - those icy blue eyes full of tenderness yet so void. You knew he’d break you, yet you loved him anyway. Your mother always told you how you could never love someone unless you love yourself first. Total bullshit. You’ve never loved yourself, not really - but him? Jesus, you loved him so much you forgot what hating yourself felt like.

It was almost 2am now as you stood outside the compound’s balcony. The rain had stopped and left wet puddles along the glass floor - you were barefoot and a cigarette was lit between your lips. You tilt your head, gazing upward, eyes more open than they can be in the fullness of day, not looking at one star, yet somehow seeing them all at once.

“Doll?” You hear from behind you. You didn’t jump at the intrusion in your quietness because it was expected. You said nothing, your back was turned to him and you continued to stare into the abyss of the dark landscape beyond the compound. The sound of his boots was accompanied by tiny splashes of rain puddles as he made his way towards you.

“Look at me,” he said - Bucky’s voice was rough yet velvety at the same time - you wondered how someone could sound like they could kill you and offer your body the most gentle touch at the same time. Your head involuntarily moved, your eyes meeting his after many months and you blinked. Even in the darkness, his eyes were seriously blue. Almost sickeningly blue - full-on Prince Charming, field of cornflower, perfect, cloudless sky blue. Someone should name a crayon after the guy.

You blew smoke out of your lips, lifting a brow in question mostly because you had no words to say.

There was a half-empty ache in your soul as Bucky watched you, his mouth dry as he watched you move. He wondered what it would be like to kiss you again, your blossom-soft lips sweet on his, always glistening with madness and love-sick desire. The memory was almost enough to make him smile. He knew you only smoked when you were anxious, stressed, unsure of what to do with yourself. He’d always find you right here, looking at nothing as you contemplated everything. He missed that, just finding you in places even when he wasn’t looking. Bucky reaches over and tenderly plucks the cigarette from between your lips, crushing it with his foot. You looked at him with cheeks stained with tears you didn’t even realise were there. His heart breaks a little and he can’t help but think he’s too late and you’ve lost your way and all that remains is you and him and this hopeless tragedy all lovers leave behind.

“Sweetheart I...” he began, his hand reaching for your face as if touching you could wipe away all the pain and make it all okay again. It probably could, your mind said and you hated yourself for that.

You flinched away from him as if he were hot scorching fire and he dropped his hand “No Bucky. Don’t fucking touch me,” you spat. You were angry. Angry because being angry was better than tears, grief or guilt. You gripped the balcony railing tightly with one hand despite the fact that your palm was sore and burned. Your nails dug deep into your other hand, almost enough to draw blood. A tear rolled onto your cheek, but you didn't care; you had to stay focused. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other”

“Really? Cause the way you’re acting right now tells me somethin’ else doll,” he stepped closer to you “We need to talk it out.”

“The way I’m acting?” You scoffed “What exactly were you expecting? Did you want me to throw myself in your arms, kiss like you never did a thing?” you closed the space between you and looked at him like he was venom “I don’t know about you baby,” the last word came out like poison and Bucky’s jaw clenched “but I don’t think I can ever do that again”

No, you certainly couldn’t. You convinced yourself you couldn’t -, especially after everything.

It hit your hard when he did it. His words like nails and hammers breaking your heart apart. You had been on the run with him, Sam and Steve for months. The first day didn't even feel real. A nightmare come true, maybe. You found yourself waiting to wake up. But that never happened. You cried and cried to Sam, told him you needed to go home and he helped you readily. Your Sammy, he was always so sweet, a big joker who did everything for you without question. He got you to the airport, saying nothing to Steve and Bucky. He protested at first, uncomfortable with the idea but you knew Steve would try to convince you to stay, make things work. He’d probably be able to - you always did have a soft spot for those baby blues.

When you arrived at Tony’s doorstep, he was there for you but you never felt so alone. Completely, utterly alone, without him to comfort you. A million questions rushed to your head: “Who will wipe away my tears now? Who will hold my hand? Who will surprise me with hugs from behind? Who will tell me they love me and call me beautiful?” Not him. Not anyone anymore. You now lacked that someone who had been with me for over a year. That same someone who promised you a forever only to leave when things became too hard. And now he’s gone. Gone like the ink leaving pen. Soon enough he’ll forget about you.

You wanted to call him, ask him: “Did you cry at all? Did it hurt you at all... when you said you weren't happy anymore? When you said you didn't love me anymore? You let me buy you food. You let me drive you home. You let me love you that night. The night before it all. You kissed me that night. You told me you loved me that night. Did you lie? Or were your feelings able to fade so quickly? You're a coward. A coward that I should hate. I should hate you. I should be angry with you, but I can't. I'm worried for you... I wish the best for you. I just want you to have happiness again, even if that means I have to sacrifice my own. I would have done anything for you, you know? I loved you. I wanted to be the very best for you. I was the very best for you, but my best wasn't ever enough to satisfy you was it? Maybe that's what hurts the most.”

You clenched your jaw, your nails digging deeper into your palm as if to focus the pain elsewhere “Some days I can’t stop thinking about you, other days I wonder why I’m wasting my time”

Bucky sighed, his hands running over his face in exasperation “I didn’t ask you to throw yourself in like that. I didn’t want any of it. I didn’t fucking ask you for any of it”

You shook your head in utter disbelief and wondered if he was truly this oblivious “You don’t ask for love Bucky! What the fuck is wrong with you? It doesn’t work like that, it’s give and take with no questions asked. Even a bloody wall would know that”

“I wasn’t built like that and you know it”

You scoff, “you had a life before you became who you are now, surely you remember how it feels like to love and be loved”

His eyes darken “Sorry to disappoint you, sugar, but loves pretty alien to me. I never asked for any of yours”

Your eyes and tone turn bitter and sad: “I gave you all and you gave me shit!” He shrugged as if that meant nothing to him and your eyes sprouted tears which fled unchecked “After everything I’ve done for you!”

“That I didn’t ask for!” he shouts, wanting nothing more than to flee from this conversation. Ironic, since he started it.

Your voice was quiet next, controlled even - almost threatening “You’re a fucking idiot. You never could stand being blamed for something you’ve done wrong, could you?”

“I didn’t do shit.” He growled, “I told you the deal and you stayed with me anyway, your pain is your fucking problem,”

That was the breaking point of your patience. At that moment, you were blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. You reached out and punched him in the face. Your voice rose above the sacred silence as you spluttered words your own mind didn’t register. You went to attack him again but he held you down, pinning your arms behind your back, your face now dangerously close to his. When he looked down at you there was no trace of emotion, not in his eyes or in marks on his reddening face. His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. In that moment you knew he was already far away. Once more you were the enemy. These swings from most loved to most hated would be the end of you. His temper had no greyscale, only the polar extremes existed. You drew in a deep breath, the burning hard stare would last only as long as it took him to think of the most brutally cutting thing he could tear you down with.

His face brightened, just a tone lighter than your own crimson. “I didn’t ask for any of it” he spat. “I told you to stay, didn’t I? Do you not remember me asking you not to get involved?” his hands tightened over your wrists, hurting now but you didn’t show. You wanted him to hurt you, maybe it’d make you hate him better. “But no, you had to fucking follow me to Bucharest. Do you have any idea how exhausting it was to be with someone so fucking needy? No wonder I left you” ah, there it was. So much damage was done when Bucky argued. Every mean thing he'd thought but knew better than to say came flooding out. When he saw hurt in his opponent's eyes he never backed off, only dug deeper, like a hunter at the first sign of blood. Even if it was you.

“This right here, all these emotions? I can’t deal with you, I didn’t want any of this shit. You knew it was too much for me,” your eyes shifted to the side and became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As you blinked, they dripped from your eyelids and slid down your cheeks. You bit your lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from your mouth and his heart sank. His eyes turned apologetic and his mouth began to form words you cut off as you ripped yourself from his grasp.

Your lower lip quivered and words slowly made their way out of your mouth. “You know what’s funny? I can’t even hate you right now. Not even a little bit and that fucking enrages me.” Your veins were full of ice-water now, yet they boiled fervently. You dashed inside, too quick for him to grab you - promising yourself to kill that part of you where he once belonged.

He knew he should’ve gone after you, say sorry and how he meant none of it. A part of you hoped he would. Instead, Bucky stood there silent and unmoving for what seemed like hours and finally, he understood why you liked looking into the darkness so much.

You stepped into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled marble floor. Your mind was in shreds; you’d never get those words out of your mind.

Do you have any idea how exhausting it was to be with someone so fucking needy?

You turned the dial, new and metallic, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening your hair and trickling down your back. Your eyes fell closed over and over, each time showing you the words like photographs:

I can’t deal with you

I didn’t want any of this

Were you needy? Had you been too much? Sudden insecurity took over your body, reaching into to the depths of your mind to uncover every instance you showed him love and twisting it into something bad. He had asked you not to come, he had asked you to not get involved, stay behind and be with Pepper. He did. You should’ve listened. Maybe things would be better now if you had, maybe you’d still be together. But no, how could you have? You were a fool who loved him too much to let him do anything alone. You closed your eyes as if it hurt to look at things.

“Darlin?” you hear from the door, your eyes shooting open. It was Steve. You must’ve been quiet too long because he knocked again “Cmon I know you’re in there”

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves “Go away Steve, please” your throat felt tight and you surprised yourself with the calm, controlled coolness of your voice.

“I’m not leaving until you open up” You sighed in resignation, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. You wrapped a white towel around your form, not caring about that puddles of water your hair was leaving behind.

You swung the door open and Steve stood before you - all righteous and handsome like he’d always been. God, you missed his face; you missed him, every atom of you missed him. "Are you okay?" he asks the question smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through your bones. The low rumble of his voice is comforting despite everything.

“I’m fine”

“You don’t look fine,” he said, eyes roaming over your mascara stained face.

“Then stop looking”

“Cmon darlin’ he didn’t mean any of that. He loves you, I know it - everyone knows it”

You shook your head, scoffing “You can’t actually believe that? Did you hear what he said to me? Did he tell you?”

Steve looked at you apologetically “I heard”. Your lip began to quiver uncontrollably and Steve pulled you close, gently rubbing your arm. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You sink into the warmth of his chest, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, your future within its walls seems a little less bleak.

“I’m sorry I left you,” you say, so quietly it was barely above a whisper. Steve pulled you closer, kissing the top of your forehead in what you assumed was forgiveness. “He doesn’t love me,” you said unconsciously, distractedly.

“Cmon sweetheart-“ he began but your head shook against his chest in defiance and he stopped speaking.

“I don’t think he knows how to love anything, Stevie,” you say and Steve’s jaw clenches. He pulls you closer and you wish you could melt into him. “Will you stay with me, please?” you ask and look up at him with eyes pleading; round with unspilled tears. I’m that moment he could’ve sworn there was nothing more lovely in the galaxy - angels would be fools not to damn themselves for you.

“Sure darlin’, anything,” he said without thinking and you slither your arms across his waist, pressing a small kiss on his chest.

“I really missed you, Stevie”

“Me too, doll” he replies, barely above a whisper.

You spent the rest of the night in Steve’s arms, warm and sweet and in this moment you felt like everything would be okay.

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aggresivelyfriendly · 6 years

Photo

First of all, could the banner be prettier? Thanks @dirtystyles

Second of all: I SEE HARRY IN 12 HOURS!!!!! really, if you are reading this and see my goofy ass grin, say HI!!

Third of all, if you are reading and enjoying still, send me a message and reblog!

Fourth, this is an age gap fic, where the lady in question is older, if this is a no fly zone, no worries, switch flights!

~Who Names The Colors~ Chapter 8-Starry Night

“What are you doing here Harry?” Jo nearly dropped her groceries and was thankful that Zoe finally started listening and held onto her pant leg when her hands were full. It was meant to be more when they’re in a parking lot or garage or summat, but Jo was just glad she was listening about it now.

It was a truly unusual day. Jo had woken up that morning to sun. Sun, in middle England, in November.

She’d been in a bit of a funk since she’d run out on Harry a few days prior. She’d made it to her classes of course, but her nights away from department meeting were filled with Zoe cuddles, Netflix and wine binges, plus attempts at going to bed early. Attempts because little sleeping was happening.

She saw Harry everywhere. She usually never saw him at school, and of course, she’d seen him driving in last week, in the car park, and then him walking with some girl and they were laughing and Jo hated it. Later she saw him at the coffee stand - meaning she had to forgo her fix. Which she’d desperately needed, because she’d been seeing him an unusual amount on campus, but it was nothing compared to how often she could see him at her own home.

Every time she closed her own eyes she saw the mysterious green shade of his. In her studio, she saw him shirtless waiting for her and telling her not to say his name while silently cheering for her to scream it. And worst and best were the dreams.

He was most certainly there, and in those she could feel. Jo was having the most vivid dreams she had ever had. The feel of his plump lips against her own was so real in her subconscious, she could actully feel it against her neck, a place his lips didn’t make it to. And she could most certainly feel his knee between her thighs, and his bulge too, which she had only ever felt through cloth.

And those were just the a sleeping dreams. The waking ones were worse. In those, she saw him telling her about his art, and realization dawned during his soliloquy that his woman was Jo too, so he’d methodically undressed her to check he was right and found nothing wanting, no dissimilarities but became obsessed with sketching her angles and rounded bits before touching them. The trace of his pencil was a sound she could hear and the eventual trail of his fingers was like lava devouring streets. It gave her goosebumps, huge ones.

He was a daydream.

A literal one at the moment. Harry looked like all of her mental hopes and dreams on the concrete step that led to her door. His legs bent high, covered in tight dark denim, but the right knee cap showed through and his lanky arms hung off his patellas like a lever ready to launch her into the sunny sky. His hair was up in a bun and Jo loved and hated it. It was so endearing and homey, but she wanted to see the ringlets around his hair. He was a jawdropper in the sunlight.

Of course the sun is out today. It came out because he was coming to her. The sky needed to be sure to set the proper scene for him to ensure that Jo couldn’t ignore him in his true form, sunkissed and well-made. So Jo can no longer run or avoid him.

She had been doing just that for the last several weeks. In class she would coast her eyes anywhere he was not and had created an entire unit culminating in short class presentations for extra credit so that she could sit in the back of the class and not look at him. This was perfect until it was his turn.

Harry followed proper presentation etiquette, like the ambitious student out for a first that he was, but his eyes lit up when they fell upon her, like he was a flame and she was oxygen, fire and what fuels it. Jo watched his presentation and knew he had picked it just to press on her buttons. The ones he had installed and found. She had never dated a creative person.

Not that she was dating Harry, but he knew things about her that went without saying. Things no one else knew and she’d never been able to explain.

Harry was talking about Klimt, about The Kiss. And Jo wished she was water, though she was sure that she was liquid. He had always had a soft spot for gilding, from that first golden sunset, and he was talking about the positioning in the painting like he had experienced it.

“The two are intertwined, for certain and both lovers seem engaged to be sure. But the feminine figure is in a position that indicates that she is unsure or uncomfortable with the goings-on,” he said. “It makes one wonder why she is engaged in the embrace, no matter how beautiful the experience is, as evidence by the setting, the gold, and jewels and halos. Perhaps she feels like she should not be? Like, it is wrong, but undeniable. So she submits. Her lover seems to accept the submission, because he’ll take whatever she’ll give him. Her hesitance is in opposition to the dreamy moment. This is the moment after, worse than the morning after, because it’s came even sooner.”

He looks like a lightening bug she had seen in a painting before, all aglow with feeling. She doubted they existed, but had been assured by an Amercian painter she had once known they did, and were magic. Why did he have to be magic? Jo thought as she bit her lip.

But it’s when he moved onto his second painting, because his topic was affection and love in paintings, of course, that he really came alive. He was a lightning rod. The entire class was rigid, though Jo is sure they have all seen a Chagall, especially “The Birthday” before. That thing that makes heads turn when Harry walks into a room was amplified while he focused on the blue toned painting.

“You can see here, by the positioning, that Chagall has created a clear imbalance between his figures. The woman is not only facing away, but she wears a look of absolute surprise. But how can she be, if he has gone out of his way to show her his affection, as the flowers suggests. He came bearing gifts and offers even himself.” Harry looked at Jo then and she knows, she knows, she knows, what he is offering. But she cannot take it.

“The kisser is even more interesting and his desperation clear.” Harry might as well have been in the man’s awkward aspect. “He has literally bent in an unnatural position, perhaps bent over backwards, to show his lady how he feels. It makes me wonder what conversations have been had. How has he told her his heart before he got so desperate he had to show her? What made him take the chance? Is she shocked or affected?”

Affected. Jo is still affected. She could feel a tingle on her lips the next morning and she thought for a moment she should get some ice or some lysine, but then it was not localized, but was instead over both of her lips in their entirety. And in her ears where he had first pulled her to him and her back and hip where his hands had landed. It’s especially in her fingertips where she had trailed his perky pecs. She was watching some promo for a superhero movie and had a momentary kinship with the character who had lightening crackling between her fingertips. The girl had looked afraid. Jo could relate.

Jo knew he felt something. She could only be surer of her own feelings, which were growing and turbulent as the sky before a storm, or she suspected, the firmament before the opening of a black hole. That was the worry, if she stayed still, and accepted his offerings, be they flowers, or another kiss, or even more damning, all of him, she knew it will rip a hole in the fabric of her universe. She would be sucked into his gravity and there would be other things flattened by the mass of their attraction.

Jo wasn’t sure what or why she knew it. She may have just been afraid. She’d never felt this much, ever, except for about her children, and they could not be a casualty of any other emotion. She was a casualty of indifference or disappointment, but at least her parents chose themselves over her. She refused to chose another person.

Jo had been run over and devastated plenty, but never by someone she was as compelled by as Harry. If he made her a casualty she was not likely to recover. That went without experiencing any more of his gravity. So she gave him an A+, he deserved it, for the kiss and his plea in the form of coursework, but she kept streaking like a comet across the sky so he couldn’t catch her.

Harry had made other attempts. He was very determined, Jo had learned and was impressed. He had turned up at her office at all appointed times. Not that he needed to, he was already there. He was there, holding her hands across her desk, and hugging by the door after he came out to uncovering her smile. Harry haunted her room.

But Jo has been extremely lucky there. Each time he trailed after her to try to catch a moment of her time, he had been part of a group. Lara and Cecilia the first time, who had shared long looks and then insisted he go first, and Jo was sure that was just so they could walk and sit beside him. It made her a little petty and she told them to get their final papers in on time, though they were asking for extensions. She was happy another student had arrived by that time and she brought them in all together.

Harry gestured for Matt to go before him. She wasn’t sure if his mood was obvious to Matt as well, but Jo could feel it. He was madder than a bee whose hive had been shaken. He vibrated the way she heard bees can do to kill off attackers. It was a sight to behold. Incensed Harry was incandescent.

Jo agreed to Matt’s request for a retake on a earlier test when he slyly said, “I told Jacob you were the nicest professor in addition to being the prettiest,” She barely caught it, except that Harry’s back stiffened and his glow stick eyes lit on his classmate rather than where they’d been trained on her. She barely noticed the comments anymore.

“Oh really?” Jo began, “I’ve been trying for the most professional in the yearbooks this year.” She gave Matt a look, and she wanted to laugh at herself. Harry should have been scoffing, because he had evidence of just how unprofessional she could be.

Jo looked at Harry then too, and she wasn’t meaning to spread her rebuttal to him as well, but he looked contrite. And when Matt excused himself like she had rapped his knuckles, Harry didn’t pounce like she thought he would. Like he planned to 10 minutes ago

“How can I help you Harry?” She started after a pregnant pause that must have made it to its seventh month at least. Somebody had to say something.

Harry swallowed, “Professor Smith,” his mouth pinched the words. He chewed them for a second like bitter almonds. “I wanted to ask you which painting you thought I should turn in tomorrow.” She knew that was not what he wanted to ask her. Jo was fairly certain her didn’t want to ask much, more wanted her to listen. But she appreciated that he got it, right then, in her office, where she was his professor. This, they, could not happen. She should have been relieved.

Jo was at least sorry. Though those weren’t the same feeling.

“They were both amazing Harry. I think either will get you a first.” The one she thought was her, that’s the one. “The large one, the amber woman of grains. Turn her in. Though I’m not sure how you’ll manage that.” She almost offered help, but held back, and really, all of her motives were ridiculously questionable in that moment.

He nodded and pinched his lip before getting up to go. Jo allowed her eyes to caress down his back to the skinny jeans he favored, she recognized the pulled back corner on the pocket. Those ones and the ones with torn knees were his favorites. She was watching him at the door when he turned back. His mouth opened, and he made eye contact with her, the words a diver poised at the tip Of the springboard.

Her tongue felt dry and she wanted him to ask, she did, but when he walked out wordlessly, she let him.

So, when Jo came to her home days later after a long afternoon, she was susceptible to the brilliant portrait he made. Harry’s head came up at her voice and made her melt onto the pavement below her. She was sure she was as attractive as the ring of wet near a drain after the day she’d had. Not that it mattered she reminded herself. She should not be attractive to him and anything that could kill the tendrils of voltage that hung around them were needed.

“Arry!” Zoe called and Jo was amazed she remembered him at all. It had been some months since swim. He made an impression. Zoe looked fed up at Jo and pulled at her pant leg until she nodded and ran to him. He hoisted her up onto his knee. God, the nose bonk they exchanged was about the cutest thing she had ever seen. No, that was another reason, any man she dated, had to know she came with a ready made family, had a toddler. That was wholly unfair to someone as young as Harry. Even if he wasn’t put off by Zoe in the slightest.

“Missed you bug!” Harry jostled her up and down. His attention was focused on Zoe, like his attention always focused on whoever he was giving it to. So unfair, but Harry was better than Zoe’s own dad with her, by miles.

Speaking of, “Hey loves, we need to get in the house. Daddy is coming.” She faked excitement in her voice. “Remember baby girl?” Zoe gave her a dead eyed look and Jo couldn’t exactly read Harry’s, he looked like a shuttered home, all prepared for a hurricane.

She hoped it was nothing so dramatic. She moved her groceries while everybody got themselves up. When Jo reached the door, Harry took her groceries and her bag once she found her keys and stepped off the step she would never be able to unsee him on.

Jo got them inside and Zoe made a run for the toy that she wanted to show Harry, was full of plans about her upppets. The air stilled and warmed now that she was in the kitchen, in the hearth and heart of her home with him. He’d always been part of their lives, now he seemed to belong here. Jo wanted him to belong here.

She shrugged that off, with a physical motion, “How can I help you Harry?” He didn’t respond, though she could hear him breathing behind her.

Jo turned with eyebrows raised to Harry looking at the floor. At the sight of her toes, he looked up, first at her, then the ceiling. “You said it Jo!” His toes clenched. “If you didn’t want me to…. I told you where I was at….and you said it. Then you kissed me like that. Like that, Jo! You ca….” he stopped and squared his shoulders. She could see the muscles at his temples flexing.

“Har—H!” She really didn’t have a defense for her self, but he seemed so upset and she hated it.

“How could you kiss me like that and then run? Avoid me like you have? You, like, Jo,” her name was a shout, maybe not in volume but emotion. “You cannot fake that feeling, I can still feel it! And then mess me about. I tried….I tried to stop myself for ages, and then you kissed me and gave me all this hope and confirmed everything I could feel between us, and you said it….You said my name, Jo….then you took it away.” He pulled out a chair and collapsed into it then, like he’d been holding his breath waiting to tell her all this and needed a rest now.

“H,” Jo started when Zoe came back into the room and with her newest acquisition, a collection of finger puppets that fit perfectly in her sweaty palms. She rarely relinquished them.

Zoe climbed into the chair Harry had become a broken doll into and laid them out for him. She was chattering on about them and Harry was faking a smile for her. It slowly grew, and Jo felt like shit, or gum on the bottoms of a shoe. She’d made him sad and Zoe was cheering him up with little girl magic.

She didn’t mean to mess him about. She couldn’t help herself. She needed to be better, the space between them was the problem. Jo needed to be all in or out. Out, she needed to be out, anything else was emotionally irresponsible.

She watched Harry put three puppets on his fingers and then four on Zoe’s and she was emotion. Big ones and little ones and all the hope between them.

When the knock sounded, she hurried to the front door with relief. It also made Jo so happy Colin went back to the front door so quickly after he moved out. He did not have back door privilege. She smoothed her hair and then realized she couldn’t be fucked to care. Her bun-and-mum day attire would have to do. The bigger deal, was she was not ready for him. No bag of extra clothes for the accident Zoe seemed to reserve for Colin, though Jo suspected he just didn’t pay enough attention to her to see she was wiggling. Jo hated sending her off, the man was too selfish to be trusted with a child.

This is why it sucks to make a baby with someone not up to the task, she supposed.

“Hey Colin.” She moved back so he could come in. “Took a while to get shopping done. She’s not ready.”

“Where is the little goblin?” Jo hated that nickname.

Colin frowned at her face and she figured it must show. Or there was something on there. She waited until he looked away to wipe it. She didn’t want to show her belly to him, not ever again.

“Oh hey Henry,” she heard Colin say flatly as she came into the kitchen. Zoe was still sitting on Harry’s lap happily, she had moved from playing with her puppets to his rings and she had yet to notice her dad. Jo was ashamed she liked that.

“Hey goblin!” Colin tried to get Zoe’s attention, but she was playing with a pretty carved rose ring on Harry’s finger. Jo saw a flash of a smirk on Harry’s face. “Oi, kiddo, you gonna say hi to your old dad?”

Zoe looked up then and shyly said, “Hi” then made herself smaller in Harry’s lap.

Colin looked at Jo, “Is Ethan home then?” She must have looked puzzled because Harry spoke. And his voice raked over coals.

“Nah, Jo called me just in case, she has a department meeting she has to make, needed a Plan B I guess.” And Harry shrugged like it was no big deal, but Jo was delighted that he knew how often Colin put other things above visitation and left Jo in a lurch, and that Colin knew he knew.

Colin’s usually bland face had some life in response to that, he looked like he’d eaten a lemon. “She ready to go then?”

“Yeah, just let me pack her a bag.” She turned to go and felt every eye on her. Zoe’s was the greedy gaze of love only a toddler feels for its mother, Harry’s she imagined as soft and appreciative, like he looked at an art piece he liked. And she had no idea what Colin’s was. Funny that the man who was her husband was the greatest enigma in her home right now.

“Jo, I like your trousers. Nice fit!” She heard from behind her and looked back, because she knew that tone in Colin’s voice, but it had been absent since her bump popped. She just had on leggings, nothing special or even clean, probably. Jo looked back to be sure and he was giving her that salacious eye that she had craved when she was in her second trimester heat and he’d ignored her needs. She wanted to slap him.

Harry cheeks were red and his jaw was clenched. Thankfully, Zoe was still on his lap. She had better hurry. Jo extended her arm and made sure to keep distance between her and Colin.

While she was in Zoe’s room, Colin had wrangled Zoe onto his hip and he looked like a giraffe in a Tesco for all his comfort. Harry was standing as well, by the door, but didn’t look like he was going to leave until Colin was out of the door.

“I put some extra clothes in there. In case and her pj’s if you think it’ll be later when you bring her back. Then I can just get her in bed.”

“You can change her when she gets back.” Colin deflected and Jo squeezed her fist to keep from telling him that would disrupt her sleep, that should be obvious.

“She’ll prolly just stay asleep if she doesn’t have to be changed though mate. It worked last time Jo got in late with her and I was here with Ethan,” Harry chipped in.

“Think I’ve got it, mate.” Colin looked down his ever so slightly crooked nose at Harry. The younger man stood up to his full six feet and looked at Colin squarely.

“Just seemed like common sense, courtesy, is all.” He shrugged like he couldn’t care, but Jo could kiss him. She wouldn’t, not again, but she wanted to.“Professor, I’m gonna send you a picture of my final submission later, ok? I’d really value your opinion.” That last bit was said with subtle, but detectable sauce.

“Sounds good Harry. You’ll get a first, no doubt!” She smiled to him and reluctantly watched him go. Their conversation was not finished, but he seemed to know she had met her limit today,with Colin and all. Was to considerate of her to force her into more discomfort.

Jo got Colin out the door and fretted while she did grading until he made it back with Zoe three hours later, right on time and in pajamas. He had some shame it seemed. Harry bolstering her in that situation had her smiling as she went to sleep. He was a good person to have on her side.

Late that night, she woke up to a buzzing phone. It was a picture of a night sky, with womanly shapes within the celestial bodies against a turbulent sky.

I know she is everywhere, but tonight I can’t quite find her. Read the accompanying text.

@bleedinglove4h and @nocontrolforlouis-where would I be without you?

#harry styles #harry Styles fanfiction #harry Styles fanfic #harry styles alternate universe #harry styles au #who names the colors #wntc #chapter 8 #starry night #painter au #art fic #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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trentteti · 5 years

Text

How Many Times You Can Take the LSAT

This morning, everyone who’s registered to take the LSAT got some news that could affect how they plan to take the LSAT and apply to law school. Those folks found in their inboxes an email from LSAC, titled “Test-Taking Limit Policy,” which announced, perhaps unsurprisingly, a new test-taking limit policy for the LSAT.

You’ve maybe received this email and learned about the new policy already, but just in case you haven’t, or if you’ve already forgotten it, or if you just want to hear it from us, for whatever reason, here’s the gist of the new policy:

•There’s going to be a limit on how many times you can take the LSAT. This wasn’t the case for the last couple years (more on this below). But this limit goes into effect on the September 2019 test. It’s not retroactive. So even if you’ve taken literally every LSAT over the past couple years, none of those exams are going to count against you, for the purposes of these limits. Only the September 2019 exam, and all exams thereafter, will count towards the numerical limits LSAC is imposing.

• The main limit — and the one that’s going to affect the most people, I assume — is that you can only take the test three times in a given year. And remember, LSAC lives in some alternate reality where the “year” goes from June 1 to May 31. So you can only take a test three times in that timespan. And whenever we refer to “years,” moving forward in this blog, remember that we’re talking about LSAC’s made-up year, from June 1 to May 31.

• You can also only take the test five times over a five-year period.

• Finally, now there’s a hard cap on how many times you can take the LSAT in your life. You can only take the LSAT seven times during your life. I believe this is the first time there’s ever been a lifetime cap on the number of LSATs anyone could take. From that perspective, this seems kind of draconian, but only until you remember that taking the LSAT seven times is a fate you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

• Finally, there’s a limit that really only affects the most show-offy of LSAT instructors: if you get a 180 you can’t take the LSAT again for five years. This is the only limitation that’s being applied retroactively.

• There’s also an appeals process, for test takers who believe their special circumstances warrant an exemption to the any of these limits.

For those of us that follow this test closely, this was a pretty surprising move. Pretty much everything LSAC has done in the last few years was to make the test more accessible — most notably increasing the number of test dates per year. In fact, when a Reddit user got wind of these limitations and posted them to the popular law school admissions subreddit, much confusion ensued (in fact, the email from LSAC today suggests that LSAC sent the email because of ensuing the internet scuttlebutt).

But it’s important to remember that test-taking limits are the historical norm for the LSAT. A lack of limitations was the exception. For years, LSAC’s somewhat-confusing rule (because, of course, they make the LSAT, which knows no other kind of rule) was that you couldn’t take the LSAT more than three times in a two-year period. So if you had taken the December 2016 exam, then the February 2017 exam, and then June 2017 exam, you would have hit the three-test limit. Meaning you’d have to wait until 2018 to take the LSAT a fourth time.

Then, in May 2017, LSAC lifted that limit. From 2017 until September 2019, to quoth Cady Heron, the limit did not exist. So for two years, you could take the LSAT as many times as you wanted. Just be a real LSAT glutton, if that was your thing. In September 2019, that will no longer be the case. So the limitless LSAT will be just a two-year footnote in the long and storied history of this exam.

Why is LSAC imposing limits again? Well, we don’t know yet. It’s seems a bit counterintuitive, since more tests would mean more money in LSAC’s coffers. Maybe law schools weren’t quite sure what to do with applicants who had taken the LSAT five, or six, or seven, or eight times, and requested these limits. Maybe LSAC heard complaints that a lack of limits disadvantages lower-income test takers. The test takers who retake the exam earn scores that increase, on average, by one or two points; so, theoretically, a well-funded test taker could steadily creep their score up by retaking the LSAT a bunch of times, while a test taker who lacked the means to take a $200 test multiple times could not.* Maybe LSAC decided they have all the money they need. Who knows? It’s all conjecture at this point.

*If you’ll allow me to engage in a bit of editorializing on top of what is already pure speculation — it seems incredibly unlikely to me that many well-funded test takers can actually do this. While there is data that test takers average a score increase from their first test to their second, there isn’t any data — data LSAC made publicly available, at least — that a similar increase occurs from the second to third test, or from the third to fourth, or so on. But it was a theory posed on the aforementioned Reddit thread, which suggests that there is at least a perception of unfairness, which maybe incentivized LSAC to impose these limits.

There are a few other things we don’t know yet, and can only speculate on. For instance, in the old limit policy, tests in which you canceled your score didn’t count against the limit. We don’t know if that’s still going to be the case moving forward. We don’t know what the appeals process is going to look like. LSAC has promised clarification, so hopefully they’ll provide some answers soon.

But, in all, this shouldn’t change much about your plans regarding when to take the LSAT, and how to study for. For time immemorial, the best plan of attack is to treat the LSAT you signed up for like it’s the only LSAT you’ll ever take. Choose an LSAT that will allow you two-to-four months of intensive study, and then do your best on that test.

These limits should only be considered when you’re thinking about retaking the exam. If you decide to retake the test, that’s OK. But before, people would usually just choose to take the very next LSAT. Partially because if that one didn’t work out, they could take it again without worrying about a cap on the number of times they could retake. But now, with a limit of three LSATs per year, you may want to be more selective. You may want to think about how much time it’ll take you to get fully prepared. You may want to, depending on your circumstances, choose an LSAT that’s a few months down the line, to give you adequate time to prepare. So you can make that test the last LSAT you’ll ever take.

How Many Times You Can Take the LSAT was originally published on Blueprint LSAT Blog

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