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ephemerlskies · 4 years

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constant craving 02 | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: drabble series, unrequited love, even bigger idiot!jungkook, a n g s t with a teeny pinch of fluff, jungkook's lil lisp IS cannon

⇢ word count: 2.3k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, jungkook's undying oblivion syndrome, incessant pining, dysfunctional communication (or lack thereof), most of this is just arguing

⇢ summary: there are countless things to talk about with your significant other. jungkook, however, had yet to realize how often his conversations with his girlfriend were monopolized by none other than you. and he begins to wonder why others didn't see this as normal.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: this picks up right where we left off! but it's in jungkook's pov... enjoy all the frustrating idiocy :)

part two: choices

He didn't tell you the reason why at exactly six o'clock he found himself slouching on your couch, on the side he'd claimed as his own from the sheer number of times he'd been there before, relieved that Irene took him back, yet a hint of bitterness mixed in from a source he couldn't quite locate. Disappointment? Maybe, however, the reasons why were beyond his humble knowledge. Confused? Well, if he is sure of one thing, it's that he is entirely unsure.

So, when he was about to make his way back to where he should have been, Jungkook made a decision which rippled a feeling that would have been better left untouched. He looked back.

He looked back at you, staring off so decisively into the sky with shoulders rising and falling rhythmically and head tilted slightly left which meant you were deep in one of your elusive thoughts, and he considered visiting the doctor for how his stomach was uncharacteristically turning. It was more than discomfort that was paralyzing his body at the moment, and the way his hand urged to reach out to you proved that his body knew something his heart had yet to realize.

Jungkook, with all his twenty-three years of accumulated wisdom, thought it nondescript to mention that the fight, which suddenly transported him into the home of the only person he could possibly trust for thoughtful and unreserved guidance, was over you.

Three days ago

"Do you think ___ will like it?" Jungkook asked, turning the small, engraved music box over in his hand for the thousandth time, inspecting for any dents or divots that would demote it's worthiness as a gift to you.

"Yes, it's a great gift, hun." Her words sounded wrapped around entirely different words that Irene was too afraid to speak out loud. She hoped her tone could have conveyed that, however Jungkook's ears were far too preoccupied to dig past the shell of her statement.

"Maybe I should get that tote bag, I know ___ has been complaining so much about how they don't have room in their bag for everything."

Irene was trying not to notice the way his eyes hadn't once even grazed her, or how Irene's parents were visiting in a week yet Jungkook hasn't mentioned wanting to meet them, or how this was the fifth time today he's brought up the festivities of you and Jungkook's 'friendiversary', which also happened to land on the same day that her parent's planned on meeting him. When she arrived at that dead end, after making great and avoidant strides, it was time she turned around and faced the partially shameful jealousy she had been running from.

"Jungkook, you haven't even asked me how my day was." Even those words encased something much deeper she decidedly did not want to reveal yet. They delivered with the hope he would figure it out on his own.

"Oh, sorry. How was your day?" Of course, he didn't figure it out.

"That's not the point."

"What?" And afternoon about twenty minutes or so, Jungkook leveled his eyes to her for the first time today. It was then when hints of distress were revealed through the subtle redness invading where the whites of her eyes should have been and the thin, yet visible, layer of tears collecting at the base of her eyes made Jungkook realize something was wrong. "What's wrong?"

"Well..." She paused, taking in all the air she needed to get through this next phrase. "Don't you think it's a little odd that you have been talking about ___ this whole time? I mean, I get it, you guys are best friends, but Jungkook, you haven't even looked at me!"

"Sorry, I didn't know my friendship was such an issue with you." Perhaps he seasoned that last response a bit too curtly since it managed to finally spill those tears once kept at bay in her eyes.

Admittedly, he felt bad for snapping at her. In his defense, she should have known how important this was to him. She should have known how many times the image of you reacting to this gift ran through his mind during moments of the day better spent focusing on the things he was presently doing. She should have known that if your reaction to it was anything less than ecstatic then sleep and concentration would become entirely foreign concepts until he got it right.

Why couldn't she just understand that? Or, maybe the problem was she did understand. She understood it all too well.

"Maybe I do, Jungkook. God! You don't think I see the way you look at ___? You don't think I see the way ___ looks at you?" Her eyes were taking turns counting the drops of tears, eight minus the one that had already dried, that dotted the table and eyeing the napkin she'd been nervously tearing into shreds. Though it was beyond frustrating and exhausting to draw out the painfully obvious, it seemed necessary because it was being carefully illustrated for the painfully oblivious.

"What? That's bullshit, we're friends!"

"Oh, please, Jungkook. Friends don't religiously celebrate a fucking anniversary. Couples do that, people who are in love do that."

Jungkook's mouth hung open, though to no avail, since the words he couldn't even articulate in his head came out as a heavy sigh. All he could think of was your voice telling him what an idiot he was because he certainly felt that way right now. In a flash, he heard that voice of yours and more and more bits of you alchemized after that one detail. Your laugh, the soft nudge of your elbow that he swore he could feel in his side, how your eyes rolled in a way only he could identify as another nonverbal way you said you loved him.

These thoughts comforted him, possibly more than it should have. The pieces of you that puzzled together in his mind only took a few seconds for him to form, however it felt like he spent an eternity trying to picture your face. As if constructing a vision of you when you weren't there was something he'd be stuck doing for the rest of his life.

"I don't know what you're even talking about. I love you." It was, pathetically, all he could say.

"And I can't even blame ___. You were the one who made a commitment to me, Jungkook." Irene collected the bits of paper that once made a napkin into a small pile. "I'm losing you, Jungkook. And it's because of ___."

"Are you going to ask me to choose, because you know that's so unfair."

"I'm not asking you to choose one or another! I just want you to choose me, your girlfriend, for once. Because you always seem to be choosing ___!"

"Choosing? What does that even mean? You're being stupid. Why should I have to choose at all?" As senseless as he thought choosing between the two was, he began to internalize exactly what it entailed.

Through the thickly layered denial insolsting his heart, the idea of losing Irene versus losing you was the small puncture in that denial which gave entry for his true feelings seep through and take control.

Realistically, there was never a choice to begin with. There were no decisions to be made or an alternative option or an opt out of what seemed like some prophetic conclusion. The heart is far too decisive to allow space for anything but what it wants. But, the denial sat on a diligently constructed throne of self-assigned 'friendship maintenance protocols' he had taken ever since he met you.

Such as the way he would avoid too much eye contact with you to maintain a steady heart rate.

How he would conveniently favor the same snacks as you did, because he loved the look of excitement you got when he would walk in with your go-to movie snacks. And he convinced himself he actually enjoyed M&Ms, despite hating them up until the moment he learned you loved them.

The amount of times he mistook hours for minutes when you were with him, and mistook minutes for hours whenever you weren't.

The fact that all his candles just so happened to cater towards your preferences because even when you were gone, he would be reminded of you.

Those, to Jungkook, were just things friends did for each other.

"Well then, let me make it easy for you, Jungkook." Irene left. There was a hollowness haunting the space she once populated. There was a desire strong enough to cut through glass that was simmering up a storm in Jungkook's head.

There was someone that he desperately needed, so he picked up his phone and texted.

Jungkook: can i call?

You: ya sure

Present day

"My parents said that they're so excited to meet you! I'm pretty sure they're gonna give you the whole marriage talk but please ignore them." Irene's cheer was a sharp contrast to the dull indifference of Jungkook.

Not for lack of trying, there were occasional gaps in his memory ever since Irene arrived at his place after having you tell him what to say to her. And he didn't know why, but when you were talking about choosing and wanting to be with someone no matter what, it fulfilled a silent, yet perpetual hunger to hear those words that even he didn't know he needed to hear you say until you said them.

"Yeah, I..." You were probably at home right now, partaking in your daily, self-induced mild coma as he liked to call it since you were a heavier sleeper than actual lifeless bodies. "Yeah. Excited to meet them."

"Babe, is something wrong?" You seemed so sad when he left that day.

Why didn't I ask you what was wrong? He thought, as if you would have been able to answer.

"Nothing's wrong"

"Something's definitely wrong. Just tell me." Jungkook would have been honest with Irene, but he felt guilty for bringing you up. There was no reason to feel guilty about once again steering the conversation back to you, his friend — his best friend and nothing more — unless...

"Something’s definitely not wrong. I'm just nervous about meeting your parenths- Parents." The 's' on parents revealed his effortfully suppressed lisp that he'd been insecure of, that is until you heard it and called it cute.

It was one of those throw away comments that he was meant to forget in a day, even an hour, but that memory was tacked into his brain every time his lisp impeded on his speech. Before, his light cheeks would acquire that crimson flush when any word with an 's' came up through his tongue in a way which would betray him and catch on his teeth that made it sound more like a 'th'. That memory of someone who thought his least favorite quality was, of all things, cute.

"Seriou-th-ly..." He said to you, then immediately began composing an apology that would salvage his own embarrassment more so than your assumed judgement. But all he could say was a meek "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry? It was cute." His cheeks burned, but this time for reasons not affiliated with his lisp

"Don't be nervous. I just said they're gonna love you. I'm pretty sure they already love you." Jungkook thought it was edging on sociopathic for not giving a damn about what Irene's parents thought of him, let alone the idea of trying to get them to like him. That didn't matter as much when you looked so upset the day he last saw you, and all he could do was leave you that way.

"Jungkook, did you hear me?"

"What?"

Irene knew that look. She knew what had secured his coveted focus because it happened almost every time they were together. And as much as she wanted to place blame on everyone, on you, and on Jungkook, she couldn't accost anyone but herself for knowingly falling in love with someone whose heart was claimed quite clearly by someone else.

"Jungkook, I love you."

"I love you too." And he meant it. But, despite his unequivocally shallow observational skills, he knew it felt different, deeper, the way he knew it was supposed to feel like when he said those words to you.

"So, I'm sorry I have to do this." This time, she didn't cry. Almost as if she'd been preparing herself for this inevitability.

Her hand rested on his, memorizing the texture of each line, the smooth backside and the course knuckles, and stored it among the things she'd never get to feel again. Eventually, she'd have to redefine it from the things she loves into the things she once loved. And one day, she'd forget the feeling of his hand and she had to be okay with that.

"What-"

"I really hope you get ___ someday." And she meant it. He wanted to thank her, but that would sound more patronizing than grateful, so he figured the only way to avoid the unfortunate casualty of Irene's heartbreak being in vain would be to somehow convince you to love him the way he's loved you.

After she left, he sat there, phone in hand, your phone number ready to be dialed, his ears eager to hear your voice, his mind ready to admit the things his heart had been secretly certain of for a while, and said softly, "Me too."

Jungkook sat alone, his apartment emptied of the person he should have been chasing after, the person who should have been at the top of his list to call, the person who loved him enough to put his needs first, whose arms he should have wanted to feel enveloping him, yet the person who he could never seem to choose. Irene was a 'should' that would never be his 'could'.

And then, there was you.

a/n: but wait, there's more!!!! i will definitely make this a possibly 4 chapter series w a happy ending for all you fluff-addicted fiends. also didn't want to do the crazy, jealous girlfriend trope because we love women in this household and irene deserves better than dummy jungkook!

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts drabble #bts writing #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook fanfic #constant craving #rubycoast

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glenncoco4 · 3 years

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You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 2

••••

18 years later...

She steps into the gym, immediately sensing something in the air shift. It’s not a bad shift more like a welcomed shift, almost the same feeling whenever she enters a room that he’s in. Taking a quick scan across the room, her eyes land on a familiar mop of golden blonde hair attached to a man who’s pounding away at a punching bag.

Schooling her features, Kensi or “Tracy” strides over to a man that introduces himself as Janklow and begins talking about Danny, how she wanted to come to the place that her boyfriend talked so much about.

Janklow drops his guard just enough, calling the rest of their teammates over to introduce her, including one Marty Deeks, only today his name isn’t Marty and he’s not her best friend. Today he’s Jason Wyler fighting for a spot on an MMA team full of Marines.

••••

The three agents along with the tech operator and psychologist continue to stare at the monitor displayed with men from the gym, trying to figure out each ones possible motive to kill Zuna.

Callen’s brow furrows, his focus solely on the shaggy blonde. “What about Wyler?”

“He’s a bit sketchy.” She sends herself a mental high-five as she pictures her best friend’s reaction at her quip. “But he’s definitely not our guy.”

“He’ doesn’t fit in with the others. What makes you so sure its not him?” Sam questions, turning his attention to the brunette agent.

She shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. “It’s just a feeling.”

The team leader share a look with his partner. “Or maybe its his baby blues.”

“Or his fluffy hair.” The ex-Navy SEAL finishes.

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Listen, guys, I’m telling you, it’s not him.”

“Tell us, what makes you so sure.” Nate finally interjects, wondering what she saw in the blonde.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to out her friend but now she knows she does, there’s no way around it because if she doesn’t her best friend could end up hurt so she takes a deep breath. “Because his name isn’t Jason Wyler, it’s Marty Deeks and he’s an LAPD Detective.”

Callen’s eyes widen in shock. “And you know this because...”

“I was with him when he got his promotion.”

All four men’s brows simultaneously furrow in confusion.

Knowing they’re not going to give up until she gives them a little more, she relents. “He’s my best friend, the person I trust most in the world. He’s not our guy.”

The confidence in which she says it must be enough for the leader because he just shares aa look with his partner before turning back to her, trust written in both their eyes. “Okay.”

••••

Kensi’s just about to open Zuna’s laptop, when the doorknob starts to jiggle. Slowly reaching for the small of her back, where her weapon is secured, she watches as the door slowly opens and is caught off guard for the second time that day.

His cerulean blues widen in surprise when he meets her mismatched chocolate orbs for the second time that day. He really missed her, but that’s besides the point right now. “What the hell are you doing around here?”

“We’re investigating Zuna’s death. What are you doing here?”

“I’m undercover.”

“No shit.”

Before anything else can be said, Callen steps in from the kitchen, joining the two childhood friends.

“Marty this is Special Agent G Callen. Callen this is Detective Marty Deeks.”

The team leader takes the detective’s offered hand in greeting. “So I hear you know Kensi.”

“Yeah, know might be a bit of an understatement.”

Callen watches in awe of his coworker exchanging a smile with the detective. He’s not certain, but something tells him that the two are fighting something that’s inevitable. “Well we don’t want to step in on your investigation but we do need to find out what happened to Zuna.”

“Understandable.”

“Can you tell us what you’re under for?”

Deeks shakes his head, knowing that someone from the gym could and most likely is watching them. “Not here. There’s been a couple guys coming in and out from the gym since I’ve been here. I can probably slip away in a few hours.”

“You got your cell on you?” Kensi questions her friend, already knowing the answer.

“Just a burner.”

Callen nods in understanding. “Okay, give Kens your number and we’ll send you an address.”

“Sure thing.”

••••

She nearly jumps out of her skin when there’s a knock at the window. He’s definitely gonna pay for that later. Rolling down the window, Kensi see’s the confusion on his face.

“A Wendy’s, really?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well send you the address to the boat shed on a burner.”

When the words hit his ears, realization spreads across his face like an excited puppy that just got a new toy. “No!”

“Get in before I leave you here.”

Not having to be told twice, Marty hightails it around the SUV and quickly jumps in the passenger seat, shaking with excitement. “Kens, are you serious?”

Shaking her head, she checks her rear view as she slowly backs out of the parking lot. “I don’t know what your fascination with the boat shed is.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a secret hidey hole on the water, what’s not exciting about it?”

“Oh right, the Aquaman fantasy.”

“Okay, Miss I wanna fall in love on a ship and have sex in an old jalopy.”

She feigns shock and a little bit of outrage. “Hey, I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah, but it’s slowly becoming my fantasy too so technically it’s okay.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her playfully. “Besides its just us here.”

Something in his demeanor feels a little flirty to her. Is she going crazy? When he flashes her a smile, she feels an unfamiliar surge of excitement run through her body. What the hell is going on?

He notices a look cross her features that he’s never seen before. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kens.” Marty feels a sudden sense of contentment as he watches her look back to the road and sees the blush rise to her cheeks. There’s a fluttering in his chest that’s unfamiliar to him. What the hell is happening?

••••

Deeks caught the team up on his op and all that was involved. He explained how Danny hadn’t come home the previous night, something about meeting up with this new girl Tracy. That earned him a famous Kensi trying not to smile, smile, which to be honest is one of his favorite things.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the other two agents in the room at the change in their coworker when she was around the detective. She seemed happier, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The rest of the case goes off without a hitch, NCIS gets their killer and LAPD gets their drug ring bust, but most importantly Marty gets to go home...to his own bed.

••••

There’s a knock at his door, a smile spreading to his lips knowing exactly who it is. He unlocks the deadbolt, twisting the knob and pulls it open. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Blye.”

Kensi steps around him and into his apartment, case of their favorite beer in her hand. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shaggy Rogers.”

“Oh, touché.”

She sends him a smile over her shoulder and something washes over him. The spark in her mismatched orbs, is something he can’t quite describe. He shakes his head, trying to rid this unfamiliar feeling as she goes to the fridge, depositing the rest of the beer after taking two out.

“Pizza should be here in 30 minutes.”

“You got-“

“Hawaiian, yeah, yeah, but only half.” She shivers with disgust at his preference for toppings as she hands him the bottle.

“I would expect noting less.”

She squints her eyes, stepping up to him almost in a challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kensi Blye doesn’t eat any fruit unless its covered in chocolate.”

“I-I ate that apple that one time.”

“Only because your mom hadn’t gone to the store for groceries yet.”

She wants to retort but knows he’s right. So she steps around him, walking over to the couch, landing a soft punch to his shoulder on her way. “Just play the damn movie.”

“You’re the boss...KayKay.”

“I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re my best friend and the person I trust most in the world.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen Snapped.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, unable to stop the grin from appearing on his face. He missed this. He missed her and their banter.

A sudden knock on the door draws him out of his trance. “I think maybe you should get it. I don’t really want to have my back turned to you right now.”

“Haha.” She steps over his legs, whacking him with his cat pillow as she heads for the door. When she pulls it open, the last person she’d ever think it would be is standing there, all four foot and nine inches of her. “Hetty?”

“Miss. Blye.”

“Come in.”

Kensi ushers her boss into the apartment, eyes wide as saucers as she locks on with his.

Sending him a hint of a smile, Hetty takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. “Hello, Mr. Deeks.”

“Hello, Ms. Lange.”

“Please, call me Hetty.”

“What can I do for you, Hetty?”

“Actually its more what I can do for you.”

Kensi’s brow furrows along with Marty’s as the OSP manager hands the detective a manila folder.

Opening it he’s a little caught off guard when he sees all his information spread out before him. Everything from his statement from when Donald Blye saved him and his mother all the way to his most recent case. “Wow, Kensi was right. You are a secret ninja lady.”

The brunette feels the heat rise to her cheeks, feeling the scrutiny of her boss’s gaze fall on her.

Shaking her head, a tiny smile curls at the old woman’s lips. “It’s clear to me that you two work quite well together...even better than Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna.”

“Tell us something we don’t already know.” Marty playfully nudges his best friend, trying to get a smile out of her but is unsuccessful. Instead her features are unreadable. What Hetty’s asking would be a huge deal...monumental. I mean working with his best friend, not going under by himself anymore, working with a team...with her. “Can I think about it?”

Kensi’s eyes find his, trying to figure out which way he’s leaning. She can tell he’s holding back because of her, he doesn’t want to over step. He deserves this, a team and people that will truly watch his back and selfishly she wants to be the one to do it and he do the same for her.

He sees the hopefulness in her eyes and knows the same is mirrored in his own. Getting a nod of approval from his best friend, he turns to his new boss with a smile. “I’m in.”

After he signs the form, Hetty gladly takes the folder back from their new liaison before taking her leave. “Well then as I understand it, you have a major undercover you’re working on and when the time comes you’ll get pulled back in but in the mean time, you’ll be reporting to OSP.”

“Thanks, Hetty.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” She sends them each a smile, showing herself to the door.

Once the door click shut, Kensi turns to her best friend and now partner...he’s her partner. She can’t help the Cheshire Cat like grin on her face. “We’re gonna be partners.”

Unable to stop himself, Marty closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in hug that’s so familiar to them its like second nature. “We’re gonna be partners.”

••••

The following Monday had Kensi leading her best friend, now partner into the OSP Headquarters. She couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips as she watched the shaggy blonde in his awestruck wonder as she showed him around the building.

Their first case together is a high profile missing persons case which results in Kensi being held captive but like always, her partner along with Sam and Callen has her back and they live to see another day.

••••

He’s waiting at the car for his partner when the buzzing from his phone draws his attention. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the offending object and immediately rolls his eyes as he reads the caller ID. “Bates, what do ya got?”

As his Lieutenant fills him in on what’s going on, Marty’s brow furrows and his body deflates, his eyes catching those of his best friend as she walks towards him with a bright smile on her face. One thing he hates most is having to cancel plans with her.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

She waits until he hangs up the phone, her eyes meeting his, already knowing that their plans to go to the music festival this weekend are trashed.

“I’m not gonna make it in tomorrow. Bates just called me, undercover op we’ve been working on and I finally got my in.”

A sad smile crosses her face, she knows its not his fault. This is what they signed up for. “The sex-trafficking case?”

“Yeah.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

Her reaction is something he can’t quite describe. He knows what he wants it to be, but he’s just not sure. One thing he knows for sure is that now is not the time to lay it all out on the table. “Kens-“

“You’ll be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She scolds herself for letting her emotions slip, he doesn’t need this right now. He needs to be focused on his mission, but if she can get a little more time with him, she’ll gladly take it. “Do you have time to grab something to eat before you leave?”

He throws his arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to the top of her head as they turn to walk towards the pier. “Always have time for you.”

There’s something about this goodbye that shifts their entire relationship, what it may be, they’re not sure. One thing is certain though, their lives are even more intertwined than they thought.

#Densi #Densi Fanfic #AU #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Kensi x Deeks #You Can Count On Me #Chapter 2 #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

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baroquebucky · 5 years

Text

chemistry

part 1

A/N: okay so this is the first real part of my new series :D let me know what you guys think <3 it’s kinda slow but i promise it’ll get better !!!! also i know there’s like not much about the schools programs in the movie but just imagine that they have a vet program lmao thank u :-)

You shuffled around your backpack looking for your dialectical journal, quickly scribbling your name on it and handing it to your AP lang teacher with a smile as she collected them.

“i hope you enjoy midtown tech ms. Parks” she smiled at you and you gave her a soft thank you as the bell rang. You gathered your things and swung your backpack over your shoulder, heading to the area sami had pointed for you to wait for her earlier that morning.

As you looked over the sea of people you saw the unfamiliar yet familiar curly brown hair you had set your eyes on earlier, you glanced at his face and quickly checked him out as he walked through the halls, weaving through the many teens talking and crowding the halls. Before you could fall head over heels for the stranger you saw sami walking quickly your way, eager to see what you had thought so far.

“i mean yeah it’s pretty good so far, nothing much has happened” you smiled biting into your pizza, half paying attention to what your friend was saying and half glancing to see if the curly stranger had A lunch too.

“okay either you’re thinking about something much more important or suddenly you think my analysis of parks and rec is boring” sami spoke, looking at you with such seriousness you let out a small laugh.

“you know i love your episode by episode review sam” you smiled, sipping your water and hoping to avoid the subject of a crush with sami, because once she envisioned a pair of people together, not even the national guard could stop her.

“I know you do, so why weren’t you paying attention to it” she spoke, quirking her eyebrow out as you leaned your head back and groaned at her persistence. “I just saw this cute boy and i just can’t get him off my mind it’s nothing” you shrugged, shoving a spoonful of your fruit cup in your mouth.

“oh my god y/n finally i can get some work done!” She shouted causing you to choke at her sudden outburst. You swapped the fruit quickly and began coughing, immediately downing water and starting to laugh.

“jesus christ sami i almost choked calm down” you laughed as she pulled her phone out and went to Instagram. “What’s his name?” She asked not even looking up at you and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know i just saw him for like three seconds before you blocked my view of him” you smirked at her, knowing he dreams of playing matchmaker were gone. “I’ll find him, what kind of hair did he have? What was he wearing?” She asked quickly.

“uh curly hair, brown curly hair and brown eyes, a grey jacket i think” you shrugged finishing your lunch before throwing it away and sitting back down. Sami groaned as you gave her your vague answers. “I’ll find him” she mumbled as you both walked out of the cafeteria.

You looked at your wrinkled paper, searching the halls for your 4th period, art. You found the art room after taking two wrong turns and having to walk the entirety of the second floor because you were too scared to turn around.

“For your first art project of the year i want you guys to draw or paint a place you like, it can be your home, a safe space or just somewhere in the world” the teacher spoke, explaining the project that would ease you into the year.

As the bell rang once more you headed to an outside building for your small animal management class, then you headed back inside for your pre calculus class. You sighed walking through the halls, pulling out your wrinkled schedule once more and walking downstrairs again to look for your AP chemistry class.

You scanned the walls for the matching room number and you were met with your new chemistry teacher as you approached the door.

“hi what’s your name?” She smiled at you holding out a clipboard. “Y/N parks” you smiled at her, fiddling with your lanyard. “Ah yes, go ahead and sit wherever you’d like, i don’t have a seating chart yet” you thanked her and took a seat near the middle of the class.

You watched as more kids pounded into the room, your eyes searching for Sami, you were giddy just thinking about having a class with her. You smiled widely as she walked into the room, taking a seat beside you.

You were so engrossed in your conversation you didn’t see the boy with the brown curls walk in. The teacher closed the door and smiled at the class, welcoming you all and giving you a syllabus. That’s when you saw him.

Four columns over and two seats ahead of you, sat the cute boy with the curly hair you had been thinking of all day. “That’s him!” You whispered to sami as you unsubtly pointed in the boys direction as you took out an empty spiral notebook. “Oh my god that’s peter parker! You have a crush on him?” Sami laughed a little and you blushed.

“I mean look at him he’s so cute! And he must be smart, i mean AP chem isn’t for everyone” you smiled, wanting to get sami off your case. She only shrugged and put the syllabus you handed her into her binder. As the class ended you and sami both walked out, heading to your final class which you had together as well, orchestra.

It didn’t take you long to realize that peter and his friend, Ned, were walking behind you two, talking about something in Star Wars. “sami hes behind us holy shit” you whispered, smiling widely at your friend, following her to the orchestra room.

“Oh yeah i forgot to mention he’s in band!” She scoffed, mumbling under her breath a little. “hey bands not so bad! they’re pretty good and guard is amazing” You huffed, furrowing your eyebrows and pushing your friend slightly.

“look just because you almost did color guard your freshman year doesn’t mean you have to defend marching band” she laughed as you rolled your eyes.

“it’s fun okay!” You defended yourself laughing at her mock annoyance of you.

As you walked down the strairs you noticed how peter and Ned took the elevator down, you shrugged it off and continued your way into the orchestra room. You told the teacher you played bass, she quickly assigned an instrument for school and one to take home and got you the music you were missing.

The final bell of the day rang and you packed your stuff up. Getting ready to call your best friend back home and tell her all that had happened today.

You and sami walked out of school, waving bye to her as she entered her moms car. “You sure you don’t want a ride?” She asked for the fifth time and you laughed.

“Yes I’m sure, I’ll take the train I’ll be fine” you smiled and said goodbye one last time, hopping on the train and quickly finding a seat, texting your best friends back home of today’s events.

“Ned she was so pretty! Like oh my god, her hair! and during class she said ‘that’s him!’ Oh my god she’s so cute” peter spoke to his best friend, an extra bounce in his step as they made their way to the train station.

“you know it’s unfair you use your senses to find out who likes you but you call it cheating when i want you to see if the girl from 5th period likes me, or that girl in the tuba section!” Ned scoffed throwing his hands up as peter ugly laughed softly.

“listen dude, i just think i might have a real shot with her, i just have to find a way to talk to her you know?” Peter spoke, hopping on the train with his friend, ending the conversation about girls and starting the one about building the new LEGO set he got over the weekend.

As he got down from the train with Ned it didn’t take him long to spot you, his heart racing a little faster as he saw you talking on the phone, a smile on your face.

“wait Ned shut up!” Peter spoke quickly, rushing to move closer to you. He focused his senses to hear your voice amongst the crowded train station.

“i mean yeah it’s pretty nice here, i have to take the train so that’s pretty fun, also there’s this really cute guy i saw, i have chemistry with him- no dumbass the class” you laughed.

Peters heart rate sped up as he heard you talking, were you talking about him? I mean that one football player was sitting next to him, maybe you were pointing at him. He focused once more to see if maybe, just maybe you would drop another hint.

“- yeah no way bro, i think he does sports” you spoke, going up the stairs. Peters small smile fell from his face and Ned watched intently.

“what did she say?” He quickly asked, peter sighed. “I think she was talking about charles, she said she thought he did sports, we both know I’m not the sport type” peter spoke, clutching the strap of his backpack tightly as the two headed to his apartment.

Ned put his hand reassuringly on peter shoulder, “dont man, I’m sure if it’s meant to be, fate will pull you two together” he smiled and peter looked at him.

“dude that was so wise” he smiled, Ned only winked at him in return, causing both of them to burst out laughing.

The next day came quickly for you, and before you knew it you were walking into AP chemistry again, heart racing as you anticipated the new seating chart.

“please for the love of any higher force put me next to the cute peter kid” you whispered, taking the seat you sat in the day before. Sami soon walked in with a smirk on her face, that immediately set off alarms in your mind.

“oh god what did you do” you spoke worried.

“oh no not me, fate” she winked before turning to face the front, peter rushing in as the bell rang and taking a seat.

“okay as you know we will have a seating chart so if you will all please line up,” Ms. Patrick spoke, naming off kids, it wasn’t until 9 kids in that you realized he was going alphabetically.

“Mr. Parker you’ll be behind Jamie” she spoke, peter stumbled as he made his way to the seat and you smiled softly at his awkwardness.

“Ms. Parks you’ll be next to peter” the teacher spoke, continuing to name out the list. You however, cough as you choke on your spit, walking to your seat with a flushed face, not wanting to look at the boy next to you.

You quickly gulped down your water, not wanting attention drawn to yourself, even though yesterday you would’ve pounced on the boy sitting next to you.

“are- are you okay?” He whispered, causing your face to turn a deeper red.

“me? Yeah I’m fine I’m really good why?” You spoke quickly, fiddling with your pencil as the teacher gave instructions on how to set the notebook up.

“you just look really nervous, don’t worry, i don’t bite” he smiled at you and you felt your heart skip a beat, Jesus his smile is so cute.

You returned his smile and quickly looked down at your notebook, cutting the small slips of paper and gluing then into the first page.

“okay write your names on the front of the notebook and then I’ll hand out your homework” the teacher spoke, handing out sharpies.

You looked at peter, seeing how his brow furrowed just a bit when he was taking notes. He glanced up and you quickly looked forward, heart racing at the thought of him knowing you snuck glances at him.

“y/n?” He asked and you looked at him quickly, face slightly red, scared he had caught you staring. “the sharpie” he spoke and you laughed, facepalming yourself mentally.

“oh yeah- uh thanks” you spoke clearing your throat, then you realized, your front cover is black.

“where the hell do i write my name” you whispered, looking to see if there was another colored sharpie.

“you can- you could write it on the inside” peter spoke, leaning over to flip your notebook cover. He smiled brightly at you and you returned it.

“oh yeah, duh, you’re smart” you smiled, chuckling softly as you write your name before handing the sharpie to the girl infront of you.

Peter watched as you wrote your name down, falling in love with the way you wrote your name, how would it look if you wrote his name down? He smiled at the way you looked taking notes, thinking the way you bit your bottom lip slightly made you look cute.

Peter blushed when he felt your eyes on him, he knew exactly how fast your heart rate became when he looked up and you thought he had caught you. Technically, he knew so you were caught, but you didn’t know that, and the way you smiled at him when he wasn’t looking made him swear he wouldn’t let you know he knew.

Suddenly, AP chemistry became your favorite class, and not because of the subject.

Peter realized that AP chemistry was all he looked forward to, because the pretty girl somehow ended up next to him. And then he smiled at himself as he swung through the streets of Queens, maybe it was fate.

part 2

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker series #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #soft!peter parker #flirty!peter parker #chemistry #baroquebucky

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eturni · 4 years

Text

Day 31 - Auld Lang Syne

I did it! It’s Day 31 of @drawlight advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and we have Auld Lang Syne. It’s quarter past midnight and I was writing through into the New Year. May this be a sign of things to come.

Song is built into the human psyche. Voices are raised in song as celebration, praise and mourning alongside almost every emotion that touches a life. It was naturally linked to the first angelic choirs providing missives from On High but it seemed built into their hearts. They used their voices to reach each other the same way they reached out in times of disaster or reached out to the stars.

In the right situations and with the right intentions songs can be prayer. Where they hold hope. Where they ask for good to come or try to ease pain.

Auld Lang Syne is like that. A prayer for the future, for better.

It’s 2026 and Warlock has come back to the UK to study at Edinburgh University. Humanities, much to their father’s dismay and a certain demon’s chagrin. Aziraphale declares this the perfect excuse to go back and take part in the Hogmanay celebrations, not to mention refill his stores of the good whiskey and some select delicacies.

Warlock’s friends are entirely enchanted by the demon and angel that turn up for the celebrations. Warlock insists that they will be, under no circumstances, joining the three of them for the celebrations in spite of Aziraphale’s warm assurances that it would be no bother at all and Crowley’s evident glee at the amount of embarrassment that he causes just by being seen.

There are a significant number of “Oh, that explains.” and “They really weren’t kidding, huh?” among the general chatter that ensures Crowley knows there have been stories told about Nanny Ashtoreth and how Warlock was raised.

They’re rushed out of the flat share and towards Edinburgh centre in a flurry of stylish black and glitter that has Aziraphale looking at him with something fond in his eyes. “Alright, knock it off brother Francis.” Warlock glowers as best they can, falling back into the names they still used when they felt the two were treating them like they were still eleven.

“Of course, young Warlock,” Aziraphale grins, like the bastard he is “please lead on. I’ll trust your judgements as to the best spots for the festivities.”

There’s a sense of warmth and revelry thrumming through the city as they wander and Crowley soaks in the latent sins just waiting to be acted upon. Sometimes it’s difficult to be off the clock; especially when opportunities are so rife and spirits are so high.

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52644403 or:

“Gonna be weird not hearing Big Ben, angel.” Crowley points out instead, bringing Aziraphale’s hand up to brush a kiss against his knuckles. Even half a step in front of them Warlock catches the motion and rolls their eyes.

Aziraphale only chuckles and moves a little closer. “My dear, we’ve been without before when they were doing the maintenance. And for years before. We’ll manage I think.”

“Yeah. Suppose it’s better being with the little terror for the holidays as well. We’re very proud of you by the way, young Warlock.” Crowley grins over to the teen, voice slipping back and forth between his normal voice and nanny’s soft brogue.

“Yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it.” The teen shrugs. Aziraphale all but beams at the redness that tinges Warlock’s as they continue to lead them through the streets and point out places that they went with their new little university friends.

Crowley can see hints of fires in the distance down at Princess Street and hear the pounding strains of music in amongst all of the chatter and cheer.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

He watches Warlock move ahead of them and thinks of Adam down south at Cambridge. The Antichrist and the child who might have been the Antichrist. Both of them living relatively settled lives, working on bettering themselves, and looking to a future that had seemed all but impossible when Crowley had begged Aziraphale to run to the stars with him.

There had been a time that Crowley was going to try and forget. They’d done enough damage to Warlock in the raising of the child and Adam had more than enough of the supernatural in that brush with the almost apocalypse and everything that had come with it. In the end it had been Aziraphale who’d encouraged him to try and make contact again; sensing how conflicted the demon was at having these two kids, who’d brushed with the forces of Hell, and just leaving them to it.

Now they’re practically true godfathers to two children, and that’s without counting The Them whose memories had been altered after the event but were often far too Knowing regardless and seem to have been left with some sort of imprint to their psyches.

Crowley frequently finds himself looking closely at them and hoping that they’re a sign of the kind of safe hands the world will be in within a couple more decades.

We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet.

Aziraphale and Crowley had spent millennia apart and centuries close and decades together. There had been constant matches about the inherent goodness of humans. There had been constant matches about how unfair it was to expect people to behave just as well no matter the disadvantage you set them up with at the beginning.

No matter what their positions had been at any given time there was almost always a drink to be shared between them.

No matter who was doing the wiling or the thwarting their story had wound together in equal parts ill and good deed and, no matter what, in attempted kindness both given and received.

Crowley had spent so much of his time on Earth committing to kindness to the ‘wrong’ people in the name of subverting the will of Heaven. Lifting the poor, encouraging the downtrodden to revolution. Aziraphale looked back at it sometimes and wondered how he could have followed Heaven’s party line like a shield for so long from the only other person who truly understood the true potential in humans, and the true worth of them.

Aziraphale had spent so much of his time on Earth coming to truly understand the humans. Finding what they needed, understanding what was truly good beyond the rules that they set themselves. He had done without waiting for permission. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Often enough Crowley looked at this terribly brave, terribly hedonistic angel and wondered how he came to be so lucky. If it, too, wasn’t some part of the Ineffable plan that the angel liked to harp on about.

Both had found ways to be kind in a very human sense that fit neither of their roles.

surely ye'll be your pint-stoup and surely I'll be mine.

Crowley grins at the joy on Warlock’s face as they slip into their favourite local and buy a few pints to sup while they watch the world pass by the front window and let the pounding of the music thunder in echo-chamber chests.

“Mom would go absolutely mad if she knew I was drinking.” They chuckle after their first sip.

“Well, over here you’re legal. That’s all that matters to us, right angel?”

Aziraphale tilts his head a little. “Well, that and that you’re sensible when you drink. Have to remember that you don’t need to try to keep up with us.”

Crowley bit his lip at that, seeing the flash of challenge in Warlock’s eye. “He’s not kidding, you know. Aziraphale’s lost a liver before, its really not worth it when you can just enjoy it.”

Warlock takes another gulp before their glass clatters to the table. “Alright, that I have to hear.”

Crowley and Aziraphale look between each other; the angel in warning and the demon in pure glee. The firelight outside catches flame-red hair and shows a hint of truly happy eyes behind glasses. Aziraphale sighs deeply and sits back in his chair. “Alright, so, we were over in the Americas in the middle of the prohibition-”

“Oh, come on! Yeah you’re ancient but you’re not that old.” Warlock rolls their eyes in annoyance.

Crowley snorts a laugh that almost sends ale out of his nose when Aziraphale makes a sort of chalk-board squeak in the back of his throat. “Be that as it may, let me tell my story. You can decide on the truth of the particulars as you wish. Now, it’s at this time I was spending some time with my friend Ms Parker having some discussions about her husband’s behaviours and I’m afraid we got rather deep into some of the more contraband drinks.”

Crowley leans back in his seat; tuning out the chatter and the music and everything else as he watches his partner regale Warlock with old stories. He thinks of how much it’s possible to love one single ethereal being and how little of it should be his. But it is, and it will be for millennia to come. It’s still overwhelming years later and Crowley doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being in awe of it all.

We twa hae run about the braes and pou'd the gowans fine. But we've wander'd mony a weary fit sin' auld lang syne.

After a few more drinks the three of them pass back out into the street and follow streets until they find a familiar path that has Aziraphale gently clutching at Crowley’s arm with a smile. “Oh, I remember this place, my dear. There was a wonderful tailor who lived here back in the fifteenth century.”

Crowley stops in his wandering and motions for Warlock to do the same, happy to indulge Aziraphale for now.

“Yeah, makes sense angel. You always did go for the broken down districts.” He teases softly. It’s what makes Aziraphale the angel that most western humans based their stories on. A guardian angel who turned up in the harder areas and made what difference he could just by being there.

“Telling more tales?” Warlock asks archly with a roll of his eyes. Crowley knows he’s trying to goad another story out of Aziraphale. The kid doesn’t believe the stories, but they’re fascinating nonetheless. And it’s still slightly less bullshit than what they hear from their father.

“Maybe we are. You know, the castle being up on the hill like that? Great for defence but not so great for hunting. All the royals used to love that shit-” “Crowley, language!”

“-that bollocks, so they’d have a whole chunk of land set aside for them to hunt on that the commoners weren’t allowed onto. Now, if you’re an actual demon, and like causing fuss, and the laws of man certainly don’t apply to you, you might find yourself stopping to unleash non-native species onto hunting grounds. You might find yourself in a spot of trouble with the local regent. You might even find yourself helped out of it by someone who’s supposed to be your enemy, and who you thought was hundreds of miles away in Asia looking for early written texts.”

Aziraphale tuts at this. “Too many suppositions, Crowley. You’re telling it wrong. Let me, now-”

Crowley grins and falls into relative silence as Aziraphale tells one of the tales of how he had come to Crowley’s aid a few centuries ago.

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn, but seas between us braid hae roar’d

The two of them often had whole oceans separating them across the years. There have been times that midwinters were spent in lonely huts or new year celebrations with mortals whose faces they would not be able to remember in a few decades’ time.

There were years that they were close and yet never close enough. There were years it was a matter of rivers or streams between them.

There were years that it was their own fears alone that separated.

Invariably everything human that either of them did was made all the more special if they could share it together and that had made the last few years something that neither would give away for all the safety in the world.

Seas could roar and oceans could draw chasms between them and yet Aziraphale and Crowley had always been drawn back together, closer and faster each time. It had been pleasant to find that their natural collision actually just led them to settle into the other’s arms. Close enough that nothing but the occasional bickering argument would pass between them again.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, and gie's a hand o' thine, And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught for auld lang syne!

The three of them are caught up at the stroke of midnight. The canon being fired at the castle echoes through the streets to cheers and laughter. Aziraphale leans in to kiss Crowley and Warlock politely does Not tell them to get a room.

Before long they’re in the midst of a small group forming a circle and taking up the strains of Auld Lang Syne. Warlock pulls a face as they get past the first couple of verses, entirely lost. Crowley leans in with a smile and leads his old charge through with the smallest of demonic miracles.

At the last verse they cross arms and link hands and Aziraphale can see the pure mischief in Crowley’s face. “Get ready to move, dear boy. We’ll all be heading for the centre.” He warns in Warlock’s ear, knowing that Crowley has no intention of telling the poor thing.

Even Warlock manages a startled laugh as they rush the centre at the end of the song, twisting around each other until they rush away again, facing outwards and into the new year.

Crowley’s face almost hurts from the smiling as he looks to Aziraphale and Warlock; the colours of the fireworks lighting bright faces in the cold night air.

They’ve gained a lot surviving the Apocalypse together and he feels like there’s only going to be more to be thankful for in the future with his heart full to bursting and an angel at his side.

“Happy New Year.” He grins, and it’s almost shy as Aziraphale turns to him practically glowing from within and wishes him the same.

“And so many more.”

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #ineffable husbands #mini fic

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anihan-spills · 5 years

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Girl in the Mirror (Part IV)

VI. Maria

A large number of people assemble every Sunday to celebrate mass in the Quiapo church. While most celebrate mass to continuously become closer to God, it is obvious that Senator Magglabo is on his third time celebrating mass that year — first when he was running for senator, second when the ballots were being counted, third (that day) being the day he won as a senator.

Maria knelt quietly, still in deep prayer after taking the holy host in her communion. Most churchgoers were already loud and noisy, talking about their daily gossips.

Father Arnaiz entered the post and said his closing remarks. “Go in peace! Love and serve the Lord.”

“Thanks be to God!” all except Maria say, for she was still kneeling and deep in prayer.

Senator Magglabo turned to his daughter. “Ang saya, hindi ba!? O, senador na ako! Hays, ang biyayang binigay ng Diyos... at sa sambayanan, ako ang biyaya ng Diyos! Maraming taong naghihintay na bumati sa akin sa labas. Mahal, gusto mo bang sumama?”

Maria turned to her father, smiling politely. “Paumanhin, itay. Maaari po ba akong magdasal pa?”

Senator Magglabo frowned at this, but accepted it anyway. “Sige. Sa labas lang ako. Oh! Sina Tita Cori at Tita Rani! Ibabati ko na muna sila.”

Senator Magglabo sat up from his pew and went to Tita Cori and Tita Rani. He soon proceeded into having a small talk with them.

Maria continued to sit down in prayer.

“My Father, you are the light of my life, the light of my love, and the love of my life. You have never failed to listen to my pleas. You were always the one I could trust. I long for you as the deer longs for the stream's water. I long for you as to how King David's subjects long for the notes he plays on the harp. I long for you as much as Bathsheba longed for you when she was betrayed by the same king.

My Lord, I know I am just a woman, but I'm tired. I need your presence. I need you. Help me try to forgive. Help me try to live. Protect me, my Father. Protect me. Amen.”

I remember Maria standing up, tears still welling down her face. She walked to her father and soon overheard his conversation with Tita Cori and Tita Rani.

“Pero alam mo, parang nagbago na si Maria. Maslalo na noong pumasok ka sa pulitika.” Tita Cori remarked.

“Oo nga, eh. Parang hindi siya kasing sigla noong bata pa siya eh. Naging mas mahinhin pa.” Tita Rani added.

Maria interjected in the conversation. “Nahihinayang lang po ako, tita. Parang nahahawa na ako sa pagod ng aking tatay. Ngunit, walang dapat pag-abalahin sa akin.”

Tita Cori, Tita Rani, and Senator Magglabo laugh at this.

“Alam mo naman ang mga babae: napaka-emosyonal.” the Senator smiled, going behind his daughter.

The comment made Maria laugh uneasily. She turned to her father and said, “Magpahinga na po kayo, itay. Maraming nangyari kahapon. Senador ka na at dapat masmarami na ang paghinga mo.”

“Siguro nga. Maraming salamat.”

The four bade their farewells. Maria and Senator Magglabo walked together on the street on the way back to their house.

“Anong pinagdasal mo kanina?” her father inquired.

“Nagdasal ako para sa inyo, at kung gaano akong kagalak maging anak mo.” Maria replied with a smile.

Senator Magglabo blushed. “Aww…”

Senator Magglabo and Maria were surprised to see four Japanese soldiers inside their home. Senator Magglabo was not scared, however. He was actually very delighted.

“Mr. Akinari!” Senator Magglabo smiled, extending his arms, “Good to see you! How was Bulacan?”

“Good to see you, Senator Magglabo. I heard of your victory.” Mr. Akinari nodded to him. He turned to Maria. “Good to see you again, Maria.”

Akinari held Maria’s hand and kissed it. He turned to Senator Magglabo once more. “Bulacan was great.”

Maria gulped. “I should probably go to my room.”

“Wait!” Akinari stopped and turned to the other soldiers, signaling them in.

The soldiers brought in the mirror and removed the cloth that covered it.

“This mirror is taken from one of the American bases. Some would say it dates back to the Spanish era. But it's still so beautiful.” He turned to Maria and smiled, “As beautiful as you.”

Maria gulped once more. She inquired, “Where will you put it?”

“Inside your room, of course.”

Maria and Akinari watched two Japanese soldiers bring the mirror in before exiting. Akinari moved closer to Maria.

“I missed you.”

“I didn’t.”

Akinari tried to moving closer again but Maria resisted.

“Not right now, please.”

Akinari nodded before leaving the room.

Maria lied on her bed and quietly cried.

I remember her face when I appeared in front of the mirror. I remembered looking for Eugenie and then seeing her.

She stared at me a bit, quietly. It was almost scary.

“Oh wow. I’m surprised. You didn’t scream.”

Maria gulped. “I’m turning mad now, am I?”

“Mad?” I frowned, “Oh no, honey. I’m afraid you are.”

Maria sighed and turned over. “Yes, I am.”

I smiled at her, trying to radiate comfort. “If it could make you feel any better, I can introduce myself. Hi! I'm Lucia. I'm no ghost. I don't think I'm reflected light either. I'm just… Lucy.”

She smiled at me as she sat up, “Hello, Lucy. I'm Maria.”

“Yay!” I grin, “Now we’re friends!”

It was late that I realized her tears. I frowned and breathed in deeply. “You’re crying. Is there anything bothering you?”

Maria sobbed and nodded.

I asked, “What’s wrong?”

She sobbed once more before looking away and shrugging.

I deduced. “Was it the man who tried advancing on you.”

She sobbed in the very same manner as she did before. “My father can’t know what happened two weeks ago. My father can't know that I was raped by Mr. Akinari! What my father did, his election, his position, what he stands for — all of it would just be lies.”

I frowned before a knock on the door was heard. I disappeared.

Senator Magglabo entered the door, gleefully. “Akinari is inviting us to a party,” he announced.

Maria was in sudden shock for a while. She looked at the mirror, and then at her father, and looks at the mirror, then at her father once more. She smiled at him. “Tell him I'll be happy to see him.”

As he left, she went to the mirror to fix herself.

Akinari and Senator Magglabo laughed and drank on the same table. A Courier entered and gave a document to Akinari, who then passed it to the senator. Magglabo laughed and jokingly elbowed his Japanese friend. The two had a soft conversation, pointing at each other as if offering each other the honor to announce something. In the end, Akinari stood up, making Senator Magglabo applaud.

Akinari announced with enthusiasm, as he held his glass up high. “I have an announcement to make…”

Maria climbed downstairs just in time to hear the proclamation. After observing Akinari standing, she turned to a waiter to ask what was happening.

Akinari continued, “I am to ask Ms. Magglabo’s hand in marriage.”

Maria’s heart wrenched. She felt everything fall down — as if Atlas had decided to let the heavens go.

Akinari met eyes with his betrothed. She went up to her, held her hand, and kissed it.

“No need to worry, my love.” Akinari told her in assurance, “You’ll be in safe hands.”

Maria stared at Akinari, waiting for him to release her hand. She gave up waiting after a while. The night continued, strings latched all over her numb body.

Maria arrived in her room. She laid down, face flat on the pillow. The nap broke when she heard the door opening, making her jot up.

Akinari opened the door and smiles at her. Maria started to breathe heavy.

“What are you doing here in my room?” “Am I not allowed?”

“Kind of not.”

Maria breathed in heavier as Akinari sat beside her.

“What’s your goal with me, exactly?”

“You’re just really beautiful — and easy to acquire. Who would want to pass the chance on that? I know I wouldn’t.”

Hours passed. Akinari awoke, got up, and put on his clothes. Maria stirred, panting heavily, before waking and getting up.

As soon as Akinari exits, I appear in the mirror.“Hey,” I smile at her, “How was the party?”

“Tiring.” she told me, “I’m marrying him.”

I frowned. “Did you consent to it?”

“When did I ever?”

I sighed and sat to listen to her.

“I pray to the Lord every day. I pray that I could have the strength to move on. I pray that I could have the strength to forgive. I pray that I could have the chance to live with my shame.”

“Being a victim does not put you to shame. Being raped does not make you any less of a person. Raping does. You’re human. You get hurt. You feel lost. You feel abandoned. You feel shamed. You think this is your fault, but it’s not. I believe in you. You can always choose to move on. You can always choose to forgive. But that choice is yours. Even if you do or don’t it still does not make you any less of a person.”

Maria walked through the bustling streets of Manila, carrying a basket of crops with her. She notices the glum, monotone environment despite the vibrant, colorful harvest of produce the summer had to offer. After a moment of brief observance, she bumps upon a woman her age, wearing a shoal around her face. The woman’s fruits fell from her basket. The two knelt down to pick up the fruits. The woman, however, was stopped by people passing by her, “accidentally” kicking and hitting her along their way. Maria notices this, and then the two stand up, the woman is pushed once more.

“Dahan-dahan lang!” the man shouted violently at the woman.

The woman stood up and wiped a tear from her face. She quietly walked out of the scene.

Maria watched the covered woman go before realizing that, in her hand, was a tomato that did not belong to her. She grabbed her basket and called out for the woman.

Upon nearing, the woman looked worriedly at Maria. Maria approached the woman and was about to give the fruit to her, before being pulled over to an alleyway.

The woman hushed Maria beneath the darkness the building had constructed for them in the deep corner. “Please be quiet.” the woman pleaded, “I’m not supposed to be outside.”

Maria frowned and handed over the tomato, which the woman accepted.

“Where are you taking the foods?” Maria curiously asked.

“To my friends…” the woman answered, “for us to eat.”

“Where are you going?”

The woman hesitated to answer before sighing. Maria noticed tears rushing to fall from the woman’s eyes as the woman shook her head. Maria went over to the woman to hold her.

“To the fort.” the woman answered.

Maria knew exactly what fort. The fort that had been the torture place for so many years. In that fort were churches that should have served as a place of protection for its people, but instead were converted as sites of hell.

“I-Inside?” Maria asked.

The woman just nodded. “Why did you think people shoved me away?”

Maria frowned and watched the woman go. She then felt the urge to run up to the woman to hold her. She fed into that urge.

The woman cried in reply.

“It’s okay,” Maria said. “I know that feeling.”

The woman laughed. “Really? Have you ever felt what it’s like seeing your husband tortured and whipped in front of you while you were being defiled? Have you ever felt what it’s like witnessing your father skinned alive, and your brother being stabbed? Have you ever—”

“No.” Maria pulled away, shaking her head. “But I know what it feels like to be abused. This is not a competition.”

The woman was silent. She stared at Maria as she continued.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. But it’s not your fault. Being a victim does not put you to shame. Being tortured like that does not make you any less of a person. Torturing does. You’re human. You get hurt. You feel lost. You feel abandoned. You feel shamed. You think this is your fault, but it’s not. I believe in you. You can always choose to move on. You can always choose to forgive. But that choice is yours. Even if you do or don’t it still doesn’t take away you being a person.”

The woman snickered. “They all say that. But what do they do? Nothing.”

Maria looked away before staring at the woman sincerely. “I could help get you out.”

The two heard Japanese soldiers approaching. They run towards the other corner of the alley.

The two pant as they were able to safely arrive outside the alley, back into plain sight. She smiled at each other as they caught their breaths.

“My name is Maria.”

“My name is Asiang.”

“Alright, Asiang, here’s the plan…”

And the two conspired to escape — with every detail for every thought-of circumstances. The thought of, not only an escape for themselves but for everyone in that comfort station. It’s the least Maria could do. For, after all, she too wanted to escape like them.

After the planning, Asiang looked up at Maria and smiled. “Salamat.”

“Walang ano man.” Maria replied, “Mag-ingat ka.”

The visions came by fast. First I saw Maria carrying a gas lamp as she placidly walked by thick stone walls, sounds of explosions and gunshots all around her. She walked alleyway after alleyway before eventually arriving at a building. She looked through the window and saw Asiang waiting for her alone in her room. Asiang, likewise, noticed Maria and slipped a piece of paper through the two walls that connected her room to the others’ rooms. A loud knock was heard from the door, hurrying Asiang to escape. Maria helped Asiang get down through the window. As soon as Asiang got down, the two slowly back away from the window. They were stopped, however, as they both bumped into a big soldier, holding a bayonet. The two stared in horror.

#Girl in the Mirror

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justsomebucky · 6 years

Text

Everything

Summary: AU. Reader rushes to her ex-boyfriend’s side when he’s in an accident.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,733

Warnings: language, angst, referenced car accident/motorcycle accident, hospital, doctors, injury, fluff, more angst, more fluff, drunk driving mention, nothing gory, I’m not a damn doctor okay? Shonda Rhimes taught me this shit.

A/N: This is my last submission for the lovely Erin’s ( @theassetseyeliner) writing challenge. My prompt was #28. “I got into a car crash and you’re still my emergency contact even though you’re my ex.” Special thanks to @denialanderror and @soldatbarnes for talking me down from the ledge. Gif credit to @whump-they-it-is since tumblr is dumb and it wouldn’t show up in search even though it was perfect. Thank you!

Phone calls are made for all sorts of reasons, even in the era of texting. They bring sad news, happy news, good news, and bad news…

There are also those sorts of calls that change your life, for better or worse. You were in a meeting with Tony Stark and Happy Hogan when you got that sort of call.

Naturally, you didn’t answer.

There were, of course, three valid reasons why you didn’t answer.

The first is that you were in the meeting and didn’t want to be disrespectful. You had just been promoted to Mr. Hogan’s team lead. It was a highly sought-after position since he was Mr. Stark’s top advisor. You weren’t sure it was exactly what you wanted to do, but it was a start.

The second reason was that you didn’t recognize the number. It was bad enough that you used caller ID to screen people you actually knew (even sometimes your family, which you were a little ashamed to admit). Why would you even bother with a total stranger?

The third was probably worst of all, but it was most applicable: you hated talking on the phone. You spent a lot of your time on a phone as it was for business purposes, so personal calls were put on the back-burner. Why call when you could text?

Why text when that person could just leave you alone, you know?

Anyway, you didn’t answer the first time. There was too much at stake during the meeting.

You had worked hard to get where you were. You’d sacrificed so much, you could finally relate to that girl in The Devil Wears Prada (though Happy and Tony were far nicer than her boss). There were missed appointments, disappointed family members at holiday gatherings, and of course the biggest hit to your life…The Breakup.

You were officially alone again, after a year-long relationship came crashing to the ground about six months ago.

Anyway.

The phone rang a second time when you were walking out of the boardroom with the official company timelines in your hands for the construction and completion of a new facility upstate.

You weren’t in charge of these ventures, but you had to be prepared in case Mr. Hogan became indisposed on some other project, which happened a lot at Stark Industries. If Mr. Stark ever had sudden inspiration for something, you better believe Mr. Hogan and Ms. Potts were right there with him, pulled away from everything else they were working on.

You wanted to be that person, too. You wanted the responsibility, the ‘in’ with Tony Stark…you wanted to be worthwhile to the company since you didn’t feel worthwhile anywhere else.

It wasn’t until you were in the quiet safety of your own office that you answered the call on the third attempt. Whoever it was, they were persistent.

You shrugged off your jacket, switching your phone to your other ear as you accepted the call. “Y/N speaking.”

“Hello, this is Dr. Palmer from Memorial Hospital. I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name?”

Memorial Hospital? What the hell?

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N. How can I help you, Dr. Palmer?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, I’ve been trying to reach you because you are listed as the emergency contact for James Barnes. You do know him?”

You froze in your seat, eyes wide as you tried to digest what she just said. That was a name you’d been trying to forget.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Please,” you said softly. “Call me Y/N. Is he…is James okay?”

“I don’t typically like to discuss emergency cases over the phone. I –“

“I get it, Doctor. I’ve been through this before. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You pressed end on the call and stood up, grabbing the jacket you’d just placed on the back of your chair to fend off the chilly air.

Mr. Hogan’s secretary Maria looked up at you as you rushed past. “Where are you going? You have another meeting in three hours!”

“I know,” you called back. “It’s an emergency. I’ll be back!”

Her confused face is the last thing you saw before the elevator doors shut.

“Yes, hi, I’m looking for Dr. Palmer?” You leaned over the information desk in the emergency room, trying not to crawl over it and find the information yourself. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were in a freakin’ hurry.

“Which one?” a nurse whose name tag read Scott Lang asked you. “There’s actually several –“

You shook your head at him. “It was a woman in the ER! She took the case for my boyf- my friend James Barnes. Can you look it up that way?”

“Sure I can.” Scott typed for a second, then furrowed his brows at the computer. “I have a Barnes here, but he’s listed as being in the morgue…oh.” He looked up at you. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.”

You reeled at his words, taking a few steps back and feeling a little faint. Your limbs felt like jelly.

Was Bucky really…gone?

“Oh wait,” Scott continued, typing again. “That said Barnabes. Sorry, my fault. James Barnes has been moved to a private room on the third floor. You could probably find Dr. Palmer there.”

“Oh my god,” you shouted, seething with anger. A few people passing by stopped to stare at you, but you couldn’t help yourself right now. “You can’t just tell people that their loved ones are dead and then say ‘my fault!’”

“Look, lady, I’m sorry. This is my first day. I screwed up, okay? Please don’t tell my supervisor, I’ve got a kid at home,” Scott pleaded. “I really am sorry.”

It took a second or two, but you managed to get your breathing under control enough to speak at a normal volume. “Fine. What is the room number?”

“Three-ten.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “I won’t say anything, Mr. Lang. But please be a little more careful.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way to the third floor.

Nurses and doctors were rushing around, some with worry etched on their faces, and some laughing and joking with each other. How could so many different emotions be taking place in one building?

Babies were being born just as others were dying mere floors away. It was truly insane to think about.

You slowed down when you got close to his room, and as you peered in you realized no one was in there with him.

But Bucky…

He was laying there on the crisp white hospital sheets with about ten different wires and gadgets attached to him. You glanced up to the heart monitor, where the signal showed a steady, strong beat.

For that you were so very grateful.

You moved closer to the bed, careful not to disturb anything as your eyes raked over him. He had scrapes all over his face and arms, and butterfly bandages over several cuts on his chin and forehead.

“What happened to you?” you whispered, reaching out to brush a strand of his long brown hair back.

“He was in a motorcycle accident.”

Your hand recoiled as you looked up at Dr. Palmer. Either you’d been too focused on Bucky to notice her, or she was super stealthy.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said, reaching her hand out to shake yours.

You felt a little mortified at the fact that you still didn’t quite have full strength back from the little information desk episode. Your hand was clammy and shaking.

“Nice to meet you, too, Dr. Palmer.”

“Please, call me Christine.”

You nodded. “So, an accident? Is he okay?”

Christine flipped a page on the chart. “James is- “

“Bucky,” you interrupted. “He prefers to be called Bucky. It’s a, uh..it’s a nickname.”

“Bucky,” she repeated. “Okay, good to know. Bucky is asleep. We gave him some powerful painkillers after he complained of severe abdomen pain upon arriving at the ER. He’s got some lacerations, contusions, and three bruised ribs. He’s going to have limited mobility for a while. Little things like lifting heavy objects, reaching for things, and vigorous physical activities are not going to be possible until he heals a little.”

You nodded again. “But he’s okay? I mean, no permanent damage, no brain trauma, nothing like that?”

The doctor pressed her lips in a straight line while she glanced over more of the chart. “Actually, when the EMT asked him his name, he remembered, but he also got the date wrong. He thought it was six months ago.”

“Amnesia? Is it permanent?” The thought of Bucky forgetting any part of his life made you nauseated.

“It’s most likely temporary. I’ve seen it before, especially after a quick trauma like this. Could be hours, could be days…maybe more, but not likely. We’re going to have to wait until he wakes back up to determine if there’s any residual effects from a potential concussion.”

“Why would he be allowed to sleep if you thought there might be a concussion?” you asked, frowning at the doctor. “I’ve had them, and the first thing they told me was to not go to sleep.”

“And the first thing you did was?”

“Sleep,” you admitted.

Christine nodded. “The body knows how to heal itself in most cases, Y/N. We didn’t believe there was any major brain trauma when he was brought in, and his first scans showed no signs of swelling or bleeding. He had been wearing his helmet thankfully. So, we wait until he wakes up.”

“What exactly happened in the accident? In case he can’t remember but wants to know?”

“The police said a drunk driver ran a red light,” she explained. “They knocked him off his motorcycle onto the hood of their car. He’s lucky that was all. If he had landed on the pavement or been thrown elsewhere, we’d be discussing a situation way worse than this.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes flickered back to Bucky’s sleeping form. “So with those injuries, how long will he be kept here?”

“Probably just overnight, to be honest.”

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you tried to process all of this. Bucky could have died.

He could have died.

Christine started walking backwards toward the door. “I have other patients to see, but if you need me just press the call button.”

“Thank you.”

You grabbed one of the chairs from the corner and dragged it closer to the bed, sitting still for a moment while you stared at his face. The sound of him breathing with oxygen tubes up his nose was sort of weird. It reminded you of how deeply he used to sleep when he was beside you at night.

“Your hair’s longer,” you murmured, leaning forward. “And you need a shave, Buck.”

The realization that he could wake up at any second and find you here fawning over him made you a little bit uncomfortable, but when would you get another opportunity to say what you were thinking without him arguing back?

“I have no idea why you kept me on as your emergency contact. In fact, you probably forgot all about it. I don’t think you’d want me here…not after everything we said to each other. We argued about everything…money…schedules…we found a way to be angry. It wasn’t healthy.”

You sighed, shifting back in your seat a little as you let your eyes drift to the ceiling. “Maybe it’s for the best that we broke up. I only seemed to make you miserable.”

Little patterns of grey and white speckled the ceiling tiles. You hated that Bucky would wake up and the first thing he’d look at would be these ugly tiles. He should be home, safe in bed…not here.

“I know I put work first a lot. It’s dumb but…Bucky, you’re so successful, you know? You worked hard to get where you are and I didn’t want to be the one leeching from you. I wanted to establish myself…”

The whirring sound of the air being circulated was your only response.

This was actually really therapeutic for you. Maybe the two of you could have made it had you bothered to stop yelling and actually listen. You were just as much at fault about that as Bucky was.

Oh well.

“Was it worth it? I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, your voice catching a little. “I feel like the breakup made me wake up a little, you know? I feel like…it’s that old stupid saying, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

Being honest and vulnerable wasn’t really your thing. That’s probably why this was easier with Bucky asleep.

“I thought that working even more hours and distracting myself would help, but it hasn’t. I still love you, after all…I loved you then. I wanted to be with you. I assumed I was doing enough, and we broke up anyway.”

Good thing he was a heavy sleeper.

“I didn’t want to lose you. It’s my fault.” Your voice had gone down to a whisper again, eyes filling with tears as you finally said it out loud. The ugly ceiling tiles blurred into one big ugly blob. You blinked a few times, causing the tears to roll from your eyes down your cheeks, where you wiped them away quickly.

No one needed to see that.

“I guess, if I had to say something to you without you knowing, it would be that I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Your eyes widened and you sat back up at the sound of Bucky’s soft, raspy voice. His eyes were still closed and his brow was furrowed.

“How long were you awake?” you asked, your tone more accusatory than you intended.

“Long enough.” Bucky’s blue-grey eyes struggled to open from his medicated haze. He blinked a few times, focusing on the awful wallpaper across from him, then shifted his gaze to you.

You wanted to hide from him. You felt stupid for assuming he was sleeping this whole time, stupid for revealing your deepest thoughts to the one person who should have heard them six months ago, long before the two of you ended things.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Your leg started shaking involuntarily and you tried to shift to a more comfortable position, as if there was one. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Don’t go back in your little shell. I get that you- “

You watched with wide eyes as he grimaced in pain. “Should I get a nurse?”

Bucky turned his head slightly. “Not yet. Can I get- is there water?”

There was a little pink pitcher and plastic cup sitting on the table beside his head, so you stood up and poured a half-glass of water for him, holding it to his lips as he took a sip.

“Thank you.”

Since you were already up, maybe now was the time to exit. “They told me that you had to stay overnight, Buck, so I should probably go. I’ve got another meeting to get to, and I…” Your voice trailed off as you realized he was chuckling.

“Oh, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that. Your ribs are bruised.”

“It’s just too classic, Y/N. You running out on me for work. Give Mr. Stark my regards.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You want to do this here? Bucky, you nearly died today. I don’t want to fight.”

“Then sit down and finish telling me what you tried to when you thought I was asleep.”

The two of you had a stare down for a second, but you eventually relented, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair.

“What did you hear?” you asked again.

“That you didn’t want to lose me, and that you were sorry. But even the doctor said that I wasn’t really hurt, you know. You aren’t gonna lose me. Close call or not, I’m still kicking.”

He thought you meant lose him to death.

Well, that too, but…what a silly man.

“I didn’t mean lose you specifically today, though that would have been…let’s not even talk about that. I meant lose you back then, six months ago when we broke up. And I am sorry, by the way. I did mean that sincerely.”

Bucky looked confused. “What are you talking about? None of this makes sense…I thought I was the one who bumped my head?”

Dr. Palmer’s words about possible amnesia as a side effect of a concussion came back to you.

“Bucky, what is today’s date?”

He made a face at you. “They already asked me that in the ER. It’s May something. I was always bad with dates.”

“It’s November, Buck,” you murmured, frowning at him. “I need to find the doctor.”

Steve Rogers enveloped you in a big hug the second he laid eyes on you in the waiting room. “How’s Bucky?”

You pulled back, letting your arms fall to your sides. “He’s got some cuts and bruises…he bruised three ribs. He seems to have a concussion.”

“Wow, he got lucky,” he commented, leaning against the wall.

The two of you were standing outside the waiting room door, far enough out of earshot of Bucky’s room that you could discuss things freely.

You had to tell Steve the truth.

“The doctor said he’s got a bit of temporary amnesia.” You looked at Steve, concentrating on his bright, warm eyes to stop from crying again. “At least, they think it’s temporary.”

Steve’s face fell. “Oh, no. How long of a time frame has he forgotten?”

“Six months.”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. “So he doesn’t remember that the two of you broke up, does he?”

“No,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. “It could be from a concussion, could be from the meds they gave…a specialist is with him now.”

“How are you holding up, Y/N?”

You glanced back up at him. “I’m supposed to be back at work here in about twenty minutes. Do you think you could sit with him through dinner?”

“Sure, I don’t mind at all.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t his emergency contact.”

Steve gave you a look. “I’m not.”

When you didn’t reply, he kept talking.

“Y/N, Bucky never does anything without good reason. So that means there’s a good reason why he left you on the call list.”

“But we broke –“

“It doesn’t matter. That love doesn’t just disappear,” he told you gently, reaching up to brush an errant tear off your cheek. “He still had hope that the two of you would reconcile.”

You turned away from Steve, glancing down the hallway toward room three-ten. “Does it matter? If all we were was angry, does it matter?”

“I think it does. You both were hurt, and learning together how to be in a mature partnership. You’ve grown a lot since this, haven’t you?”

“I- I guess?”

Steve’s mouth lifted a little. “Come on. Give yourself some credit. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t, knowing full well that it could lead to something uncomfortable. You can’t tell that the thought of reconciling didn’t cross your mind, at least since you spoke with him?”

Well, when he put it that way…

“And Bucky’s grown, that I’m sure of,” he continued. “He’s tried to become better at listening. He’s working on himself, too.”

“That’s…that’s good.”

“It is.” Steve reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll remember eventually, and the two of you can talk it out at the very least. But you’re here, Y/N, and that says everything in my opinion.”

You nodded, pulling Steve in for another hug. “Why are you so smart all the time?”

“I’m just observant,” he replied, kissing the top of your head gently. He pulled back and gave you a little push down the hallway. “Now go to your meeting. We’ll be fine.”

Happy and Tony kept you longer than you expected, though Pepper was missing in action for the first half of the meeting.

When she walked in, the first thing she did was sit beside you and offer you a smile. There was something in her eyes that you’d never seen directed at you before, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“So Y/N, when do you think you can make the trip upstate?”

“The, uh…the trip?” You were confused; no one had ever mentioned you taking a work trip.

“Yes,” Happy said, sounding a little irritated. “It’s in the itinerary on your desk. I take it you never made it back to your office from your emergency?”

“I didn’t tell Maria to put it on her desk,” Pepper spoke up, pushing a file in front of you. “And she isn’t going upstate, Happy, that’s currently your job if I remember correctly. I was nosy and read over Y/N’s proposals from the beginning of the year, and I loved almost all of them. There are a few I want to get started on right away. She’d waste away on some construction site upstate.”

He looked completely baffled. “But –“

“No buts, you heard her,” Tony said, clearly enjoying himself. He grinned at Happy. “Better get packing, pal.”

Happy grumbled to himself the entire time from the chair, to the doorway, and all the way down the hall from what you could hear.

“So uh, what’s the word?”

Your eyes flitted back to Tony’s. “I’m sorry?”

“The person in the ER. He okay?”

Pepper gave you an apologetic smile. “I called to have flowers sent after Maria told me. She was worried about you. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “He’s not that bad off. Cuts and bruises, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Tony said, glancing at Pepper.

“Tony’s been in a lot of accidents,” she told you, rubbing your back. “He seems to think he’s invincible.”

“Incredible is the word you’re looking for, darling.”

Pepper chose to ignore him. “Listen, we discussed it and we want you to take some time off. Go be with him until he’s well again.”

“But he’s…but what about –“

“Happy’s taking over the projects permanently, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tony interrupted, pushing his glasses up his nose. “He’s going to be upstate for the remainder of the construction and development. I’m reassigning you to Pepper’s team, where your hours won’t be nearly as long because she’s a bleeding heart softy.”

What the what?

“That means I’m your new boss,” Pepper added, smirking at Tony before giving you a warm smile. “And I say take all the time you need. When you come back, we’re gonna start on some of the projects you had in mind, okay?”

Was this real life?

“Thank you.” You tried not to get too excited and emotional. “I can’t even begin to thank you both enough.”

“Actually, you can,” Tony countered, giving a little shrug. “By coming back and kicking some major ass.”

You were full-on grinning now. “That I can definitely do.”

Four hours had gone by. It had been four hours since you left Steve to sit with Bucky.

By the time you got back to the hospital, you felt like you had entered the Twilight Zone or something. Nothing was making sense, but you weren’t about to question your sudden good fortune at work.

And you weren’t about to squander this second chance they’d given you to make things right, even if it just meant repairing your friendship.

Steve was still sitting in the chair beside Bucky, though you could tell he was tired and wanted to leave.

“Go home to Nat,” you said, giving him a smile. “I’ve got this.”

He said goodnight to you both and took off, leaving you alone with your ex-boyfriend.

“So, while you were gone, a funny thing happened.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, as if waiting for you to guess.

You didn’t need more than one guess. With a knowing sigh, you flopped into that wonderfully uncomfortable chair once again. “Your memory came back?”

Bucky nodded. “Steve mentioned something to me that sounded familiar but not. Ever have that happen? Where you can practically feel the answer on the tip of your tongue but you aren’t quite there?”

“I guess?”

“Anyways, he brought up maybe asking Natasha to marry him. And I thought to myself, wait a minute…they just met, didn’t they? Turns out, they met about a year ago, halfway through our relationship.”

You waited for the hammer to fall.

Bucky looked down at his hands for a second. There was something in his palm, something he was turning over and over.

When he looked back up at you, he also held up the object.

It was a diamond ring.

“I’m confused,” you said, unable to tear your eyes away from the ring. “Is that for Natasha? Why do you have it?”

“Y/N, if this was truly six months ago like my brain tried to tell me, I’d have given you this by now.” He turned the ring a little so you could see it better. “They found it after the accident, still stuck in my wallet where I’ve been keeping it all this time.”

“What?” you whispered, feeling your own hands started to shake. This was all news to you.

Holy shit…what a mess.

“Yeah, I found it in this bag of my personal effects over there on the nightstand,” he said, nodding to the table where his water cup sat. “I stared at it for a minute. And after that, I remembered everything.”

Your eyes met his again, unsure of how to react.

“Say something,” he pleaded, lowering his hand and gripping the ring in his palm again.

“What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Your eyes filled with those damned tears again, something that happened more today than it had since the week you broke up. “I fucked up.”

“I fucked up, too, Y/N. We both had issues.”

You nodded, looking down while tears slipped off your chin and landed on your jeans.

“I feel like this is a second chance for us, though,” Bucky added in a softer tone. “Don’t you?”

This time when you met his gaze, and all the fight…the walls he put back up…all of it was gone. It was just Bucky, your Bucky, with a hopeful light in his eyes.

“Bucky,” you began, feeling your resolve slip a little. “We fought before. What makes you think we won’t now?”

“Maybe we just had to grow up a little.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and the hand not clutching the ring reached for yours.

You let him grasp your hand, giving his a little squeeze in return. “Maybe.”

“And you can’t tell me you didn’t miss me, Y/N. I mean, you rushed here, worried about me, and it wasn’t because we’re friends.”

“No,” you admitted, trying and failing to hide your own smile. “It wasn’t that.”

“So we try again. This time, we stop to listen to each other. This time we work things out before letting it escalate to anger and resentment. I’m guilty of it, too, and…well, if you wanted to try, I promise I’d try harder.”

“Can I ask you…why did you leave me on as your emergency contact?” You bit your lip, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

He probably just forgot.

Bucky gave you a big smile. “You think I’d want Steve’s mug to be the first one I see after something like this?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at his joke. Even when he was in pain, he was always trying to make someone else laugh.

His smile faded as he watched you. “No, seriously, Y/N. In a real emergency, I can’t think of anyone I’d want to be here with me more than you. And that…”

Now Bucky was blinking rapidly, trying to keep his composure. You didn’t need to hear the end of his sentence to understand his sentiment.

You stood and leaned over, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips.

That was everything.

That’s what Bucky had been about to say.

You understood, because that’s how you felt, too.

“Hold on to that ring, then,” you instructed, giving him a bright smile. “Because if we’re giving this another go, I’m not letting you get away this time.”

His eyes were mischievous again. “Did you learn how to get what you want from Tony Stark?“

“Pepper Potts, actually.”

You shut him up with another kiss.

#bucky barnes x reader #erinswritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #I can't succeed at angst I'm sorry #jsd everything

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imaginetonyandbucky · 6 years

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So, i saw this post on tumblr "while looking up 1950s slang, i found the phrase "come on snake, lets rattle" which has 2 meanings: asking someone to dance, and challenging someone to a fight". Bucky probably needed to know slang so he could know what his targets were saying and Tony just seems to know obscure things. Maybe one of them said it to the other, and got a kiss, instead of a fist... Or the other way around? I just think this has potential. I hope someone is inspired :) Have fun!

(A/N: Hello everyone, finally posting here and I’m both excited and nervous, hoping you all enjoy this. @areufingkidding I hope I did your prompt some justice.)

Forked Tongues

Steve Rogers was not a delusional man, even when some of his actions past could belie this assessment; so he wasn’t expecting Tony and Bucky to be friends after The Fiasco (dubbed Civil War by the media,) but he wasn’t prepared for the strange dynamic they somehow developed either.

Bucky refused to drink coffee unless Tony had brewed it, according to him “at least Stark knows how coffee should taste.” declaring the others’ as dirty water or acid sludge. Still went out of his way, to say the least when they were in the same room.

Tony, would disdainfully agree with Bucky’s battle strategies and assessments while sneering venomously at anyone who looked too closely. “It’s a valid point.”

The Tony he’d gotten to know now was more reserved around all of them, saying only what was pertinent and not much more. But Steve had caught once or twice impassioned arguments, with quick rebuttals full of fire about things that had nothing to do with past events; he’d caught glimpses of the old Bucky coming through in sparks and Tony’s field of electric energy as he walked away from Bucky who’d smirk smugly at the retreating man.

In those moments Steve marveled at how somethings just couldn’t be changed.

Team Training was mandatory nowadays, a number of hours in which everybody gathered to work as a unit. In the many months since their return, Steve hadn’t seen Tony join them - Oh he filled his hours but never when it coincided with them, his former teammates. Not until today…

It was easy to underestimate Tony, he was an engineer, a civilian, with no real enhancements whatsoever, although a genius, it was very easy to forget what Tony could do without the armor.

He was sparring with one of the new Avengers, they had an easygoing rhythm and it made Steve frown, they were joking, that was until Ms. Van Dyne came at him with a jab which Tony dodged expertly, before taking her out by the knees. The ensuing giggles made his throat itch with reprimand, but while Bucky got fire from Tony, there was nothing but an icy veneer of civility for Steve.

Feeling bold, Natasha followed suit as Ms. Van Dyne stepped out to cool off; Tony’s posture remained open but Steve noticed the minute tensing of his shoulders. They circled each other and exchanged words in a language Steve wasn’t versed in.

When the Widow struck Tony was ready, no doubt using his vast knowledge in Physics to pit Natasha against herself. She bowed out after only 15 minutes; drenched in sweat while Tony reached for his bottle with no real sign of exertion.

After that display of cleverness, Steve thought Tony would retreat to his space as he was wont to and perhaps he’d have done it too if Bucky hadn’t come out.

It could only end in disaster, Steve took the stairs trying to reach the gym’s first floor before the bloodshed could begin. The look on Tony’s face, the way he discarded his bottle-throwing it away as it was nothing but a pest- and Bucky’s walk; a mix of the old Bucky swagger and Winter Soldier March.

Broken bones were the very least of his worries. All around them, the others had stopped; some looking like they wanted to intervene, others as if they wanted to be out of the way to avoid the blood splatter.

Tony readjusted his fingerless gloves and rotated his shoulders. Bucky stalked closer.

Steve tried to reach, come between them but Vision’s arm held him at bay. “Vision, I have to stop them.”

The android side eyed him, “It was my understanding that Team Training hours must be met, no matter who faces whom.”

He is reminded once more of how many things have changed, “Vision,” he tried to appeal to the logic. “They will kill each other.”

“Have some faith, Captain.” Vision’s arm sat heavy against his chest. “They’re just following the rules.”

“Well hello there, Klondike.” Tony’s face was stone but his eyes, damn, they burned.

Bucky liked Tony’s sharpness, the way he’d hiss and bristle and get in his face. The way that he’d scowl but still leave Bucky coffee or shove take out his way as if he was uncultured culinary wise and it offended his sensibilities -matter of fact he’d mentioned it under his breath once or twice.-

Bucky liked Tony’s fire, how his hands would wave as he spat over Edison’s grave, “In this house, we believe in Tesla above else, do not blaspheme in my house!”

He liked his protectiveness. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” Tony shouted, getting in his face after catching him tapping on the glass, on the other side DUM-E beeped and wheeled circles before tapping “Friend” in Morse Code.

Tony’s glare didn’t let up but eventually, he sighed not before pointing at Bucky, “You hurt him and I’ll break you.”

He liked the armors both metal and cloth and the way Tony looked in them. How amazing his ass looked as he walked away from Bucky, the way he moved.

Now Bucky was gonna fight him! Get that body close to his, hear him get out of breath and looking for a way to outmaneuver Bucky’s superhuman strength. And Bucky? He wanted. Had been wanting since the pieces of their tussle in Germany slid into place - with a little help from footage too- Tony in his three-piece suit and the pretty gauntlet fighting the Winter Soldier.

Tony seemed to be studying him, cautious and defiant -Bucky groaned internally at the sheer lack of instinctual fear,- no self-preservation. To be honest, he was fascinated by the simple complexity of the man.

But also there, in the corner of his consciousness where remnants of the Winter Soldier still lingered; it salivated with excitement. Fighting like dancing like fucking, was a give and take and the Winter Soldier was one hell of a dancer.

They’ve gotten close enough; that Bucky could almost taste him in the air probably could too, there was a crackle of energy and he knew, deep down in the marrow of his old bones that they’d ignite. They’d burn, the anticipation and his eagerness were reckless he knew. But Bucky has been deprived for a lifetime to deny himself joyous pleasures in whichever form they may strike.

Bucky licks his lips and is pleased to see Tony follow the movement, and a smirk curves on his lips, the sharpness is all Soldier. Tony gives him his own version and something hot stirs his blood.

“Come on snake,” he whispers voice pitched low, sugar sweet and sinful. “Let’s rattle.”

Tony feels like a tightly coiled spring. Sparring with Hope was always fun, they were civilians after all; rich as fuck civilians that had to be trained from an early age, to defend themselves from those after their parent’s fortune. So they quipped and played off each other, much to Lang’s dismay. They could go for hours but Hope had a company to run -been there, done that. No, thank you.- and so they filled her hour before a water break and a call.

Natasha came next, using training as a conversation tool, -even when your lips don’t move, your body talked.- Their relationship nowadays was something fragile tipping on a tightrope and this was her way to reach out; Tony wasn’t in the mood to talk today. Sparing with the Widow used to be playful with an edge. The edge’s still there, sharper on Tony’s side most of the time, she seems to catch on after hitting the mat over and over, unable to engage him as she used to. Because these days he doesn’t allow himself to be vulnerable in her presence, it’s only then she retreats to recoup and try another day.

Then Barnes struts towards him; Tony throws his bottle wayside as something unfurls inside him. Not anger, never that; Barnes and his dynamic is something closer to aggressive flirting. Rich and smooth with a bite. There as he goes to meet him, the tension between them is passion: one that could consume them in the worst way.

Tony lets it come, he’s not afraid of Barnes, of his sharp edges and dark corners, instead, he lets his own show; ‘Come at me, I dare you!’ his body taunted.

“Come on snake,” desire, scorching hot shoots through his bloodstream, while his brain whirls. “Let’s rattle.”

Words were weapons, Tony liked to wield like a well-loved sword, obscure slang in Bucky Barnes’ tongue tasted like the best kind of aphrodisiac; a public and open invitation for Tony to make a move. Fighting was nothing more than a violent dance, and he was ready.

No use in trying to overpower him or outrun him for that matter.

“Is no place sacred anymore?”

“Kitchen’s common ground, Stark.”

“My coffeemaker is not.” Barnes had only stared from over the rim of the cup as he sipped the last serving of coffee. His coffee.

“Exquisite.” The word nothing short of a rumble; something that seemed to stem from a deep part of his body, maybe his toes. “The way the flavor explodes on your tongue and the aroma drifts and wraps around your senses.”

Tony took the words, Barnes was prone to use just the right amount to mean more than just one thing and all the possible connotations. “You don’t even need it.”

The uptick of his lips made Tony’s faulty heart beat faster, like it did every time Barnes aimed it his way; flirty and challenging. It made Tony want to punch him, either with his fist or his mouth he was never sure since either could work.

“I don’t.” Barnes conceded, stepping to the side but still too close for comfort -or sanity.- Lowering his voice and dropping his tone an octave, “but I really want it.”

Tony stopped breathing, muscle memory the only reason why his hands were moving to make a fresh pot. As his body reacted to that confession. Fuck! He groaned when Barnes disappeared behind the elevator’s doors, Tony looked down at the semi in his pants. There goes my productivity.

There were two options available; he could fight Barnes in the way training “suggested” or he could extend his own invitation to a ring of a different kind.

Tony started walking backward, eyes on his opponent as Barnes kept coming, calculating the force and speed required for his body, Tony leapt.

Barnes played into his maneuver too, bending his knees for a jump of his own, but taking a hold Tony’s waist when he landed on his tiptoes, hands-on Barnes’ shoulders. Instead of letting go of Tony and let gravity do the rest, Barnes turned his head upward, a little bemused. Tony squeezed the shoulders and swooped down, taking Barnes’ mouth by surprise in a kiss; the lips were so plush, he obviously couldn’t resist running his tongue against the lower lip to taste and tease. Barnes Bucky James yielded immediately, a shuddering gasp that echoed Tony’s own want.

Though the kiss was nothing but an instant Tony was immensely satisfied with James’ expression; eyes half-lidded and dark, breath a notch quicker -something virtually impossible due to his super soldier enhancement,- and hands tight around his waist.

Tony jumped from his perch on James’ legs, opening his own on the way down and knocking his feet against the back of James’ knees making his balance and pitch backward, landing on the mat with a soft “Oomph” and Tony draped flush to his front.

Smirking in his victory, because he one-upped the most feared assassin of the late 20th century. Tony swiveled his hips while looking at James square in the eyes. “Come on then, Klondike. Razz my berries.”

Before James’ could stir from his obvious haze, Tony tucked and rolled away from the man and onto his feet, sauntering away from the Training room with a pronounced swing in his hips -full of knots and hoping James took the bait and followed.

The elevator opened and he was considering locking himself in the ‘shop until the insanity that was sure to follow died down. Until James became Barnes again and they stored away the attraction, until they’re oxymoronic dynamic fell back into its usual rhythm, until…

“Tony!” He’ll deny squeaking in surprise at the growl, he couldn’t be blamed for his body’s faulty response to the tone either. How the knots of worry dissolved into molten heat, desire and anticipation robbing him of air.

James stalking towards him until Tony was crowded against a corner of the box. Closer than they’ve ever dared before as if it was possible. “Someone’s cranked.”

Using his pelvis to pin Tony to the elevator’s wall, James loomed. “Ya think?”

“James,” Tony breathed, this was it, the tipping point; by the way James was leaning closer, it seemed the outcome of his half-assed gamble, was nothing but beneficial.

When James finally kissed him, Tony wasted no time in chasing the pressure; an assurance that he met by opening his mouth. Their bodies flushed and undulating, tongues meeting over and over, twinning and exploring. Tony curled his toes when James lifted him, their hips aligned and swiveling to increase friction.

They were panting when the doors opened, a thin string of spit connecting them still, Tony the sole target of James’ stare couldn’t help but shiver; James tightened his grip on Tony’s waist, now that he had a taste, he’d be damned to let go, not until Tony sent him on his way. “Last chance to back out, Tony.”

Tony turned his hold into a vise and grinded into it with a dirty smirk, touching the tip of his tongue to James’ spit slick lips, delighted by the man’s punched out groan. “Do your worst, James.”

They made it to bed...eventually.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #language #50's slang #first kiss #getting together #prompts #androidtwin #areufingkidding

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heyyitslindsay · 3 years

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AUG 05, 2019

today i was taught a very valuable lesson.

we usually have to attend kagi (lessons re: japan life, business manners, etc) conducted by hidaka san wherein interpreters with different nationalities also take part in.

after a brief discussion on the overview of today’s central topic, we were given a sheet of paper containing instructions of the game we were about to play. the initial rule was: NO TALKING. i think our english interpreter got kinda irritated with me because my filipino cmate asked a question concerning the envelope that was handed a while ago. but of course, our interpreter didn’t know what we were talking, rather writing about. maybe she got irritated because we tried to circumnavigate the rule of not being allowed to talk through passing on notes.

HAHA sorry madam. :D

anyway, so i will try to jot down the mechanics as accurate as i can.

there are 32 cards. numbers 1-8 that are of 4 suits. the rules are simple.

1.) 1 is the weakest, 8 the strongest

2.) someone will distribute the card and the one seating on his/her left will first turn in a card. from then, the rotation starts.

3.) for others’ turn, they should also turn in a card preferably from the same suit; if there’s none, they can still contribute a card but it will no longer win unless;

4.) it’s a spade. spade beats all the other cards. so 8 spade is the highest

5.) if the highest card is 8heart, but someone turned in an A-spade, the latter beats the former.

6.) the one with the most powerful card takes all the cards for that rotation. the won cards will not be included in one’s deck. they should be left beside the player who got them.

7.) the player with the most number of cards wins and gets to join the table on his/her immediate right.

8.) if there are 2 winners or 2 losers, Jack en poy would be employed as a tie breaker.

and the most important rule: NO TALKING.

The group can be consist of 4-6 players.

at first it was kinda hard not to speak since 32 cards can’t be evenly distributed to the 6 of us.

nevertheless, we started the game.

the one who wins get to move on to the table on the right and the one who loses does the opposite.

at first I thought, even prayed!! Lord, I want to win. I like winning. please let me get to the winning table.

but after 2 rounds, I LOST! and was transferred to the left table. When Basu-san, my thai cmate, returned to the same table after losing another game and was seated next to me, he told me we were in the losers’ table! I even told him, I don’t like losing. it was kinda frustrating to play in the losers’ table because, I thought to myself: THESE PEOPLE ARE IN THE LOSERS’ TABLE BECAUSE THEY AREN’T ORGANIZED! Lol. Ansama ko pala. It hasn’t hit me yet that time.

So after 2 rounds in the losers’ table, I finally got the most cards. Thus i get to get back to the right table, my home table lol. i said, finally! I’m gonna win this game! lol.

but that’s when the coordinator concluded the game and allowed us to talk again. :D she revealed that each table has a few different rules. though only a few rules are different, it still affected how we thought and played. I myself kinda felt uncertain when my turn was, and i don’t know. haha. we even laughed at the first one who transferred to our table cause she keeps on getting the cards even though as per the rule we know, another player was supposed to get his winnings.

THAT’S WHEN IT HIT ME HARD! IT WAS NOT ABOUT WINNING! IT WAS NEVER ABOUT WINNING! IT’S ABOUT UNDERSTANDING AND RESPECTING THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN INDIVIDUALS AND THEIR CULTURES. It taught me how not to judge too quickly.

Anggaling nga nung game. It hit really hard.

Lalo pa ngayon na, i will no longer join the fieldwork. Ms. Hannah wanted us to do the presentation together. kasi sha, sa class c. she’s in the advanced class and i’m only in the intermediate. i kinda like to be in class b kasi my cmates are all guys and it is easier for me to get along with them tsaka mas magaling ako sakanila e. lol! so ayun! yun na yun pala msg ni Lord. I felt so competitive and all na nawawala na yung dating ako na gusto lang tumulong or may magawang good to others kahit papano. i really felt so competitive. and i think in a way maganda rin naman bunga kasi i can say na sa class namin, i excel. pero ayun nga. i need to learn how to collaborate with others. na i cannot do it all by myself. one factor din kasi medyo nabuild yung confidence ko na mas magaling ako sa mga cmates ko. haha. tapos ayun. e class c si ms hannah. advanced na sha. i cannot really do anything kasi boss ko sha! hahah though i was able to convey na ayaw ko lol AHHAHA

me: parang mas madali po ata fieldwork a, dun nalang ako AHHAHA

ms. h: oy hinde ishhoni (together)

—

Ms. h: basta okay raw sa teacher mo, isshoni na

me: di nyo po ba ako tatanungin kung okay lang sakin? HAHAA

Ms. h: nako! pag di, sasabihin ko kay shachou bagsak ka.

me: grabe bnblackmail nyo talaga ako AHHAHA

doon ako medyo naanxious kasi lamo yun! pangclass c yon! sa class b ako ung magaling. AHAHHA. pero ayun. siguro it’s God’s way of reminding me not to focus on me, on achieving something. loving others/getting along well with others is what matters the most.

Update:

we only have 14 days in AOTS and I only have 2000 yen. AHHAHAHA!

HAY! I will surely miss everyone.

HAYYYY. Yung life kasi namin here was similar to a university student’s. Gigising ka lang. kakain. magaaral. minsan kakanta. AHHA everything was so convenient. yung paggala, study tour, part pa yun ng program. nakagala pa kami. hayyy. tapos ambabait pa. mamimiss ko talaga lahat sila. hayayayayyyy. but eveything has an end.

plot twist:

para akong naging student ng mmbs. /aots = japan version/ HUHUUH!!!

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goldeagleprice · 5 years

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Favorite Buffaloes for coin buyers

By Mike Thorne, Ph.D.

For historians, 1913 produced a number of momentous events. On the political front, Woodrow Wilson became the 28th president of the United States, and Richard Nixon was born. For U.S. citizens, the 16th amendment introduced the Federal income tax. For psychologists, Sigmund Freud published Totem and Taboo.

For the numismatist, the year brought a change to the design of the nickel: Charles Barber’s Liberty Head (or V) nickel gave way to the Indian Head, or Buffalo, nickel. Designed by James Earle Fraser, Buffalo nickels were produced between 1913 and 1938, with three years of them not being produced (1922, 1932, and 1933).

When I started collecting coins in the 1950s, Buffalo nickels were still relatively common in circulation. And they nearly all had full dates. Think about it: the last Buffaloes were minted in 1938, which was only 20 years in the past in 1958. Check out a roll or two of nickels today, and I can almost guarantee that you’ll find a few that are 20 or more years old.

In the summer of 1960, I went through sacks of either cents or nickels daily. In addition to such keepers as 1939-D and 1950-D Jeffersons, I found a lot of interesting Buffalo nickels and kept large numbers of 1938-Ds and 1937-Ss because I liked the dates.

I also found an XF 1914-D with a large rim dent below the date, a couple of AU 1916-Ds, and some low-grade 1926-Ss, among other interesting coins. Dateless Buffs were only occasionally encountered.

With that experience and my efforts to assemble a complete set, I found that I liked some Buffalo dates better than others. In this article, I’m going to tell you about my ten favorite Buffalo nickels.

(Photo courtesy of Heritage)

#1. 1913-S Type 1 (buffalo on the mound). As often happens with a new coin design, unforeseen problems crop up during the first year of issue. Think of such coins as the 1909 VDB cent, on which the designer’s initials appeared too prominent and were quickly removed. The 1883 Liberty Head (or V) nickel is particularly instructive, as the word CENTS was not included on the reverse, resulting in some trickery when the coins were gold plated and passed as $5 gold pieces of a new design. The missing word was quickly added, creating another design type.

In the case of the Buffalo nickel, the problem was of a similar nature to the V-nickel. The denomination appeared on a raised mound, where it could quickly wear away. Thus, a change was made, placing the denomination into a recessed area and changing the mound to a plain. Unfortunately, no change was made to the date, and it suffered the same fate as the first style of the Standing Liberty quarter, which was to wear away quickly.

At any rate, the first year of issue of the Buffalo nickel experienced two different reverse designs, the buffalo (actually a bison, according to David Bowers in A Guide Book of Buffalo and Jefferson Nickels) on a mound (Type 1) and then, later, on a plain (Type 2). In my opinion, the first design was much more attractive.

As an example of the Type 1 Buffalo nickel, the 1913-(P), the 1913-D, or the 1913-S would do, and most collectors would probably choose the Philadelphia version because of its huge mintage (nearly 31 million) and subsequent low value. I think the 1913-S is a better choice, as the mintage is much lower (2.1 million), but the value is not prohibitive. Numismatic News’ “Coin Market” says it’s worth $50 in F12, $75 in XF40, and $200 in MS63.

About the date, Bowers wrote, “It is also the [Type 1] least likely to be found sharply struck. Although examples are hardly rare in Mint State, finding a truly nice one, from a fresh die pair, will take some looking.” But it’ll be a little treasure if you find one.

(Photo courtesy of Stack’s Bowers)

#2. 1913-S Type 2 (buffalo on the plain). With just 1.2 million minted, this is the big key to the series and one of my all-time favorites. Bowers wrote, “To many collectors, including myself, this is a favorite among the Buffalo nickel series. Striking can be a problem, though, more so than with any other 1913 Buffalo nickel.”

I fully agree with that comment. I currently own one of this date that PCGS graded XF45. It doesn’t have a full horn, which would seem to be a requirement for a coin at this grade.

When I had a mail-order business many years ago, I bought some 1913-S Type 2 coins from an old-time dealer in Oregon. He was a very conservative grader and believed that a coin had to have a full date in order to be in Good condition. Because the coins he was selling had weakness on the first two digits of the date, he called them AG and priced them accordingly. I resold them as Goods with a weak date, and the buyers were well pleased. Incidentally, the coins had at least half a horn.

Coin Market says that this date is worth $300 in F12, $550 in XF40, and $1,330 in MS63. If you want to buy one, be sure it’s certified by one of the major services (ANACS, NGC, PCGS).

#3. 1914-D. This is considered one of the semi keys to the series. With a mintage of 3.91 million, David Lange (The Complete Guide to Buffalo Nickels) wrote, “Examples are quite difficult to locate in circulated grades, and problem-free coins are scarce.” The XF piece that I found was not problem-free by any stretch of the imagination. I eventually decided that I could make the coin look better by pushing down the rim nick, but all I succeeded in doing was making it look worse. Fortunately, I have forgotten what happened to the piece.

Similarly, Bowers stated, “Higher level circulated specimens of this and other branch mint issues of the era are scarce because by the time such coins were widely sought, in the 1930s, most of the early dates had sustained extensive wear.”

Coin Market values are $150 in F12, $300 in XF40, and $550 in MS63. Be sure to buy certified examples of any better-date Buffaloes, as some very creative fakes have been discovered over the years.

#4. 1915-S. This is one of my favorite Buffaloes for a couple of reasons. For one thing, its mintage of 1.5 million places it 5th out of 64 different date/mintmark combinations. As such, its Coin Market values are relatively high, but perhaps not as high as they should be. Its values are $130 in F12, $375 in XF40, and $1,260 in MS63.

In 2004, I paid $350 for a PCGS-graded AU55, with CAC sticker. As the current Coin Market value in AU50 is $525, I feel like I got a pretty good deal on mine. But this is not the best deal I ever got on a 1915-S. In a small coin shop near Rice University in Houston, I found one in Fine priced at $1!

#5. 1916-D. In the part of the country where I grew up, coins minted in Denver were much easier to find than those struck in San Francisco. For example, although I found several 1932-D quarters, I had to buy my first 1932-S. Similarly, 1931-D Lincolns were more frequently encountered than 1926-Ss, even though the two coins had quite similar mintages.

By the same token, 1916-D Buffaloes were more likely to be found than 1916-Ss. As I mentioned above, I found more than one high-grade, circulated 1916-D. With a mintage of 13.3 million, Lange commented about the date, “1916-D is not particularly scarce in all grades short of gem. The latter are rare.” Bowers noted, “Finding an MS-65 coin will be easy; finding one with Full Details will not be!”

Coin Market values are $43 in F12, $80 in XF40, and $285 in MS63. The AU nickels I found are worth about $105 today. When I found them, my 1961 Red Book (A Guide Book of United States Coins) tells me they were worth somewhere between $9 (XF) and $27.50 (uncirculated).

#6. 1921-S. With a mintage slightly below 1.6 million, which gives it a ranking of 6/64, the 1921-S has always been one of the semi key dates. Lange wrote, “1921-S is one of the scarcest Buffaloes in all grades, and its rarity in problem-free condition is compounded by the flaws described below [e.g., laminations, toning streaks, multiple die cracks].”

According to Lange, the date is also hard to grade because of “. . . weak strikes and worn dies. Although better struck than most S-Mint nickels of the 1920s, many coins of this date offered as VF-AU may be lacking a complete horn.” I currently own one 1921-S, which PCGS certified as being in F15 condition. Mine has a strong obverse but less than half a horn on the reverse. Coin Market says its value is $210 (F12). Other values for the date are $900 in XF40 and $2,600 in MS63.

#7. 1924-S. This is another low-mintage date that often has weakness on the reverse, and coins have been certified in recent years as VF and XF that lack a complete horn. According to Bowers, “Striking is usually light in some areas, so Full Details coins are few. (Although some may exist, I have never seen one.)” This comes from a man with more than 60 years of numismatic experience!

About the 1924-S, Lange commented: “Caution should be exercised when purchasing one of the many examples that are offered as Very Fine or even Extremely Fine but that lack the full length of the bison’s horn. . . . Determining the value of hornless VF-XF-AU nickels is a guessing game.” Coin Market guesses that the 1924-S is worth $280 in F12, $310 in VF20, and $875 in XF40.

#8. 1926-D. I’m including this date as one of my favorites because of my experience at the coin shop in Houston that I mentioned earlier. In addition to selling me a 1915-S for a ridiculously low price, the proprietor took me into a back room to show me a full roll of Brilliant Uncirculated 1926-D Buffalo nickels. We’re talking about coins with full mint luster and no hint of any wear on them. If graded by the extent of the horn, however, these coins would have been hard pressed to receive a grade of VG!

The mintage of this date was a little more than 5.6 million pieces, so the 1926-D is not a rare nickel by any means. However, as Lange put it, “Although not particularly scarce in most grades, the majority are so poorly struck as to render them undesirable to collectors.” Coin Market values it at $35 in F12, $210 in XF40, and $650 in MS63. I wonder what the ones I saw in Houston would be worth today. Also, I wonder what grade they would receive from one of the major services.

#9. 1926-S. With just 970,000 coins produced, this is the only regularly-issued Buffalo with a mintage below a million, which gives it the rank of 1st out of 64 date/mintmark combinations. In addition to its relatively small mintage, poor strikes are the norm. As Bowers put it, “The striking is unremarkable; the result of inaccurate die spacing and, perhaps, keeping dies in the press too long. The result is that neither I, nor any contributor to this work, have seen a Full Details coin.”

This is another Buffalo that’s often graded VF or better without a full horn on the buffalo. Lange wrote, “Weakness in the bison’s head is common enough that many examples offered as VF and XF do not meet the criteria for these grades and have been assigned them simply on the basis of overall wear.” If you find one graded VF or XF with a full horn, it’s a keeper if you can afford it.

Coin Market values are $175 in F12, $350 in VF20, and $825 in XF40. In higher grades, the 1926-S reveals why it’s considered a conditional rarity, relatively common in low grades but decidedly uncommon in higher grades. In MS65, Coin Market assigns it a value of $90,000!

I once tried to find a VF 1926-S with a full horn but eventually gave up and purchased an NGC-graded VF25 without a complete horn. I paid $253 for it in 2010. As you can see from the Coin Market value in VF20, if I can sell it as a true VF25, I can probably make money on it. But that’s a big “if.”

#10. 1931-S. Like the 1926-S Buffalo, this is another nickel with a low mintage. With only 1.2 million produced, it ranks 2nd out of 64. However, like the 1931-S Lincoln cent, its low mintage was recognized at the time, and many were saved in Mint State condition. Thus, it’s not nearly as valuable as you might expect.

Coin Market values are $21 in VF20, $40 in XF40, and just $150 in MS63. If you want a really nice coin, the Coin Market value for an MS65 is only $375. Lange noted, “1931-S is to the Buffalo Nickel series what 1950-D is to the Jefferson Nickels. It seems to be at least as common in mint state as it is in lesser grades, possibly more so. As a low mintage date, speculators were attracted to it from the outset.”

I currently own a 1931-S graded MS65 by PCGS that I purchased for $223.50 in 2003. I wish I had bought more at the time.

* * *

Putting an end to the Buffalo nickel in 1938 was a political decision by the Roosevelt administration, which wanted Thomas Jefferson on the denomination. (Photo courtesy of Heritage)

Well, that’s my list of my ten favorite Buffalo nickels. The coin has an iconic design featuring a genuine Native American on the obverse and a buffalo/bison on the reverse. If you like the series as much as I do, write down your ten-best list and buy the coins if you don’t already own them. I think you’ll be glad you did.

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dandwyeroffscript-blog · 7 years

Text

PRINCE OF BROADWAY

CROWN PRINCE

PRINCE OF BROADWAY, the new musical revue of the sensational career of Broadway impresario Hal Prince, is like a crown. Starting with a job as an assistant stage manager on a long-forgotten TICKETS PLEASE! (1950), Prince produced and/or directed nearly 60 productions, garnering 21 Tony Awards, more than anyone in history. PRINCE OF BRADWAY presents three dozen songs in impeccably staged segments from 17 of his productions, popular numbers and a few surprises, too. If PRINCE OF BROADWAY is the crown of Mr. Prince’s unparalleled career, each one of these vignettes is a jewel in that crown - beautifully designed, ingeniously choreographed, lushly orchestrated and wondrously vocalized to revelatory perfection by an amazing cast of nine performers, all in top form.

Before the revue begins, the actors play Mr. Prince sharing anecdotes about the early days. He started out working for free for the legendary producer George Abbot. Autobiographical asides, personal reflections and words of theatre wisdom weave in and out of the production numbers for the two and a half hours of glorious entertainment, one show-stopper after another, that follow.

Prince’s backstage stories are fascinating - how he and Stephen Sondheim met, for example – but, being the penultimate showman, Mr. Prince, who directs the show with co-director and choreographer Susan Stroman - knows the show - not he - is the thing. PRINCE lifts-off with Mr. Prince’s first musical, THE PAJAMA GAME (1954) with the wistful, bittersweet “Hey, There” cleverly played as a recording, as it was in the original show, sung by Michael Xavier (last seen in SUNSET BOULEVARD). PRINCE quickly moves onto DAMN YANKEES (1955) with a rousing locker-room rendition of (Ya Gotta Have)” Heart” with Brandon Uranowitz (AN AMERICAN IN PARIS), Tony Yazbeck (CHORUS LINE, ON THE TOWN) and Xavier as the baseball players and Chuck Cooper (Tony Award for CAROLINE, OR CHANGE) as team manager. Next at bat in song is the female cast.

Newcomer Kaley Ann Voorhees (from PHANTOM OF THE OPERA) as Maria pairs off with Mr. Yazbek in a soaring duet of “Tonight” from the beloved WEST SIDE STORY (1957). Bryonha Marie Parham (BOOK OF MORMAN) claims her first solo spot as shop girl Amalia with “Will He like Me”, with a vocal clarity and range that make it sound as fresh and lively as Barbara Cook’s in SHE LOVES ME (1963). Janet Dacal (IN THE HEIGHTS) gets her first spot in PRINCE’s least-known song in the show with the witty, sexy “You’ve Got Possibilities” from IT’S A BIRD… IT’S A PLANE… IT’S SUPERMAN (1966), which despite uniformly positive notices lasted only 129 performances. Mr. Prince reminds us that good reviews don’t mean a box office success and vice versa.

Karen Ziemba (Tony Award for CONTACT) and Emily Skinner (BILLY ELLIOT) enter singing in the segment from FOLLIES (1971) as Sally and Phyllis in a perfectly staged “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs.” The FOLLIES segment opens with Ms Dacal as a Ziegfeld showgirl descending a stairway to “Beautiful Girls” framed front and back like giant, old-fashioned, pop-up, die-cut Valentine’s card, splendidly designed, like the rest of the show, by Beowulf Boritt.

With no discredit to any of the other performers (each has at least one showstopper); the showstopper of showstoppers in PRINCE is Mr. Yazbeck’s rendition of “The Right Girl” as Buddy in a stunning, thoroughly original routine choreographed by Stroman. Yazbeck works the song and dance for a breathless 6 minutes, mixing mesmerizing, athletic tap with a balletic prowess that recalls Harold Lang and Gene Kelly. The routine runs through three cycles, where Mr. Yazbeck concludes an exhaustive dance routine and returns to song, then resumes dance, then song. When one thinks his number is done, he takes it higher: after two, non-stop dance/song cycles, he explodes for a third, final cycle that plays as Buddy’s cathartic release of his life’s disappointments and self-delusions. It’s a jaw-dropping, knockout achievement of unimaginable athleticism.

It’s a tough act to follow, but each performer - by dint of sparkling, imaginative orchestrations and unique stylistic vocal interpretations - shines. Among three elegantly staged selections from A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC (1973), Ms Skinner imbues the sad, haunting “Send in the Clowns” with such an expressive virtuosity it’s like hearing Sondheim’s most popular song of all for the first time, putting aside memories of Glynis Johns as the original Desiree.

In the closing sequence of Act One, CABARET (1966), Mr. Uranowitz makes us forget, too, about Joel Gray in "Wilkommen". One of the most poignant moments in PRINCE comes in “If You Could See Her” which reminds us quietly of anti-Semitism, still rearing its ugly head. In an inspired touch, one of the players (no spoiler) emerges from the ape costume in pink chiffon to deliver, in perfect German accent, “So What”, which serves to remind, too, that, despite hardship and tragedy, life goes on. Ms Parham as Sally Bowles concludes the first act with an unapologetically angry, fierce, bold declarative “Cabaret”. Liza Minnelli can keep can her version: Ms Parham owns this one all to herself.

Act Two opens with the rousing ensemble title song of COMPANY (1970), followed by Ms Skinner’s “Ladies Who Lunch”, which is the finest interpretation one can hear since Elaine Stritch’s heretofore indelible original. Believe it or not, one forgets about Stritch with one of the most famous 11 o’clock numbers of all time in Ms Skinner’s hands. Mr. Xavier’s interpretation of “Being Alive” is distinctly almost sung-spoken in the beginning and concludes with his magnificent tenor in, again, one the best versions one could witness.

Highpoints, one after another, of Act Two include a defining, thunderous version by Mr. Cooper of “Old Man River” from SHOWBOAT (1994), followed by another showstopper from Ms Parham as Queenie singing “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man” charmingly choreographed for dance duet with Ms Voorhees as Magnolia.

Ms Dacal is a fabulous Eva Peron, especially in the “Buenos Aires” sequence from EVITA, performed with a sexy, splashy, tango-inspired routine by Stroman. One of the lesser known of Sondheim’s songs, ”Now You Know” from MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG (1981) gets a sprightly, spunky solo treatment from Ms. Skinner. Mr. Yazbeck returns for an emotional “This Is Not Over Yet”, another nod to contemporary issues, from PARADE (1998), Mr. Price’s piercing musical drama about civil rights. Mr. Uranowitz takes flight as Molina with “Dressing Them Up” from KISS OF A SPIDER WOMAN (1993). Ms Dacal makes another eye-popping entrance for the title song as Aurora, costumed in a spider web that morphs to fill the complete backdrop.

The last numbers contrast my personal most and least favorite of Mr. Prince’s canon. Ms Ziemba as a plucky, chirpy Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Cooper as the brooding, obsessed Sweeny perform with perfect precision “The Worst Pies in London” that segways into “My Friend” from SWEENY TODD (1979). Ever the showman, Mr. Prince concludes the revue of his career with his biggest hit, THE PHANTON OF THE OPERA, with Ms Voorhees’ heaven-sent voice as Christine and Mr. Xavier’s commanding tenor as The Phantom.

Most compelling about PRINCE OF BROADWAY is how each of the sequences authentically creates the essence of the original production. Every aspect -from Boritt’s scenery to impeccably articulated costumes by William Ivey Long to the technical finesse of Howell Binkley’s rich lighting design - is nonpareil, a celebration of the finest craftsmanship and artistry of Broadway theatre today. Kudos to Jason Robert Brown for his luscious arrangements and sparkling, new orchestrations: his overture masterfully incorporates musical elements from 17 of Mr. Prince’s prodcutions.

A casual observer of PRINCE OF BROADWAY might conjecture that it’s self-congratulatory or self-indulgent, or, on the other hand, that Mr. Prince needn’t be immodest, that he has every reason to toot his own horn (which he has). Contrary to both notions, PRINCE OF BROADWAY is really Mr. Prince’s love letter to Broadway and grand, grateful tribute to all those thousands, past and present in his life - from the legendary producer George Abbot to the crew now at the Samuel J. Friedman Theater - for whom theatre is both dream and lifeblood and who do the work of it.

How fitting that PRINCE OF BROADWAY concludes with a new song, “Do the Work”. The ensemble sings out “Find your voice… For the love and for the art, you’ve got to tell your story”. PRINCE OF BROADWAY tells Mr. Prince’s story for everyone who loves musical theater, magnificently and joyously.

ޜ��!

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goldeagleprice · 5 years

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Favorite Buffaloes for coin buyers

By Mike Thorne, Ph.D.

I also found an XF 1914-D with a large rim dent below the date, a couple of AU 1916-Ds, and some low-grade 1926-Ss, among other interesting coins. Dateless Buffs were only occasionally encountered.

(Photo courtesy of Heritage)

(Photo courtesy of Stack’s Bowers)

I fully agree with that comment. I currently own one of this date that PCGS graded XF45. It doesn’t have a full horn, which would seem to be a requirement for a coin at this grade.

Coin Market says that this date is worth $300 in F12, $550 in XF40, and $1,330 in MS63. If you want to buy one, be sure it’s certified by one of the major services (ANACS, NGC, PCGS).

Coin Market values are $150 in F12, $300 in XF40, and $550 in MS63. Be sure to buy certified examples of any better-date Buffaloes, as some very creative fakes have been discovered over the years.

I currently own a 1931-S graded MS65 by PCGS that I purchased for $223.50 in 2003. I wish I had bought more at the time.

* * *

Putting an end to the Buffalo nickel in 1938 was a political decision by the Roosevelt administration, which wanted Thomas Jefferson on the denomination. (Photo courtesy of Heritage)

This article was originally printed in Coins Magazine. >> Subscribe today.

If you like what you’ve read here, we invite you to visit our online bookstore to learn more about 2019 U.S. Coin Digest. Learn more >>>

The post Favorite Buffaloes for coin buyers appeared first on Numismatic News.

#Precious Metals

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