#i have had a couple of job offers with a decent pay bump which is still wild to me. you want to pay me WHAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickhembery · 1 year

Text

I have been distracted

Lots and lots has been going on. And none of it was in a place where I thought, “that’s done, I can blog about it now”. But a bunch have finished up and I should try to keep things updated.

First up: I bought a house.

Started house hunting in January, saw a whole bunch of places and learned just how crap the housing market is. Renting means you pay rent. Freehold means you pay a mortgage. Leasehold means you pay rent and a mortgage. The first place I viewed was a maisonette, which means the lower half of a two storey house but no stairs to go up. It had one bedroom and was so small that you couldn’t fit anything in there. It was empty and full at the same time. Other places were in bad areas, bad state of repair, charged to much on leasehold fees for too little service, or were far, far too expensive. I put offers in on a few places but got outbid. Finally I found a nice coach house (flat above garages) and managed to get offer accepted and all the masses of paperwork filed. It all went through in June.

That led to: decorating.

The previous owner left the coach house in a clean state, I just hated his design choices. Paperwork had to be pulled down, walls sanded, many surfaces painted, and several things replaced. There were lampshades left that we thought were nice, until we switched the lights on. Holy crap the horrible pattern of shadows. Those came down and were tossed quickly after that. The kitchen didn’t have a space for a tall fridge freezer and searches revealed that a good under-the-counter fridge freezer basically didn’t exist. So we had to cut some worktop out and move an overhead cupboard. In one of our biggest big-brain moves, the cupboard was moved to an opposite wall, propped on feet and given a work surface to make it a thin low cupboard. The decorating was a lot of work over a long time, and I finally moved in last week. There was a final delay of a couple delays because my broadband wasn’t installed correctly, but everything’s working now.

What next. Let’s go with: Writing the book continues

The same story that I have been working on for four (?) years is still going. I was making good progress up until January when things kind of fell apart. The stress of the house hunting combined with realising that there was a massive plot hole in an entire section of the plot meant I stopped working on it altogether. But I had a brainwave around August time and started re-doing the synopsis of that part. I got the synopsis ready just in time for NaNoWriMo and am bashing out a new draft of it this month. No idea if I’ll get through it in the month or not, but progress is progress.

And lastly, I did a very sneaky thing at my job.

I work in a marketing firm, and am the only person in a 500-person company who does what I do. I’m told that other people are brought in as contractors for other geographic areas that I’m not involved in, but I’m the only on-staff proofreader there is for the firm. Now a while back, maybe a year ago, they started talking about this thing called the Talent Matrix. It was to be a way of formalising and standardising how people get promotions work. As the only one of my kind at the company and basically the beta-tester for the post, I was very interested in seeing how this would work and if I could get a promotion (and a decent pay bump). Well, it finally launched a few months ago, almost unannounced in a meeting I attended by sheer chance. They laid out how a lot of jobs worked and it was all fine and dandy. Except proofreaders weren’t listed in it. I completely lost it. After months of requesting to see it, and I wasn’t even in there. My boss was very sympathetic and managed to get hold of what HR had for proofreaders. They had one job description for the standard proofreader (my title) and it was basically a description of me. I didn’t know what to say. They had no idea what to do with me. Fortunately, my boss had a good idea. She said I should write out descriptions for the Senior and Junior roles. And I agreed. It took some research, some back and forth and a lot of drafts, but I wrote job descriptions for Senior and Junior Proofreaders, and also rewrote the middle Proofreader. And this is the very sneaky thing I did: I purposefully wrote the whole set so that I already fit the description of the Senior Proofreader. These job specs were then sent to several managers for sign off, which they did. Then they were sent to HR for adding to the records, which they were. And then I told my boss that according to the Talent Matrix, I should be promoted. And she agreed.

So now I’m waiting on getting a promotion because no one stopped me from promoting myself. Which is nice.

Lastly, some interesting TV watching. I’ve never watched The Office. Partly because I don’t like the humour of the British version, where they stew in the awkwardness, and partly because of how I felt about my last job, it seemed I’d already lived through what the show had to offer. But for some reason I watched Severance and found it really compelling. That’s the one where people have their memories split, so on the job they don’t know their outside lives, and out of the job they don’t know what they do inside the office. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve got enough distance from my old job now that stories of being trapped in a dull office don’t bother me as much. Part of it is definitely the mystery of the story. I have to wonder what it would be like for me in that job though. Would I avoid depression because the outside me didn’t worry about the meaningless of the job, and the inside me didn’t know what I was missing? Or would I be even worse than I was in real life? I often referred to my last job as a time suck. But to literally look at a clock, blink and see hours disappear would be horrible. Well, I’m glad I’ve got a job I like now.

2 notes · View notes

mywritingonlyfans · 3 years

Text

One Shot with Ethan Torchio // It's a bit Fluffly, Smut and Angsty

prompt: in which, ethan always need/visit you when he's not in tour + casual sex(?) with ethan tying you up so you don't touch him i'm telling you this but isn't a hardcore smut

warnings: it's smut. a fluffly kinda sexy(?)maybe it's just sexy bc it's ethan smut ig fem!reader

(he is so hot. i'm crying all my tears, and that's fucking pathetic.)

Your head hurt, you knew your face was probably red due to your desire to go home and cry, but yet, your friends convinced you to go out for a drink. According to them nothing was too bad that a beer couldn’t improve, you doubted it.

Somehow, you found yourself happy to have accepted.

You didn’t know Ethan was back in town, you briefly wondered why you didn’t know, since he always contacted you when he was near (or at least that was what it seemed to be). Still, you were glad to see him. He was always able to make things better, even if only for a short period of time; which in your case was very short one as he wasn’t yours to have.

Ethan complemented your friends, they were all too familiar to him. He hugged you, giving a small kiss to your head while sitting next to you. Suddenly, you felt like a stronger drink would do you good.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was going to happen in the next few hours, after a couple of years going through that, you knew the time you spent together would always be the same. You guessed that you were able to put his head in place, just as he did with yours; and that's why he always came back to you. You'd never be able to tell if it was luck or mischance.

“Was it too hard to find me?” You asked him.

By now, your friends had moved to another corner. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m glad you did.” You offered him a weak smile. He did the same.

He looked tired, yet deadly cute.

He shuffled his chair closer to yours, letting his leg touch your bare knee. “Not really, Victoria said she called you in the morning, then told me that you intended to visit here for the night,” he mumbled, signaling to the bartender that he needed a beer, and so did you.

“She’s a gossip,” you wrinkled your nose, causing him to provide offer you a nasal laugh that you had learned to find lovely over the years. “But what has been happenin’ in your life lately? You’re good?” You tried to sound casual, but deep down you knew he wasn’t there entirely for you. Something was bothering him, he was looking for someone to rest on.

“Pretty much the same,” he sighed heavily. He wasn’t tired just physically. “We finished the last album, I feel exhausted.”

He looked at you like a lost puppy, watching your face, analyzing if you were in the mood to listen to him, or even if you were okay with having him around. After all, he came to you out of nowhere.

He’d never make you uncomfortable around him, maybe he hadn't noticed that yet. “C’mon, let it all out. I haven’t seen you for too many months for you to deprive me of the details.”

“If I tell you,” he pondered, “ you’ll tell me why you have a runny nose to match your watery eyes?” He poked your cheek, dragging his fingers so he could put some strands of hair back in place.

His seat was now so close to you that you'd be able to rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted to without creating any bodily discomfort.

“I guess life just hasn’t been all that gentle with me lately.” You giggled at him. “I lost my job last week, the same life shit is goin’ on as usual, and when I finally managed to move to a decent place, I’ll now be actually going back to sharin' apartment with strangers, because, y’know, I can’t afford bein’ in there anymore.”

Ethan was quiet for a while, you needed him more than he needed you. Listening to you made him realize how his worries were nothing at all. He knew that you didn't mind sharing an apartment with someone, but the loss of perspective was always tough.

Without further thinking, he pulled you to himself, fluffing your hair and holding you tight in his grip. You didn’t cry, yet it was possible to read your emotions. It was little, but Ethan knew you.

You took your head off his chest while he still had his arm around your waist. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your laced fingers, feeling it slow down. “I guess it’s all happenin’ at the same time, I’m just not sure how to handle it at the moment,” he held your face in his hand, his mouth close to yours as he ran his fingertips over your chin, until his lips were on you.

He was soft and wet, he had the same taste you still had etched in your mind, at that moment it seemed to be all you needed. He let go slowly, distributing pecks on the corners of your mouth, letting his forehead rest against yours.

You two stayed like that for a few minutes and you could bet that anyone who passed by could see how much of a fool you were for him. You tried not to think about it too much, it was better to have little of him than to have nothing. “Ethan?”

“Huh?” He murmured with his eyes closed, giving your lips a tickling sensation.

“Kiss me more,” and then he did. Ethan was holding you in place while your hands intertwined around his neck. You played with the chain of his necklace, savoring the touch of his tongue on yours, focusing only on him while pulling at his hair to hear his soft moans.

It didn’t take long for the bartender to come get your attention. You laughed nervously against him, you were embarrassed because you didn’t even remember where you were, still Ethan seemed untouchable about it. He wasn’t one to be embarrassed over small things like that, at least not with you. The bartender was quite irritated with the two of you and just now you noticed that your drinks had arrived and hadn’t even been touched; he was rightly pissed.

Ethan stood up, lifting you up with him. You looked in your pockets for your money, but then Ethan said it was okay and that he’d pay. You would argue, yet any money left over would be welcome. You held both beers in hand as he paid, thanking the old lady for the service, still feeling your skin burning with embarrassment, and then headed outside to wait for Ethan.

“Are you drivin’?” He asked, laughing at your state of awkwardness.

You bumped into his shoulder slightly, laughing along with him. “I am not, I’m living nearby,” you whispered as he put his hand inside your skirt pocket, bringing you to his side for a walk. “In the apartment that soon won’t be mine… how ‘bout you?”

“Not drivin’, I thought about staying somewhere to spend the night.”

He was close to home, but not that close, it would take about 3 hours to get to where he lives; it seemed plausible that he wanted to stay. “Are you only here because of me?” You risked asking.

“Yeah,” he took his hand out of your pocket and ran it through his hair. “I didn’t think it‘d be a bad idea.”

There was a silence, but it was far from being uncomfortable. “You know you can stay with me.”

——————-

Considering that you were in the process of moving to another place your house was a bit of a mess. Ethan wouldn’t be bothered by that, somehow your instinct of wanting things always in place - aka Monica from Friends - made you wander around the space in an attempt to make Ethan at home.

“What ‘bout the new album?” You asked, dragging one of the boxes away from him. It wouldn’t even bother anyone, but the thought that it would be in the middle of the room while someone was at your house bothered you.

“I don’t really know, I feel anxious about releasin’ it. It’s not that I don’t want to release it or am afraid of doing so, far from that, it's just, I don’t know… ” His voice fell silent, lost in his thoughts.

You turned to him, wanting to ask him what he had said, after all, that didn’t sound like Ethan, you felt as his hands touched your hips, pulling you on his lap. “Y'know I don’t care about your mess, right? Just, please, stop walkin’ 'round the house dragging boxes.” He said with his face close to your neck, hugging you from behind. His warm breath was in contact with your soft skin, providing heat to your body. Well, there was a minimal percentage chance that you were trying to make the place look good for Ethan, just because he made you a little nervous.

“Okay, fine. I’m fine,” you exhaled, turning to face him. He was smiling with his eyes almost closing; he still looked tired, but at least you were improving his mood. “You know you’re good at what you do, Ethan. You shouldn’t worry 'bout those things.” You held on to his shoulders, breaking something that could turn out to be a pity silence.

He squeezed your thigh at the same time as he laughed humorlessly at your words. “I know that. I guess that this is the short time they gave us to finish the album – it was drivin’ me crazy. The album isn’t bad, not at all, it’s honestly very good. Dami did a incredible job, still if it weren’t for the time it could have been even better. That’s crazy how I’m still letting myself get stressed over this, don’t you think?” He vented, moving his hands up your skirt.

“I know it’ll be good, I can’t think of anything you did that ended up bad!” You ran your fingers over his covered shoulders, down to his chest, going to the first open button of his t-shirt. “But if it’s just stress I can help you.”

He lubed his lips, nodding assiduously, putting you properly on top of him. That way, you were stuck to his body, feeling the rough of his jeans along with the zipper against your underwear. You gulped as he held your face, sealing your lips with his. You were relieved he always guided you through that; the leading up part was way better when it came from him.

You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt in middle of sloppy kisses and grips. Running your hand over his belly, tracing your fingers to the back of his neck while moving your hips lightly. You lugged on his hair, pulling him away to catch your breath. You opened your eyes to find Ethan with a deep pink mouth and brown eyes more intense than normal, at that moment you could have sworn that he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You spread his shirt to the sides, sensing your body getting hotter, when Ethan smirked at your rush, managing to hold both of your hands behind you; stopping you in place.

“No need to rush, we have plenty of time,” he clenched you in his hands. You arched your back, breathing heavily at each touch of his fingers on your wrists.

He ran his nose over your neck, placing kisses and bites on the way to your collarbone, leaving wet tracks that would later turn into dark marks.

Your legs ached from that position, the couch wasn’t the best, but feeling Ethan getting hard under you as you writhed yourself against him, made you want to stay there for as long as he wanted you to. It was crazy to think that at the beginning of the day you were sure that the rest of it would be a pure disaster, and now being spoiled by Ethan’s lips your worries seemed to fade away.

Temporary as that would be, you were determined to give him your all, making his and yours next hours one of the best escapes from both of you. Unnecessary to say that you were lost in your own mind by now, craving for having his strands in-between your fingers, wanting him tugged into you furiously, causing you to ache. Your mouth was ajar, your vision was just white dots as he played with your sensitive skin, driving you insane. Ethan paralyzed when his grip became too strong around your fists and you got louder than usual.

“D’you like that?” He did it again, but this time pushing your body backward. He kept his devilish grin on his face, watching you from top to bottom. You bit your lips, containing your noises to yourself. Such an angel in his eyes. “Up, babe. I need to see something.” He didn’t let you answer, not as if he needed to. You stood up in front of him, legs shaking with your head definitely not in the right place. “Undress.” He rested his elbows on his knees.

His face was serious, and you didn’t see any problem in obeying his voice, but perhaps, due to the lack of his body being glued to yours, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I tell you what to do,” He caught you by the hem of your underwear, helping to take it off while you got rid of your blouse. “Especially, when I just got you off my lap, almost unconscious 'cause of some kisses to your soft neck, pet.” He added, drawing circles on the inside of your thigh, smoothly going up to your center.

You felt your breath come to a halt. “You’re just too bossy.” You teased, confirming that your breathing was faulty.

He patted his nose over the damp stain of the fabric, placing a kiss there. “And you love it.” He pecked you a few more times, teasing you by running his fingers on the edges as putting the cloth to the side; never touching you where you needed him.

Almost involuntarily you took hold of his hair, bringing him closer to your core. And then, you understood his previous question, it wasn’t just about not being able to touch him, but also about the power he was having over you.

He cut his actions short and got up, hovering over you. “Tonight, you won’t be allowed to touch me, all right?!” He whispered, tossing your hair behind your ear.

That’d be comical in any other situation, yet with his body and eyes fixed on your frame you felt in his domain.

You nodded, diving into the way he pulled at the hair on the nape of your neck firmly so that you were looking at him. “Go on, babe,” He insisted on having the words he wanted.

“Yes, it’s all right, Ethan,” it was far from all right, you couldn’t do that. How could you go without touching, making a mess of his hair or marking your nails on his back?

“That’s my girl,” he praised you in between sighs.

He was excited while your face was overflowing with nervousness; not out of fear, but out of curiosity. He finished removing his shirt and indicated with his fingers for you to lie down on the couch.

You shut your eyes tight, with his voice echoing 'my girl’ in your mind, Ethan was lugging your wrists above your head as you did what he told you to do. He tied them with his shirt. “Is this hurtin’ you? Are you comfortable?” He tightened it in a knot.

Your head and elbows were on the arm of the couch, only your hands were unsupported. Although you weren’t uncomfortable, it was to be expected that pain would appear the next day; it’d be worth it. “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” You assured him as he knelt beside the couch, running his hands down your torso, making you squirm.

He went down to the hem of your underwear, taking it off with the help of your legs kicking the lace away. “Good then,” he warbled, pattering lines on your pubic hair. “Needy and in your proper place.”

“Bastard,” you swore through clenched teeth.

He grinned, admiring how your breast rose and fell in a quick but punctual rhythm while your hips fidgeted at his touch. You looked like a piece of art he had just created, swollen lips, filled in lovely marks on the collarbone. He found himself in need to concentrate on his breathing while watching you, to control his pulse as he reached his fingertips to your pussy.

“Ethan” you breathed out, forcing your fists. “Go on, please,”

With that, he held your hands, forcing them down and slid a finger inside you. Your lips opened in a sigh and he took the opportunity to kiss you, running his tongue over your bottom lip and nipping it to his mouth, keeping things on a slow pace.

You wanted to hold his hand, make him go faster or be able to pull the locks of his hair until he understood how much you wanted him, but you had no way of doing that, and you knew he was just doing that to provoke you.

His lips traveled over your neck again, this time giving light kisses, blowing air on the soft fresh he had left in there.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said without even opening his eyes, delighting in your skin as he sped up, now rubbing his thumb gently over your bud.

You whispered something almost inaudible that Ethan recognized as his name. He raised his head, coming face a face to you. “Right there, huh?” He asked, focusing on the spot that was blurring your vision.

You groaned. The satisfying delight running through your veins. You closed your legs, wishing you could hold on to his body, but all he did was laugh, shoving his fingers leisurely into you.

“No, no Ethan,” you looked at him properly, thinking that if you hadn’t been with your wrists tied you’d have slapped his chest.

He wiped his hand on your thigh, and stood up slipping his jeans down his legs along with his underwear. You sighed at him, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling to disguise yourself. Not that it was necessary, Ethan was already too much of a show-off when it came to you for your liking.

“You good? How’s your arms?” He doubted, getting on top of you.

He had his hair damp, falling over the spots on his forehead. Some of his locks was glued to his chest and his golden pendant dangled in front of your eyes. For a split second, you though about saying that you missed him, but you were wise enough to know better than doing such a thing.

“If I say that I’m not good. Are you goin’ to untie me?”

He pressed his chest to yours, your body sticking to his since you were both sweaty.

“Not even a chance,” He stroked your neck with his thumb, up and down, with a silly look on his face.

You grunted as soon as you felt how solid hard he was against your thigh, he aligned himself in-between your knees, holding on to your shoulders, and without hesitation he filled you up. Your body tingled and your voice failed, causing a silent moan to slip from your lips. His head fell over the crook of your neck and you could feel how dysrhythmic his breathing was. His warm body along with his breath hitting on your neck added a pleasant feeling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy under him.

“Move Ethan,” you tried to sound understandable, embracing his waist with your legs.

He thrusted deeply in you, leaving a breathed sigh of relief in your ears. You stretched out your arms, tightening your thighs around him. He held the shirt in your hands, preventing it from coming loose.

“No, I wanna touch you,” you whined.

“You will, just be patient, babe,” he squeezed your wrists in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way his body was over yours, every movement and every delicate touch.

He went slowly at first, making sure you were taking all of him before going faster. Once he felt your walls clenching around him, he murmured a breathless 'fuck’, letting go of your hands so that you could finally feel him. You dug your nails into his back, kneading your body against his at the same time as he hugged you.

As you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, with an intense gaze, building you up to feel sexy and wanted.

Both of you were a mess; sweaty and sticky. You felt a tingling ecstasy take all over your body, your toes twitching as you emptied yourself into him. He kept working on you until his body collapsed into yours, filling you up to perfection.

The last thing you remembered was having your fingers entwined in his hair, patting at it slightly as he whispered sweet nothing against your skin; just like a lullaby.

———–-------

You woke up to the noise of the television, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the daylight. Failing to stretch, you felt how sore your body was.

Your eyes searched for Ethan, finding him sitting opposite to you with a lazy smile and a cup of tea in hands, his attention was all on you. Friends was playing on the television, but you doubted he was really watching it.

“Good mornin’ babe,” his husky voice echoed through the room. It was the best thing to hear in the morning. “How’s it? Hurtin’?” He asked when you started examining your marked wrists.

He was fully dressed and although you weren’t, he had managed to get a sheet to cover you.

“Good mornin’. It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you mumbled, scratching your eyes, curling up on the sheet. “How long will you be stayin’ in town?”

“Not long,” he paused thoughtfully. You already expected that he wouldn’t be with you for long, still sometimes you liked to think that it’d last longer than just a few days before he disappeared to another continent. “I need to go home in a few minutes, I’m going to take a flight at night to adjust the final details of the album.”

“Sounds nice,” you wanted to have the courage to tell him how he made things in your life look just right, as if he were some kind of piece missing from your puzzle. “I can’t wait to hear it, hear what your great fingers are capable of.” You ignored your thoughts. He laughed.

However, you truly believed that not saying anything was a wise move.

He lifted a cup from one of the boxes next to him, holding it out to you. “I made one for you too, I hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved the way he made himself at home so quickly. The home that soon wouldn’t be yours anymore. You wished Ethan could remedy your worries for more than just one night.

“Thank you,” you took the still warm drink in your hands, looking at him as if he were part of your decor. “You can smoke in here, I don’t mind that either,” you spoke up. You couldn’t even imagine that he’d have gone without lighting a cigarette all morning.

“The place is all clean, and smells nice. I bet you never lit one yourself, I wouldn’t do that.” He was right.

“Well, y'know that I don’t care about the smell, I just don’t see the need to leave the house impregnated with it.” You explained, remembering that Ethan’s house was a perfect description of that smell, yet you loved his place.

“I know this is going to sound strange,” he started. “But if you can’t find a place in time to live in… you can stay at mine, I mean, you know I am never home and as I’ll be travelin’ you could make yourself at home.”

He said it casually, and you knew he wasn’t lying, if you wanted to he wouldn't even think twice about letting you stay at his.

“No need, I’ll be fine. I do appreciate it though.” you took a sip of your now cold drink.

He bobbed, checking what you thought could be the time on his phone.

“You have to go, I guess?” You asked, your soft voice revealing you didn’t want that.

“I need to,” he gave you a small smile, getting up. “It’s gettin’ a bit late for me.”

“I see,” you went to him, adjusting the sheet on your body, feeling ridiculous for still being undressed. “I guess I’ll see you, right?” You added it while he picked up your stuff on the couch; keys, wallet and the pack of cigarettes. There was no answer for your question.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, heading to the door. “You could come and visit, spend a few days with us. It’d be nice.”

“On tour? Like a groupie?” You wrinkled your nose. His arms wrapping around you. You’d miss it.

He squeezed you into his chest, his tiny beard tickling your cheek. “You know you are much more than just a groupie for me, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer that. He pulled away and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“See ya Y/N,” instead, he kissed the top of your head. “Think about it, both about comin’ to visit and also about needing a place to stay for a while.”

“I’m sure I will, thank you Ethan,” you watched him, from his rumpled shirt to dark circles under his eyes. He’d always have a special space in your heart. “I guess I’ll see ya then.”

>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

taglist ( 'cause someone actually wanted to be tagged, i didn't even force anyone😁): @maybanksslut , @oro-e-diamanti

#maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio smut #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio imagines #ethan torchio fanfic #ethan torchio fluffly #writing #maneskin x reader #imagines #fiction #fanfic #damiano david #måneskin

613 notes · View notes

swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nine)

Summary: (Y/N) and Jack pay a visit to Officer Henry Zhang of the L.A.P.D. and after they’re nearly caught by Chief Sousa, tensions begin to rise.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nine Los Angeles, California (Previous Chapter)

“Ooo turn it up, this is one of my favorites! Oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, how you can love! Oh Johnny, oh Johnny, Heaven’s above…!”

“Ah, geez, not again…”

“You make my sad heart jump with joy, and when you’re near I just can’t sit still a minute…!”

“You know you’re crazy, right?”

“I’m so, oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, please tell me dear, what makes me love you so?”

“Yep, definitely crazy.”

“You’re not handsome, it’s true but when I look at you I just, oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, oh…!” With a bright smile on her face, (Y/N) began humming along to the lively tune and tapping her fingers on her steering wheel; her smile only widened when she glanced over and caught the exasperated look on Jack’s face. “What? I love the Andrews Sisters!”

Jack rubbed his face tiredly, but (Y/N) could see that he was having a difficult time repressing his grin. “I know, you sing along to every single one of their songs whenever they come on the radio. Seriously, I’m gonna have to call up every radio network in the city and get ‘em to stop playing the Andrews Sisters just so I can get at least a little break from the gals!”

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, (Y/N) returned her gaze to the road. “Well, you don’t have a car and since you refuse to borrow one of Howard’s, it looks like you’re stuck riding with me, my music and my singing. In other words, you’d better get used it, Flyboy.”

For the duration of the car ride, they continued to debate about their favorite and least favorite singers and groups; they reached the police precinct before anymore Andrews Sisters songs could play, much to (Y/N)’s disappointment and Jack’s elation. They had arranged to meet Officer Henry Zhang to discuss the result of the L.A.P.D.’s search of Fieldman Family Orangery; since they had no probable cause to search the orangery, Officer Zhang had suggested they phone-in an anonymous tip about a suspected breach in fire safety protocol. That way, the L.A.P.D. – but more importantly, Officer Zhang – would be free to search the premises for any sign of the strange devices meant for shipment. Fingers crossed that the whole thing wasn’t a bust, (Y/N) thought to herself as she parked and switched off the engine before getting out of the car.

“You know, Specs, you’re a pretty decent singer, even if you only ever sing the Andrews Sisters.” Jack remarked on their way up the steps that led to the precinct; (Y/N) snorted in amusement and he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re the first person to actually compliment – well, half compliment – my singing; when I first began working with the Howling Commandos, Dum Dum Dugan used to say that my ‘goddamn caterwauling’ could deafen the entire German army if properly weaponized. As I recall, the other guys got a good laugh out of that one.”

Jack scoffed. “Dugan’s hearing must’ve been damaged from all those ‘Wa-Hoo’s’ he shouted in the war.” She laughed loudly at that; the large man’s deafening war cry was definitely an acquired taste, so much so that during her first couple of months with the Howlies, she used to stuff small pieces of wax into her ears whenever she went on missions with them. They reached the doors of the precinct and Jack was quick to hold the door open for her. “And for your information, that was a full complement I just gave you. You’ve got a really nice singing voice, Specs.”

His unexpectedly kind words combined with his trademark lopsided grin caused (Y/N)’s heart to jolt in her chest and try as she might, it was impossible to keep the growing smile off her face as they entered the building. Once they had checked in with the officer stationed at the front desk they made their way downstairs to Officer Zhang’s brand-new office, which turned out to be the building’s boiler room but with a small desk crammed into the corner.

“Sorry it’s such a tight squeeze in here, this was the only empty room the precinct had.” Henry winced as Jack bumped his elbow hard against the boiler and (Y/N) removed her hat to prevent it from being crushed against the pipes beside her head. The young officer’s frown quickly shifted into an excitement-filled smile. “But I’m the youngest officer to ever get their own office in this precinct, so that’s a plus! Did you guys want anythin’ to eat or drink? I think I’ve got-”

“We’re good, Zhang, but thanks for the offer.” Jack abruptly interrupted as he eyed the boiler beside him that had just made an ominous noise.

(Y/N) smiled patiently at Henry while surreptitiously elbowing Jack in the ribs for his rudeness. “How did everything go yesterday at the orangery? Did you find any evidence that the business is a front for weapons manufacturing?”

Henry shook his head, reaching over his desk and handing her a file; after pausing a moment to slip on her reading glasses, she opened it and began scanning its contents with Jack peering over her shoulder. “You were right, it looked like they packed up shop after your run-in with ‘em last week. I took a few photographs of the place for you guys to look over, though; since you saw it before, you might be able to spot somethin’ I didn’t.”

“The stunt we pulled must’ve really shaken ‘em if they went through all the trouble to pack up and relocate their entire operation.” Jack let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate it when criminals think fast. Any sign of Adam Fieldman?”

“Nope, his old man said he left town on business the other night but couldn’t say where; since you told me to be discrete I didn’t press him for details but he sounded like he was tellin’ the truth.” He gestured to the file (Y/N) was still examining. “I also included anything the L.A.P.D. has on Fieldman’s background, but it’s not much. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to help you guys…”

Hearing the normally boisterous officer sound so downtrodden caused (Y/N)’s heart to lurch; despite how cramped the room was, she managed to reach a hand out to clasp one of his. “You’ve done a great job, Officer Zhang, we couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help us out.” She elbowed Jack again as she gave Henry an encouraging smile. “Isn’t that right, Chief Thompson?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, you’ve really helped us out, kid.”

Henry’s face reddened at their praise, and (Y/N) had to stifle a giggle as he leisurely leaned back in his chair in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Well, if you two ever need anythin’ else you know where to find me.”

They bid the young officer goodbye and as they left the precinct, Jack tilted his fedora on his head and grumbled, “I think that elbow of yours might’ve punctured a kidney.”

“A miraculous feat, considering your kidneys are near your backbone and not your hip.” (Y/N) jokingly retorted, carefully pinning her hat back onto her hair and tucking her reading glasses into her purse as they walked back down the steps to the sidewalk. “Henry didn’t give us much but it’s a lot more than what we had before; that counts as a win in my books.”

Jack shrugged. “I guess so, but have you noticed that our secret investigation isn’t much of a secret anymore? I mean, Stark knows about it, the Jarvises know about it and now this kid’s in on it; who’s next, Samberly? I-son of a bitch!”

Without warning, Jack ripped the file from her hand and disappeared around the corner of the building; before she could move or speak, she heard a familiar voice calling her name and she turned to see Daniel Sousa limping towards her. Her heart hammering in her chest, (Y/N) raised a hand in greeting and silently prayed that he hadn’t seen Jack with her. “Hey there, Chief Sousa! Are you enjoying your lunch break?”

“Not exactly, I had to finish up some paperwork on a joint case and deliver it to this precinct’s Captain.” Daniel gestured to the building with the hand holding his briefcase. “I thought I recognized your car when I pulled up. What’re you doing in this part of town?”

She gave him a tight smile and tried her hardest to stop her hands from nervously fidgeting. “I just had lunch at the diner around the corner. If you’re looking for something to eat later, I’d definitely recommend the chicken noodle soup.”

“I’ll be sure to give it a try,” The chief’s grin faded a little as he examined the steps leading up to the precinct with obvious apprehension. “If I survive these steps, that is.”

“Well, um, would you like some help getting up?”

“So, Agent, you’re presuming that since I’m handicapped I automatically need help doing things?”

(Y/N) felt the color leave her face and all thoughts of concealing Jack’s presence flew out of her mind as she hastily replied, “O-of course not, Chief, I just-”

Her rambling was interrupted by Daniel’s chuckle. “Relax, (Y/L/N), I was only messing with you; I lost my leg during the war, not my sense of humor! And to answer your question, yes, a little help would be appreciated. I don’t have any trouble getting down steps with this thing, but going up? It’s a genuine pain in the ass.”

“Okay, then.” (Y/N) slipped her arm into the crook of Daniel’s before they began making their slow trek up the steps, the clicking of his metal crutch on the stone filling the silence. “Do you mind if I ask you-?”

“-How I lost it?” Daniel finished the question and she sheepishly nodded. “Well, I was a reconnaissance scout in the 28th Infantry and during the Siege of Bastogne, a few of us scouts were pinned down by enemy fire. I got hit in the leg by some shrapnel and by the time the others got me to a medic, there was no saving it.”

(Y/N) nodded again. “I’ve heard stories about that battle. You’re one of the lucky ones, you know.”

That made Daniel grin. “Oh, I know. Peggy never lets me forget it. Somedays it doesn’t feel like it – like when I have to navigate some tricky steps or when Thompson takes one too many jabs at my leg – but when I remember that everything that’s happened to me in the past has led me to her, well…it makes things a little bit easier.” They finally reached the top of the steps and (Y/N) released his arms once she was sure he was steady. “Thank you for the help, but do you think you can keep this under wraps for me? The last thing I want is Thompson to make some more cracks about us in the office…”

“Of course.” Although she had kept her gaze on Daniel the entire time, (Y/N) knew that Jack had seen and possibly heard everything that had transpired; good, she thought to herself, he deserves to hear exactly how his careless words can affect others. They’d forgiven one another for the things they’d said out of anger, true, but a small part of her was reluctant to forgive the hurtful jab that had only served to remind her of her traumatic past. “Well, I should start heading back to the office. I’ll see you later, Chief Sousa.”

She turned to head back down the steps but halted when Daniel called her name once again. When she turned back around, he had an awkward expression on his face. “I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you alone since you re-joined the SSR but since you’re here now…Peggy told me a little about what you went through during the war and what happened to…well, I just wanted to offer you my condolences.”

“T-thank you, Chief.” (Y/N) gave him what she hoped had been a smile of gratitude before turning on her heel and hurrying back down the steps, ignoring the twinge of pain her quick movements brought the almost-healed wound beneath her skirt. By the time she reached the car, Jack had already gotten in and based on the clouded expression on his face, he’d heard everything they’d said on the steps. I can’t deal with this right now, she sighed inwardly but got into the driver’s seat with an overly-cheerful grin. “Ready to go, Flyboy?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, (Y/N) and Jack sat in the cozy living room of Stark’s mansion and worked on the case, Jack lounging on a sofa as he read through the files Henry had provided them and (Y/N) sitting cross-legged on the floor as she flicked through her translation journals. At the other end of the room were Edwin and Ana, entirely focused on their Benny Goodman radio program as they sat together on another sofa.

The familiar strains of music helped (Y/N) relax and after a while, she noticed that the tension between her and Jack seemed to have disappeared altogether. The silence during the ride back to the office and to Howard’s mansion had been incredibly awkward, and (Y/N) knew it had been because they both were thinking about her and Daniel’s exchange. I’m not going to discuss it unless he brings it up first, (Y/N) thought firmly as she pushed her reading glasses back up the bridge of her nose, we’ve only just moved past our differences and something that touchy might send us right back to square one.

“Another excellent program by Mr. Goodman!” Ana’s exclamation brought (Y/N) out of her silent rumination and she looked up from her work just as the couple stood and yawned. “Well, goodnight Miss (Y/L/N), Chief Thompson.”

“Yes, and try not to make too much noise; tomorrow is silver-polishing day.”

Jack mumbled distractedly, his eyes still trained on the files, so (Y/N) gave the tired couple a small wave. “Goodnight.” Once she heard the faint sound of their bedroom door being closed, she fell sideways with a small groan and rolled so that she was laying on her back. “I think I’m starting to hate codebreaking.”

She could hear Jack’s smirk in his voice as he replied, “I take it Michael’s got you stumped again?”

“…Maybe. I’m sure I’ll have better luck if I look at this tomorrow.” She rolled to her side and rested her head in her hand to look at him. “Have you had any luck with those files?”

“Not really, I think I’m in the same boat as you right now. I’ll give Agent Cabrera a ring tomorrow morning and see if he can’t dig up anything more on Fieldman in the New York files; it’s a long shot, but our office has a bigger collection of files than the West Coast SSR does so something might show up.” Snapping the file closed and tossing it onto the ground, he sat up on the couch and stretched out his arms. “You know, back in New York, Sousa and I would go out drinking if we ever got stuck on a case. We’d put the case out of our minds and relax so that when we took another crack at it, it would be with a fresh perspective.”

“As great as that sounds, Chief Sousa asked us to come in early tomorrow to help catalogue the records room; that means no drinking tonight, Flyboy.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh. “Sousa’s turned into a real stick in the mud since moving out here.” They began silently putting loose papers back into their files and just as (Y/N) finished packing up her briefcase, Jack cleared his throat to get her attention. “I remember Carter mentioning the other week that you solve easy codes to relax and unwind so I was thinking…well, if you ever need a break from Michael’s codes, you could always teach me a little. About codebreaking, I mean.”

Taken aback by his words, (Y/N) turned to face him. “You want to learn about codebreaking? You, Lieutenant Junior Grade Thompson, want me to teach you about codes?”

“You don’t have to sound so goddamn surprised about it.” Before he turned away from her, (Y/N) caught a glimpse of the look of annoyance and hurt on his face, and she quickly realized she’d inadvertently touched a nerve with her teasing. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“Thompson, wait-”

“I said forget it.”

“But I didn’t-”

He whirled around to face her again and the next few sentences seemed to explode out of him. “You know, everyone thinks that I’m just this big dumb war hero, that all I’ll ever be is some fat-head bully with a Navy Cross, and I’m getting sick of it!

“Jack, I didn’t mean to-”

“They all think that I’m this guy that I never was! They expect me to act a certain way, to be a soldier always and forever without thinking about what I want!” Breathing hard through his clenched teeth, Jack’s eyes searched her face and after a moment, his tense shoulders sagged and his blue eyes lowered. “And…it’s getting harder and harder to live with the shit man I’ve become because of it.”

The tension in the air was thick as they both stood absolutely still, Jack staring intently at the carpeted ground and (Y/N) studied her clasped hands. Being confronted by his past words and actions earlier that day had obviously caused Jack to feel guilt, something that was also gnawing at (Y/N); since the moment she’d met him, she had a very specific and narrow idea of who he was that had been based entirely on her past experiences with men in power and the opinions of others, but now it was clear to see that she’d unfairly and prematurely misjudged the man before her. Along with the rest of the world, it seems, she thought to herself with a twinge of sadness and shame.

(Y/N) glanced up and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached forward and rested a gentle hand on Jack’s forearm. His gaze quickly rose to meet hers and an understanding seemed to pass between them as Jack’s eyes softened; (Y/N) didn’t realize she was softly smiling until she spoke. “We’ll start with the Caesar Shift code and go from there.” He gave her a nod and she moved away to grab her hat and briefcase, murmuring a quick farewell before turning to leave.

“Hey, Specs.” She turned to see a hint of Jack’s familiar grin light up his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t go easy on me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Ten

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #daniel sousa #michael carter #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

84 notes · View notes

thatonedaydream · 4 years

Text

Elevator buddy (Sephiroth x Reader)

a/n: i just want to write cute shit for him okay he just needs goddamn AFFECTION okAY?! Back when he wasn’t insane he was probably nice af, idk, whatever. I just want pretty angel murder man to be nice to you OKAY? OKAYYYYYYY. I DON’T KNOW. I LIKE HIM BEING SOFT AND WELL ROUNDED. I THINK I’M ALLOWED THAT.

★★★★★

Elevator rides in the Shinra building were the fucking worst. It was tall as hell building, so elevator rides could get really long depending on where you were going and how busy it was. Some days you legitimately thought taking the stairs would be a better option, but y’know, you liked being alive.

You let out a loud groan as you saw people crowded around one lift. It looked like a couple other elevators were busted. Apparently, renovations were happening somewhere in the building, but what the fuck were they doing? It was like they were fixing one thing by breaking everything else.

There was a loud ding as the stupid elevator finally arrived at the ground floor. Although when the doors opened, no one moved. You were at the back and huffed in annoyance. “Move in people. We got places to be? What are you—” Pointedly bumping people aside, you tried to get a glimpse of what was going on. When you realised what the hold up was, you rolled your eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me. Let me through.”

There was literally only one other person in the elevator.

People stepped aside to let you through and you resisted giving them the finger as the door closed. Turning to the other person with you, you grinned. “Hey, Sephiroth!”

The 1st Class Soldier said your name in a greeting and offered the usual slight smile that he gave you. You could understand why people were so intimidated by Sephiroth. He towered over everyone, was clearly proficient at killing things, honestly didn’t talk that much and even if he did he rarely did it with expression. Okay, he was intimidating as all fuck, but he hadn’t ever been rude or dangerous to you! In fact, he was always cordial and was the perfect elevator buddy.

“Welcome back! I missed you.” You gave him a warm and bright smile.

There was friendly and then there was you. At first, Sephiroth thought you were forcing yourself to be overly friendly towards him in a defensive gesture, but he figured over time that you were being genuine. It was refreshing. He liked seeing your face light up every time you saw him past the elevator doors. You’d even wave enthusiastically to him if you saw him anywhere in the building. “I hope you’ve been well.”

“Same old, same old.” Which meant things weren’t really good. You were a project manager and honestly, it sucked ass at Shinra. There was a lot of bullshit policies and red tape, you couldn’t stand it. You were thinking of leaving to find some other job, but you’d likely have to take a significant pay cut and you weren’t sure you were ready for that. “Did you bring me a present from your last trip?”

“Hm.” There was a flash of a smirk and Sephiroth shook his head in a negative. “If I had known you wanted something, I would have looked for a suitable souvenir.” It wasn’t a bad idea, now that he thought about it.

You gave an exaggerated gasp and put a hand on your chest. “You didn’t get me anything? Wow and here I said I missed you and everything.” You heaved a sigh. “Incidentally, have I told you that I take apologies in coffees?” You sent another cute grin his way with a wrinkle of your nose. “Jokes aside, I could actually go for one. I was late this morning and couldn’t stop by the stall downstairs.”

Sephiroth gave you a careful once over and noticed that you did seem a little more dishevelled than usual. There were dark circles forming around your eyes and that was a decent stack of papers in the bag you were carrying. “Have things become that bad since I last saw you?”

You looked up to see Sephiroth watching you kind of curiously, but you could detect a hint of worry—or maybe you were just being hopeful. He most likely had a lot on his mind already and you didn’t want to burden him with your troubles.

Your lips curved into a smile. “Nothing you have to worry about, Mister 1st Class Soldier.” You shifted your bag slightly as the strap was starting to dig into your shoulder uncomfortably; you couldn’t wait to drop it on the floor when you got to your desk. “Although I wonder if they should just change my job title to ‘Project Dumping Grounds’. I—”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to let someone in. Someone you really didn’t want to see. Speaking of dumping projects on you, the man who just walked in was one of the main culprits. “You!” Aaaand he definitely recognised you. Unlike the other office workers, the man completely ignored Sephiroth as he got in the elevator and began to rip into you. “You missed the deadline that was set for you. I just had to cover for your mistakes downstairs!”

You were absolutely not ready for any kind of abusive treatment right then and there. The truth of the matter was that the project was never yours, it was just dumped in your lap to follow up. Since it had been sitting untouched for a while all the deadlines had been missed or changed. There was literally nothing you could have done about it. As this dude was shouting shit in your face, you couldn’t formulate any kind of calm and logical response, even though you knew the truth.

You were exhausted. You were stressed. You really didn’t need this. The man continued to vomit whatever abuse he had backed up for you and you were frozen in place. Your throat tightened and you felt tears coming—

Sephiroth stepped in front of you and had one hand on the elevator door so it wouldn’t close. “Get out.” He loomed over the much shorter man. He spoke his words calmly, but there was a very real underlying threat.

The man opened his mouth to protest, but he took one look at Sephiroth’s face and instantly lost all his bravado. A Soldier’s eyes always had an underlying glow, but there was a flash of something dangerous in the ones glaring down him. The insignificant office worker absolutely believed he was going to lose his life if he didn’t leave. Now.

When he was gone, the elevator doors closed and you let out a shaky breath. Sephiroth said nothing and you were glad because if he did, you were going to start crying. Your eyes drifted to the elevator doors and there was a faint hint of a dent where the 1st Class Soldier had held it open. Had he really gripped the door so tightly? Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Eventually, the elevator stopped at the right floor and the both of you stepped out. Sephiroth stayed by your side for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. This was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you. You always seemed so carefree and happy, and you were always so kind to people. Seeing you get treated badly didn’t sit well with him. “I’ll—get you that coffee.”

You understood that people found Sephiroth intimidating, but as he softly spoke those words to you, you couldn’t understand why anyone would think that was all he was. Sephiroth was a person and you didn’t want to treat him only as an exceptional soldier. You gave him the best smile you could muster. “Thanks, Sephiroth. You’re the best.”

As you turned to leave, you ignored the butterflies in your stomach that would come and go in the silver-haired man’s presence. Nothing romantic could happen anyway. It wasn’t possible. You were content in having such an awesome elevator buddy, anyway.

Right?

797 notes · View notes

bibislut · 4 years

Text

A Girl Walks Into A Tower

After finding out her best friend is actually Spider Man, Leena's whole world changes. Enter: a meddlesome billionaire, some flirty super soldiers, and one (1) stubborn God of Mischief. Throw in a real need for better communication, a game of spin the bottle and a whole load of banter - and you'll have yourself a real good time at Stark Tower.

Also known as Loki is hella sexy, hella moody and really freakin' stubborn. Featuring: Peter Parker being the cutest, Sam Wilson being a cheeky bitch and a little bit of being a bad ass on the reader's part.

This work has explicit language, sexual content and some mentions of blood / violence, so please take this into consideration before reading!

Word Count: 19,260

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1

You couldn't help but close your eyes as you took the stairs up to your apartment by memory. You'd lived here for nearly a decade now, and the 9 flights' every creak and whine were ingrained in your memory by now, and the 10 hour shift you'd just done could be felt in every muscle: you couldn't help but rest your eyes for a moment.

You finally reached your landing and opened your eyes only to find Peter Parker dozing against your door frame, dried blood staining his skin from his hairline to his eye. The seventeen year old often came to you for a stitch up, not wanting to frighten his Aunt with his injuries. You frowned down at his snoring form and hitched your bag better on your shoulder, crouching down to place your hand on his cheek. "Peter." you whispered, not wanting to startle him. The teenager opened his eyes with a dopey smile.

"Hey, Lele."

"Hey idiot, let's get you inside." You couldn't help but return his warm smile as he shrugged off your attempt to help him up - you always forgot how strong he was. You pulled your keys from out of your pocket and opened the door. Dropping your bag to the floor, you flicked on the lights and shut the door behind Peter, watching him limp to your kitchen table.

"What happened this time?" you asked as you rolled up your sleeves and washed your hands. You reached for a flannel from the bottom drawer and ran it under the hot water.

"Just some kids from school."

Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew the teenager would be picking at his lips like he did every time he lied. You knew he'd never tell you what really went on before he turned up to your apartment - he never did. You rung out the cloth.

"I swear to God Peter, if I come home one day to find you dead on my doorstep, I will resurrect you just to kill you myself." You couldn't help the motherly tone that clipped your words, despite only having a few years on the boy. Peter winced both at your words and at the pressure you applied as you wiped away the blood. As you cleaned the wound, you were relieved to see that it wouldn't need stitches, but there was a good chance it would scar. You frowned.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry Leena..." He surged forwards to wrap you in a tight hug and you sighed into his hair. You'd known him since he was 6 and you were practically family now. His uncle and your dad had died the same year, your mom joining them a few years ago. You'd always looked after each other, silently vowing protection over the other with each funeral attended. A loud banging at the door pulled you both apart, and you looked at each other in silence as you went to the drawers and pulled out your handgun, Peter walking into the shadows as was protocol (though you had never had to follow it before).

You were a good shot, but Peter was much more quiet and agile - a surprise attack suited him well. You don't know when you'd both become so jumpy, perhaps it was when Aliens began ransacking the city in 2012, or when the murders on the news became more frequent, or when... It didn't really matter. The world was a shit storm, and you'd let hell freeze over before you let anyone you loved get hurt because you weren't prepared.

You looked through the peephole to see someone you most certainly would not have expected. You turned to whisper to the shadows where you knew Peter was. "It's Tony Stark!" Peter emerged quickly, pushing you out of the way to unlatch the door, leaving you gaping like a fish.

"Hey, Mr Stark!" He threw himself at the billionaire, wrapping his arms around him. The businessman-turned-superhero patted the boy's back. The dirt that covered Peter smeared across the obviously expensive navy suit, but neither seemed to care.

"Good to see you alive, kid. Friday said you had some injuries and when I looked on your suit tracker you weren't in your apartment." He pulled Peter back to stare at him sternly. "Care to explain?" You looked at the two of them in shock. Since when had Peter met Tony Stark? And since when had they become so obviously close? The worry etched across the philanthropist's face certainly seemed genuine enough.

Peter turned to look at you anxiously. "I was with Leena, I stopped a robbery a couple blocks away, but they must have got me because I was bleeding, so I came here. She does a great job of cleaning me up, and I didn't want to scare Aunt May, you know how she wo-" he babbled, looking between the two of you, but stopped as Tony made a 'zip it' motion. You frowned at Peter's words; since when did he stop robberies? You put the gun you forgot you had been holding in the waist pants of your jeans and stepped forwards, offering your hand, which was far steadier than you expected.

"I'm Leena, I've known Peter since we were kids."

Tony shakes your hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Tony Stark." You look between the two of them as awkward silence begins to fill the air. You turn to gesture towards your apartment.

"Would you like to come in?" That was what you were supposed to do, right? Offer hospitality? You shook your head quickly to yourself. What the hell was going on?

You lead the way for the two guys, but put a hand on Peter's chest. "Go wash your hands before I catch you putting dirt in the wound I just cleaned." He offers you a salute as he turns down the corridor.

You make your way back to the kitchen to find Mr Stark lounging at the table in the spot where Peter had sat. "Tea or Coffee?" you ask. You wonder for a moment if the month old dollar brew in your cupboard is even worth offering.

"Coffee, black, one sugar." He offers you a thankful smile. You turn around and pull out three mugs, one tea, one coffee and one hot chocolate for Peter. "I bet cleaning up Mr Friendly-Neighborhood-Spider-Boy gets a bit tiring." The billionaire offers as a replacement for the silence. You stiffen, turning to stare at him.

"What?"

He curses under his breath “He didn't tell you?" The business mogul suddenly looks panicked - a glaring contrast to the confident man you'd seen on TV.

You snap your neck to look at the now-frozen Peter Parker standing in the doorway, a sheepish smile on his face.

"What the flying fuck, Peter?!"

***************

You woke the next day at noon, not as rested as you'd hoped after you'd spent most of last night arguing with Peter. You had to admit you were proud of him, and it did make a lot of sense now that you thought about it. His constant 'fights at school', how light on his feet he was, how agile, how strong he was. You were kind of pissed that you hadn't figured it out before to be honest. You had had a hard time believing it all, but once Peter pulled his suit from his stash behind the couch, you didn't really have a choice but to accept the truth. Tony Stark had also been quite nice to talk to, and the way he treated Peter as his own was so great to see. He'd always needed a father figure. Tony had watched the two of you with rapt interest, seemingly pleased to meet someone so close to Peter. After a while Peter fell asleep on the couch, his head on your shoulder and you and Tony had mouthed your goodbyes. He'd woken up about an hour later and you gave him a hug as he climbed through your window to sneak back to his own apartment.

You sat up and stretched, stifling a yawn as you padded down the hall to the kitchen. A big yellow envelope hung from your letter box and you grabbed it curiously.

EVICTION NOTICE!

"Shit!" You cursed loudly, tearing it open. You knew the landlord was a slimy bastard, but you couldn't believe he was kicking you out. He was a selfish layabout and owned a few of the apartments in the building, yours being the nicest and largest. Knowing him, he probably wanted it so he could move in with his new girlfriend. Of course, he didn't say that in the notice, only that you had two weeks to pack your things and go.

*****

You'd spent the whole day at work lost in your thoughts, barely noticing the caffeine crazed customers around you.You didn't have enough saved to move anywhere decent, yet alone pay the first month's rent upfront as most landlords wanted. You couldn't move in with family - they were all dead or on the other side of the country. You didn't really have any close friends, only your work colleagues. That left Peter's place - but you knew they didn't have a spare room and you certainly couldn't squish everything you had into their living room.

You were still racking your brains by the time the last customer left the coffee shop at 9.55PM, and you hurried to wash their cup and sweep up, locking up and leaving. You trudged through the bitter cold of late-October the five blocks back to your building, bumping into the spider-boy himself in the foyer. You began walking up the stairs together, but found Peter frowning at you as you realized he'd asked you a question. You blinked at him.

"What?"

"You alright Lele? You seem distracted."

You pushed your hair out of your face with a grimace. "I'm being evicted."

It was Peter's turn to blink at you. "What?"

"That bozo, Ethan, is kicking me out." You tried to keep the childlike petulance out of your voice but failed miserably.

"Oh, shit. What are you gonna do?" You hated to be the reason for Peter's worried expression.

"I don't know. I'll figure something out though Pete, I always do." You kissed him on the cheek and patted him on the arm as you reached your perspective doors. "Goodnight, Pete."

Friday was usually games night, but he seemed to understand your lack of excitement without you having to explain. You threw him a grateful look and went your separate ways.

Read the rest on Ao3

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki fluff #loki angst #loki fic #loki fanfic #mcu #peter parker #a girl walks into a tower

67 notes · View notes

caughtinkorea · 3 years

Text

Along the Way

This is such a weird point in time. I’m just thankful for stability. This is looking like it will be a year of hopefully progress and moving forward.

Lately guys are becoming a more ... pushed?... placed?... apparent...? I don’t even know how to conceptualize what I’m trying to say.

Guys... okay, I’ll just start there... I guess. My brain is all over the place.

When I’m in the US I feel no sense of urgency to date let alone meet up with people. I’m an EXTREME introvert and rarely go out. I’m a homebody like probably no one you’ve ever met before, to the point that my friends and family get angry that I rarely leave the house. They tell me to go out so at least I could potentially meet someone. Most days the thought of guys annoys me. It also pains me that I’m attracted to men. Talk about embarrassing T_T

The last couple of years I was in Korea I made attempts to shed my introverted nature and actually went on a decent number of dates or just met up with people. Some of the meet ups/dates were good, some bad, some meh. Ulsan being in the mix. I’ll get back to him later.

I went on a date with a cop. It was actually a really good date. He was very sweet, conversation was great, and he was gentlemanly. There just wasn’t a spark between us like that. Side note: If you are going to date a Korean guy, officers are the only group I recommend. The ones I have met have been the only consistent category(?) of guys there. Usually super gentlemanly, morally upright, and sweet. I would have never expected it, but that’s been the case for all the ones I have met. During my last winter there I just stopped going out or hanging out with people really. That was such a lonely and trying time for me in Korea. My stress was unreal with everything going on with me. It was during that time I met a chaebol. Let me just say it was NOT like that. We just became fast friends foreal. He wasn’t no regular degular chaebol either. Think Hilton of Korea.

It was a whirlwind friendship when I think about it. He reached out to me and we hit it off like nobodies business. We would message each other at all times of the day. There was one day we both woke up and sent each other the same message at the exact same time. We laughed about it because it showed at this point we maybe were a little too obsessed with talking with each other lol. I appreciated his humor and he appreciated mine. He was super well traveled and highly educated. Studied in Singapore and the US as a child until adulthood. He’d use words that I’d never heard people say in everyday speech, but also understood American slang, humor, and nuance. He invited me to India which I contemplated but didn’t end up going to. Everything was good until it wasn’t. We got into a fight because of misunderstandings and petty nonsense. I had to walk on eggshells in order not to say things that may offend him unknowingly. Sometimes I thought he was joking at his offense, but later things became apparent that he felt a ways. For example one day we were talking about something or another and I said “Oh, you rich rich!”. You know the way we Americans have been jokingly emphasizing certain things by doubling words over the last few years. It doesn’t even mean anything, it’s meant to be jokey way of chopping it up. This guy says “I don’t want to talk about my finances.”..........

........................................................

Literally nobody was talking about your finances. That’s not what that was meant to be. Ok... so...... now I know he doesn’t completely understand American jokes and nuances. Things just kinda snowballed from there. It became apparent to me that he was a very paranoid person. It seemed he lived a very sheltered life growing up and wasn’t able to do a lot of the things other people did. So maybe he was paranoid as to why people would approach him and their real intentions. The friendship burned out just as quickly as it started. I still wish him well. I just kinda feel bad for him because with all that wealth I still wouldn’t want to trade places with him. Imagine always having to put your guard up in that way. Plus his life seemed a bit isolated and lonely.

I would stick my toe out to go on a few dates and meet ups from the spring onwards, because I just couldn’t stay cooped up at home. Nothing serious because I would be leaving soon.

Around 2-3 days before I left Korea I met up with the one my friend calls Piano Man lol. He was the one who made an amazingly beautiful song for me. I wanted to say goodbye before I left so we met up for dinner. He gave me a present of some really strong Chinese alcohol he had bought for me in China. I still haven’t drank it, but I brought it back with me to the US. He told me he’d always wished we’d dated but the timing wasn’t right since that’s when I had a bf. We wished each other well and I was back off to the US.

I came back in 2019 and just kept busy with other things. Then I went to Nigeria for Christmas season. When I first got there me, my sister, and one of my uncles were walking to the hotel we were staying at after eating dinner at a restaurant nearby. Some guy who was also at the restaurant caught up to us to profess his interest. My sister was super excited about this for some reason while I was mortified this happened in front of my uncle. He was asking for my number and my sister jumps in front of me to tell him if he comes to my aunt’s shop the next day to buy a bike he’ll get my number. So, you’re not gonna ask me?

Kill two birds with one stone I guess lol. Though he was really cute I was just not interested. To my surprise he showed up the next day at my aunt’s shop. He didn’t buy a bike though lol. We talked for a bit and my aunts were kinda rooting for him since he was from their area of town. Nothing became of that, plus he was too young for my liking. I’d bump into him from time to time to which he said was destiny. Not mine, but good luck with that.

Later on I ended up meeting a friend of a friend. I will admit I was cold to him when first meeting. I was actually mad at his friend which made me be cold and standoffish because of his association. But he never threw it back at me. Rather he was unbelievably sweet and caring towards me. Over the next few weeks we hung out and got to know each other more. He was an engineer who worked for a big oil company in Nigeria. Really intelligent guy who was the youngest supervisor in his company and played chess as a hobby. He would be going on a business trip to China soon after we left Nigeria. I had mentioned wanting to visit China in the future so he took me, my mom, my sister and her fiancé out to eat at a Chinese restaurant a couple days later. In case you don’t know, Chinese restaurants are super expensive in Nigeria, and they’re not even buffet style. He then took us out for ice cream and karaoke afterwards. He’d come and visit me every couple of days and take me out to different places. My mom really liked him. He was a really mild-mannered person that balanced me out well. He wanted to take me to visit China with him and offered to pay for the trip to join him. His trip ended up getting cancelled because that was the time this whole virus mess started. He was amazingly sweet to me. I have nothing bad to say about him. Even when I talked about starting a business he offered to pay for it and help me register it since I didn’t know my way around starting one in Nigeria. When I came back to the US we talked everyday. He had planned to visit the US since he was going to be one of the invited speakers to the oil and gas conference happening in Houston. Because of his position he would be able to go back and forth to the US if need be without much visa complications. He had talked to my sister about possibly finding a job in Texas sometime in the future and moving over to be with me. That’s when things started getting too real and I just wanted to slow everything down. The virus kinda made everything come to a halt. Thankfully for me. Don’t get me wrong. He is a great guy. Brilliant and sweet. Plus he’d be able to get a great position relocated to the US for his company making a lot more money than me, so those wouldn’t be a worry at all. I just wasn’t at that wavelength at the time. Borders closed and I don’t do cross-continent long distance. I definitely would have been in a relationship with him if I lived in Nigeria though.

Fast forward to the end of 2020. I enjoyed being single for the year, but apparently an uncle of mine doesn’t like that lol. He’s not really my blood uncle, but that’s how we refer to them in African culture. He reached out to me and introduced me to 2 guys. He tells me I need to find someone special so he introduced me to these guys from really well off families. Like REALLY well off. Think chaebols of Nigeria. I talk to them from time to time, but I’m not really interested. I just can’t do this distance thing, plus I need to get to know you first. In person. I appreciate this uncle though because he seems to really like me and want well for me. He told my aunt that he doesn’t want to see me suffer in life. I think it’s super sweet of him to think of me that way.

Life is so weird. When you want something, it doesn’t come. But when you don’t want it, it comes flooding in.

So, now back to Ulsan.....

To be continued

6 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Kind - Killian x Reader (Spies In Disguise)

GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: Whoops-!

Well here’s one from January - all things considered this man made a come back. He was in the box a shorter time than I expected, but hey, I’ll take it!

Disclaimer: SiD characters not mine / gifs not mine - credit as appropriate / lyrics not mine

Premise: As an Undercover Agent you know what you’re doing - even though at the end of all this you’re going to have to take him down. It should all work out, unless the Agency jeapodises its own mission...

Words: 4424

Warnings: threat / injury detail / mild swearing

______

You got me in this situation You got me backed against the wall Caught in a web of your creation I bet you set me up to fall You gotta shady reputation Once you deliver your temptation No one can stop your master plan Don't try to lie about it I don't believe a thing you say The more you try to hide it The more the lies show on your face You're the dangerous kind Now look at what you've done to me What you've done to me baby You've gotta criminal mind Your motive is to plant the seed Now I'd kill for you baby You're the dangerous kind I've been sleeping with the enemy Now I'm doing the time Paying up for the crime Guess you took everything you could from me

---

Your mission was simple. Always was, always had been. You liked working for the Agency, you’d been a young cadet once – bright eyed and eager. Got in a little too many bumps and scrapes which got you well known as reckless. That recklessness helped you rise through the ranks though – because you were prepared to take risks no one else would; both to stop people and save people. You supposed you were glad you weren’t I the same class as Lance Stirling – having opted for a different career path through the agency, but like Lance Stirling you were the best at your job – and you also believed in flying solo. You’d been offered to head a team many times; but that meant pulling you back from the field and you had way too much fun in the field to want to leave it. And you at least had good reason to fly solo. You were a covert agent. And instead of sneaking around trying to stop the bad guys, ending with a massive showdown that made you a hero and got you all the glory, you infiltrated to take them down from the inside. To anyone else – you were the bad guy. You only contacted the Agency twice – to receive a new assignment, and once the assignment was done, but under no other circumstances did you have contact with Agents. That kept them safe as well as you, and you knew how dangerous this was, but you were good at it. And that’s what mattered. A few years back you’d been sent to uncover facts about a plot manifesting in Kyrgyzstan; before you’d got a chance to go out there, Lance Sterling had gone and taken it out himself. Through some twist of fate, whilst working something for Katsu Kimura (you had to keep up apparencies!) you’d met the sole survivor of that very incident. He referred to himself as Killian – although you were fairly certain that was a code name for something else – a tall, handsome, careful Australian man who wanted nothing more than revenge on your Agency for what they had done to him, and everyone he knew. That kind of thing you could completely understand, but suddenly you found yourself in the midst of a plot to destroy both your employer, and all your friends. It made you uneasy. But you knew your job, and you’d damn well do a good one here too.

He made it hard, though. It was just far too easy to fall for him; easy on the eye, mysterious… terribly broken. You could sympathise all you wanted but you knew what it was. You knew it was a full-blown crush. And that led to you trying to find a way to stop this man that wouldn’t lead to him being hurt even more than he already was. As things picked up, you became closer and the more he let you into his world, the more you understood his reasoning. You’d never much been Lance’s biggest fan yourself – his methods didn’t matter to him so long as the job was done. You had always been far more meticulous even when reckless. That led from you suggesting things, and just helping out when you could, to being a partnership. Dare you say a team? And that partnership got closer and closer until one day it got a little too close and you decided that drinking champagne alone together was probably something you should never do again. But then it didn’t become a state of awkward co-workers trying to avoid each other; if anything if might well have helped relieve the tension. And before long you were telling him I love you and meaning it – and on occasion, Killian would even say it back. Deep down you knew it was stupid and probably wouldn’t last. It was your job to stop him after all, but you were allowed to let him be at least a little successful before you really had to step in. And that made him happy. And you made him happy. (Well, as happy as you supposed he got). There was nothing you dreaded more than having to shut him down – than having to betray him back to the organisation that had done this to him in the first place. But you weren’t going to let your emotions run this, and you knew you absolutely could not hesitate when the moment called for it. Killian was far more dangerous than anyone else you thought you’d ever come into contact with; and although you still didn’t know the full details of that fateful day in Kyrgyzstan, you got a pretty good idea of what exactly they could have been up to. So you stood by, as he gained the M9 Assassin, and tested it, meaning you were now holed up in a weapons facility in the middle of the North Sea. That came with its own mixed emotions – because although you did know what your Agency was capable of, seeing a stark reminder of it left you nothing but cold. Why should it surprise you that men like Killian wanted to take the whole thing down? And the M9 was something else entirely. How in the hell did the Agency even think that planning something like that, let alone building it, was a good idea? You sighed gently, turning away from the mass production line and walking towards the window – nothing but choppy waves for miles and miles. You raised your eyes to the skyline, currently a dull grey and waited. It might have been a long wait for him to get back from Venice but you’d likely stay here until he was back. And then you’d have to make your choice – because if he got ahold of that agent database and enacted his plans, it would be game over…

*** The problem was waiting for the right moment. Standing by whilst he lectured Lance about the how and why wasn’t it, and neither was the targeting system coming online considering you were surrounded by 1000 drones. And by the time they had cleared and you thought it was about the right time, you were already a little too late. Not for the situation. Oh you’d been too late for that for a little while, and you could of course, kick yourself for it. But for yourself. As soon as the room cleared and you thought you might well be able to breathe again, the screen flashed up a warning. Warning: Target in Proximity then it asked him if he still wanted to proceed. You weren’t exactly sure how these drones were going to kill people but you assumed that the warning was because Killian wouldn’t want to be anywhere near it when it happened. For safety reasons. To you it made sense for the warning to come up. Lance was in the room. Though you were sure that Killian wasn’t going to use a Drone to kill him – if kill him at all. Killian however, was confused; “What? Yeah, I told you not to target Lance. What are you talking about?” It took a couple of moments to register, and suddenly you were filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. Shit please don’t tell me that as an undercover agent – with the operations I run I’m still on the damn Agency list!!!

You were. Because as soon as he touched the screen your picture flashed up. And even Lance was perplexed. Oh you have got to be fu- You didn’t even have time to finish the thought before Killian turned to you, light in his robotics red as ever. “YOU-!?!” You looked back to the screen; well – it wasn’t even like you could deny it. It wasn’t even that old of a photograph. And you couldn’t even think of a decent excuse. “Killian, it’s not-” “Not what-!? Not what it looks like-!? Don’t you dare! How can it be anything else?” “The Agency didn’t ask me to… Yes - I work for them, but I chose to work this mission… and I…” He took steps towards you that made you concede them, and suddenly you were backed against the wall. Eyes wide; it was the first time you’d ever really been afraid of him, and what he might do to you. “I love you, that’s never been a lie! I fell in love with you!!” Nobody in the agency was asking you to get close to him by any means necessary and there is no way in hell you’d agree to do that in the first place. But that was ALL that was crossing his face. He might have been angry, obviously angry – but there was an element of hurt there too, that you could possibly have betrayed him like this; “Yeah, like I can believe that-!” “Killian-! Please-! I-” He wasn’t giving you much time to finish anything, as you were ruthlessly yanked from the floor by a drone. “No! No! NO! No! Don’t do this-! I love you-! God-! Please don’t do this---!” Whatever about him made him a good person, made him sympathetic and fragile and sometimes damn near soft towards you was all but gone. There was no way you were getting through to him now. “KILLIAN-!” You screamed as suddenly you weren’t over metal flooring anymore but rocks and ocean. You’d seen him do this to the researcher and never would have dreamed that you would suffer the same fate. “Please…!” Tears stung your eyes but you weren’t sure if that was the salt in the cutting wind, or because the man you loved was about to throw you to your death “…You don’t need to do this.” There wasn’t even a flicker of emotion across his face as he stared at you, maybe even through you, suspended over those unforgiving waves. “No, you see…” His mouth pressed into a hard line, and his eyes narrowed – cold and icy, “I do.” The freezing gusts stole your breath instantly, so as you fell you couldn’t even scream. And he was the last thing you saw.

*** “…Hey… Hey… wake up… Hey, gosh you must have taken quite the fall – Yeah Lovey, I think she’s okay!” Your vision remained blurred and occasionally went black as you tried to focus. Clearly you weren’t quite dead. “Woah-! No I wouldn’t try to move just yet; you’re hurt pretty bad just lie still…” When your senses decided to calibrate themselves, you were staring at a very young man. Messy brown hair and bright blue eyes. “Did you… save my life?” Your voice croaked but it’d have to do, he seemed a little bashful; “Well uh, yeah… I mean I guess I did.” With the limited moment you had you found yourself staring around – the noise of the waves still crashing against shoreline meant you were still on the weapons facility island. “Thank you.” “Oh. I don’t know how thankful you’ll be when you start to feel again, I feel like there’s quite a few breaks and fractures here…” There was a coo from beside him and you found your eyes flicking to a pigeon. He turned; “We better find Lance, and quick! Oh, but we can’t just leave her-!?” No, wait, make that three pigeons. You blinked a couple of times; “Wait, did you say Lance?” His blue eyes widened; “Yeah-!?” “You’re with the Agency-!?” He didn’t look like an agent – and if you thought it wouldn’t be terribly painful to laugh you might well have. “Y-Yeah-! Walter Beckett, I mean I work in the science labs but… you’re with the Agency.” You decided to shift your body up, resting on your elbows, taking it a little at a time; “Agent L/N. Covert Ops. Infiltration. This is the first time it hasn’t worked out.” You cracked a smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Walter.” Then winced as a sharp pain shot through your side, “Woah-! I told you not to move!” “I’ve always been just a tad reckless…” But you laid back down, “Lance is up there.” You nodded, “He’s pretty tied up right now. You gonna be able to save him.” “We’ve got this!” Walter smiled “Don’t worry-!” “You and your… pigeons?” You couldn’t really help the disbelief in your voice “Mhm-!” but he seemed confident; “Trust me, this is nothing compared to my day-!” He stood; “We’ll stop him L/N.” “Y/N. Call me Y/N.” That only made him beam; “I’ll contact the Agency, Y/N-! They’ll be here soon I promise!” “Thanks, Walter.” Then you did laugh; “You take your pigeon friends and end this-!”

Walter wasn’t wrong and before long further agents arrived and you did indeed receive medical attention.

You’d certainly have to thank the kid later; you knew you owed him your life now. But your body was also incredibly broken, and you knew you’d be stuck in rehab for a little while before you got back to work. But you couldn’t help but worry about Killian, what would the Agency do to him? What would Lance Stirling do to him - you knew the man’s reputation, after all. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried it once before.

What about what would happen if you had to face Killian again? You weren’t so sure you could handle that well.

***

You’d never wanted to get back to work so much in your life. You’d recovered well - probably pushing yourself a little harder than you should have and were back on your feet in record time. You wanted to see this one through and you knew that Killian was awaiting trial. Joy would let you do that, but she wanted you to continue to rest up as soon as it was all over.

As soon as you stepped out of that elevator and through the security gate - huge smile on your face to see the Agency bustling as ever; considering how different it would have been it Killian had succeeded - you were accosted by the very same young man who had saved your life. “Y/N!!” You couldn’t help but return his hug “Walter-!” Then laughed “Were you waiting for me-!?” “Kinda- I gotta say! It’s good to see you back-!” You thought that was very sweet, considering he’d never actually seen you here “Thank you... but honestly it’s me who should be saying that it’s good to see you... you saved my life!” He looked bashful again; “Oh. I mean, I’m sure you’d do the same, anyone would.” You tipped your head, certain that Walter knew that probably that wasn’t the case. But it was also clear he saw the best in people. You answered with a gentle smile; “Well, I would surely try...” you looked around him, “Where’s your pigeon friends-!?” He laughed; “Lovey, Jeff and Crazy Eyes-!? They’re home! You remember them-!” You folded your arms - “When you wake up thinking you’d died and you see a guy and three pigeons I think it’s pretty hard to forget... and Lance?” “Around, I’m sure.” “Uh huh... I heard it was all a little unconventional...” You made him walk with you as you spotted Joy waiting for you at the other end of the main lobby area “Unconventional sure-! But pretty awesome-!!” “You came up with all the gadgets too?” “Mhm-!” “So I guess I better start commissioning you for my stuff too, huh?” “Oh I dunno... you’re the covert one.” “True. Could come in handy...” You paused your walk and turned to him, “I’ll have to keep in contact - Walter! For sure!” “Or-! Maybe you can join our team-!?” “Your team?” “Lance and I, we have a team of agents now - oh this is all really new but-” He hesitated at the puzzled look on your face, “No?” “...Let me discuss this one with Joy-!”

By this time, you were in front of her; “Agent L/N.” “Joy” you folded your hands in front of you and dipped your head respectfully; “Thank you for allowing me to see this through.” “My pleasure. I believe you would be the one to know the most about this man, given your mission.” You nodded, wondering if she’d want you to speak at trial. You hoped not; how you were ever supposed to go back to what you did when this could well be publicised. “Therefore, we’d like you to keep an eye on him and escort him to trial. No one knows him and his movements better than you do.” You really hoped you didn’t look shocked - and you didn’t dare protest. That would mean you had to see him again- right?! Shit! How would he like that? Let alone you? Did he know you weren’t dead-!!? Although you were sure someone would probably let slip that the agent he tried to kill survived. “Yes M’am-!” You gave a nod, you needed to be prepared - If seeing this whole thing through meant being in proximity again, then you would simply have to bear it. He’d tried to kill all your friends after all - you couldn’t start being soft now. Besides they might know that you knew him, but they didn’t know your history - your romantic history. If you could keep your feelings in check it would all work out okay, and Killian would receive the justice he deserved.

“Good. We head to trial in few days. Let’s bring you up to speed...” ***

Killian wasn’t all that surprised to see you. Or, he didn’t look it at least. You assumed someone would have told him that you survived – you wondered what his immediate reaction was, was he relieved? Was he angry that he hadn’t managed to do the job? Either way, his face was anything but stoic, torn between staring at you so hard he was seeing right through you, like you weren’t even there – and he probably wished you weren’t, and looking like he was ready to murder you. Twice. You gulped, unsure now you were in front of him just how good of an idea this was. But it was certainly a little too late to back out of this now. You instructed the guard to hand over all the keys, and made the mistake of telling him you could handle this yourself. He looked sceptical; “But, Y/N, he did throw you out of a window.” You folded your arms, knowing that wasn’t EXACTLY what went down. “I can handle this.” Your voice was cool “But M’am-” “I can HANDLE this myself.” Your glare at least made him give up. “Fine, but remember the cameras are on him.” “I haven’t been doing this as long as I have to lose this one.” Then you turned back to Killian, still giving you that same look, and jerked your head. “Let’s move.” Killian sighed, which was as verbal as he’d gotten and followed you, turning back to smirk at the guard – which had him immediately reaching for his comms. “This one?” The smooth Australian accent cut the air with about as much venom as he dare give you. You ignored him, falling back behind him – but he kept walking the straight corridor and didn’t stop. “Not so talkative now, huh?” “Shut up.” “Oooh. I see.” “You tried to kill me, what are you expecting me to say?” “I figure with our history there’s a lot to say.” “SHUT. UP.” “They don’t know.” He stopped so suddenly, that you were only saved from crashing into him by your reflexes, and you scowled. Killian half turned, smirk renewed; “Do they?” “What happened between you and I is hardly relevant.” “Is if I bring it up at trial.” You opened your mouth, decided against it, and grabbed his arm roughly. You had a strong grip, he’d give you that, though he’d probably expect nothing less than a spy trained by the Agency “Don’t you dare.” “Or what?” You squeezed his arm even harder to the point where he winced and dragged him around the corner to a set of double doors that would lead to the armoured truck with which you’d drive him to the Agency trial. “You’ll be lucky if you get there at this rate.” “I figure I should be the one more upset here.” You scoffed again, yanking him back as you awaited the door to open automatically; guards flanked your walk to the car. “If you had your way, I’d be dead.” Even he couldn’t come up with a good comeback to that.

You loaded him in the back and attached his cuffs to the bench, before eyeing him suspiciously; “No funny business. I’m watching you.” His eyes searched yours for a moment and you stood still for a little too long; Killian raised an eyebrow; “You still think about it don’tcha.” “W…What?” “Me and you.” Then he smiled, and it was a real smile – nearly gentle, not malicious and certainly not a smirk. “Don’t ya?!” “Would you not be satisfied until I admitted it to you-!?” He sat back, look pointed. You’d walked right into that one – and suddenly you found yourself flushing. But his head tipped, “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” “W…” You were about to repeat yourself and stepped away pointing at him; “I know what you’re doing and it’s not gonna work!” “What am I doing, pray tell?” “Manipulating me. It’s not going to work, Killian. You’re going away for a very long time.” You hopped out of the back and glared at him again as you prepared to slam the door on him; “And I’m gonna make sure of it.” **

I’m glad I’m not the only one. Those words echoed in your head as you drove. And you started to drum your fingers on the steering wheel, biting your lip. After a while you were checking your rear view mirror a little too often – he was hunched over, and quiet, alone with his own thoughts. But every so often he’d look up and those startling blue eyes would catch yours – and he’d give you that smile again. You could barely tear yourself away – and yet at the same time couldn’t pull your eyes from his fast enough; and he had you heating up again. Your internal fight lasted nearly the whole journey. Your resistance waned but was surprisingly strong – although you knew it’d eventually break. And you could have done a billion things, called for an escort. Called for backup. Called Joy and apologised profusely but also said maybe you weren’t ready. Take the blame – maybe not come back until all this was over. You wouldn’t see it through – but at what cost were you about to ‘see this through’? You weren’t, and as you slowed the truck to a stop, you knew that your reckless streak was back. You didn’t hear Killian ask you why you’d stopped or what you were doing, as you rounded the vehicle. This was middle of nowhere USA territory – lots of things could go wrong out here. And no Agency cars for miles. They were either all already there, or so far behind they’d never catch on. You unlocked the back of the truck, and waltzed up to him. Killian regarded you uncertainly for a minute; “Think I’ll make good on my threat?” He chuckled, “You just gonna kill me now?” “Do what you couldn’t?” You laughed, “Maybe, and I’d do it a damn sight better.” Instead, you reached forward and pressed the release button on his handcuffs, stepping back. “Ah. Ooops.” He looked to his hands for a minute; raising them slowly – out of the cuffs his robotics weren’t disabled, and the red and blue lights shot through them again. But when he raised his eyes to your face again, his look told you he thought you were insane. “Why?” You folded your arms, thinking it was pretty obvious, and also not wanting to answer as he rose from his seat. But Killian’s eyes narrowed – and left eye changed from blue to red; “Why-!?” He growled it, not liking to be ignored. You gave a soft sigh; “Because I can. And I love you.” He took a step forward that was supposed to be menacing, but didn’t faze you; “I could kill you. Right now.” And he could certainly make good on that, this you knew. Eyes flicking momentarily to his machinery. But you knew him, and he’d shown his hand as much as you had. You met his eyes again, confidently; “You won’t.” “I already tried.” Fact, perhaps. But he’d failed, and didn’t seem to mind so much about that. “You won’t.” “They’ll know.” Killian smirked; “No way a smart girl like you would go to prison for me.” “I know my skill set. All its gonna look like is you did something to cause a car crash and you escaped… By the time they get here, you’ll be long gone.” You nodded to the open back door, “So I’d go get your head start.”

But he didn’t move, not for a few minutes, and you were about to get annoyed at him for not accepting your charity – before he rushed forward and pretty soon you found yourself pinned up against the wall again, his lips on yours. You couldn’t help but instinctively close your eyes to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers in his hair. It wasn’t a long kiss, but still one you were going to savour, and as he released you, you knew his thank you wasn’t about to be verbal. That was it. You both gave each other the same understanding smile, before he turned back to the open door, walking slowly forward. Killian paused, letting the wind tousle his hair, and took a deep breath, before turning back to you. “Y/N… I…” You shook your head, wanting that sentence to go unsaid as much as he wanted to say it. “Catch you later.” He smirked, “You might...” With that he hopped down, and giving you a nod, took off. You stood where you were for a minute or two, smile on your face – before walking out of the truck yourself. You turned this way and that, but he was gone. Disappearing just like that… A little piece of you was disappointed. But you knew you’d see him again. That much was certain. You looked back to the truck, thinking you better get started, but gave one last glance to the desert around you. No, Killian, I will.

---

Thank you for reading! ❤

#Killian #Tristan McFord #Spies In Disguise #Killian x Reader #Killian x You #Tristan McFord x Reader #reader insert #linzi writes #smol bean drabbles #And we're done #and I can take you out of my notes #I can only apologise.#But I think it's better this way.#Maybe I'll return eventually. I will never say never...#Considering I've said that before-!#But for now - this chapter is over. On hold. Who knows...#135

117 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 5 years

Text

The Dating Game 2 - Jonathan Byers

It’s Thanksgiving time and Jonathan is starting to question his feelings.

The Dating Game 1 2 - Jonathan Byers x reader

November 20th 1984

“My dad’s family does this big shindig at our house every year. Tons of food, it’s really something.” Steve mentioned when you asked about his upcoming holiday plans. He was sprawled out on the la-z-boy in the basement, playing you in a competitive back and forth game of tetris.

“Sounds nice, my dad’ll probably just work that day. Maybe somebody at the office will give him a can of cranberries or something.” You shrug. After everything that had happened following Halloween, not including your odd relationship status with both Jonathan Byers and Steve Harrington, you were trying to bring some normality back into your life. Things seemed to be better between Steve and Nancy, not great, not dating again, but better than Tina’s Halloween party. She wasn’t screaming bullshit at him anymore. But she was hanging around Jonathan more and more these days and you were hanging around him less and less. Despite the arrangement you’d made with Jonathan things hadn’t gone to plan after Halloween. Things hadn’t even gone normally after Halloween and there was little time to be made for school projects when the safety of the world seemed to be at stake. But you and Steve stayed close.

“Come to ours.” Steve offered.

“I couldn’t.” You kept your eyes on the tv screen as your turn on tetris started.

“It’d be cool, Nancy is gonna stop by. The more the merrier. You can even sign the famous Harrington Family Thanksgiving Tablecloth and put some shit about what you’re thankful for.”

“Dear Harrington Family Tablecloth, I’m so thankful that Steve isn’t as much of a tool as everyone said.” You laughed as he threw a pillow at your head.

“Hey, I didn’t invite myself over your house to avoid responsibility so that you could be mean to me.” He said, dodging the pillow you chucked back at him. “Besides it’d look good ya know, my fake girlfriend should be at Thanksgiving with me.”

“With you and your ex-girlfriend who you’re desperately trying to get back together with?” You laughed, “How’d you convince Nancy to come anyway?”

“I asked. I’m a charmer man, the ladies love me.” He replied, “plus I told her it was just as a friend.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by. Now finish your round, I’ve got work in twenty minutes and Keith freaked out last time I was late.” You had gotten a job a few days before Halloween at the arcade and adjoining video store in Hawkins. It wasn’t your dream job and working with Keith was definitely not what you wanted but money was money and your dad was insistent that you get a job to pay for, what he considered, unnecessary goods.

Possibly the worst part of working at the arcade was the fact that it was a common hang out for Hawkins youth. While you only ever had to deal with people like Tommy and Carol when they came in to rent a movie, or last week when Tommy and some guys snuck into the private room of the video store to look at the porn, you still got stuck seeing all the middle school kids on the daily. Some of them, like Dustin or Jonathan’s little brother Will, were more bearable than others but they were still kids and fighting a pack of demadogs with them was a lot different than saying hi where everyone could see. Because while you didn’t have anything to prove to anyone you still felt a mild amount of embarrassment every time Carol and Tina saw you being friendly to Will Byers or his friends. It was bad enough that you worked with Keith.

After your heated game of tetris Steve dropped you at the arcade with five minutes to spare. He was going to have dinner with Nancy, a big step in their developing friendship/ex-relationship. His plans to whoo her back weren’t going as smoothly as he imagined and she wasn’t falling for the bait that you two were dating, no matter how much time Steve inevitably spent hanging around you. He might be able to convince Tommy and Tina and Carol and all his other friends with some BS story about meeting at Halloween after Nancy split on him but she clearly wasn’t as gullible. She was friends with Jonathan after all, she knew what being ‘just friends’ looked like.

Nancy was dressed and ready to go to dinner with Steve when Jonathan pulled up to her house to drop off Will. She waved, walking down the driveway to say hello. After everything that had happened to them this year and the year before Nancy had re-evaluated what was important to her and what wasn’t. These days gossip around the school or graffitied signs on the movie theater didn’t mean a thing to her. People whispered about her friendship with Jonathan and about her break-up with Steve but Nancy didn’t care about their bullshit.

“Mike said you’re taking them to the arcade?” Nancy asked, leaning down to rest her arm against Jonathan’s window so she could talk to him. Behind her Will ran inside, slamming the door after him.

“I promised Will.” Jonathan shrugged, “he’s really looking forward to it.” Jonathan and Joyce were trying their hardest to give Will a normal life amidst the turmoil of demagorgons and the upside-down. Sometimes Jonathan felt like his mother was a little too overbearing with his younger brother but he understood why she was and he did his best to watch over Will as much as she wanted him to. Like today, before all of this Will would’ve easily gone to the arcade with Mike and Dustin without needing an accompanying babysitter but Joyce insisted that Jonathan go, claiming that it would be nice for the brothers to bond, as if they didn’t already.

“That’s good.” Nancy nodded. She looked back at the house to make sure that the boys hadn’t come out yet and then back to Jonathan, “how’s he doing?”

“Alright?” Jonathan offered, hating the question. Even when it was Nancy Wheeler who asked it. He never felt like he knew what to say. Was Will really alright? Would he continue to be alright? Would all this continue to be normal now that Eleven closed the gate? It was hard to say and frankly he’d rather not dwell on it too much.

The conversation was interrupted by Will, Mike, and Dustin running to the car. “Well,” Nancy patted the window the same way her mother did when she was ending a conversation. “I’ll see you later.” And then she was walking to her mom’s car and getting in.

While Jonathan drove the boys to the arcade Nancy made her way to dinner with Steve. An upgrade from the diner, Steve had chosen a nicer restaurant in town. It was an Italian place near the theatre that played live music and had some pretty decent garlic bread. He was already waiting outside for her when she pulled into a parking space, his hair in perfect place and his clothes suggesting that maybe this was more than a casual dinner. But Nancy had dressed up a little too, though she tried to play it off.

“Nance,” Steve opened the door to the restaurant for her and pulled out her chair when they got to the table. “Uh, how’ve you been?”

“Good, since yesterday.” She laughed.

Across town Jonathan was walking into the arcade behind Dustin, Will, and Mike. Though he had agreed to take the three boys there to meet Max and Lucas he was already starting to regret it. The arcade was dimly lit and loud, a sensory overload for someone with such sensitively inclined vision. He stood off to the side, trying not to crowd his brother and friends, instead attempting to fade into a corner until it was time to leave. Which could be hours from now he realized.

“As I live and breathe, you creeping in the corner on purpose Byers?” You teased, bumping your hip against his as you stopped next to him.

Jonathan looked over, letting out an uncomfortable laugh and then shaking his head, “I brought Will and his friends.” Just as he pointed them out Will looked over and you shared a wave with the younger Byers.

“How’d they pry you away from Nancy?” You asked, curious that he wasn’t spending his time with her and wondering if he knew about the non-date/date Steve had arranged.

“I don’t...we don’t hang out all the time.” Jonathan replied.

“Well if you’re looking to kill some time you’re welcome to hang out with me. I’ll let you in on a classified secret,” you joked, leaning closer to him, “I’m tons of fun.”

You and Jonathan hadn’t spent much time together since Halloween. A couple of meet-ups at Benny’s to talk over plans for the writing assignment that you still hadn’t told him you wanted to base on his drama with Nancy. Otherwise you had only seen him when you were with Steve around school or the few classes when you sat together. You still liked Jonathan, that was undeniable, but with everything that happened pretending to date wasn’t nearly as important as saving Will’s life. And you understood that. You didn’t expect him to make time for you and stupid school junk when he was battling some tornado with legs. But things had died down and you couldn’t help taking this opportunity to spend some time with him.

Jonathan laughed, “do you have anywhere quieter than here?” He asked, throwing another glance his brother’s way.

“Follow me,” you beckoned, leading the way through the heavy red curtain that separated the arcade and the movie rental. “Keith usually hangs on that side and he should be back any second from lunch.”

“It’s dinner time.” Jonathan pointed out, grabbing a stool from behind the counter to sit on. You took the other and sat beside him where your school books were spread out.

“It’s second lunch time for Keith. He’ll take a break for dinner in like two more hours.” You laughed, “don’t question the logic just go with it.”

“Sorry I’ve been so MIA lately.” he mentioned after a pause of silence between the two of you. He was watching older women shopping for movies to rent so that he didn’t have to look toward you as he apologized. Nancy had been right when she told him that he had a crush on you. He did. And while Nancy didn’t fall for stupid high school tricks like you’re fake relationship with Steve Harrington but Jonathan was not above being fooled by the rumors. It wasn’t that he believed all the stupid shit that Carol and Tommy talked about but he had ears and he heard them mention your name in conjunction with Steve’s enough times that he thought maybe you really were dating. Things had worked out the way they planned at Halloween and things definitely weren’t going the way he wanted them too with Nancy but maybe you had managed to score Steve while he was still fumbling over his own nonexistent love life.

“Can’t really be mad about that can I? It’d just make me look like a massive dick.” You teased. “And in case you haven’t noticed I’m the opposite of that.”

“I’ve noticed.” Jonathan replied, laughing as he loosened up.

You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest at the sound of his laugh and the implication that he’d noticed you, even if he was just joking. A silence settled over the two of you as you watched a lady nearing the checkout with a movie in her hands only to turn at the last moment and keep looking. You leaned against the counter top, reading over your textbook as Jonathan reached over and took the homework handout to look over.

“Have you done that yet?” You asked, not looking up from your work.

“Ah, yeah I finished it during study period.” Jonathan put the paper down again. He looked over at you while you were distracted with your homework. It sounded funny to say but ever since you had interrupted him watching Nancy that day in English it was almost as if you had disrupted his entire focus. Before October, and even before last year Jonathan would’ve said that he had a crush on Nancy Wheeler. His brother’s best friend’s older sister was just the picture of what a high school dream girl was supposed to be and however shallow it was he had fallen into the trap of wanting her as much as any other guy. And realizing that she wasn’t just some girl-next-door pretty enough to be in a catalogue had only made him like her more. And yeah, maybe the fact that she was pretty and she could hold her own against a demagorgan were the only reasons he liked her but they were in high school, he shouldn’t have to need more reasons.

When he thought about it, really took the time to go over it in his head, that split second in time that should’ve been so insignificant threw him for more of a loop than he expected. One second he was sitting in class staring at Nancy Wheeler and wishing she would give half as much of her attention to him as she did to Steve when you called his name and started talking to him. He’d turned his head to look at you and suddenly it was like he could quite put his focus back on Nancy. At Halloween when he left you on the stoop at Tina’s house in your Stevie Nicks get up he couldn’t stop the resentment he felt toward Nancy beneath his general concern for her well-being. He found himself wanting to know if you had looked at him the same way he was looking at you or if he was imagining it.

“So you and Steve?” He asked because he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Had he really pushed you into Steve Harrington’s arms or had you liked the Patrick Dempsey of Hawkins Highschool this whole time.

“What about me and Steve?” You asked, tilting your head to the side to gauge Jonathan’s expression. He was so hard to read and most of the time he just came off as shy and awkward.

He shrugged, trying to ‘play it cool’ if that was even a possible action for a Byers, “I’ve just...seen you around him a lot and I heard that you were dating.” If you were dating would he tell you that your boyfriend was out with Nancy right now or did you know?

You thought about telling him the truth. That you and Steve were playing everyone the way you and Jonathan had intended on playing Nancy. He would keep a secret, that much you were positive about. But why was he asking? Because he was genuinely curious about your relationship status with Steve or because he wanted to make sure that Nancy really was off the market. Or was it something else? The something else that made you get butterflies when he laughed at something you said or when he saw you across the hall at school and waved just to you in the midst of a chaotic surge of students. The something else that had you wishing his gaze lingered on you the way it lingered on Nancy. So you decided to lie, to see where this was going. “Yeah. I guess so.”

His brow furrowed and a frown set on his face and he opened his mouth to say something when Will came through the curtain divider and asked him to look at a high score. “Oh, alright.” He finally said as he stood up and followed his brother back to the arcade.

What did alright mean?

November 22nd, 1984 - Thanksgiving

Though you hadn’t intended to when you set out on Thanksgiving around 5pm you had dined-and-dashed at the Harringtons’ . And hardly dined to be honest. You’d arrived at Steve’s a little after leaving your own house, dressed a lot nicer than you usually did and carrying a store-bought pumpkin pie. The last one that you’d been so desperate to grab you’d stolen it from the cart of an older woman while she was looking over the bread selection in the grocery store. You didn’t want to show up empty handed after he was nice enough to invite you and the personal guilt you felt over having baked nothing for them but having a perfectly baked apple pie sitting in the back seat of your car waiting for you to go to the Byers forced you to buy something.

It was because of the Byers that you had dressed up too. Or, a specific Byers, Jonathan had invited you to his family’s Thanksgiving dinner on Tuesday night at the arcade and you couldn’t say no. Not that you wanted to say no. The opportunity to spend any amount of time with Jonathan and the fact that he wanted to see you enough that he had brought up Thanksgiving in the first place and invited you. Sure, Steve had invited you, unprompted, to his house for dinner too but that was different. You were friends with Steve and you wouldn’t quite call whatever you and Jonathan had ‘friends’.

You didn’t want to read too much into the invitation from Jonathan but that didn’t stop you from the nervous anticipation as you checked your appearance in the mirror a dozen times before leaving your house. You’d brushed your teeth twice and changed your clothes more than that as you tried to imagine what would look best. What would tell Jonathan that you liked him and that you were better than Nancy. Or maybe not better but a viable second option. Did he know Nancy was going to Steve’s? Was she going to Jonathan’s too? Was he going to hers?

“I thought you were leaving?” Steve called, walking over to your car and breaking the reckless train of thought you were trapped on.

You’d said goodbye to everyone at least ten minutes ago and then walked out to your car, headed for Jonathan’s. But then your brain started to work again and all those thoughts about Nancy and you and Jonathan and the stupid fake dating scheme with Steve bubbled up and you worried that maybe this was all a terrible idea. Maybe you should just drive home.

Steve called your name.

“Sorry, just a little on edge today.” You apologized.

You managed to drive all the way to the Byers without incident though you had been tempted to turn down your street and go home the minute you were stopped at the corner. You worked through it though, forcing your foot on the gas pedal and going straight to the Byers. Then you sat in the car outside their house, parked beside Chief Hopper’s truck as you tried to pep talk yourself into going inside. You might’ve stayed there all night if it wasn’t for Will coming outside.

He knocked on the car window and you were so startled you hit the horn.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” you apologized as you got out of the car. Will looked concerned more than upset and the front door flew open to reveal both Jonathan and Joyce.

“Are you alright?” Jonathan asked, coming down off the porch.

“Fine, fine...hit the horn is all.” You continued to ramble as you got the tupperware from the backseat. “I made apple pie, is that okay? It’s about the only thing I can make.”

“Of course.” Joyce always looked so warm. Even now she looked so genuinely happy and warm that you found yourself wishing she was your mom. She took the tupperware from you and Will headed back inside after checking that you were okay and apologizing for startling you.

Jonathan stayed though, grabbing your upper arm when you started to follow the rest of his small family inside. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

You weren’t sure if it was because Will had been through so much and he always expected the worst or if you genuinely looked that freaked out but Jonathan was looking at you like you might pass out at any moment. You smiled and nodded. What could you say, that you’d worked yourself into a panic over the meaning of his invitation and were so terrified to go inside that you had chosen to just sit there and creep on them? That sounded crazy. You were just...friends?

“I’m fine.” You promised.

Jonathan let go of you and led the way inside. Joyce hadn’t decorated quite as festively as the Harringtons but it was certainly cleaner than the last time you’d been inside her house. The first time you’d been there, with Steve and Billy. Chief Hopper was there, sitting on the couch drinking a beer as Joyce finished setting out dinner. The two of them were talking about different people in town. You could Will down the hall talking to El in his bedroom and the sound of music coming from somewhere else. You weren’t usually so obtrusive but you couldn’t help following the sound, not even realizing that Jonathan had followed you down the hall.

It was his room the noise was coming from. He’d been in his room before you arrived, trying to find the cleanest shirt he could from the various shirts left around the small space. It shouldn’t have mattered, you weren’t Nancy and he had a crush on Nancy. But somehow it did matter and he felt nervous about you coming for dinner. He’d cleaned the house that afternoon. Every spare plate, every out of place magazine or toy that Will had left lying around. He’d wiped down the table and vacuumed and swept the porch. It was a little unusual but Joyce didn’t argue and she didn’t ask either.

“I thought he was hanging around Mike’s sister.” Hopper commented as he came into the kitchen, keeping his voice low so no one would overhear him.

“I thought so too.” Joyce shrugged. She’d only met you once before, “I thought she was Steve Harrington’s girlfriend.”

“Who?”

“The kid with the hair.” She gestured to her head, swooping her hand back the way Steve always did.

While they debated Steve Harrington, you and Jonathan were in his room. He stood back near the door as you thumbed through his music collection, listening to the cassette that was playing right now. You picked up a small plastic case, a hand-drawn picture on the jacket and popped it open. A mix-tape. Tiny writing on the inside of the jacket listed all the songs on the cassette and just a date was where the title would be. You laid it down and picked up another, similar tape. Jonathan fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, not sure what to say as you looked over his music collection.

There wasn’t a lot that Jonathan shared with people. His music collection and his photographs were the most private things he owned. They belonged to him solely and he only ever opened up about them with people that he knew he could trust. His mom, Will, Nancy had seen a few pictures. But no one else. But here you were looking through his personal music collection in his room, as if you had just stepped inside his brain and decided to take a tour.

“This mix is really good.” You commented as the next song started to play.

“Thanks.” Jonathan took another step into the room.

“I’m terrible at making mixes. I mean...I try ya know but I just can’t get the songs in the right order.” You admitted, putting a cassette down and turning toward Jonathan.

“I uh,” Jonathan began to speak but quickly backtracked. He wanted to offer to make you one, it was right there on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to say. But whatever social awkwardness plagued him he knew well enough that mixtapes were for girlfriends or boyfriends and not for random English partners that were just at Thanksgiving because he was so anxious he blurted out an invitation while he was waiting with you for his brother to be finished at the arcade. They weren’t for girls that he thought he didn’t like but that now caused his chest to tighten and his palms to get clammy when he was in the same room as her.

“Sorry,” you laughed, taking his silence for a different sort of discomfort than the kind you were currently suffering from. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

The words ‘you are’ danced across his lips but he only shrugged and said, “we could listen to something else?” He walked all the way into his room, coming up beside you and shuffling through his collection until he came to a cassette that he was particularly fond of. “I made this one a couple weeks ago...took all day Saturday.” then it was his turn to laugh nervously, “sorry that sounds lame.”

“No way, I spent all Saturday playing tetris by myself in the basement. You’re preaching to the choir.”

Somehow the tension dissipated and the room was left with an oddly peaceful silence as you sat on Jonathan’s bed with him, listening to the mixtape he’d put in. He was moving so minutely you weren’t sure you were even seeing it correctly. But you could swear that out of your peripheral vision you could see Jonathan just slightly bop his head to the song that was on. And you thought maybe if you turned your head you could even catch the barest movement from his lips as he mouthed the words.

You kept your focus mainly trained on the comforter beneath your hands, only looking at him every once in a while, when you thought you could chance it. Jonathan’s fringe was a godsend in that moment and he used it to block your view of his eyes so he could watch you. Watch the tiny smile that came to your face when a certain lyric was sung. The way you looked so happy when you recognized a song and the way you would mouth the title as the opening chords came, trying to guess what the next song on the mixtape was. He let his mind wander to what it might be like if you were more than just friends. If he hadn’t found himself pining after Steve Harrington’s girl all over again. He wondered if you would be sitting together like this. Or would he be laying in bed with you, your head on his chest as you listened to a mixtape he made just for you. He let himself smile, thinking about the way you might kiss his cheek when a song you were really fond of started playing. Or maybe you’d listen in his car, driving in the rain and headbanging along to whatever music was playing. Maybe he’d pull over when the thunder got really bad and you’d make out in the back seat.

Another glance over at Jonathan and you saw him blushing just the slightest. The faint red disappeared into the collar of his t-shirt. He looked over at you and while you had looked away every other time you found yourself staring right back. You smiled and he smiled back, as simple as that. And then you swore he leaned toward you, just like a movie.

“Dinner!” Joyce’s voice pierced through the house and Jonathan nearly fell over his feet as he stood up. He gulped and ran a hand through his hair and started toward the door before realizing you were still sitting on his bed, laughing quietly at him.

“Come on...my mom makes great stuffing.” He nodded toward the hallway for confirmation.

This is so long I just kept writing sorry. There’s one more part left.

@cold-blooded-girls @waiting4inspiration

#Jonathan Byers imagine #Jonathan Byers fanfiction #Jonathan Byers x reader #Jonathan Byers fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #collecting stories imagine #The dating game series

106 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Any Other Tuesday (ch2, baon)

Summary: It started the same as any other Tuesday

Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

A bus ride, a short walk, and a bowl of spinach dip later, and they were settled in front of the television, ready to be awed by one of the worst movies ever made. That was fine by Jeff; being in Edge and Stretch’s house was frankly nicer than being in his own. Not that his roommates were bad guys, but they were roommates, not really friends, and his own small room became claustrophobic if he spent too much time in it.

They ended up sitting on the sofa together, the dip on the end table where Jeff could toss a chip in from time to time. Stretch was too tall to sprawl out across the cushions if someone was already sitting on it, so he tended to sort of curl up and lay with his head on whoever’s lap was in his way. He did the same thing no matter who it was; Jeff, Edge and his brother, although there was an obvious difference in the level of sprawl and the amount of handsyness involved.

Jeff figured it was just a Stretch thing, but he kinda wondered what Edge thought about it, given his paranoia about Humans getting touchy-feely with Stretch. The past few visits Edge hadn’t given them so much as a sideways glance, so Jeff figured he’d made it on the short list. Edge wasn’t his friend like Stretch was, they didn’t text or send snapchats, didn’t meet up for coffee or weird experiments. He was still a friend and that was Jeff’s short list.

So yeah, sitting on the sofa earned a Stretch in the lap. Not that he couldn’t sit in one of the armchairs, he could, but, eh, this was obviously something Stretch preferred and he was Jeff’s friend. Who was he to deny something so easy when it made him happy?

The only problem he ran into was where to put his hands. On the skull seemed weirdly intimate, but they didn’t fit on his own lap. In the end, he settled one hand on Stretch’s side and the other on the armrest. Not that Stretch seemed to care; he was sleeping before the movie got through the opening credits. It made Jeff think maybe he wasn’t being as honest about how he was feeling as he could be.

Well, if a nap would do him good, then Jeff was fine with playing the role of pillow.

He kept as still as he could, watching the movie while Stretch slept, sometimes glancing down at him. It was sort of interesting, honestly. Skeleton Monster, not skeleton and it struck him again how little they looked like a human corpse or a lab display. For one, he was breathing, his chest rising and falling even without lungs to fill. His joints were very faintly tinted orange, and he twitched a little in his sleep, murmuring nonsensically. Skeleton Monsters looked alive and when he was awake, Stretch was full of grins and snark, dragging everyone in to the gravity well of his exuberance.

How did some Humans look at Monsters and see something to hate? Jeff didn’t understand it.

And hey, maybe it was because he was Human, but he wasn’t fucking sorry that the guy who’d attacked Stretch on the bus was dead. Hasta la vista, baby.

The movie was almost over when the front door opened with a jangle of keys. Stretch stirred, sitting up with a yawn as Edge came in, mumbling out, “hey, babe.”

“Hello, you two,” Edge said easily, unsurprised at the scene before him, which meant Stretch had managed to text him at some point before he spent time drooling on Jeff’s pant leg.

Edge walked over, leaning down to give Stretch a kiss and Jeff kept his eyes pointedly on the tv. Normally, his little shipper heart would be throwing off sparkly joy to see his favorite couple so happy together but lately, it brought up an ache. too. He wanted to be the one giving those welcoming kisses to his lover or better yet, getting them as he came home from his new job.

That kiss lasted a little too long for a friendly greeting, and Jeff finally coughed pointedly. It was probably a sign that he really was friends with Edge that it only got him an amused glance and not a glare.

Edge flicked a look at the television. “I hope that movie is nearly over. Torture after a full day at work is against the Geneva convention.”

From behind him came a familiar voice “You guys want to get out of here with your lovey dovey or should I stay on the porch?”

Antwan.

Jeff leaned enough to look around Edge and saw him. He was standing in the open doorway, leaning against the jamb. Still dressed in his work clothes, his tie loosened, and the top button undone on his shirt. It was a good look on him, clean-cut and a little mussed and, honestly, he looked good enough to eat, no ketchup required. His slow smile when he saw Jeff only made a flutter of warmth leap in his chest.

He wandered over, almost mimicking Edge as he leaned down to give Jeff a warm, deep kiss. By the end of it, they probably deserved a throat clearing of their own, but hell with it. Jeff wasn’t about to give this up too quickly.

“Hey, pretty,” Antwan pulled back, breathed it close to his ear and Jeff shivered. Not exactly the afternoon kiss of his dreams but it was damn close.

“If you’re quite finished.”

Edge stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching them with a brow bone raised while Stretch was sprawled on the other side of the sofa, leaning against the arm with his chin propped on his updrawn knees as he stared. His eye lights looked like little hearts, soft and warm.

“Yeah, yeah, quit bitching. And you, stop that,” Antwan gave Stretch a gentle poke as he walked past him. “We need to talk shop a little longer, finish your movie and we’ll get dinner started.”

“that better not mean you’re cooking, antwan,” Stretch called after them as they walked to the kitchen. “i wanna actually be able to eat the food, not bury it to ease its suffering.”

Antwan didn’t even look behind him as he offered an upraised middle finger in their direction and Stretch grinned, leaning in confidingly to Jeff. “he secretly loves me.”

It was meant as a joke. Stretch couldn’t read the doubts that were engraved in his thoughts, and it shouldn’t hurt to hear that, it shouldn’t. Instead he looked away, towards the shelves that lined one of the walls.

“Did Edge get some new action figures?” Jeff asked, both eager to change the subject and honestly curious.

“hmm? oh, yeah, but don’t ask me what the hell they are,” Stretch rolled to his feet and wandered over to the shelves. “he lives for ebay, finds all kinds of weird shit, gets lot jobs and rebuilds ‘em.”

“He does a good job.” Each figure was meticulously placed on the shelf, some on risers and others lined up around them. Jeff wasn’t sure of the organization, but he had no doubt that Edge planned it as obsessively as he did everything else. The rhyme and reason surely made sense to him, despite the fact that GI Joes were placed next to She-Ra, smaller Lego sets interspersed between them.

Jeff admired the display, mentally cataloging the different series and wondering at the value. Even out of the package, they were probably worth a decent amount, and whatever repairs he did sure as hell didn’t show.

One of them caught his eye, an Optimus Prime figure that towered a head above the others. The gun in his hand was loose and about to fall, and Jeff reached out to fix it before it could escape and get lost in the carpet. His nudge turned out a little too hard, and the Transformer wobbled dangerously, falling into a grim-faced He-Man and they could only watch in frozen horror as the chain reaction ran through the entire shelf, a domino massacre of action figures that only ended when the last figure toppled, piled on the shelf with its fallen brethren.

The silence was broken only by the tinny soundtrack of the ending movie coming from the television.

“oh,” Stretch said, blankly. He reached out weakly, his hand hovering over the pile, trying and failing to decide which to start with. “well. i mean. i guess that could’ve been worse?”

As if only waiting for a prompt from the universe, the shelf collapsed, falling into the one beneath it and sending them both to the floor. Action figures scattered, an explosion of plastic and Jeff could only watch the destruction in mortification

Slowly, he leaned down and picked up the Optimus, the one who had started the entire catastrophe. The gun was still firmly in his hand, it was only a shame that the arm was no longer attached to the body.

"What was that?" The kitchen door swung open, Edge and Antwan stepping out. Two steps into the living room, Edge stopped mid-stride, his eye lights widening as he took in the carnage of his beloved display.

"babe!" Stretch said, brightly and a little panicked as he whirled around, wringing his hands. "um, sorry, i...uh...i bumped into the shelf and knocked it over. kinda set off a chain reaction there, really, we should complain to the manufacturer, there’s no way it should have fallen that easily, am i right? probably have a lawsuit on our hands, maybe, good thing you’re here, antwan, bet you know how to make ikea pay--”

Jeff could feel sweat beading on his forehead, biting his lip as he tried to figure out what to say. He felt awful, bordering on nauseous and, fuck, he couldn’t let Stretch take the blame for his stupid mistake. On one hand, Edge probably wouldn’t get as angry with Stretch, but on the other. he shouldn’t get angry with Stretch at all, he didn’t do anything. He needed to speak up, say something but the words were stuck, clogged up in the tightness of his throat.

"It's all right," Edge said, gently interrupting Stretch’s rambling. The gentleness in his voice shouldn’t be a surprise, Jeff knew him better than that, and still. He couldn’t help cringing a little when Edge’s eye lights flicked to him, his words obviously meant for them both. "There was no harm done. They're action figures, they were made to be played with, a little fall isn't going to damage them."

"nope, nothing broken at all!" Stretch chirped with almost desperate hope. Jeff couldn’t even agree, not with the evidence in his hands.

Edge only sighed and shook his head. "Which one broke?"

Meekly, Jeff held Optimus out and watched in misery as Edge's eye socket twitched visibly. He took it, turning it to inspect the damage.

"I'll find you another one," Jeff blurted. Even if he had to find another job, work nights for a while, he would. "I'm so sorry, I--"

Edge held up a hand and Jeff fumbled miserably to a stop. "I accept the apology, but it isn't broken. It looks like the screws were loose. This is an easy repair, it's all right, there’s no harm done."

“But the shelves—” Jeff started.

At that moment, the smoke alarm chose to join the chaos, blaring its alarm. Edge thrust the toy back into Jeff’s hands and dashed back into the kitchen, Antwan on his heels.

The world is turning against me, Jeff decided with almost giddy dismay. Wheee!

“huh.” Stretch stuck his hands in his pockets contemplatively while the fire alarm wailed in the back ground, mixing horribly with the eerie music still pouring from the tv. “this keeps getting better. c’mon, i need to see how this ride ends.”

Reluctantly, Jeff followed him into the kitchen. He was right, they needed to see this through to the bitter end. And anyway, misery loved company.

Moments later in the strange silence left by defused fire alarm, they stood in a circle around the charred remains on the kitchen island, an impromptu funeral for an unexpected demise.

Jeff wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be, but what it was right now was charcoal.

With two fingers, Stretch plucked a wooden spoon from the holder, gingerly poking the remnants. “hate to say it, babe, but i don’t think we have enough tabasco for this one.” He dropped the spoon and dusted off his hands, adding brightly. “how does everyone feel about chinese?”

Edge took a deep breath. "Right. Dinner out it is."

“Chinese will work,” Antwan said agreeably. “Not up to your standards, buddy, but sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team.”

Jeff only shuffled his feet, trying desperately to think of a way to beg off. His bank account had about twenty dollars in it until he got paid Friday and he couldn’t blow it all on dinner tonight.

Before he could think of a decent excuse, if there was one past the truth, Stretch slung an arm around his shoulders. “why don’t you two finish the funeral arrangements and we can clean up the living room.”

He tugged and Jeff followed, reluctantly, out of the kitchen. The action figure carnage was right where they’d left it, but before he could take a step towards it, Stretch leaned down, talking low, “i know what you were gonna say, okay, but please, we’ve got this. if you don’t let him feed you, he’ll be grouchy all night and i’ll have to deal with him and i kinda make a point of not dealing with him when he’s grouchy, and then i won’t be able to sleep tonight, and you wouldn’t do that to my health, would you?”

That was a very obvious ploy, so painfully blatant, and the hopefulness in Stretch’s face was all part of it, a very deliberate act, all of it. He knew that. So why the hell was Jeff so weak against it?

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jeff sighed.

“excellent!” Stretch said cheerily. “so let’s at least gather up the bits and bobs before we hit the town, right?” He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, with a furtive look at the kitchen door, “tell you the truth, i love restaurant chinese food more than what he makes. edge doesn’t add enough msg.” Stretch gave him a wink. “don’t ever tell him i said that. promise?”

“I promise,” Jeff said, hooking Stretch’s pinkie with his own and shaking solemnly, before he broke and grinned. Somehow, Stretch always made him feel better, even when he was stupid or broke. He’d pay him back someday, Jeff told himself fiercely. Pay him back for everything.

There were three hours left before things came crashing down, the fate poised above them ready to rip through his hopeful intentions the same as it did his skin, but Jeff didn’t know that. None of them did. Three hours, and right now Jeff was picking up action figures, laughing over them with nostalgia and wonder, carefully matching them to their toy axes and guns, and piling them together while Edge and Antwan disposed of the wreckage in the kitchen.

Chinese food did sound really good, he decided, and the company was better. It’d be fun and who knew, he could end up staying the night at Antwan’s, balancing his maybes for another night.

Better than the mac and cheese in his fridge, anyway, and soon they were all in Edge’s car, heading towards Ebott. And fate.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

30 notes · View notes

klaineanummel · 5 years

Text

eighteen going on extinct 20/20 (epilogue)

Kurt Fabray just wants to relax after a tough week at school, but that is shown to be impossible when he realizes that his absent father has once again blown into town. Not wanting to spend more time around him than necessary, Kurt goes to his old babysitters house, the one place he feels safe when his father is in town. While there, he stumbles upon a secret he knows he was never meant to find out - one that could change the entire course of his life.

An AU very loosely based on Mamma Mia.

I can't believe we've reached the end of this fic!I want to give a million thanks to my wonderful beta @mailroomorder, who helped me so much with this at every step of the way. I don't know what I would do without you, darling. Thank you so, so much <3

I also want to thank every single one of you for your amazing and encouraging comments. I love you so much, and I'm so thankful for you all for still sticking around to read these fics, even so long after Glee has ended. You're all incredible <3

I hope you enjoy this final chapter/epilogue, and I hope I will see you all soon (I mean, klaineadvent does start tomorrow hehe)

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Halfway through Kurt’s final year of high school, Burt comes up with the idea to have Friday night dinners. Originally, he means it as a way to strengthen the relationship between himself and Blaine with Kurt and Quinn. Soon enough, though, Kurt asks if Finn and Rachel can be included as well, and before they know it Friday night dinners are a staple in all of their lives.

It takes about a month before things stop being awkward between Quinn and Finn and Rachel. Finn also seems a little cautious about Burt at first, which he later admits was due to misconceptions about the man based on some of Puck’s past drunken ramblings.

By the time Kurt graduates, though, the six of them fit together like puzzle pieces. He jokingly tells Blaine once that it’s now their moral obligation to get married, since otherwise it would break the amazing family dynamic they have all fallen into.

Blaine smiles up at him, kisses him, and tells him that he has no problem with that.

Despite a deep desire to leave Lima as soon as he has his diploma, a lack of ambition or knowledge of future steps stops Kurt. Well, that, and the fact that he isn’t really excited about leaving Blaine behind.

After spending two weeks working full-time at Wendy’s, Kurt begs Burt for a job at the garage. Burt is happy to oblige, letting Kurt take over the desk duties at the shop. This soon evolves into Kurt doing a bit of filing for him, which eventually becomes Kurt doing almost all of the administration for the place. After a few months, Burt jokingly tells Kurt that he might as well give him the manager title, as he does more to keep the place together than Burt ever managed to do. Kurt grins at him, a feeling of belonging settling deep in his gut.

That evening, he goes home and looks up every single business school in the country.

Blaine ends up joining the Glee club at McKinley, admitting that he’s always loved to sing, but never feeling right about joining a choir or glee club without knowing if he’d be able to commit. His love of performing only grows as time passes, and by the time December rolls around, he tells Kurt that he’s going to be applying to every musical theater program he can find in New York.

After hearing that, Kurt narrows his searches to business programs in New York. He finds a wonderful one in NYU, but balks at the school’s price. No way would his mother ever be able to pay for that. He switches his searches to community colleges with business programs instead and finds a couple of suitable ones. He finds a decent program through CUNY, at a much better price, and his mind is made.

His application is sent within the week.

His mother cries when he tells her that he wants to go to New York, though she promises that it’s just because she will miss him so much, not because she doesn’t want him to go. Finn and Rachel cry as well, and tell him the same thing as she does.

“It sucks that you’re leaving so soon,” Finn says, hugging him close. “It feels like we just became a family, you know? A real one.”

Kurt smiles and tells him, “We’ll always be a family, even if I’m in New York. I promise.”

His acceptance letter comes relatively quickly, and Finn and Rachel take them all out to Breadstix to celebrate. Quinn and Burt try to pitch in with the bill, but Rachel glares at them both until they back off. Blaine chuckles at the antics, and Kurt kisses him on the cheek.

It isn’t long before Blaine receives audition requests from several of the universities he applied to, including one from his top choice, NYADA. Rachel almost bursts with excitement when Blaine gives the news at a Friday night dinner, and proceeds to take over the conversation for the evening. Apparently NYADA is her alma mater, and by the time the evening is through, she has made it her personal goal to get Blaine accepted to the school.

“You really don’t have to go through the trouble,” Blaine says. “I know you’re starting Wicked rehearsals soon, and then you’ll be going on tour… You’ll be so busy.”

“Not busy enough to stop me from helping my future son-in-law,” she says, grinning widely. “Really, Blaine, if you want an education in musical theater, you won’t find a better one. I promise that I’m going to get you into that school, okay?”

Blaine looks like he wants to argue some more, but Kurt just takes his hand and shakes his head. Blaine should know by now that Rachel should not be challenged when she is on a mission.

Kurt manages to sneak into McKinley to watch Blaine’s audition, and almost laughs out loud at the look on Blaine’s face when the auditioner mentions the very persuasive last-minute letter of recommendation they’d received on his behalf from Rachel Berry. She praises Blaine’s talent, and practically offers Blaine a position at the school on the spot. Kurt hurries to find Blaine when the audition is over and kisses the shit out of him, ignoring the eye-rolls from the couple of other NYADA wanna-be-students.

“We’re going to New York, Blaine.”

“Kurt, I still haven’t got in!” Blaine laughs.

Kurt just kisses him again, and says, “We’re going to New York.”

Within the month Blaine receives his admission letter to NYADA. He accepts the very same day, and that evening it’s Burt who buys them all dinner, more than proud of his soon-to-be adopted son’s achievement.

The adoption process drags a bit, though apparently not as much as it could. Their court date is set near Blaine’s graduation, but Blaine is continuously worried that it’ll get pushed back and he’ll have to travel back from New York in order to attend it. Kurt promises him that everything will be okay, but that doesn’t really do much to calm Blaine’s nerves, as apparently, “You can’t promise that, Kurt, you don’t know that.”

Nothing ends up going wrong, though. His court date isn’t moved back, and neither of his parents attempt to challenge the adoption request.

Kurt, Quinn, and Finn all attend the hearing, with Rachel on Facetime, clapping and crying when Burt is declared to be Blaine’s legal father. Finn, Quinn, and Burt all chip in for Chinese food to celebrate. It’s one of the happiest days of Kurt’s life.

Then, Blaine graduates, and before they know it they’re sitting at their last Friday night dinner before their move to New York. Rachel has managed to come to this one, held in Burt and Blaine’s home, and Kurt almost bursts into tears at the sight of her.

They all sit around the table and share far too much food. All four adults look like they could burst into tears at any moment, and Kurt tries to pretend that he isn’t extremely happy that he can garner this attention from them.

Some days, he still can’t believe how lucky he is. Two years ago he had a boyfriend that was only dating him to rebel against his parents, a mother stuck in a never-ending toxic relationship, and an absent piece-of-shit father. Now, he has a boyfriend who loves him and is moving to New York with him, a happy and carefree mother who six months ago threatened a restraining order against Puck if he didn’t stop calling her sporadically, and three other amazing parental figures who all care about him as though he were their own son.

Blaine seems to notice that he’s drifted off a little and bumps their shoulders together. “You okay, Kurt?”

Kurt smiles. He leans forward and kisses Blaine, ignoring the cat-calls from the four adults.

“I’ve never been better.”

The End

#klaineanummel fic #klaine fic #klaine au #klaine #fic: egoe #multi chapter #complete

48 notes · View notes

jinkisbelly · 5 years

Text

Chances 1/?

Pairing: Onho

Rating: PG

W/c:2k

Summary: Minho's life is turned upside down when his mother passes away, and at the age of nineteen, he suddenly has to take care of his four-year-old brother Minseok while going to school full time. Why not also throw in a budding romance to complicate his already complicated life? He finds, some things are worth taking chances on.

Can be read on AO3 as well, brief discussion of loss and mention of death so warning.

Minho swallowed thickly as he straightened from putting the last box into their new apartment. It seemed nice enough, with pretty painted walls and mahogany wooden floors. The building had just been built last year and it was only ten minutes from where his university was. Coming furnished was also a selling point, but the rent was steep because they required no credit check. The boxes from the moving truck were littered around the living room and leading into the small dining room attached to the kitchen. Down the hall to the left was the two bedrooms and the bathroom. The balcony drapes were pulled back allowing bright late morning light to come through the big glass doors. No matter how decent the place was, it would never feel like home without his mother there with them.

“Hey, Bud come choose what room you want.” When he didn’t hear any movement or sign of the four-year-old panic began to rise in his chest, his voice becoming more breathy as he called out again, “Minseok? Come on Bud. This isn’t funny. It’s not the time to play hide and seek.”

He stepped over and around boxes, checked behind the couch, under the dining room table, and around the kitchen island. He jogged back through the hall to look into the bathroom and both bedrooms. He muttered breathlessly to himself, finding it hard to breathe. “Come on Minho. Don’t say you’ve lost him this soon.”

The door was left wide open as he stood just outside, looking each way down the hall. “Minseok!”

“I’m guessing this belongs to you?”

Rising his gaze toward the voice he found a man a few inches shorter than himself, a sweet smile on his face as he flipped his hair from his eyes. He adjusted what he was holding and it was then Minho recognized he had Minseok on his hip. He rushed forward to take the boy from him, “Oh my God. Where did you find him?”

“I had my door open until I could place my groceries down in the kitchen.” The man laughed lightly as Minseok nuzzled into Minho’s neck. “I turned around to close it and there was a little one playing with my dog.”

“What did I say about running away, Bud?” Minho softly asked against Minseok’s hair before he looked back over at the man. “Thank you. I’m sorry he barged into your apartment like that. He really likes dogs.”

“It’s alright. He’s a cute dog burglar.” Then he offered his hand, “I’m Lee Jinki. I guess you’re the new tenant.”

“Choi Minho,” The man’s hand was soft and warm, but the handshake was firm. “And yes. The place seems nice so far.”

“The people are pretty nice. There’s an older man in the apartment at the end of the hall that always needs help with his television. He may come ask you for assistance, but he pays in cookies and unwanted life advice, so I guess it’s worth it. If you need anything, you know where I am.” Jinki leaned against his doorway, just a foot to the left on the other side of the hallway. His arms were crossed over his chest casually, “And this little cutie is welcome any time he wants to play with Peanut.”

“Thank you again.”

Jinki shook his head with a wave of his hand. “It’s better he ran for my dog than finding the elevator and going to any one of a dozen levels. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“You too.” Minho bumped his nose against Minseok’s head. “Say bye to Jinki, Bud.”

“Bye Jinnie!”

Jinki snorted. “I guess that works.”

As they returned to their new apartment, Minho set the boy down and quickly locked the door behind them. “You almost gave me a heart attack Minseok. You can’t run off like that.”

“I was bored. I wanted to play with the puppy.”

“You’re lucky Jinki was nice enough to let you play with his puppy and that Peanut was sweet.” Minho ran a heavy hand over his face as he sighed. “Do you want to go pick which room you want before we start unpacking?”

“I get to choose?”

“Yes.”

The boy was off like a rocket down the hallway, leaving his groaning big brother behind in his dust.

-----

The only light in the room was the light from Minseok’s turtle lamp beside his bed. The bed was far bigger than his old one, but he could get in and out of it without assistance. Minho had just opened up the book they were reading as a bedtime story when Minseok softly asked, “When’s Mama coming home?”

Minho felt a lump form in his throat and like his blood was ice running through his veins. He swallowed thickly as he lowered his gaze from the innocence of Minseok’s expression, tapping his fingers gently against the pages of the book in his lap. He had been told questions such as these would be asked, but he hadn’t known how to answer them then and even more so now. His eyes were closed just long enough for him to take a deep breath and exhale before he looked at Minseok’s face with as much of a comforting smile as he could muster. “Bud, she’s not coming home.”

“Like, she doesn’t know where we live now?”

“No, not like that.” He softly rubbed Minseok’s tummy through his blanket, more of a comfort to himself than the young boy. “Remember Fluffy?”

“The cat?”

“Yeah, the little black one we had a couple years ago.”

“A little. Mama said he went to a better place.”

“Yeah,” Minho let out a little laugh, remembering the memory a little fondly. “Mama went to that better place too.”

“So, she isn’t gonna come back?”

“No, Bud. I’m sorry, Minseok.”

“But I miss her.” His little lip trembled slightly as his eyes became glossy.

“I miss her too.” Minho wiped his cheeks with his thumbs before running a hand over his hair. “Would you like to sleep with me tonight, Bud?”

“Yes please.”

“Alright, c’mere.” He opened his arms and smiled as Minseok scrambled out from the covers into his lap. He grabbed the stuffed teddy bear next to the pillow and pushed off the bed to head toward his own bedroom. He had other things he should be doing, but right then, none of them seemed that important as he laid down beside his little brother and held him close in comfort. “Goodnight Minseok.”

“G’night.”

----

“Where are we going?”

“To check out the daycare they have on campus.” Minho softly responded as he buckled the boy into his booster seat.

“Why?”

“If it’s nice, that will be where you’ll be taken care of while I’m in my classes.”

“Why?” He heard the boy just as he opened the front seat door, slipping into the seat easily.

“Because I can’t take you into my classes with me all the time.” The seatbelt was sticking weirdly as he fought it to fasten.

“Why?”

“Because that’s just how it is!” Minho froze when he realized his voice had risen in volume. He ran a hand over his face before sighing and twisting to look at him. “You’ll only be there until 4 when I’m done with my work study job, and if something happens I’ll be close enough to be able to run there for you.”

“But why do I gotta go to a new one?” Minseok was fidgeting with his action figure, making the arm move up and down slowly as his bottom lip jutted out.

“Your old daycare is across the city near where we used to live, Bud, and it’s really expensive.”

“But why?”

“That’s just how it is, Minseok.” He turned on the playlist he had made over a year ago of the songs he knew Minseok to enjoy and with that, the conversation was stopped. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he adjusted it and sighed deeply seeing how his brother was pouting. He hated changing more things for the boy, but there was no way he could afford the placement at his old daycare.

He put the car in reverse and pulled from the parking spot, heading toward his school.

----

The side of the diner they were sitting in was completely empty save for them. They had been coming to this place since Minho was Minseok’s age, and he was going to keep up the tradition. Minseok hummed happily as he bit into his chicken nugget, small hand reaching for the rim of the chocolate shake they were supposed to share. Minho wrapped a finger around the thin part of the base and tugged it just out of Minseok’s reach, getting a whine of disapprovement. “You have to eat more of your vegetables before you can have more shake, Bud.”

“But I ate all my peas!”

“Hiding it under your fries isn’t eating them.”

Minseok frowned deeply. “No fair.”

Minho took a sip of the shake before pushing it over. “Just take it slow.”

The boy didn’t listen and a few moments later he was whining about a brain freeze as Minho tried very hard not to laugh.

----

As he lifted him into the big part of the basket, Minseok asked, “If we ate, why are we here?”

“Because we have no food at home.”

“Ah.” He leaned back against the cart, looking up at Minho as he began to push the cart forward. “Can we get dino oatmeal?”

“It’s on the list, Bud.”

“Good. I like Dino oatmeal.”

As they passed the third aisle passed the produce section, Minho turned. He stopped in front of the array of different juices. “Do you want apple juice?”

“Juice boxes?”

Minho pressed his lips together but bent down past the bottles to grab the package of juice boxes. They were a dollar more expensive, but for the time being he’d deal with it. Their mom always bought the juice boxes instead of the big bottle and he remembered being told to try and keep as many things the same as he could. After handing them to Minseok to place in the cart, he pushed forward. “And don’t open that yet.”

“But juice!”

“You gotta wait until we get to the car, Bud.”

“That’s stupid.”

Minho gazed at him sternly. “Bud.”

“Mama, let me drink one.”

After softening slightly, Minho softly admitted, “She did, but it was wrong to do. You have to wait.”

----

“Puppy!” Minseok pulled against Minho’s grip on his hand in his attempt to run toward the poor canine. Somehow the four-year-old mustered up enough strength to rip his hand away.

“Minseok, stop!” He sighed quietly as he jogged to catch up to the boy, trying his hardest to keep the brown bag of groceries level in his left arm. “Don’t pester Jinki and his dog.”

But it was too late. Minseok was already sitting on the floor with the little dachshund lapping at his face as he giggled. Jinki scowled lightly, “Now what did I say about licking, Peanut?” Then his gaze lifted with a sweet smile. “And it’s not pestering. Peanut loves attention.”

“He’s wiggly.” Minseok quips happily, giggling even more as the dog wags his tail harder.

“Very wiggly.” Jinki kneels then, running a hand over the length of the dog. “You should see how he wiggles when it’s dinner time. He’s fallen over from the motion being too strong.”

“Really?”

Jinki nodded before looking at his dog, “Hey Peanut, guess what time it is? Yes! It’s dinner time.”

Sure enough, the little dog’s wiggling increased dramatically, tongue sticking from his mouth. Minseok looked over with the biggest smile and crinkled eyes. “Look!”

“I see, Bud.” He adjusted the bag once again, keys jingling at the movement. “We need to go put the groceries away. Your popsicles are melting.”

"But!”

“I need to head to work anyway.” Jinki smiled warmly even as the boy pouted. “I’ll see you around soon, I’m sure.”

Minseok slowly rose from the floor, little arms crossed as he basically stomped toward their door. Minho rolled his eyes at the drama of it all, before smiling at Jinki. “Have a good night, Jinki.”

“You too.”

#onho #minho #onew #shinee #minew #chances au #december hiatus : fic queue

16 notes · View notes

awholeotherlevel · 5 years

Text

Valley of Shadows-Chapter 1

By Camille Scott

Harriet stretched a slender arm sideways, grasping the bar underneath her foot. She touched forehead to knee, before whisking the leg from its perch. Harriet retreated, leaving Bach alone with his music. Such were the times she was at peace; on the verge of exhaustion, the ballerina ran fresh bathwater and added a touch of jasmine to the swirling water.

In the bedroom, Harriet peeled off her leotard. She returned to the bathroom and quickly immersed herself in the foaming liquid. Bach floated into the room. Harriet smiled and began scrubbing her skin with the soapy towel. Now that the ballet tour was over, she would go and see about mom. Her brother sent the text last night.

Some mothers phoned, hers contracted mysterious illnesses. Visits from each of her children were the doses necessitated by her “illnesses.” Harriet and her siblings loathed such visits and went reluctantly. Guilt forced them there, maintaining its unwavering grasp on the reins of their conscience. The adult children had been summoned to pay homage to their earthly master; the one mortal who could break their spirits.

An oppressive sense of obligation would take Harriet, Rachel, and Richard into custody until they had done their duty. Then having served their time, they would be released on parole into the world beyond their mother’s front gate. Poor Joshua never did escape. He still lived with her.

Harriet sighed over the uneasy, guilt laden days and sleepless nights that lay ahead. Then she dismissed the burdensome thoughts and summoned up more pleasant ones. Harriet thought about the previous nights’ performance. Her mind’s eye traveled across the happy faces in the Parisian audience. A faint smile spread across her face.

She completed her task and climbed out of the tub, wrapping herself in a bath towel before releasing the water. Bach had already finished and lay dormant until his presence was again requested. Harriet gazed at her reflection, attributing grace to the sharp almost gaunt face, overlooking the cloudy eyes and dark circles that had begun to show despite her deep complexion.

“Now that the show is over, I can eat a decent meal. Not now though, I’ve got a plane to catch tonight and I haven’t even thought about packing!”

* * *

Across the ocean in a New York apartment, lay Harriet’s brother Richard listening to the sounds of traffic and pedestrians below his open window. Darkness was absolute. HIs body tensed and relaxed, fighting for control of his consciousness. All at once, the battle ended. Richard’s body was overcome with fatigue and he fell into a fitful sleep:

“Richard? Richard! Where are you boy?”

“Mom, is that you?”

“Who do you think it is boy? Get in this house. You haven’t done a single chore!”

In the dream, Richard started towards the house staring in disbelief. With each step, the house seemed to shift and expand, to age. He reached the front porch and suddenly found himself before a dilapidated building. Anxiety numbed his faculties, holding him riveted to that spot. Richard knew that he had seen the building before, but where? Where?

“Richard, if I have to come get you, then you’ll be sorry!”

“B-but mom, this isn’t our house.”

“Stop talking foolish and get in here boy!”

He lingered for a moment, stunned by a powerful foreboding brought on by the strange familiarity of the building and the situation before him.”

“Get in here now!”

Her angry voice propelled him forward, through a decaying door, into the darkness beyond it.

“Well, it’s about time! What in the hell were you doing? Always running off somewhere...”

Richard followed the sound of his mother’s voice, until it stopped abruptly. The darkness suddenly contracted; pushing in on all sides like thousands of tiny hands. Richard gasped stale air. All at once, the sensation ceased. He felt a presence behind him and spun around to face a woman’s shadowy figure. Richard recognized her and the entire situation came back to him.

“Is that? Oh no, she’s going to..nooooo!”

Richard with a jolt. The sound of the gunshot echoed in his mind. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized that it had just been another nightmare. Yet one hand unconsciously moved to his heaving chest. Yes, it had only been a dream. Richard sat up, further reassured by the shabby room. Swinging his legs off of the rickety bed, he rose and crossed to the television. In switching it on, Richard dislodged a stack of envelopes.

On a whim, he knelt and began studying the accumulation of mail. Richard now made it a point to sift through the stack every few weeks, after unnoticed utility bills left him without gas and electricity for several days in the dead of winter. Magazine subscription offers, contests and organizational literature ran together until something made him stop. He glared at the all too familiar envelope and discarded it unopened.

“What does mom want now?”

* * *

In Chicago at that same moment, Rachel cast one last glance over her shoulder, reassuring herself that no one had followed her. She quickly slipped through her front door and bolted it. Something on the floor caught one of her high heels and flung her against the carpet.

“Ouch! Let me find some light, before I break my neck!”

Blind man’s bluff ended with her switching on an end table lamp. The weak bulb gashed a dim hole in the middle of the room, forcing darkness against the walls. Rachel did not need light to know that Billie Holiday was waiting on the vintage record player turntable. She strolled over and gingerly switched on friend, soul sister and emotional mediator. Remembering her package, she stooped to retrieve it with her purse and met the sinister gaze of a rag doll.

“I could have mauled myself on that stupid thing! How many times have I told that little imp to keep her...”

Pain tore at Rachel’s insides, as rage and sorrow welled up in a violent tug-of-war.

“That no good bastard! It’s just like that coward to snatch my baby and run off with his tail between his legs!”

Anger gave way and sorrow forced Rachel to her knees. She knelt in silence, watching tears shower the carpet at her knees. As the pain subsided, Rachel became aware that Billie was still with her. She moaned, “I’m getting too old for this. Yes, it’s time to go and see momma gain. She’ll fix everything.”

Rachel picked herself up and carried her packages to the bedroom. She unwrapped the dress, taking a moment to caress the silky fabric. Yes, time would stop when Rachel slipped into this little number. Just imagining all of the jealous faces lifted her spirits. After a train ticket and a present for her mother, this dress had taken her last dollar, but she couldn't go home looking like something the cat dragged in could she?

Besides, the hicks in her hometown looked up to her; lived to see what they could never have or be. Come Sunday morning, she wanted...no, she had to give her mother’s congregation something to remember until the next visit. Oh yeah, she’d knock those old hags flat! Rachel opened her closet door, gazing lovingly at her many hats, shoes, furs, suits, dresses and slacks like Nefertiti surveying her royal treasures. She started to pack, tossing her costly selections into an equally exorbitant suitcase.

A mirror caught Rachel’s eye and she stopped to admire her beauty. A visit back home was just what she needed. She would go home and let those losers feast their eyes on her. Let them put her back up on a pedestal where she belonged. Her smile faded as each step towards the mirror highlighted the weariness, bringing into focus the bags that hung from her tired eyes.

Once again, reality butchered her high spirits and Rachel mourned the passing. How could he? That bastard! She hadn’t even wanted to marry him. Her mother had chosen this one, arguing that he could take care of her and provide a comfortable life. For a while, it really seemed as though it would work. He adored her and gave her everything she asked for.

Rachel stumbled out of the room, possessed by a need to stifle pain before it consumed her. How was she going to explain her predicament to her mother? How could she go slinking back home with her hand out again? She dreaded it, but she had nowhere else to go. She had no job and no prospects. Without her husband to pay the bills, she would lose the house. Rachel sank onto the couch and tore open her purse. Unsteady hands filled the needle and emptied it back into a speckled arm. Rachel closed her eyes and lay back.

Soon, Billie’s voice rose and swirled around the room, twirling about Rachel’s limp body. Rachel opened deluded eyes to a vivid hallucination. She gazed at sleek couples crouched behind their nightclub tables, silently devouring each note captured by their hungry ears. She looked up and there was Lady Day herself, bejeweled, austere, framed by the magic that poured from her shimmering lips. The spell faded as the record ended. Rachel watched the audience dissipate, curling towards the ceiling like so much cigarette smoke. Ms. Holiday gave a royal curtsey and exited through the living room wall.

Rachel closed her heavy lids, listening to the phonograph arm bump along empty record grooves. Then grooves became tracks and rhythm was motion. She was a passenger on a locomotive. Once more, Rachel opened her watery eyes and was amazed at what she saw. She was in a train, seated by a window, surrounded by daisies that sprung up out of the seat cushions. A conductor strolled down the aisle, smiling genially at her.

“Ticket please.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Daddy?”

“Yes baby, I came back for you. I just need your ticket.”

“But daddy, I don't have a ticket.”

“Then you have to go back home.”

“No, take me with you daddy!”

* * *

It was already hot down in Arkansas where Joshua stood staring absentmindedly at his full coffee mug. His tired eyes sought answers which surely lie within and dissipated with the steam that rose from the scalding brew as phantoms fleeing purgatory. Joshua surrendered with a weary sigh, after taking a vindictive sip.

“Needs more sugar.”

He reached across the counter and began transferring huge sums to his coffee, stopping just short of syrup. This having failed to inspire, Joshua wandered back over to the kitchen table and sat in front of his laptop, glowering at the screen. He was having a serious case of writer’s block.

“Aw hell,” he muttered.

Joshua switched off his laptop and reached consolingly for his pack of cigarettes. A coughing jag tormented his lean body, interrupting his lack of concentration.

“These things are gonna kill me.”

As if death were as inconsequential as the stubbing of one’s toe, Joshua shrugged. He picked up a pencil and doodled on a crumpled napkin. His mother wouldn’t be home from the hospital for a few days and he hardly knew what to do with himself. A knock at the door temporarily resolved the dilemma. He went and glanced through the screen. A smile bloomed on Joshua’s face.

“Hey man, what are you doing up this early on a Saturday morning? I thought you’d be under somebody’s porch sleeping off last night.”

“Nah man, when you’re in love, you don’t need sleep!”

“I know what that means. Your old lady must want you to do something,” said Joshua laughingly.

“Well, now that you mention it, I do need to borrow your lawn mower.”

“I knew it! She sure keeps you jumping.”

“Can I come in, or are you gonna leave me standing out here?”

“Well, If you’re waiting for an engraved invitation, then you’re gonna grow old standing out there on the porch!”

Thomas lumbered past Richard grinning and sprawled on the living room couch.

“What you got to eat in this joint?”

“Nothing for you!”

“Aw come on man, I’m starving. What did you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee, cold collard greens and a hot dog.”

Thomas’ masculine face twisted in distaste.

“Now why would anyone willingly eat garbage for breakfast? You don’t have an ulcer, you’ve got heartburn Einstein!”

Joshua laughed appreciatively, more at Thomas than the joke. What was it about this lazy, mischievous, beautifully ugly dude that pleased him so? Thomas was the only person on earth who could make Joshua laugh at himself and the world. But then, it had always been that way. Whenever Joshua started taking things too seriously, felt the tide of his emotions carrying him away, Thomas was there to drag him back to reality sometimes kicking and screaming but always laughing.

“I thought you came to borrow my lawn mower.”

“I did, but I’m still hungry. What you got sweet to eat? Any of your mom’s pie left?”

Thomas followed Joshua into the kitchen, peering over his shoulder when he opened the refrigerator.

“Listen, how’s your mom Josh?”

“Fine, she’ll be home in a few days.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“They’re not sure. They want to run a few more tests and keep her under observation for a while.”

“Oh...hey, isn’t that a slice of pie over behind the peas?”

“It sure is. Here you go.”

Joshua retrieved the dish and handed it to his friend.

“Grab that milk Josh. I can’t eat pie without milk. Hey, tell your mom I hope she’s back on her feet soon.”

Joshua leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Thomas finish off the pie quickly with big bites. He gulped down the rest of the milk and put his dishes in the sink.

“Nine o’clock already! I’ve gotta get going. Is the mower still out in the garage?”

Joshua nodded and watched Thomas move to the back door.

“So, why does her highness want you to mow her lawn? Where are her brothers?”

“Otherwise occupied and she’s having a dinner party tonight.”

“It’s at night? Nobody’s gonna notice her lawn in the dark!”

“Yeah, but you know how she is; gotta have everything just so.”

Joshua shook his head over the invisible leash which seemed to grow shorter everyday. It was times like this which made him thankful that he wasn’t in a “serious” relationship. Joshua sat on the back porch and waited for Thomas to emerge from the detached garage at the other end of the yard.

Come to think of it, he had never been in a steady relationship. Joshua was always much too shy to approach girls in high school and college. Even now, he only went on dates as favors to pals whose girlfriends had homely friends. Besides, the few times he started dating, his mother ran the women off with fire and brimstone lectures about sinful flesh. No one was ever morally wholesome enough for her son. Joshua was lost in thought and did not see Thomas emerge from the garage. His friend’s voice startled him.

“Well, I’m gonna take off. I’ll bring back your mower tomorrow.”

“Huh? Oh alright man, I’ll catch you later.”

Thomas waved and pushed the mower to his car. Joshua watched his friend’s lopsided grin disappear around the side of the house. The sun fell from his mental horizon and an all too familiar pang returned to nudge at his stomach. Joshua knew it would be weeks before he saw or heard from Thomas again. Since meeting Nicole two years ago, she had wormed her way into more and more of his life; consuming his time like a tapeworm. It wouldn’t be long before that woman figured out how to sever all his old ties.

Nicole was a highfalutin’ wannabe who worked hard at forgetting where she had come from. She also didn’t seem to recall scheming her way into the good life, by charming and manipulating the terminal patients she provided care to as a nurse. Somehow, she got many of them to sign over their assets to her. Of course, she and her crowd told a different story. Joshua rubbed his eyes, retrieved a cigarette from behind his left ear and lit it with the lighter he always kept in his pocket. He sighed, thinking about an imminent deadline for his latest article. Time to get busy.

#story storyblogger writer occult stories write paranormal

2 notes · View notes