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okaybutlikeimagine · 3 years

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Come Inside, It’s Ok

Desc: Hop realizes that Billy is a lot like him when he was a teen- based on the song Thirteen by Big Star (bc that’s a Jopper AND a Harringrove anthem, tell me i’m wrong)

TW: referenced past child abuse, referenced homophobia, every dad in Hawkins sounds like an abusive asshole in this fic i didn’t mean it 😞

you can also read this on AO3 right here!! ♥

~*~

James Hopper hated his father more than anyone else hated the man. More than his uncle who had to grow up with the jerk. More than his mother who threatened to divorce the deadbeat seven times. More than anyone.

Hopper’s father was abrasive and loud. He joined the army because he wanted to. He gave up his individuality willingly. He shaved his head and licked the boot of The Man and acted superior for it. He looked down on a young Jimmy Hopper and barked in his face and ordered that he become a man. Quicker. Jim was only 7. He had just broken an arm at football practice. He needed reassurance and comfort. He got condescension and a mother threatening to leave. Loudly.

James Hopper was sure he was the only son in the world who hated his own father. He felt sure as hell about it when he stuck his jaw out and looked past his nose at his father who always seemed to tower over him. Even when the man only had an inch on him, he was larger- always looming. He felt sure as hell about it when he’d narrow his eyes and refuse to listen. He felt sure as hell about it when he talked back to him, and got into yelling matches with him, and slammed the door on him.

He felt even more sure the one night he got hit.

He was more than certain he was the only one. Standing there, staring this horrible bulk of a man down, Jimmy knew no one else had ever felt such a thing before. This wasn’t TV or the movies. This wasn’t a family love you cherish by the fire on a cold Christmas night. This wasn’t a father with kind eyes and a stern voice who comes into the house in the evening with his suit on and his briefcase in hand, kissing his kids and smiling brightly. This was different and he knew it.

And all of that anger and stress and feeling of certainty made him take too long to realize something crucial. Because he didn’t realize you can know something and yet still be so wrong.

That is, until Phil didn’t come to school one day.

Jimmy figured he was sick. A couple days later he figured it was that nasty stomach bug. A week later and he figured his family took a trip. A week and a few days had him itching with worry. He asked his best friend as calmly as he could. That friend looked at him like he was nuts.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“He moved away. His mom took him out of the state last weekend. They just left.”

Jim couldn’t understand the words for a second.

“Why?”

“You didn’t know? His dad has been roughing him up for years now. He got the mom too, I think. Why do you think he was always wearing sweaters all year long?”

Jim’s heart stopped.

“His mom finally got him out. They left.”

“Why did no one say anything about it?”

“Because you don’t talk about that stuff.” Jim’s friend said, hushed and knowing, eyes turned solemn and hiding a world Jim didn’t know lived in there. In his most outspoken, lively friend. In his friend he’d known since they were toddlers.

You don’t talk about that stuff he said like he had a whole world of pain to tell. Jim knew his friends were like him- dads who were tough as nails and grunted more than spoke. It was why they all got along so well. But they never mentioned their fathers being… Jim was so sure he was the only one. Everyone else did things with their family. Everyone else seemed so perfect. At the very least they seemed better. Jim was sure.

Why did no one say anything about it? quickly morphed into Why did I never even ask?

Starting there, Jim kept a critical eye out. He watched his friends and what they were wearing. The way they moved and the changes in those movements. The words they spoke about their parents. He noticed differences and fluctuating emotions. But stil, he was only a young teenager- he never knew what to do. His mouth couldn’t form around the words he felt he should say. His brain could barely provide them. So he did for them what he would have liked- just took them out to empty fields and deep into the woods. He provided them beer and music. Sometimes, when they were splitting at the seams, he’d fight them a bit. He’d egg them on so they could fight it out. Get the anger out. Help, somehow. Inadvertently. Lord knew Jimmy sometimes just needed to punch shit. Turns out, his friends felt the same way, and often.

When his daughter Sarah came, he handled her gently and spoke to her even softer. He got into fights with his now ex-wife over his not being strict enough but Hop couldn’t find it in himself to have any kind of gruffness toward someone so soft and so innocent and so pure. She was the light of his life. She left so quickly. Even his softness and kindness couldn’t save her, and he couldn’t very well beat the shit out of her enemies like he had wished to.

And when he met Billy Hargrove on the side of the road that one dark night, having pulled him over for speeding drunkenly down the lonely streets on the outskirts of town, every red flag flew up. Every worry and fear he found within himself when he was a teen found its place once again inside of him for this boy. For his bruised face and exhausted eyes. For his lightly cut chin and short breath. Hop became young Jimmy yet again, analyzing and fearing for a world of pain he couldn’t see and couldn’t ask about. He searched hard for words this time and found all the wrong ones. He exhausted the poor boy with his inability to articulate his fears and was successful in taking him in only because he had worn him out so badly.

Still, since then, he’s been here. He’s family now. He’s out of there. In all his fumbling Hop did something right.

And yet, things still feel wrong. Billy still walks tentatively around him, like the cabin is going to crash down above him and any relationship they’ve built up is going to shatter.

Hop thinks about it so often. He thinks about Billy and sees his own friends from high school. He sees parts of himself, but sadder, angrier… more helpless. He thinks endlessly on what he can do to fix it.

~Won’t you let me walk you home from school~

A song starts playing through his record player and he’s lost again in the world of Jimmy vs. Billy. He thinks of how life used to feel simple.

This song always whisks him away to high school. The early days when life was confused and wandering and he was just coming into his own with football, not nearly a “star” yet and Joyce… Joyce was young and wide eyed and wandering just the same. By that point she hadn’t even met Lonnie yet. She was awkward and yet still so beautiful. So quiet and so stunning. Her laughter rang through the hallways and he swears he can still hear it.

This song feels like it’s for them. When he first heard it, he saw her face back when they were freshmen and then sophomores, when he used to walk her home. He always used to walk her home, before he got his car and before she got Lonnie. They’d walk so slow, wandering through the streets, lazily strolling past stores and getting slightly distracted by the people zooming past on their bikes.

He sits forward on the couch and he looks down at the tattered carpet and he hears himself as Jimmy.

”C’mon Joyce… we can hit the pool this weekend.”

“I’m busy.”

“Then… then maybe Friday I can get a couple tickets for that dance.”

“What?”

He gave her his biggest, brightest grin, knowing he caught her off guard. He smiles a little now at the thought.

”Yeah, c’mon, Joyce. I’ll take ya. I’ll get a monkey suit and you can wear a dress-”

She had laughed that bright, ringing laugh. It made him smile every time.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re gonna pass up a chance to dance with me?”

“Don’t tell me, you’re the best dancer in Hawkins?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t come find out.”

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Hop has a hard time thinking of himself back then. He felt so sure of everything. Of himself and what he was doing, even if he knew he didn’t know anything at all. Still, he chuckles now as he sits here, thinking about Joyce’s smile and her little nod. Thinking about him buying those tickets. Thinking about the night they had together, awkward and fumbling but bright still. His first real kiss that had real feelings to go along with it. The way Joyce walked so quickly as they headed to her home because she was so nervous. The way she never let him walk her up to her house because she was so scared her parents would ground her.

Lord does he remember the fights. The stress and the struggle of dealing with Joyce’s parents. When they came to an after-school event and Jimmy said hi to her and her dad gave her hell for it and her mom worried herself sick for a bit. She got grounded and started avoiding him. He got angry and figured fine because Gloria from his History class had been eyeing him up lately and helping him with a pretty friendly smile so it didn’t even matter.

It wasn’t more than a week that had passed before he cornered her after school and convinced her to let him walk her home again.

They wandered downtown and he guided her behind a store building, the store she now works for if he remembers correctly, and asked about that night. Asked about what he said wrong. Asked about what he did wrong.

She shook her head, said it was just her parents being “crazy, I don’t know”. He couldn’t find it in him to worry that much. When they kissed, it was still with so many feelings attached. Hop can’t remember when those feelings faded.

It wasn’t until a couple years later when a rumor started going around about Joyce’s dad being a grade A asshole like Phil’s was all those years ago that made Jim take her aside very seriously and ask her if she was okay- those couple of years ago and that day. By that point she was with Lonnie and he was getting serious about Diane. He and Joyce hadn’t talked for over a year. Still, he was worried. She insisted that her dad just liked to huff and puff and yell enough to shake her ears, but he never touched her. It wasn’t until years and years later that Hop realized that really isn’t any better. Nowadays she insists she was and is fine and he’s just found it in himself to believe her.

When Hop finally got a car, they would sit in it and listen to the radio and talk music. She was the only person who’d sit with him and actually think about lyrics and feelings and words. She was always so headstrong about… well everything but especially human rights. She wanted equal rights for everyone. She fought so hard it made Jim tired. Maybe it started with her father but it truly never seemed to end. They used to sit and theorize about meanings behind words and the messages of songs.

”Tell your old man what we say about Paint It, Black. That’ll mess him up.”

Joyce hit him with a chuckle. That was the last time in high school they really laughed together. He can still remember her laugh back then- light and free from any weight these years have brought to it.

But now Jimmy is Hopper, and life isn’t the same. It doesn’t wander and linger and hide behind stores for extra kisses that feel electric. He knows life just doesn’t work that way anymore. He feels like life has only continued with all of the bad parts and none of the good.

In the slow guitar interlude of the song, he hears voices where they shouldn’t be- distant and slightly muffled and outside the window that’s opened a bit to let some air in.

“Yeah, he’s home. The cruiser is there.”

“Then I should go-”

“No, wait-”

It’s Billy and another voice Hop thinks he can recognize. Sounds like the same cocky, lilted tone of Steve Harrington. He knows they’ve been fighting for months now. They always seem to be fighting. Hop used to get called into the school because Billy was always shoving him around that one year. Since then there’s been whispers of them causing a ruckus all over the place but Hop never gets called to check it out. He doesn’t like to ask too much about it. He’s still trying to handle Billy gently and there’s so many more things to worry about. He doesn’t have the words to ask about that.

He doesn’t have the words to explain why they’d be here, together and clearly not at each other’s throats. Why bring a fight all the way back home?

“You uh… got anything planned this weekend?”

“Nope, nothing planned.”

A pause.

“There’s uh… a stupid dance or something-”

“Billy-”

“Look I just… we can’t go, obviously but maybe… we can do something on our own?”

There’s another pause. Longer this time. Hop used to be so sure and suddenly he’s realizing yet again maybe things are the same as they were when he was young- because yet again, he doesn’t know anything.

~Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking of~

“C’mon Harrington….” there’s the confirmation Hop didn’t need. “Say something at least. Don’t just stand there thinking.”

“Billy we can’t keep running around and hiding.”

“Why not?”

~Would you be an outlaw for my love?~

“What if people find out, that’s why not! What if my dad-”

“Tell your dad to fuck off.”

“And Hop?”

Hop’s heart stops. Everything comes crashing to a halt because suddenly he’s being made to face the very harsh fact that he’s not Jimmy anymore. He hasn’t been for a long while. He’s Chief Hopper and Chief Hopper belongs to the “other” part of these young kids’ minds. Billy’s and Steve’s and El’s and Mike’s. He’s the man they’re meant to rebel against. He’s the one that doesn’t “get it” like they do.

And apparently he’s the one that Steve is worried about.

He doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t even know what to think. He knows people like that exist. He thinks he used to go to school with a few guys who were… well, into other things. He never had much to say or even think about it. Joyce was friends with them. She went out to a protest or something once in their senior year. He saw her in a car with them while he was taking Diane to the movies.

It’s not the fact that they like each other or that they want to spend time together. That’s better than them beating the snot out of each other and getting his guys called on them. It’s the fact that they’re worried about him and the fact that they have every reason to be. Hop is part of “The Man” now, and people around here don’t exactly like differences.

“I’ll figure it out.” Billy says, but Hop almost misses it, it’s so quiet.

“Billy-”

“Are you gonna fight for this, or what? Or is this just a one time thing for you to find yourself or some bullshit?”

Hop hears Jimmy in Billy’s words

”Are you not gonna fight for me?”

“Fight for you?!” Joyce had yelled. Oh, how she yelled. ”Are you serious? I… I pick and choose my fights Jim, okay? I have to.”

“That’s not very fair to me.”

“Not fair? No shit it’s not fair, it’s not fair for me either! And you… you’re not being fair to me, y’know!”

And that was it. They went separate ways. It’s so vivid in Jim’s mind- the way she stormed away and Jim drove himself home. He doesn’t remember how long it took until Lonnie joined Joyce’s picture, but it felt too soon in Hop’s ever bitter mind. He couldn’t look at her for weeks. He shoved Lonnie in the hallway any chance he got. The kid would snarl and sneer at him, but he was as scrappy as a dog and scrawnier than a toothpick- no way did he ever pick a fight. He spat words and Jimmy lunged and that was that. Hop doesn’t remember when the feelings faded, but he knows he never stopped hating Lonnie’s stupid face.

Then he started to date Diane and things were just… over.

“Alright Steve, I see-”

“It’s not that easy for me, Billy.”

“And you think this shit is easy for me?”

Hop feels bad for sitting here, still listening, but he can’t get his muscles or limbs to move him. He feels stuck, somewhere between here and the past, picturing all the ways he’s still the same and yet so wildly different.

“Well it is different for you.”

“Just because my shit’s different doesn’t mean my shit’s better. Shit is still shit, Steve.”

All the times Hop thought he had it the worst anyone could ever possibly have it.

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Try me, Harrington! Just try me.”

All the times Hop thought maybe his friends were exaggerating about Phil’s past. Maybe Joyce was being dramatic about things at home. There was no way a kid could feel so threatened. Not a kid as big as Phil. Not a kid as headstrong as Joyce.

There’s a longer pause from the two outside the window. The voice that comes is quieter now.

“It’s scary Billy.”

“I know it is! I… fuck I know it is.”

Not a kid as big and headstrong as Billy. It took years for Hop to believe it could happen and still, with an example living in his own house, it’s still hard to understand.

“Don’t you think it could be worth it?” That’s Billy’s voice. Hop feels his heart sink even deeper. They’re talking like they’re going to die if they’re caught. How many more times can he tell this boy he’s safe here? What does he have to do to convince him? To convince them both?

“Maybe… I think so.”

“Look, I can’t make you do anything, Steve. But if you wanna try… then let me know, alright?”

Billy sounds so tired. Hop wants to tell him to lay down and take a nap. There’s such a long pause that follows and fills the space between them.

And then suddenly there’s something blocking the sun from the window. Jim gets the wherewithal to turn and see that the two boys have got their hands tangled in the front of each other’s shirts, just like they would if they were gearing for a fight, but instead of fists flying it’s their lips locked- worlds of frustration still heavy on their brows.

Jim wants to protect these kids until the day he dies. They’re here and they’re wandering too, but their walk home is covered in speed bumps and potholes and hell maybe even spikes that he and Joyce never knew. Whatever he can do to give these kids the time and place to wander like the kids they are, he’ll do it.

Then they separate, their breathing clearly labored and mingling. Then they turn and see Jim in the window, caught like two deer in big bright headlights.

A split second later, Steve is running for the hills and Billy is left with his fists grasping at the air. Hop can’t help but laugh.

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lovely-van · 4 years

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emily (part one)

Of course she had feelings for him. How could she not? Van was fucking perfect. But she didn’t want to tell him that. Emily was so used to being alone mostly, only casually dating guys, cutting things off if it seemed like too much. And she really, really didn’t want to let him in. But Van was doing his best to work his way into her life.

word count: 11k+

warnings: language, some smut, drug use etc

notes: i am so so sorry that it took me this long to post!!! i’ve honestly been just kind of relaxing since finals ended and it took me a while to edit but here is part one! also this isn’t a song fic i just didn’t know what else to name it hahaha and this is def not my fav story but it was the first piece i wrote so here ya go :)

Emily always loved parties. She loved them in high school and even more so now that she was a few years into college. Although she didn’t prefer to be the life of the party per se - she wasn’t quite outgoing enough - she just loved the atmosphere. All of the people drinking too much, dancing, making mistakes and living out their youth. Her mother always gave her the same disappointed look when she went out on a Saturday night in high school. Emily would roll her eyes, grab her jacket, and groan, “Mom, don’t look at me like that.” Emily’s mom would just shake her head and mutter something about how at least she had good grades.

Tonight was no different. It was the last Saturday before fall semester started, the last chance to let loose before classes and endless schoolwork began. Emily sat in front of her bathroom mirror, applying mascara while her friend Mary fumbled around with the speaker. “Mary, I’m dying in this silence. What the fuck are you doing with that thing?”

Mary let out a frustrated groan. “The bluetooth isn’t working. I swear I’m gonna fucking break it!” Suddenly rap music started blasting from the small speaker. Mary let out a little scream which drew a chuckle from Emily. “Finally,” Mary muttered. She slid into the bathroom behind Emily, plugging in her curling iron.

“I can’t believe summer’s over already,” Emily said, finishing up her highlighter. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror and figured she looked good enough. It was still so hot being early September she couldn’t even think about wearing a jacket, especially knowing how hot the frat houses would be.

“Ugh, I know. And we only have one year left after this!” Mary whined. Both Mary and Emily were juniors at their college while their other roommates were all sophomores. This led to them feeling really old and nostalgic often, even though they were really only halfway through their college career. Carson, one of their younger roommates, always teased them about being old women. Mary and Emily would object to this immediately, of course, putting up a fight about how they couldn’t even legally drink yet.

Emily nodded sadly in agreement, spraying on a little perfume. She left the bathroom and ran down the stairs, tightening the little pigtails she had put in for the half-up look she was digging lately.

Carson and Spencer, the other roommates, were all downstairs drinking already. They were playing some video game and occasionally shouting at it. Just as Emily passed the door at the bottom of the steps, it opened. Emily jumped, laughing when she saw it was Spencer’s girlfriend, Sarah. “You scared the shit out of me!” Emily said as Sarah giggled too.

“My bad,” Sarah said. She walked in, taking a seat right next to Spencer who wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning over to kiss her. The two were high school sweethearts and very much in love, which disgusted pretty much everyone else in the apartment. But they were cute and so happy together that the rest of their friends put up with them.

“Hi babe,” Spencer said, kissing her one more time before going back to playing. Emily fixed herself a drink and hoped to get a little buzzed by the time they left.

---

The party was in full force by the time the five of them arrived. Emily did manage to get a decent buzz going which helped when she looked around at the disgusting scene of the party. Frat parties were like no other, people grinding throughout the whole dance floor, couples making out wherever they wanted, and the floor was always sticky. Emily and Mary snagged a couple drinks from the makeshift bar in the kitchen that was really just the island and made their way into the dance floor. The DJ was playing very questionable music which was annoying to Emily since her favorite thing about parties was dancing.

Despite the shitty music that consisted of mostly shitty remixes, Emily and Mary danced hard to every song. After a few minutes, they bumped into a few people they knew who were complaining about the summer ending. They chatted for a bit, trying to discuss their upcoming schedules for the school year when they were interrupted by someone on a microphone. “Alright so clearly, Dylan here sucks as a DJ. This was his tryout and he failed. So my boy Max is gonna take over!” The crowd cheered and Emily almost felt bad for poor Dylan until the new DJ started playing some really good throwback songs. Immediately, Emily and Mary felt much better, dancing way harder and sweating even more. The other thing about frat parties is they were always so fucking hot.

Emily noticed that Carson seemed to be interested in this really short girl near them, which was pretty funny because Carson was 6’5. She was happy to see him lean down and start talking to her, and within a few minutes she was standing in front of him somehow managing to dance despite the height difference. Looking around, there were definitely a few attractive guys but none that particularly stuck out to Emily. Oh well, the night’s early.

After a few minutes, Emily’s hair started sticking to the side of her face and she knew she needed a break. “Do you wanna take a shot?” Emily shouted at Mary who nodded eagerly. The two trekked through the crowd, weaving their way through all the sweaty people. They reached the bar, passing Spencer and Sarah in the corner, giggling to themselves. “Do you guys have tequila?” Emily shouted at the bartender who nodded. She put up two fingers and smiled, “thanks!” He poured some tequila into two dixie cups and shoved them over.

“Tequila? You’ve got to be out of your mind, love.” Emily nearly choked on the shot in surprise. Love? She managed to swallow again and looked to her right. Leaning against the wall was a tall, almost ridiculously attractive man. His large hand engulfed the red solo cup that he took a sip out of. He pushed his hair back with the other hand, leaving it annoyingly perfectly tousled. He smirked at Emily.

“What’s wrong with tequila?” she questioned, leaning on the bar with one hand.

The guy wrinkled his nose. “Can’t stand the stuff. Got real fucked off it one night and well, y’know.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen. One of my friends took a shot of it once and then threw up all over the dude next to her,” Emily laughed.

The guy chuckled and took another sip. “Glad you didn’t do that to me.” Emily couldn’t help but marvel over his accent. Definitely British - plus the whole ��love’ thing. She also wondered how the hell he was wearing a button down shirt and jeans with how hot it was in the house.

“Yeah that’d be fucking disgusting,” Emily snorted. More people were trying to come into the kitchen for drinks plus it was obnoxiously loud, which meant she had to move a little closer to the random guy. She realized she could have just left the crowded area but for some reason she didn’t want to.

“I’m gonna go back,” Mary stepped over to say. She had been talking to the bartender but she just shot Emily a smile and headed out.

“So what’s your name then?” The guy asked, bringing Emily’s attention back. She leaned up against the wall next to him.

“Emily.”

“I’m Van,” he stated with a grin. Van? Emily thought, weird name.

“Like Van Morrison or what?” she shot back. He chuckled and nodded.

“Exactly.” Emily wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or if this guy really was that attractive but she knew she didn’t want to leave him yet. His eyes were so mischievous and his smile was so cute she just felt she had to get to know him better.

Van just sipped his drink again and Emily wondered why he’d even been standing here alone in the first place. “Sooo... you wanna take a shot with me?” Emily smirked.

Van scoffed in response. “Oh, of tequila I suppose?” Emily nodded. “Alright then, I guess so. Hey, Ryan could we get two shots of tequila?” he directed at the bartender who nodded.

“Yeah, I got you.” Van pushed off his place from the wall and Emily followed, moving right next to him on the bar. Ryan poured the shots and pushed them across the counter.

“Thanks, mate,” Van said before letting out a sigh. “Why am I doing this again?” he laughed.

Emily shrugged. “For me, I guess?” Van debated this and then nodded.

“Yeah, guess so. Alright, cheers,” he muttered before he and Emily downed their shots. Van cringed, making a nauseated face. “Fucking disgustin’.”

Emily laughed, feeling pleased with herself for being able to drink it so easily. “What’s your drink of choice, then?”

“I dunno, probably just a beer. Or maybe vodka,” Van replied. He caught the bartender’s attention again and motioned for two regular drinks. More people were trying to come into the kitchen, nearly shoving the two out of the way. Emily quickly grabbed the drinks from the bartender. “Shit,” Van mumbled when a guy bumped into him, bringing his hand to the small of Emily’s back and gently pushing her back to the wall so they could lean again.

“So you’re British, right?” Emily questioned, handing him his drink.

“Yeah, I’m from Wales, moved here for school though.” He nodded his head along to the song which was actually quite good. Max was doing much better as the DJ.

“And why’d you come here?”

Van shrugged. “I dunno, I really always wanted to come to the states, I suppose. Actually one of my good mates from back home was close with a guy who came here for uni and he made it sound so amazing I thought, fuck it why not try it out? And course I love it ‘ere,” he rambled then looked down at Emily who was smiling softly up at him. Was it the tequila? Or did he somehow even hotter? Emily wanted to jump him right there. “What about you, where are you from?” Wow, his eyes are so fucking blue. And those eyelashes… Emily felt all squirmy as he stared down at her.

Emily laughed. “You’ll never guess.”

“Oh, bet I will. You’re from… New York.” Was he leaning closer to her?

“Nope.” He definitely was.

“Texas?” Was he?

“Nope.” He smelled so good. How did he smell that good in a grimy, nasty frat party?

“Okay, I give in. Tell me,” Van grinned.

“Minnesota,” Emily replied, letting out a laugh at his raised eyebrows.

“Wow, I never would’ve guessed that. I can’t say I’ve ever met someone from Minnesota, don’t think. The place with all the snow, yeah?”

Emily continued sipping on her drink. “Exactly.” Van shook his head, probably in disbelief.

“And what are you doing in California?” he mused.

Emily couldn’t help but just stare at him. God, he was fucking hot. He kept pushing back his hair or tucking a little bit behind his ear, which of course was golden brown and a little longer like she loved, curling up at the bottom of his neck. “This is a really good school. Plus, it’s always warm and the beaches are just,” she leaned her head back thinking about them, “amazing. And the parties, come on.”

Van chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Makes sense. So what year are you then?”

“I’m a junior. You?”

“Ah, well I’m actually on exchange here. I’m in my second year here, so what a sophomore? And I’ll go back and finish the other two years back in the UK.” So he was younger than her? Surprising.

“Ah so you’re young still,” Emily smiled.

“Yeah, but I love an older woman,” Van smirked and took a drink. Jesus.

The two continued to talk for quite a while, bantering back and forth and refilling their drinks a few times as well. They continued to move closer to each other as well, nearly pressed up against one another until Van shot out the age old question: “Do you wanna dance?” Emily nodded and grabbed his hand, leading him through the kitchen back out to the dance floor which was still lively. By now, even more people were making out and things were somehow even messier.

Emily was solidly drunk by now so she really didn’t care what was going on around her. She shot Van a small smile before turning around and pressing up against him. His hands immediately dropped to her waist, bringing her in closer. He was so warm and so much taller than her and Emily loved it. The alcohol definitely helped as she grinded on Van, him gripping her hips tightly. They danced together so well and they had a lot of fun too, singing along to the music. At one point, Emily felt Van’s breath on her neck and she almost couldn’t take it. She was about to turn around and kiss him, honestly, when he whispered in her ear, “Do you wanna come outside with me?” She nodded and he slipped his hand down to hers, interlocking their fingers and leading her around the kitchen and up the flight of stairs - she didn’t even know there was another floor in this house - past a few stray couples to a balcony. Van pushed open the door. “After you,” he gestured.

Emily stepped out into the balcony, glad to finally be away from the hot, sticky air inside the house. She tilted her head back and breathed, leaning her arms on the edge of the balcony. She heard the door shut and then turned to see Van fishing through his back pocket. She was surprised to see him pull out a pack of cigarettes. He put one in his mouth and then dug around more in the pocket of his black jeans for a lighter. Emily watched him light it so carefully, putting one hand near the end so the wind wouldn’t blow it out. He took a long inhale, his cheekbones sucking in and Emily couldn’t help but look at his lips wrapped around the end. Van kept the cigarette in his mouth, exhaling while he spoke. “Want one?” He asked Emily.

She shook her head. “No, I’m good. I’m kinda surprised you smoke,” she stated, continuing to watch him without really caring. Van looked exponentially hotter while smoking a cigarette, she decided.

He took another long inhale before finally pulling it from his mouth. He blew out a long stream of smoke, making sure it was away from Emily. “I know, it’s a nasty habit. But everyone back home smokes and I just couldn’t bring myself to stop.” Van laughed, looking over at Emily. They were standing really close, sides pressed up against each other. Tingles ran through Emily’s body at every place they touched.

Emily bit her lip. “Could I just actually take a hit of yours?” Nothing wrong with a little drunk cigarette right? Plus, when someone of his caliber was offering… Van nodded, taking one more long drag and to Emily’s surprise, bringing the cigarette right up to her lips. She couldn’t inhale nearly as long as Van so she didn’t try to. She figured if she hadn’t been as drunk as she was, she probably would’ve coughed too. Vans finger grazed her bottom lip as he pulled it away, smirking. Emily felt like her skin was melting off.

He put it back in between his lips and gave it a few more long pulls before finishing it. There was even a spot for cigarette butts and the ends of joints on the balcony so Van tossed it in there. The two looked out on the balcony which had a pretty spectacular view. A few blocks away, they could see the ocean. Some people on the street below were stumbling out of the party and laughing or screaming. It was like something out of a movie. The music could still be heard, though it was muffled. Van sang along to an old Fall Out Boy song quitely, nodding his head to the beat and Emily couldn’t help but be impressed. “You’re like, good,” she mumbled, turning to look at him, resting her head onto one of her hands.

Van chuckled. “Eh, not really but thanks.”

He looked down at her and Emily’s stomach jumped. Without even thinking about it twice, Emily leaned up and kissed him. Van kissed her back immediately, dropping his hands to her waist. Emily wrapped her hands around his neck, curling her fingers into the ends of his hair. She felt a little bit of stubble scratch her face and she wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or just how attractive he was but fuck, Van was a really good kisser. He tasted like tequila and smoke and bad decisions. Emily nearly melted in his touch as he pulled her even closer. She felt so small as he pressed her against the edge of the balcony, towering over her, his hips digging into her stomach. Emily gently bit his bottom lip and a little noise emerged from Van’s throat, which caused Emily to let out a little giggle.

“What?” Van whispered, pulling away and resting his forehead against hers. She stared up at him, unable to hide her grin. She leaned in and just kissed him again lightly, for a few seconds. His hands moved up to cup her face, moving her hair behind her ear. Their lips moved slowly before Emily pulled away and leaned her head onto his chest. She breathed in - maybe a little too deep - but Van didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her waist. “You wanna go somewhere?”

Emily leaned back and gazed up at him. Her vision was a little clouded but she was mesmerized by the way his eyelashes framed his eyes that were so light blue it wasn’t even fair to the rest of the world. “Yeah,” she replied, biting back a smile. Van shot her a small smile back, revealing the tiniest dimple. He reached down and intertwined their fingers, pulling Emily behind him. He led her down the stairs, through the house, nodding ‘hi’ to a few people all while keeping their hands tight to his back. At one point, someone cut in front of Van causing him to abruptly stop, which meant Emily ran right into his back. “Oof”, she muttered as Van chuckled, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. They finally reached the back door, a cloud of smoke coming along with them.

“Fuck, think I just got stoned too,” Van laughed as he and Emily stumbled onto the street. Emily giggled, agreeing with him.

“So where are we going?” she questioned, holding his arm and leaning on him. Van slung an arm around Emily’s shoulders, keeping her close as they walked down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding crying girls and guys who looked like they were about to vomit in the street. Van reached into his pocket and squinted at his phone, then slid it back and exchanged it for another cigarette. He lit it with one hand, keeping the other around Emily.

“You hungry or anything, love?”

Emily debated this. Of course she was hungry. There was nothing better than some drunk food plus she hadn’t eaten in many, many hours. But usually when you leave with a guy he just wants to take you straight to his place, not stop for food. “Yeah, I kinda am. Is that okay?”

Van chuckled, “‘Course, I’m quite hungry as well. Where do ya reckon we should go?”

And that’s how the pair ended up in a McDonalds at 1 AM, stuffing their faces with french fries and chicken nuggets. They were probably too drunk to be in public but honestly, so was everyone else. This McDonalds was notorious for being the place students went to after parties or bars because it was open 24 hours and in the perfect location.

“So ya were pretty hungry then,” Van laughed, nudging Emily’s foot and causing her to giggle. She had barely even spoken to him since she got her Happy Meal.

“Yeah, I guess so. I realize I didn’t eat dinner,” Emily paused and thought about it, “or lunch.”

“That’s terrible.” Van shook his head. He leaned back stretching an arm out on the back of the booth. Emily just shrugged and sipped on her Sprite.

He finished his food almost right away and Emily was kind of impressed. “You know, you don’t really look like a frat boy or anything,” Emily blurted out, leaning forward on her hand.

Van smirked. “Oh you don’t think so do ya?” Emily furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. “Nah, I’m not in one. My roommate last year pledged and then I became quite close to ‘em all, they’re all pretty good lads. Only thing that sucks is I couldn’t live in the house with ‘em.”

“So where do you live?”

Van motioned his head backwards. “A couple blocks that way, I got one roommate and he’s alright, not real close to him or anything but he stays out of my shit which I like. Plus he’s always willing to share his weed so can’t really go wrong there I s’pose,” Van rambled on, waving his hands around. He was so animated when he spoke. Emily was trying to figure out of it was the alcohol or if he always babbled like this. Either way, she loved listening to him talk, loved the way his account sounded so thick when forming certain words.

“Mhmm. So do you think I should just go back home or…?” Emily was still pretty drunk and so was Van, meaning if one of them didn’t make a move soon they’d probably just pass out in the booth.

“Uh, if you want but I was gonna offer you to come to mine, if you wanted,” Van said seriously, his voice seeming to lower a bit.

Emily nodded, “Yeah, sure.” So the two continued to roam the streets, hand in hand and laughing with each other until Van brought them to an apartment building. He dug around in his pockets to grab his key and once they reached the elevator, Emily couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him. He was slightly surprised but he kissed her back eagerly, only pulling away once the elevator doors opened to reveal an angry looking older guy. Emily and Van tried to stifle their giggles as he rolled his eyes and pushed past them. “Oops, he looked fucking pissed.”

Van fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the apartment door for a good few seconds. “Christ,” Van mumbled, finally pushing it open and letting Emily go in. His hand rested on her lower back, leading her into the living room first. It was small and a little messy but considering only two college guys were living there, the apartment wasn’t terrible. “Want any water or anything, love?” Van asked, walking into the kitchen and flicking on the light as Emily plopped down on the couch.

“I’m okay, thanks.” She couldn’t help but pull the soft blanket that was on the back of the couch over herself as she stretched out, leaning her head back. She heard some banging in the kitchen and wondered what Van could be doing.

After a few minutes, Van turned the kitchen light off and came back into the living room, chuckling. “You look comfy,” Van mumbled, sitting on the end of the couch a few inches from Emily, his right ankle resting on his left knee. Emily set her phone down and held back a yawn. She nodded, looking at him and waiting to see what he was going to do. Van almost seemed to be avoiding eye contact, picking at his nails. He was nervous. Emily found it adorable.

Emily pondered the situation for a few minutes. She knew she was going to lose her buzz soon - the opposite of what she wanted in this moment. Yeah, she was tired and comfortable under the fuzzy blanket but she was also inside a hot British guy’s apartment, alone with him on the couch. She would be insane to not make a move.

“Come here,” she mumbled, reaching her hands out and motioning for Van. The corners of his mouth lifted up as he scooted closer, Emily moving her legs slightly so he could fit right next to her. Emily bit her bottom lip slightly, smiling.

Van finally leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, ever so slowly. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, tugging at his hair. Van moved the blanket over a little and started rubbing the inside of her thigh gently, his other hand on her waist. Emily tried kissing him faster but Van seemed insistent on keeping it agonizingly slow, his tongue moving into her mouth teasingly. Emily let out a little whine which made him chuckle against her lips. “Hm?”

Emily decided to take matters into her own hands, pulling back and lifting Van’s hands off her, then pushed him back so he was laying on the couch. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do since he was clearly a lot bigger than her but he seemed to like it when she straddled him, putting her hands on his chest. “You’re killing me,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his neck. Van’s eyes fluttered shut, bringing his hands to her waist, rubbing her sides up and down gently. She leaned to the other side, hair brushing along Van’s nose but he didn’t seem bothered as he let out the smallest moan. Emily started kissing down Van’s neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to make him squirm. She pressed kisses up his neck and across his jaw and then was about to switch back to the other side when Van leaned forward, pushing her back again and kissing her hard. Fucking finally. Van’s hands were moving everywhere and Emily could tell he was worked up, meaning her plan was successful.

“Should we go to my-”

“Yes,” Emily cut him off immediately. She climbed off him and let Van lead her to his bedroom. He shut the door and quickly pulled some clothes off the bed, tossing them in the corner. Other than that, his bed was made nicely and he even had some cute fairy lights plugged in. Emily wasted no time crawling onto the bed and pulling Van on top of her, pressing her lips to his immediately. Eventually, Emily brought her fingers to the buttons on Van’s shirt, slowly undoing them. Van started edging his hands up Emily’s shirt slowly, nearly leaving burn marks on her skin and she pulled away, tugging her shirt over her head immediately. This drew a slight chuckle from Van as he looked down at her, biting his lip.

“Christ,” Van muttered, leaning back down to kiss Emily again.

---

“Oh my god, Mary turn that fucking thing off,” Emily mumbled, curling up tighter in bed. Of course her alarm would be going off so early even though it was the weekend.

“Sorry, love, forgot to turn it off. ‘M not Mary, though.” Emily opened her eyes and had to think for a second before she remembered where she was. That’s embarrassing. She was currently lying underneath Van, her arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned carefully over her to turn the alarm off on his phone. He shut it off and then laid back on Emily’s shoulder. “But that is me mum’s name.”

Emily snorted, rubbing her eyes carefully. “I must’ve slept like, really hard,” she muttered. Van buried his head closer to her neck, sighing softly. He mumbled something, probably in agreement.

Emily closed her eyes again and replayed the events back in her head. They didn’t end up having sex, which definitely surprised her. There was some hand stuff and whatnot but that was about it before they went to bed - except Van was being exceptionally cuddly and touchy. “What time is it?” She asked.

“‘Round nine,” Van replied, “you have a cute morning voice, y’know. All scratchy.”

“Mm, thanks,” Emily smiled. “I think I have to get going though.”

Van shifted a little bit so he was laying on his side next to her, putting an arm across her stomach and pulling her a little closer. “Why’s that?”

“I work at 11.” He looked almost disappointed.

“Oh, alright. Too bad.” Emily laid next to him for a bit, trying to not make it seem like she was ditching him right away but she felt like she probably should get up soon.

She cleared her throat, “Yeah, I gotta get going.” She snuck out from under Van’s arm and sat on the end of the bed, reaching for her shirt. She slipped it on and scanned for her jeans too. She spotted them hanging off the corner of the bed, so she grabbed them and slipped them on, then grabbed her phone off the bedside table and looked at a few of the notifications. Emily could feel Van’s eyes on her but she tried to play it off. She sighed, shoving her phone in her pocket.

Van moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still only wearing his underwear. He reached forward and grabbed Emily’s hand, tugging her down close to kiss him. She pulled away after a few seconds and looked down, “Well, thanks for the fun night but I really don’t wanna be late,” she said, glancing up into Van’s eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he still looked sleepy and cute, which was making this more difficult.

“Um, yeah I had a really nice night with ya. Could I get your phone number or somethin’ then?”

“Oh yeah, here,” Emily murmured, handing him her phone with her Snapchat open so he could type in his username. Van handed it back and stood up, bringing his hand to her lower back.

“I’ll walk you out, love.” Van guided her to his front door before resting an arm against it and leaning down to kiss her. “See you soon, then, Emily.” He gave her a sleepy smile, hair messy and cheeks flushed.

“Bye,” Emily replied, staring at his eyes for a second before slipping out the door.

---

Emily nearly threw up when she walked outside and looked up at the sun. It was way too bright and too nice out for how she was feeling. She realized Van’s apartment was actually really close to hers, so she just decided to walk home rather than pay for an Uber.

She pulled out her phone and ignored the many texts she had missed, instead immediately calling Mary. “Pick up,” she mumbled.

After it rang a few times, Mary’s morning voice came through the speaker. “Oh my god, hey,” she mumbled.

“Hi,” Emily laughed, crossing the street. “I’m on my way home now.”

“Already? I kinda thought you were really into this guy so I thought maybe there’d be a little morning action,” Mary chuckled.

Emily bit her lip. “Yeah, he was cool but I didn’t wanna stay there forever, you know. I told him I had to work at 11.”

“Ah, okay. Well, I’m in bed so just come cuddle with me and you can tell me about it,” Mary replied with a yawn.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Emily was climbing the stairs and hopping into Mary’s bed. The shades were still drawn and it was nice and dark. “So what happened to you last night?” Emily started.

Mary buried her head in her pillow. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Mary, you didn’t.”

“I did,” she sighed. Mary had a habit of almost always hooking up with her ex, JJ when she was drunk. Well, and when she was sober too. It always went like this: JJ would text Mary about how he missed her, she’d go to his place, and then he’d text her the next day that he was glad they got to see each other one last time. This had happened probably ten times, at least.

“Why do you do this? He treated you so bad,” Emily replied. Which was true. JJ and Mary met freshman year and dated until about halfway through sophomore year until she found out he had been cheating on her with multiple girls in the sister sorority to his fraternity.

Mary groaned. “I don’t know, I can’t help it. Whatever, let’s stop talking about me and talk about you and this hot British guy.”

Emily tried to hold back a smile. “Um, yeah. So his name is Van, he’s like, an exchange student here. Very nice, funny. And he was hot.” Mary looked so eager to hear more about him. “What?” Emily laughed.

“What, that’s it? Give me details.”

“Okay, okay. So basically last night we ended up dancing and then he took me out on the balcony at the house, we like made out there and then we left and stopped at McDonalds,” Emily laughed, “and then he invited me to his place which is like very close to here.”

“And?”

“And that was pretty much it. We didn’t have sex, just like other stuff you know.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Why not?”

Emily debated this. She wasn’t even sure herself. “Um, I don’t know, he seemed like he didn’t really want to, honestly. Like he was… really into doing other stuff and like never brought it up and I just kind of went with it.”

“Do you think he was a virgin or-”

“No, definitely not,” Emily cut Mary off. “He was way too good at everything. It’s hard to say, I guess.”

“So are you gonna keep talking to him or what?”

Emily shrugged. “Um, I don’t know. I would probably hook up with him again, y’know, but I don’t know. I’m not gonna reach out to him first. He’s cool, but like, you know.”

Mary nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do you think he’ll message you?”

“Honestly, probably. He was like, very cuddly and stuff which was just weird. Guys are usually so not like that.”

“Yeah, definitely. Well, I’m probably gonna go back to bed for a little bit honestly, I feel like shit,” Mary chuckled, pulling her blankets up to her chin.

Emily laughed, “Yeah, I’m gonna shower and then go back to bed too.”

A few hours later, Emily was still lying in bed when her phone buzzed. She had just woken up from a nap and by now it was around 1 PM. She grabbed her phone off the night stand and almost dropped it when she saw the notification that read “van is typing”. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. After a minute or two, she got a message from Van. Emily tried to ignore it, going and checking her other social media for a while. She eventually decided to text Mary and have her come into her room and help, depending on what Van had said.

“Okay, open it.”

Mary sat next to Emily on her bed, waiting. “It’s a chat,” Emily said.

hi emily just wanted to let you know i had a really good time last night. glad to have met you and i hope i can see you again soon xx

“Oh shit,” Emily murmured.

Mary nearly snorted. “So he’s definitely into you. I don’t even know what you say back to that.” Emily groaned, flopping back on her bed.

“I don’t know either. The thing is I don’t wanna, like date him, obviously but maybe I should just talk to him a little bit and we could hang out in the future.”

“Yeah, so true.”

Emily began typing her response.

yeah i had a good time too :)

“I’m just gonna leave it at that.” Mary nodded, approving.

A few minutes later, Van replied, asking how work was. Of course, Emily had almost forgotten that she told him she was working, so she had to come up with a fake reply about it being boring. Van continued to respond fairly quickly, asking her questions about her job and then about school, and other things like that. Emily would reply, albeit not super enthusiastically, keeping the conversation going at least.

This went on for a few days. Classes started but Van continued to message Emily, switching over to pictures. Emily would open his Snapchats and bite her lip, because of course he always looked really good in them without even trying. He was really, really attractive. And he was so funny, too. He often made jokes that made Emily giggle while she was alone in bed at night. But she tried not to let this affect her.

It wasn’t until Thursday afternoon that Van hinted he wanted to hang out again. Emily was just about to start getting ready to go out with some friends.

what are you up to tonight? x

Van always ended his messages with an x. Must be a British thing.

i’m going to bars w some friends. are u going out?

Emily bumped her head along to the music Mary was playing as she slipped on her jeans.

think so. where ya heading? x

Emily responded with the names of a few bars she and her friends had discussed they were going to stop at. At around nine o’clock, Van responded with an adorable picture of him smiling, beer in hand.

Emily looked at it for a few moments before replying with a picture of herself drinking her own mixed drink. She wondered if she’d see him out.

---

About two hours later, she didn’t have to wonder anymore. Emily, Mary, and Carson finally got into their favorite bar after having to wait outside a while. The place was packed, so Emily didn’t see Van right away.

“Thought I might see ya here.” Emily was leaning on the bar, credit card in hand and waiting to order. She looked up to see Van next to her, looking ridiculously attractive, of course. His hair was pushed back, looking perfectly messy and he was wearing all black, just like her but he just had on a crew neck sweatshirt with his black jeans. He had a nearly empty cup in his hand and his eye was nearly twinkling as well.

“Yeah, me too,” Emily replied. She was a little drunk by now, already having pregamed and been to one other bar for a few drinks.

“Let me get you a drink, love,” Van said, setting his cup down and reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, no you don’t have to.”

Van shook his head immediately. “What are you drinking?”

So Emily was caught in a bit of a tough situation. She had to stand by the bar waiting for the drink which meant she had to talk to Van. It was a little weird, after only texting back and forth for the past week. But she was still extremely attracted to him, of course. After the drinks arrived and they cheersed, Emily said, “I should probably get back to my friends,” she gestured to Mary and Carson who were laughing across the bar, “but I’ll see you later?”

Van looked a little disappointed, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’m probably staying here for a while, so.” Emily smiled and walked away.

“Wait, is that the British guy?” Carson questioned as soon as Emily was near them. She nodded. “Actually, my buddies in Theta Chi have mentioned a dude from England. Bet that’s him.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Lenny and Miller are like, really tight with him. They said he’s like, super funny and a really good guy.”

Emily leaned her head back and groaned. “Don’t say that shit to me.” Carson just laughed, knowing how she was. Emily was never one to get feelings involved with the guys she saw. It was too messy.

“I think he’s slightly attached already,” Mary pointed out. Emily shrugged, trying not to think about him.

But of course, an hour later, Van was all she could think about. Funny what alcohol will do to you. It was after midnight now, and Emily was scanning through the bar for his tall, lanky figure but she couldn’t see him. “I wonder if he left,” she mumbled.

“Who?” Carson mused, smirking.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Van, duh.” Mary and Carson exchanged a look, eyebrows raised.

“Thought you weren’t really into him?” Carson questioned.

Emily shrugged. “I’m not but I’m drunk and he’s hot, so y’know. I’ll just message him.”

She pulled out her phone and squinted at it.

hey you still at jordan’s?

Emily double checked it for spelling errors before she hit send. She responded to a few other messages before she saw he replied.

bathroom. you? xx

Emily messaged him back quickly, describing where she was in the bar and waited for him to show up. Which he did, only a couple minutes later.

“Hey,” Van said as he slid in to stand next to Emily at the table she was at.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hello,” Van said with a grin, directing it at Carson and Mary who were almost laughing to themselves.

“Oh yeah, this is Mary and Carson. Two of my roommates.”

Within a few minutes, Van and Carson were nearly best friends. They apparently had a lot in common. They were talking about soccer at the moment, which Emily had little to no interest in. She leaned on the table, sipping her Vodka soda as Mary chattered on about what JJ was texting her. “God, he’s such a dick,” Mary muttered, angrily typing a response. Emily snorted to herself, knowing that she would probably be going to his place later. Emily dragged her gaze over to Van and Carson who were watching some highlight video that Carson had brought up on his phone. Emily debated about what to do in this situation.

She decided to reach out and rub Van’s back gently, making him turn quickly and look at her. He had been laughing at something Carson said so he was still smiling at her, eyes shining bright.

“Another drink?” Emily asked, biting her lip as she touched his arm just for a second.

Van’s whole expression changed. “Yeah, let me get ya one, love,” he said in a low voice, giving her a small smile. Van turned and scooted away towards the bar to order.

“Dude, he’s so funny. I think I’m in love with the guy. I don’t know how you aren’t,” Carson laughed. Emily rolled her eyes but she wasn’t really listening, instead just watching Van as he talked to the bartender and laughed, his charm coming out. He was so good with people. Van returned with two drinks but within twenty minutes, he, Emily, and Carson were heading back to their apartment.

Mary was going over to JJ’s of course, and Emily was walking down the street, hand intertwined with Van’s. Carson was telling the story of how he had just gotten rejected by this girl at the bar he had apparently liked since last year and how he’d be spending the night with a bottle of lotion. “Carson, ew.” Emily laughed, nearly tripping over a curb. Van kept a tight grip on her hand, making sure she wouldn’t fall.

When they got inside the apartment, Emily slipped off her shoes and led Van up the stairs right away. Carson saluted them and headed into his own room for the night, to do God knows what. Emily quickly plugged in her fairy lights and flopped down on her bed, slipping her shoes off.

Van had his hands shoved in his front pockets, looking around at her pictures on the wall and other things. He looked particularly interested in her old record player. “This is class,” he said, carefully inspecting her records.

“Oh, it was my Grandpa’s,” she said, leaning her weight back on her hands. Van was smiling, apparently enjoying the music she had.

“Can I play somethin’?” Emily nodded. He fiddled with the record player for a second and then Emily’s eyes widened when she heard a song by one of her favorite bands ever, Turnover, start playing.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as Van came and sat next to her.

“What’s that?”

“You like Turnover?” Emily questioned, staring at him as he slipped his boots off.

“Oh yeah. Absolutely class. This album is unbelievable,” Van replied, turning to look at her.

At this moment, it was safe to say Emily was mesmerized. Yes, she was drunk again and yes, he clearly felt a lot more for her than she felt for him, but she didn’t care about any of that as she stared at him.

“What?” He whispered, eyebrows furrowing. Emily just leaned forward, grabbed his face with one hand and started kissing him. Van responded immediately, kissing back gently. He put one hand on her waist, sighing into the kiss. The music played quietly in the background but it somehow made everything better. Emily felt even more drunk off the taste of his lips as she shifted, pushing him to move back on the bed and he took the hint, lying down. Emily broke the kiss and straddled him, his hands rubbing along her legs and up to her waist.

Van looked nearly entranced in this moment but honestly, Emily felt the same way. She couldn’t stop staring at him, his eyes were hooded but still sparkling and he kept licking his lips. Eventually, Van leaned up and pressed his lips against hers, cupping her face in his hands. Emily shifted a little, which drew the softest groan from Van. Emily thought she had never heard something so beautiful in her life.

After a few minutes, Emily flipped the two over so Van was hovering over her. He seemed to be intoxicated by her as he leaned down and started kissing down her neck. He switched to the other side, running his hands along her body while biting her neck ever so gently.

“Fuck,” Emily moaned out quietly. Van stopped, biting his lip and then stared at her eyes. He kept staring as his fingers reached down to graze the hem of her shirt, which she helped to pull off right away. He kept staring as his fingers worked down, gripping onto her belt and slowly unbuckling it. Emily felt like she was about to explode as he tugged her pants off. He just kept staring at her while he slipped her underwear off, too. She had both of her hands on the side of his head, running through his hair. Emily almost squeezed her eyes shut but she felt like she had to keep them open, staring at him.

After a few minutes, Emily was a mess. She was sweating and so unbelievably turned on. “Van,” she mumbled, pulling his head up to look at her.

“Hm?” He licked his lips.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

Van shifted, leaning forward to kiss her then pulled away and started, “Love, I...” he let out a small sigh, “Emily,” he whispered. Emily’s eyes had so much want in them, it was driving Van insane. “I, ah, want to, of course I do. But I think maybe we should just wait.”

Emily bit her lip, feeling a little rejected almost. “Oh. We can stop, then.” She started to sit up.

Van gently pushed her back down on the bed. “No, no, I want to keep doing this. Emily, ah, well I fancy you a lot. Really, you’re just fucking...Christ, somethin’ else. Please, don’t think I don’t want this,” he muttered. “Just wanna wait for the whole sex part, yeah?” Emily just nodded, leaning up to kiss him again.

After about an hour, Emily was laying on Van’s chest, his arm around her, thumb rubbing up and down her arm. “Mm, I need a smoke,” Van mumbled, rubbing his eye with his other hand.

Emily’s eyes were closed, her fingers gently tracing across the lines on his stomach. “If you want, you can just open my window and smoke in here,” she murmured.

“You sure?” She nodded. Van slid out from underneath her, carefully. He reached down to slide his underwear back on and then grabbed a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket. Emily laid on her side, watching as he pulled open the blinds and cracked open the window and lit the end of his cigarette carefully. The window didn’t have a screen so Van just flicked the ashes right outside. Emily stared at him, admiring the way the orange glow from the cigarette highlighted the details of his face. Her eyes trailed over the curve of his shoulder blades, the bend of his elbow, the little dimples at the bottom of his back. Fuck.

Van blew smoke out the window carefully, his eyes focused on something outside. He finished off the cigarette and looked around, clearly unsure of what to do with the butt. “Put it in there,” Emily whispered, gesturing to a cup on her bedside table. Van nodded, dropping it in. He leaned over to the record player and flipped the record over, as it had stopped a while ago. He turned the music down a bit and Emily held the blankets up so Van could slide in next to her. She immediately snuggled up to him, feeling how warm he was and trying to ignore the spark of his skin against hers. Van leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead and Emily closed her eyes, needing to remain unaffected by it all.

“Night, love,” Van mumbled, reaching his hands up to stroke her hair slowly. Emily fell asleep within a minute of this.

---

The same thing happened on Friday night. Emily was at a party with Carson - Mary at work, sadly - dancing and enjoying herself when Carson lightly hit her arm. “Hey, there’s Miller. Oh, and Van!” Carson immediately turned and walked over, grinning as they did that weird handshake thing every guy does, the three of them laughing. Emily’s eyes were drawn to Van, him wearing all black once again but she was surprised to see he was wearing a short sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little. He was rather skinny, and quite pale, honestly, but his arms did have a little outline of muscle.

Emily decided to make her way over to the three, greeting Van with a ‘hi’, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her in for a small hug. They ended up all talking, dancing, and drinking for a while. Emily was honestly having a really fun time. Van, Miller, and Carson got along so well but Emily felt like she fit in too.

“Alright, I gotta head out. My girl’s texting me, so,” Miller said, slapping hands again with Van and Carson, nodding at Emily.

“See ya, mate,” Van said as Miller made his way out of the party. Emily realized that Van had probably come with Miller, and now here he was with Carson and Emily only.

So it was down to three. Until Carson started dancing with a girl who was quite tall, way taller than Emily but still shorter than him.

“Oh shit,” Van laughed as Carson and the girl started kissing right next to them a few minutes later. Emily laughed along with him, feeling a little grossed out by the sight. Van shook his head and turned away from the couple, then leaned down by Emily’s ear. “Dance?” he asked quietly. Emily nodded, turning around and standing right in front of Van. His hands slid down her sides, holding her hips tightly. They danced like this for a while, a little slowly, Emily leaning her head back a little onto Van’s chest. At one point, she turned around and reached up to kiss him. Van didn’t even hesitate to kiss her back, bringing his hands from her waist down to her ass. Emily pulled away after a few moments, totally breathless. Van’s hair was sticking to the sides of his face and a little sweat dripped down his neck because of how ridiculously hot the basement was. But Van still looked so good.

A while later, Van, Emily, Carson, and the girl whose name Emily hadn’t learned yet were walking home. Carson was absolutely hammered, stumbling down the street and laughing about something. The girl was trying to hold his hand but he was weaving around aimlessly, and he tripped slightly over the curb. “C’mon, mate,” Van chuckled, letting go of Emily’s hand to put an arm around Carson, helping him stay upright. They eventually made it inside Emily and Carson’s apartment, Carson heading straight to the bathroom. The girl sat awkwardly on the couch in the living room as Van asked Emily where their glasses were to get Carson some water.

“That cupboard, yeah,” Emily murmured, leaning against the counter. Van filled the glass with water from the sink.

“He’ll probably be needing this, yeah? But he’s fine, I think,” Van said with a little smile. Emily watched as he turned and headed up the stairs to take care of Carson who from the sound of it was puking his guts out. It was pretty sweet to see him acting like this, taking care of one of Emily’s friends when he really didn’t have to.

Emily made a disgusted face as she went to sit by the girl on the couch. “Carson’s not usually like this,” Emily said with a laugh.

The girl just smiled, looking a little unsure of herself. Emily heard Van laughing upstairs. “Your boyfriend’s a good guy.”

Emily looked up from her phone, “Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s uh, yeah, no,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Oh, really? You guys seem so cute together,” the girl replied.

Emily bit back a smile. “Thanks but no, we’re definitely not together.” She stood up and climbed the stairs as Carson came bursting out the bathroom.

“Is Lauren still here?” he asked, Van standing behind him, trying to hide his laughter. Emily nodded and Carson pushed past her.

“Carson, did you brush your teeth at least?” She whisper-yelled at him as he ran down the stairs.

“He did,” Van said with a chuckle. He flicked off the light and walked out of the bathroom, grabbing Emily’s arm and pulling her close to him. He brought his hands up to her face and just stared at her for a second. “You’re quite beautiful, y’know,” he murmured. His eyes were a little squinty as his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He was glowing.

Emily smiled, looking away. “Stop.”

Van ran his thumb across her cheek, then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “No, I’m serious. Absolutely class.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, then leaned up and kissed him.

---

It went on like this for a while. Van got Emily’s actual phone number and started texting her everyday. Almost every weekend, the two met up at a party or bar and then spent a night together, unless they had an exam or work or something else going on. Van tried making other plans quite often, asking Emily if she wanted to go for coffee or dinner or something, but Emily always came up with an excuse. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, growing worse each day. She attempted to get rid of it by ignoring Van’s requests for dates and keeping it strictly sex between them. But it wasn’t easy.

“Emily, you totally like him. Why won’t you just admit it?” Mary questioned Emily on one Saturday night that they actually decided to stay in. All of the roommates were home, watching movies and just relaxing.

They were on the topic of Van and how great he was. This happened quite often. Mary and Spencer had taken a liking to him, almost as much as Carson had. Ever since Van had taken care of him when he was throwing up, Carson basically worshipped the ground Van walked on.

“Yeah, for real. I’m telling you, I have feelings for him. And I don’t even like dudes,” Carson said, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Guys, stop. I’ve told all of you this. Yeah, he’s cool and whatever but I just like hooking up with him. I don’t like him like that.”

Carson, Mary, and Spencer let out a collective snort. “Yeah, sure,” Spencer said under his breath. Emily shot him a dirty look.

“I’ve never even hung out with him unless we were drinking first so I don’t know where you guys are even getting this from.”

“Oh my God, Emily. Van tells me all the time that he wants to take you out on a real date but you always avoid it. He also told me you haven’t even had sex, so I know that’s not why you keep hanging out with him.”

“Carson!” Emily shouted, feeling a little blood rush to her cheeks. Carson just shrugged, eating more popcorn. “Look, I know he likes me, okay? He’s told me. And yes, he asks me all the time to get dinner and stuff, but I don't know. I just don’t date people, okay? I don’t like the idea of being with just one person. And I don’t believe in relationships.” Spencer rolled his eyes at this, most likely thinking of how much he loved his girlfriend Sarah.

Mary scoffed. “Dude, have you even hooked up with anyone else since you met Van?” Emily didn’t respond. “No. And I know that guys are still hitting you up and wanting to hang out. So what the hell?”

Emily just shook her head. “Stop trying to make me like him! It’s not gonna happen. I haven’t even really been around him when we were sober.”

Carson and Mary exchanged a look. “Okay, so invite him over,” Carson replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not gonna invite him over, we’re having roommate bonding.”

“Jesus Christ, Emily. We’re watching fucking Cars right now. Invite him over, I swear to God, before I get pissed off,” Spencer shouted from the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer.

“Fine. I’ll see what he’s doing. But I’m not inviting him over til later.” Emily rolled her eyes and opened the last text she had gotten from Van.

From: van

what you up to x

From: emily :)

not much, just watching some movies with my friends. hbu?

From: van

i’m at home, just bought some weed off my roommate. you interested?

About an hour later, Emily was in the bathroom, brushing her hair out when she heard a short knock and then the door to her apartment open. She could tell it was Van, him laughing loudly along with her other roommates right away. He could really draw anyone in with that laugh. It was contagious. She sprayed a little more perfume on before shutting the light off and jogging down the stairs.

Van was sitting next to Carson on the couch, who was updating him on what was going on with Lauren, who he seemed to be catching feelings for. Van turned and looked at Emily when she reached the bottom of the stairs. His face lit up and Emily tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach it gave her.

“Hi, love,” he said with a grin, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

“Hey,” Emily replied, sitting next to him. Van squeezed her thigh gently and then kept his hand there as he turned to keep talking to Carson.

“Yeah, we went out to dinner last night. I dunno, I think I do actually like her,” Carson said, shaking his head. “And she’s a freshman! What the hell is wrong with me?”

Van chuckled. “Nothing, mate. Can’t help who ya want.” Emily bit her lip, looking down at Van’s large hand on her leg still, his thumb gently stroking across it.

“So you guys wanna smoke?” Van asked a few minutes later. There was a chorus of ‘yes’s’ and Van smiled, standing up to get his jacket. He pulled out a bag of weed, a few wraps, and his favorite lighter. “Mind if I do it here?” He asked Emily, gesturing to the coffee table.

“That’s fine,” she responded, getting up and heading to the kitchen. She grabbed a piece of paper towel, bringing it to Van.

“Oh, thanks, love.” He got to work, emptying the wraps and sprinkling the bud inside, then rolling. Emily pretended to not watch as he brought each of the blunts up to his lips, licking them to seal them. That’s... hot, she thought to herself. After a few minutes, the windows were cranked open and Van handed a blunt to Emily. “Wanna start it?” Emily nodded, putting it in her mouth and grabbing the lighter off the table. She lit it carefully, sucking in and making sure the end stayed lit. She exhaled and then brought it up to her mouth again, hitting it one more time before passing the blunt over to Van. Emily tried not to stare as he inhaled it for a long time, then blew a couple of o’s. He licked his lip and passed it to Carson.

When the first blunt was finished, Van immediately lit up the second one. By the time the five of them had all finished it, they all seemed decently high. They all had pretty distinct high personalities. Carson and Spencer were laughing so hard no sound was coming out of them. Mary had been staring at the TV for so long, entranced by some dumb show she always liked to watch while high, hand shoved in a bag of Cheetos.

And Van, well, Van was just a more lowkey version of himself while high. He was a little quieter, but he was really, really touchy, and his words a little drawn out, his voice raspier. He was laying on the couch while Emily was getting a drink. When she came back, he held open his arms and made grabby hands. Emily smiled at him, setting her cup down and sitting on the couch by him. They had to adjust a little, Van sitting up more and Emily leaning back on him. Vans eyes were barely open, but that had happened almost immediately after he had started smoking. “Hi,” he said quietly as Emily laid her head on his shoulder.

“Hi, Van.” Van wrapped his arms around her waist, grabbing one of her hands and intertwining their fingers. He stretched his fingers out, highlighting how long they were compared to Emily’s.

“Like when you say my name,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. But I just like you.” Emily shut her eyes. She could see faint designs dancing behind her closed eyelids. It had been a few weeks since she had smoked, so she was feeling a little different than usual.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Emily opened her eyes to see both Carson and Spencer standing up. “Like, I’m about to sleep so good,” Spencer said.

“Well, goodnight then,” Carson said, yawning. They both headed upstairs leaving only Mary, Emily, and Van downstairs.

“You wanna go up?” Van asked, rubbing Emily’s arm softly. She nodded, not one to speak much while under the influence.

So they got up, hands locked together, said goodnight to Mary, and ended up lying in Emily’s bed. The window was cracked open so sounds of the traffic below filled the room, along with a record Van had put on. Emily was lying on Van’s chest, eyes closed as he sang along to The Killers.

“I don’t mind if you don’t, I don’t shine if you don’t,” he sang quietly. Emily was so impressed.

“You’re so fucking good,” she mumbled against his chest. “You should be in a band or something.”

Van chuckled. “I am in a band, love.”

Emily’s eyes opened wide. She sat up, staring at Van. “Wait, what? You’re in a band?”

Van reached his hand out, tracing his thumb along Emily’s arm. “Mhmm. Didn’t I tell ya that?” Emily shook her head vigorously, clearly in shock. “Yeah, well. We’re not real big or anything. Played at a couple bars, done a couple competitions, that type ‘o thing. I was in one back home too, but obviously that’s kinda on hold.”

Emily’s mouth was still wide open. “I can’t believe this. That’s literally so hot, Van,” she groaned, lying back down on his chest. Van chuckled, pulling her in tight.

“If I would’ve known you’d react like this, I’d ‘ave defo told ya sooner.”

“What’s your band’s name?”

“Catfish and the Bottlemen,” Van replied, his voice so raspy.

“Hmm, cool name. I wanna see you perform sometime,” Emily said.

“Yeah, I’d love that, honestly. How ya feeling?”

Emily shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Starting to come down so I’m getting a little tired.”

“You wanna go to sleep?” Van asked.

She shook her head. “Mm, no not yet.” She leaned her head back to look at Van who was already staring down at her. His eyes flicked down to her lips then back to her eyes, searching them.

“Em?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Hm?”

“How come you never want to do anything normal with me? I, you know, ask you to dinner and stuff but you always say you’re busy. But then I see you every weekend, usually only when we’re drinking or somethin.’” Emily turned her head, laying back on Van’s chest. She let out a small sigh.

“Van, I... uh, I don’t really know.”

“I like you a lot, Emily. I really do. We met, what a month ago? But I think about ya all the time. And I’d really, really like to take ya out sometime on a proper date. I wanna spend more time with you.”

Emily was quiet for a moment. She sat up again, biting her lip. Van sat up a little too, staring at her. “Van, I just… don’t know what to say,” she whispered. She looked into his eyes, which were full of expectation. She could feel her own eyes starting to water just a little so she started blinking quickly, looking at her hands. Van ran his hand up her arm, around to the back of her neck. She shivered slightly at his touch.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. Emily chewed on her lip for a second before looking back at him.

“Okay,” she whispered. She felt so vulnerable and she knew why. Of course she had feelings for him. How could she not? Van was fucking perfect. But she didn’t want to tell him that. Emily was so used to being alone mostly, only casually dating guys, cutting things off if it seemed like too much. And she really, really didn’t want to let him in. But Van was doing his best to work his way into her life. He knew she was closed off. He knew that she had slept with a lot more people than he had. He knew that she liked to party maybe a little too much. But he didn’t care. “I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t like this,” she muttered, quickly wiping a single tear away.

“Come here, love.” Emily crawled up closer to Van so they were only about an inch apart. “‘S okay, honest,” he mumbled before pressing his lips against hers softly. Emily’s eyes fluttered shut, kissing him back. She fell apart under his touch, Van’s hands roaming up and down her body slowly, his fingers finding their way underneath her sweatshirt. Emily was straddling Van now, but letting him be totally in control. He pulled away to tug her sweatshirt over her head. Van stared at her body for a moment, eyes wide in awe, just like he did every time she removed her clothes. It made Emily’s stomach flutter every time, too. “Flip over, hm?”

The two switched positions and Van leaned in to kiss her neck, then down her body slowly. His lips brushed against her stomach and Emily squirmed a little. He looked up at her, eyes hooded, full of want. He tugged her leggings off, tossing them onto the floor, then moved down to press kisses against the inside of her thighs. Emily was shaking as he brought his hands up to tug off her underwear, then pressed her hips down against the bed.

A few minutes later, the two had swapped positions again. Van had just let out a groan that made Emily’s eyes almost roll back into her head. “Love, do you... Should I grab a-” Emily looked up at Van, his lips swollen and hair messy from running his own hands through it.

She nodded. “If you want to, Van.” They hadn’t talked about sex since Emily had asked him the second time they hooked up. Emily never wanted to push anything and she was fine without it. But she would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t pounding right now, her stomach jumping at the possibility.

“I do, yeah.”

A few hours later, they were still awake. The record player had stopped a long time ago but neither of them seemed ready to sleep. Emily was lying on her back, Van on top of her, one arm wrapped around her waist and her arms around his neck, every part of their bodies intertwined. She was running her hands through his hair, him letting out a hum every so often. “I really like ya, Em. I really, really do,” Van mumbled against Emily’s skin. Emily smiled to herself but didn’t say anything back.

#vanfic #van mccann fanfic #catb fanfic #van mccann #my fic #lmk what y'all think #i'll post part two soon

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walkerismychoice · 5 years

Text

Stripped Bare - Chapter 12 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: It’s the day of the bachelor and bachelorette parties. How will Bryce react to Charlie being around strippers that aren’t him?

Rating: Mature/18+ (Again nothing explicit, but there is stripping in this one and lots of alcohol consumption)

Word Count: 3457

"My hair is going to be down, so I want everyone else’s hair up," Katelyn dictates to the stylists. "I'm thinking a lower chignon for all of them, but I don’t want them to be too matchy-matchy, so make them a little unique.”

The stylists get to work as Katelyn floats around from chair to chair micromanaging. Katelyn apparently doesn’t trust an unknown stylist for her own hair and is flying in her hair stylist from back home the day before the wedding.

Kyra leans over towards Charlie when Katelyn moves to the other side of the salon to supervise the Sarahs. “Only Katelyn would make her bridesmaids get pre-approval on their hair like this. What a waste of time.”

“Seriously. But at least we have wine!” Charlie holds up her glass, and Kyra clinks hers against it.

Charlie’s stylist works with her natural curls, pulling it back and adding in floral hair piece. Much to Charlie’s surprise, Katelyn approves of it without any revisions, but the same cannot be said for the rest of the girls. After multiple reference pictures are taking, Charlie gets tired of waiting in the salon and goes and sits on a bench outside.

As she takes in the sights and sounds around her, she hears her phone buzz in her purse, pulling it out to see a series of texts in her group chat with Aurora, Sienna, and Jackie.

Sienna: Hello???? We haven't heard from you in days!

Jackie: What Sienna really wants to ask is, have you banged Bryce yet?

Sienna: Jackie!

Aurora: Come on Sienna. You're the one who bet she'd give it up by night two

Charlie: OMG you guys are the worst! No, I am not sleeping with Bryce

Jackie: At least it got you to talk to us finally. So you mean to tell me you've been spending 24/7 with the hottest guy we've ever met and you haven't hit that yet? What a waste. If that were me...

Charlie: Ugh, I'm putting my phone away now

Sienna: Wait!

Sienna: For real though, how are things going?

Charlie starts to type the truth, how she's fallen hard and thinks there's a chance he might feel the same, but then she erases it. If she puts it all out there to her friends, it means she's admitting it to herself as well, and she's still not ready for that.

Charlie: Katelyn is as awful as ever, but Bryce has been a model fake boyfriend. I'm not sure I'd be staying sane without him

Sienna: ❤

Jackie: Oh, you so want him! You better tell us when you finally hook up

Aurora: Yes, please do so these two can finally shut up about it

Charlie: Probably not happening

Sienna: But you're saying there's a chance!

Charlie: SMH. Talk to you guys later

~~~

The girls go straight to lunch from the salon. Charlie checks her phone during a lull in the conversation and sees a text from Bryce.

Bryce: How's it going? Are you missing me terribly yet?

Charlie rolls her eyes but she can't help but smile.

Charlie: Seems you are the one who can't go more than two hours without texting me. Who is missing who here?

Bryce: What can I say? I'm getting used to having you around. What are you doing?

Charlie: Eating lunch. You?

Bryce: I grabbed some lunch on the way back from the gym. Now I'm going to get in the shower.

Charlie: I see

Bryce: Picturing me naked now, aren't you? I can give you a little visual to go with that if you want

Charlie has no idea what he means by that and she’s both curious and afraid to find out. She tries to think up a witty reply to reject his offer, but it’s too late because a photo is already coming through. She glances around the table and shields her phone just in case, and when it fully loads she’s glad she did. The picture is of Bryce taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror, positioned just right that if the bottom of the mirror was any lower, she’d be getting an explicit view. The room suddenly feels about twenty degrees warmer and she fumbles to type her response.

Charlie: OMG Bryce! I’m in public you know

Bryce: That’s why I didn’t show you the rest 😉

Charlie: Very funny. I think I'll be getting my fair share of naked men tonight

Bryce: Hey! You don't need them when you have me

Charlie: Sorry, gotta go! TTYL

Charlie laughs to herself as she decides to put her phone away. She's starting to get looks for being on her phone so much, but she also likes having the upper hand with Bryce for once. She'd figured it was no coincidence Bryce kissed her the way that he did right after finding out there would be strippers at the bachelorette party, and his texts seem to confirm he's at least a little bit jealous. She thinks it's funny he's worried at all about them, but then again, look where she is with the last stripper she met.

They finish up lunch and Kyra and Charlie get a drink together at the bar before getting ready for the party. Charlie makes a point not to check her phone until she gets back to the suite, making herself comfortable on the bed before scrolling through his messages.

Bryce: You're killing me Charlie

Bryce: How about this

Bryce: You can skip any amateur league lap dances or whatever, and I'll give you one when you get back. Since you've already had the best, I'd hate for you to be disappointed by someone else's sub-par performance

Bryce: Deal?

Bryce: I'm headed out on the fishing boat now, so I might not be very available for the rest of the evening. Just be safe and have fun

Charlie is glad she’s alone because she’s probably got the stupidest grin on her face right now. Of course he uses his cocky front to pretend like he’d be doing her a service, but when she reads between the lines, she can’t deny any more that he’s into her. She’s still terrified of what it all means, but she just might be ready to take a risk and find out.

~~~

“Damn, Charlie. You look hot!” Kyra compliments Charlie and her sweetheart neckline little black dress as she boards the party yacht. Katelyn gave strict instructions that all the bridesmaids were to wear black cocktail dresses, so she could stand out in white. At least they didn't have to wear any tacky "bride squad" t-shirts or penis paraphernalia.

“Thanks, you too! You’ve got legs for days!” Charlie remarks regarding Kyra’s short halter dress, and they both giggle.

"So what do you think of this boat? Pretty swanky, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess one good thing about Katelyn's desire to flaunt the family wealth is that we all get to benefit."

Kyra scoffs. "Must be nice to be on the rich side of the family."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Charlie apologizes. "My privileged asshole side is showing."

"Nah, you're good." Kyra claps her on the back. "For growing up like you did, you are surprisingly down to earth and relatively normal."

"And as painfully awkward and insecure as the best of them."

"Aww." Kyra pinches her playfully on the cheek. "That's what makes you so lovable. But not that insecurity crap. You are awesome and you should own it.”

Charlie sighs. “That’s the kind of thing Bryce keeps saying to me. Always telling me how amazing I am. It’s nauseating really.”

“Oh stop. If you don’t appreciate that man I will gladly take him off your hands.”

Charlie laughs. “No I’m good. I think I’ll keep him for awhile.” It comes out of her mouth so naturally, like she finally believes it’s a legit possibility rather than a hopeless fantasy.

"So, should we grab a drink?” Kyra shifts her eyes to the bar.

Charlie holds her arm out, as if to escort Kyra. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The boat soon fills up with the remainder of the party guests - the Sarahs, Stephanie, Landry’s other groomsmen’s significant others, and a handful Katelyn's other friends that have just arrived in Jamaica for the wedding. They aren’t all bad, but Kyra and Charlie mainly stick together. As they move from cocktails through dinner, the guests are getting increasingly tipsy, and Stephanie appears to be rethinking her decision to be trapped at sea with a bunch of drunk women.

Charlie heads to the bathroom for a timeout from the noise and the crowd as they head to port to pick up the strippers. She’s proud of how well she’s pacing herself as she’s still determined not to get as drunk as that first night ever again. There’s still no new texts from Bryce on her phone, but then again she never did text him back. She scrolls up to his bathroom selfie to study it again and just looking at it makes her think unspeakable things. The tease is almost better than seeing the whole thing.

Feeling a little brave with a couple of drinks in her, Charlie decides to send a selfie back. She fixes her hair in the mirror and straightens her dress. She’s got a decent amount of cleavage and her push-up bra is doing a fabulous job, but a little more wouldn’t hurt, so she adjusts her cups just so and snaps a picture, sending it off the caption, ‘hope you are having fun!’ Within seconds she can see Bryce is replying back.

Bryce: Woah. What are you doing wearing a dress like that when I’m not there to see you in it?

Charlie: There’s always later...

Bryce: I’m ready to go back to the room now if you are

Is he serious? It's tempting, but for a multitude of reasons, she can’t take him up on that offer even if he means it.

Charlie: But I can’t miss the strippers!

Bryce: You know I can take care of that for you

Charlie: But how do I know you are the best if I have nothing else to compare to?

Bryce: What am I going to do with you?

Charlie: Maybe later you can show me

What's gotten into her? Just yesterday she could hardly look at Bryce without blushing and now she's sending him suggestive text messages.

Bryce: Oh, you bet I will

Well now she's blushing. Charlie splashes some cool water on her face and composes herself, rejoining the group just as the boat pulls up to the dock.

A short time later, two men dressed as law enforcement officers enter the boat. Charlie knows exactly what's going on, but with all the alcohol that's been collectively consumed, it causes a commotion. Charlie and Kyra sit back and laugh as everyone tries to figure out what's going on.

“Oh my god. They are all dumbasses.” Kyra rolls her eyes. “We stopped specifically to pick up the strippers.”

Charlie shakes her head. “This might be more entertaining than the actual show.”

“Ladies, we have a problem here.” The tall one with a Jamaican accent starts as the other shorter one with sandy blond hair pulls something out of his duffel bag. “You’ve started the party without us!”

Suddenly "Get Ur Freak On” starts blasting out of a small portable speaker and the two men tear away their shirts in unison. Once the initial confusion wears off, the drunk women start cheering. The strippers make their way to the makeshift stage area, while the party guests find seats in the chairs that were previously set up around it. Charlie and Kyra sit off as far as possible to the side to avoid being directly in the action.

“Well they aren’t bad-looking at least,” Kyra assesses from afar.

But they aren’t Bryce either. “They’re okay. Neither is really my type though.”

“Well when you have someone as perfect as Bryce, it’s hard to compare. I bet he’d make one hell of a good stripper.” Charlie shoots Kyra a look that in her mind conveys the terror of hitting too close to his secret being out, but Kyra must perceive it as something else. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t thirst after your boyfriend like that, but I’ve seen the way he can move.”

Charlie laughs nervously. “I’ll suggest it as a backup career if the whole surgeon thing falls through.” She breathes a side of relief that Kyra doesn’t really know his secret, but talking about him makes her think to check her phone again, and sure enough there’s another text from Bryce.

Bryce: Help! Bob is trying to make me keep up with him, and dude is like a professional drinker

Charlie: I doubt he’s forcing drinks down your throat. You can pace yourself

Charlie: Anyway, gotta go. Strippers are here! Charlie takes a quick picture of the shirtless dancers, still with police hats on, and sends it to Bryce before stashing her phone away.

The strippers, or Clive and Dan as they have introduced themselves, continue on to do their stripper thing, getting down to their very tiny underwear with ass cheeks bared. Charlie’s time in the strip club two weeks ago was more than enough exotic dancing for her to see in person for one lifetime, but she is enjoying watching the other women act like fools. In fact, Katelyn seems far more interested in these men than she ever has in Landry, but that’s not surprising. She always figured Katelyn would go for the first available man who could put up with her. Katelyn completed her undergraduate, but her real goal was the Mrs. degree.

Dan comes over towards Charlie with a massage oil slicked chest and encourages her to rub her hands on him to which she politely declines. However, Kyra has no problem jumping right in, and Charlie gives her the side-eye as soon as he moves on.

“What? Just because this is cheesy as hell doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it. So far the only man I have touched in any way, shape or form on this trip is Bob.” Kyra shudders. “You have Bryce’s abs. Let me have these.”

Charlie chuckles. “You’re right. Feel all the abs. No more judgement from me.”

The men alternate taking paying customers back to the captain’s quarters for brief, private lap dances, and when Kyra is approached by Dan, she takes him up on it. Charlie uses it as an excuse to step outside and check in with Bryce.

Bryce: Dude, cop outfits? That is laaaaaaaame

Charlie: Says the man who dresses up as a surgeon

Roughly two minutes later, Bryce replies back

Bryce: But theirs is fake

Charlie: And yours isn’t?

Bryce: Ive hadd lots to drunk. Bobby can be persusave

Charlie: I can see that. Don’t drink too much more. I don’t think I could carry you home.

Bryce: Don’t worry I fiiine. And rememembre Im the only stripper who gets to give you a lapdance.

Charlie: We’ll see about that

Charlie leaves it at that and heads back inside. What she means is that given the state he seems to be in, she doubts he’ll be in any condition for anything but but bed when they get back. If he interprets it as her teasing that she might get a lap dance from one of these guys, she’s okay with that. He didn’t heed her advice to slow down on the booze, so he shouldn’t expect her to follow his direction either.

The strip show winds down after Katelyn gets a very lengthy private lapdance with Clive that raises some eyebrows, and not long after the boat pulls into the dock where the women are meeting up with Landry’s party.

“Woah!” Charlie struggles to maintain her balance with her first couple steps. “I haven’t had that much to drink. I guess sea legs are a real thing.”

“Somehow its easier to be tipsy and walk in heels on a yacht than it is to walk on solid ground right now,” Kyra observes. “Oh look, the guys are already here.” She nods towards the shoreline where most of the men don’t look in any better shape than the women.

Despite the fact that most everyone could stand to go home and go to bed immediately, the majority decide to hit up more clubs downtown.

“I think Bryce, and I are just going to head back,” Charlie tells Kyra.

“Oh, yes.” Bryce agrees. “I’ve been waiting all night to get this one to myself.” He grabs Charlie and gives her a big, sloppy drunk kiss.

Kyra laughs. “Have fun with that.”

“Are you sure you are good if I leave?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, I’ll stick with the group. Plus Dan said he’d make sure I got back safely.” Kyra motions towards the now dressed in normal street clothes dancer.

In the past Charlie would have been concerned about her friend going home with a stripper she’d just met, but now she’d be quite the hypocrite to raise objection. “I’m sure he will,” Charlie winks at Kyra and decides she’s been spending entirely too much time with Bryce.

Charlie guides Bryce on the short walk to the resort, and he wastes no time questioning her about her evening.

“Didn’t you see my last texts?”

“Oh, did you send me some more?” Charlie plays coy. She did briefly glance at his series of replies saying he hoped she was joking and worrying about why she wasn’t texting him back. She wants to mess with him some more, but now that he’s there in front of her she doesn’t have the heart. “Don’t worry, I saved my lap just for you.”

Bryce perks up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You know I really did miss you tonight.” Bryce puts his arm around Charlie but stumbles and almost brings them both to the ground. “Oops, sorry.”

“Let’s just focus on getting back to the room without incident.”

They step inside the building and make it up to the room. Charlie isn’t sure what Bryce still has planned, but she knows nothing but sleep is happening for him tonight. Charlie guides Bryce to the bedroom and sits down on the bed to take off her heels.

Bryce walks up in front of Charlie and starts playing with the first button on his shirt. “Are you ready for your show?” He works at the button but doesn’t even seem to have the coordination to get it undone.

“Maybe I should help you.” Charlie stands up and moves his hands to the side, easily popping the top button.

“I like where this is going buuut this isn’t how strippers work, silly.”

Charlie laughs under her breath. “I know but this shirt’s a little tricky for you right now. I’ll just undo the buttons.”

“Okay.” Bryce leans in close and sniffs her hair. “You smell so good Charlie. I just want to eat you.”

Bryce is wasted and as much as Charlie would typically be annoyed at this type of behavior, it’s the first time Bryce has let himself give up any sort of control around her. He’s actually kind of adorable when he’s drunk and she still owes him for taking care of her on that first night anyway.

Charlie slides the shirt over his shoulders and tosses it on the back of the armchair in the room. “I’m going to go change in the bathroom and let you finish up out here.

“Wait!” Bryce grabs her by the shoulders and sits her back down on the bed. “The show is not over yet. Bryce hastily peels off his undershirt with no finesse whatsoever and then unbuttons his jeans. He drops them down and when he tries to kick them off his feet, he goes tumbling to his hands and knees.”

“Are you okay?” Charlie untangles the pants and helps him to the bed.

“Maybe you were right. This was not my best performance. I owe you an IOU. Wait, does that sound right?” Bryce scratches his head.

Charlie shakes her head. “Just get comfortable and I’ll get you some water so you aren’t hating life in the morning.”

Bryce chugs down one glass and then another before lying back, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Charlie, you are the best. We should be together...for reeeaal. We’re both so pretty and we can be sucs- sussess- good doctors together.”

Charlie covers him with a sheet and tries to refrain from bursting out laughing because he’s clearly talking nonsense right now. “Goodnight, Bryce,” she whispers softly, but is only answered back by the sound of his snores.

#playchoices fanfic #open heart #bryce x mc #bryce lahela #Stripped Bare #my fic

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mrsedmercer · 5 years

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Steamy Love (A Tom Hiddleston x Reader) Chapter 22: ~Gossip~

Summary: Now that filming has officially wrapped, you and Tom can get to the interviews! Though your first one takes an odd turn. A turn you refuse to let end on a bad note.

Warnings: Trash talk towards a certain ex of Tom Hiddleston.

Read it on my Wattpad: Wattpad.com/HiddlesStar

Word count: 1412

Tags: @theoneanna @midnightdragonzero @drakesfiance @kcd15 @ihthr @deviantsendbyreallife @bookgirlunicorn @cherrygeek86

After a couple more days, your friend returned home. The first couple days without them here really reminded you of home, and how much you missed it. You could really feel the homesickness creeping in. You're sure Tom had noticed it too, but you two never talked about it. Y'all still have amazing sex, of course, and your doubts nearly melt away anytime he looks at you, or smiles, or laughs, or blinks...

You may be in love with him. You're still not exactly sure, but something's there. Something stronger than before.

A couple more weeks went by. Filming was completely done, though you and Tom were asked to stay in the area for another month, just in case you needed to do reshoots. Tom's hair had really grown by the end of the month. You knew he was keeping it long partially for Betrayal, the Harold Pinter play he is said to star in. His beard was more ginger than you thought it'd be, though he'd always remind you that he always had a lot of natural ginge in his hair as a teen. You were so used to him with brown hair. You liked the beard, though. His jaw looked hella nice with it. You've just been kinda stroking it when you lay together in bed, among other things on him.

You and Tom weren't entirely done with the film, though. Now were some of the fun parts of starring in a film.

The interviews!

You and Tom had one scheduled later for today. You've never been in an interview like this before, so you were a little nervous. Tom was calming you down and explaining how it works.

...I mean, you were laying in bed naked with him, so it was easy for him to calm you.

"I promise you, the interviewers I've had have always been very polite. They're very kind people." Tom reassured you, softly caressing your bare arm as he held you against his chest.

"I just hope I don't make a fool out of myself.." You admitted, nuzzling his chest some. "And I hope that I'm not ignored...but I also want some attention, y'know?.." You chuckled a bit. "Oh man, I really didn't think I'd get to this point..."

"What, the interview? Or laying here naked with me for the 20th day in a row?" Tom asked jokingly, making you chuckle again.

"The interview, smartass.." You nudged Tom, making him laugh a bit."I just hope I get it right."

"Well, there's no real way to get an interview 'wrong', unless you're just rude.." Tom replied. "Which I highly doubt you'd be."

"But what if I get a question wrong? Or can't answer a certain question because it might be spoilery?" You asked with a slight pout.

"Then I'll answer it for you." Tom smiled. "Interviews like the ones we're going to are pretty edited when they air. Any fumbles will surely be edited out. I promise you.."

You gave a little smile, giving him a soft peck on the lips. "Your voice is soothing to listen to.." You admitted. You genuinely felt better already, just because of his voice.

"Oh?.." He smiled at you, pecking the side of your head. "You like my voice?.." His tone changed, becoming slightly mischievous.

"Hey, relax, big dog.." You spoke up, turning your head to look at him with a smile. "I'm still sore from before.."

"It's getting harder everyday to resist.." Tom admitted with a smirk. "But you're right.."

You smiled, carefully moving away and getting out of bed.

"Maybe when we get back.." Tom added, getting out of bed to get dressed as well.

You just rolled your eyes playfully and laughed. You love that he's always wanting to be all over you. You hope he keeps the bedroom eyes to himself at the interview, though part of you wants to see it if he can't help it.

You guys got dressed and headed to the location where the interview would take place. Movie posters or anything haven't been publically released yet, so the only photos of you two on that back wall just a single still straight from the outside set.

You got to meet the interviewer after a short wait. It was a woman, which is pretty common, and she seemed super nice. She really got along with Tom, though everyone seems to get along with Tom. You could tell she was a little more focused than him rather than you, but you understood why. He was a much bigger celebrity than you were. You were fine if she chose to ask him most of the questions.

When the interview started, she introduced herself to you two, giving both of you a friendly handshake. Her name was Sarah. The chairs you got to sit in were a little small, but they weren't uncomfortable.

"Hi! It's very nice to meet you two!" She greeted you both with an on camera hand shake, giving a big smile. She had bright purple lipstick on that didn't really match the rest of her makeup, but you didn't judge. Maybe that's just a style or something.

The questions that were asked were, as expected, mostly directed at Tom. There were a couple questions you were both able to answer, though, like what to expect from the movie, what both of your favourite on set moment was, if there's gonna be any steamy bits. You happily answered that last one, remembering in the back of your head how odd the scene was to actually film.

Having actually slept with Tom beforehand, you could tell in the moment that his pants and moans were indeed an act, though you'd be lying if you didn't get a little heated during the whole thing. The crew just thought it was excellent acting, thankfully.

One of the last questions were about that iconic sudden kiss at the clothing shop a couple weeks back, when unbeknownst to anyone else, you had been in a bad argument with Tom beforehand, and that kiss was proof of your feelings for one another being real. Being genuine.

It seemed like a pretty harmless question, until...

"Do you feel like this new relationship will have consequences on future opportunities?" The interviewer asked Tom, who was a little confused by the question.

"What do you mean?" He asked curiously.

"Well, I mean, for example, if I may compare this to your previous relationship with famous singer Taylor Swift..." Sarah began. As she said that, you felt an anxious pit in your stomach. You felt a little sick. Really? Why mention her? Why now? This was going so well before this.

"...While she is not known for being in the acting biz, like the wonderful (Y/N) here, she was definitely more up on your level as a celebrity.."

You could see Tom was trying not to get upset by that, but you recognized that look in his eye. That look of disappointment.

You decided to take control of this interview for a change.

"Look, I don't know that chick personally, but when was the last time she wrote about something other than her ex's?" You asked, leaning forward some. "I mean, she has dozens of songs, right? Lotta albums sold? How many dead roses are in her closet by now?"

You could hear the few crew members in the back either hold back from laughing, or clearly break out in quiet chuckles amoungst each other.

"Am I wrong?" You looked around with a chuckle. "You wanna know what Tom doesn't have to worry about? Me throwing away his gifts and signs of affection for a new word document on my expensive laptop.."

You could tell the interviewer was rather shocked to hear that, though it was hard to tell if she was personally offended or impressed. Tom was clearly hiding a smile. He was definitely impressed, and was shifting around to stop himself from laughing. That meant a lot to him.

"That's a wrap!" Someone on set called, allowing the interviewer to give one final awkward goodbye before walking off with her paper. Tom looked at you, giving a slight chuckle.

"I really hope they leave that in.." He admitted, making you smile brightly.

You made sure to ask the right person for a copy of the full, unedited interview just before you and Tom would return home. You couldn't wait to tell the stream chat about this tomorrow.

#tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom Hiddleston x Reader #tom Hiddleston x you #fanfiction #steamy love #wattpad

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rllovestoskate · 7 years

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Pictures

It was easily arguable that Steve was one of the best friends Sam had ever had. They lived together, they ate together, they worked out together, they watched ridiculous Netflix dramas together. Considering all of the things they did together, Sam knew many things he’d rather not know about Steve. He knew that he eats peanut butter by the spoonful and double dips into the jar, he knows that he has three pairs of wonder woman underwear, and he knows that he will send back an anchovy pizza with extra anchovies because it doesn't have enough anchovies on it. However knowing all of these things, he knows very little of any importance, and hardly any details that would lend themselves to anything before the day Sam had met him.

When you were to meet someone over six feet with shoulders as broad as you are tall, you tend to assume that when they say they’re willing to go running with you it means they're not going to collapse a half a mile in. Sam had seen Steve at the gym almost every time he’d been there, leg day, arm day, chest day. He was polite enough, one of those acquaintances that you greet when you see even if you don’t know there name. But three months of casual hellos turned into spotting and conversations and then they were gym buddies who waited for each other and texted if they were going to be late. And asking Steve to accompany him for a few miles in the morning before a workout seemed only polite.

“Hey man what up,” Sam called as he rounded the corner, moving into a jog as he approached Steve.

Steve looked up and smiled, shrugged one shoulder, “Hey Sam.” He fell into step and moved onto the sidewalk, letting Sam set a pace.

Looking back Sam knew that if he had known Steve the way he does now he would have noticed something off. But on that day Steve’s responses of “I’m fine” and “just an off day” explained away all huffing and puffing. But kneeling over into the grass, unable to speak, grabbing at his jacket pocket was not anything Sam would believe was a bad day.

“Steve! Steve! Look at me!” Steve was avoiding his eyes, taking wheezing breaths, hunched over himself in a painful looking way. At some point Sam simply reached into the pocket Steve was still fumbling for, stunned to pull out a inhaler. Steve snatched it out of his hand and with a few puffs was breathing normally enough to stand.

“Steve, I swear to god, you don’t tell someone you’ll go on a run with them if you have fucking asthma,” Sam said, head in his hands. This was just the kind of thing Steve would do, three months and occasional conversation hadn’t kept him from realizing that Steve didn’t know how to say no, especially when it came to his friends.

“It’s fine Sam,” Steve was panting, “not a big deal, ya know. I just haven’t run in while, not in shape.

“Okay, no. The amount you bench press tells me that this had nothing to do with you not being in shape and everything to do with not telling me that going on a run is going to cause you’re freaking airways to close.”

Steve looked away sheepishly, still trying to uphold his poorly supported lie “Don’t worry about it Sam I’ll live, know how to handle it”

“Yeah, obviously,” Sam said, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “But that certainly doesn’t mean that you're going to ignore me when I say I’m making you breakfast. Gotta make sure you don’t keel over on the way home.”

And so a pile of pancakes two stories tall turned into a weekly thing. Which then turned into lunches and crashing on the couch and “it’s cheaper for both of us Steve, I’m not saying you’re incapable” and then they were living together. And Sam was suddenly surrounded a man that didn’t know how to choose clothing that fit and a disgusting habit of making his bed. And asthma went at the very top of the list of things Sam knows about Steve.

Slowly the list grew to include that he grew up in Brooklyn, either had no family or refused to see or talk about them, and took the 3 hour train ride from D.C. to New york every other month, and came home to grumpy to be around. Sam knew that Steve had an art degree which he often complained about one day and blessed the next. And he knew that Steve used this degree for freelance work, which seems to Sam to consist entirely of being yelled at by people on the phone and then subsequently complain to him about it.

However this list included no childhood memories or facts about parents and someone this closed off was just yelling at the psychologist inside him. But Sam had a very strict rule of not using his therapy voice on his friends, which meant no pushing, even if Steve was a spitting image about everything he’d been taught about the consequences of suppressed emotion. So Sam tried to discreetly mention a therapist friend or group a colleague had told him about, but he knew had to respect someone's boundaries.

The day the list grew exponentially started about as normal as any other meaning not at all normal because when Sam woke up Steve was hopping around the living room with a shoe in one hand and his phone in the other looking quite insane.

“Dude what freaking time is it, what the hell are you doing?” Sam wandered out of his bedroom, to tired to really care.

“Oh god Sam I’m late, I’m so late. I’m supposed to be downtown in an hour and the traffic’s going to be crap and I’m so, so late.” Steve finally had his shoe on and was shucking on a jacket, turning about looking for his keys.

Sam poured a cup a coffee and said “You’re fine, quit freaking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m certainly not fine,” Steve said, “this meeting, this meeting is….” he ran into his room and came back with a wallet. “...a big company Sam, could be real money, so important.”

Sam simply nodded, he’d seen Steve like this before, harebrained and on thin ice. He’d freak out all the way there before blowing away some important customer and coming home with expensive cheese because that was the sort of thing Steve spent extra money on. So he pushed Steve out the door, gave him a thumbs up, which Steve frowned at, and went back to his coffee.

A few hours later Sam was studying, a masters was hard work let him tell you about it, when Steve called.

“Steve! How was the meeting?”

“It was good, they offered me the job and…”

“See I told you you could do it.”

“That’s not the point they want me at another office in a half hour and I told them I already had rudimentary plans drawn up and I have ones that will work but I don't have them with me and I don’t have that much time and,” he paused, “will you get them for me?”

“I don’t know why you’re worked up of course I’ll get them, calm down, you got the job. You should be happy.”

“I am happy, just stressed”

“Well don’t worry about it, tell me where to find these plans and you can swing by on the way, I’ll even come down and give to ya. You won’t even have to come upstairs.”

“That great Sam, you’re great. There’s an old portfolio in the top of my closet, it’s green.”

“Green portfolio top of the closet, I got it man. Text me when you get here.”

Once he’d hung up Sam stood and stretched, walking into the hall and towards Steve's room. In the closet the portfolio was easily spotted but not so easy to get down and Sam managed to knock down what seemed nearly every other box on the shelf in reaching for it. So the portfolio was put safely aside ready for Steve while Sam attempted to put everything back. A few boxes went back on the shelves but one had landed on it’s side, dumping its contents onto the floor.

Dozens of photos now littered the floor and Sam had to pick them all up.

Two boys on the front steps of a small house with little backpacks and big smiles. “Steve and Bucky first day of kindergarten” on the back.

A wedding, a young couple maybe 20 standing at an altar. “Sarah and Joe 1990”

A boy at least 15 who looks like Steve, except smaller than Sam ever knew him, sitting on the hood of a blue truck.

A toddler with a shock of blond hair and tears down his face in the arms of a man wearing fatigues, the man from the wedding photo.

The two boys again, both with shaved heads, and the one who’s clearly Steve has yellow skin and gaunt cheeks. “First round of chemo 2001”

A beautiful blond woman looking in wonder around time square. “We’re not in Ireland anymore”

A close up of the boy, Bucky, a teenager now, except he has purple bruises all down the side of his face, a black eye, and a deep cut on his cheek.

Steve again, no older than nine, a little black suit, next to the brown haired boy and the woman who Sam knows is his mother, a coffin, and a folded up flag.

A small family in the front of a church, a baby in the woman’s arms. “Steven’s christening 1991”

A pair of blue jeans and boots sticking out from under a beat up blue truck.

Steve looking small from behind a barred window, an unfamiliar background, and a woman behind him yelling at whoever’s taking the picture.

A hospital where Bucky leans over the bed and a woman who looks like him holds a baby and a man on the other side, the only one not smiling. “Becca’s born 2007”

Steve older again, bigger, almost an adult, maybe 18, except he’s in a wheelchair and there’s an IV and he has no hair and a scar on his scalp.

A million copies of either boy when they don’t know there’s a camera.

Two graves one says Sarah 2005 and the other Joe 1998 and in the middle is the back of a blond head of hair, framed by sunlight.

Two toddlers sticking their heads out of a blanket fort.

A room covered in beer bottles, and Bucky with a trash bag while a man in a wife-beater sleeps sleeps in the background a gun on the end table.

Another funeral and Bucky has tears this time, he’s holding a wailing baby.

A set of knees obscures the picture but you can a priest standing over a hospital bed, head down and beads in hand, a small body on the bed.

A large run down house with a dead lawn and a wooden sign that reads “Mrs. Marge’s Foster Home”

Steve and Bucky, in a tree house this time.

The little girl, Becca, waving from the back of a car and Bucky in the foreground not waving back.

The boys again but Steve is too skinny and too pale, and Bucky with too many bruises, but they’re both smiling.

The view from a passenger seat of truck, the brown hair of the driver obscuring his face but you can see Brooklyn in the background.

Police in the driveway of the little house and a man in handcuffs, and a stretcher with a body.

Steve in the hospital and Bucky with his head on the sheet’s, they're both asleep.

Bucky tickling a little girl who’s not yet one, supported on his hip.

Steve leaned over a notebook, tongue sticking out of his mouth. Just the way just the way Sam’s seen a million times.

They’re sitting on the front stoop of the same house a big poster that says “no more cancer” it’s dated 2003

A cross in the middle of an intersection, where Bucky’s setting roses, it says Sarah across the front.

Bucky and Steve with party hats and a cake. “Bucky’s 8th Birthday”

The boys younger again sitting on the lap of the woman who looks like Bucky who’s holding a children’s book.

A brown haired young man in a set of fatigues, and he’s walking out of the room with hunched shoulders, clearly taken from a hospital bed.

Two boys one with blond hair and one with brown, faces squished together both smiling sunshine smiles.

And Sam picked them all up. And he put them back in the box. And he put it the box back on the shelf. And he grabbed the portfolio and went downstairs because his phone had just pinged. And when Steve thanked him he only nodded. Cause he didn’t know what to think.

And Sam thought himself a good friend. But he didn’t think anyone was capable of taking this in without questions. Maybe he should tell someone. But Steve was clearly didn’t even want him to know. And he thought that they were best friends, and best friends tell each other when they’ve accidentally discovered each other's deep dark secrets. But they’re not supposed to have them anyway.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #stucky #stevexbucky

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illuminating-dragons · 7 years

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Nesting (8/?): This Moment Here With You

Summary: This is Sam and Sarah's big day!

Read it on AO3

Sam leaned against the door of the gallery, watching Sarah talk to a buyer. The older woman was smiling and nodding, and Sam felt a burst of pride. Sarah didn’t just sell art; she sold stories. She would have tracked down the perfect painting for this lady, taking into account her past, her present, and her interior decorating.

Sam hid his own painting behind his back. He’d never been good at drawing; stick figures were sometimes beyond him. But he’d worked hard on this one for a couple of months, and he really wanted Sarah’s opinion.

When the lady brushed past him with her painting, Sarah looked up. “Hi baby. You ready for lunch?”

“Actually, I’m not hungry.” He really wasn’t, he was so nervous. “Could you take a look at this?” The canvas was wrapped tightly, hiding the finished product of two months worth of broken brushes, empty paint tubes, and late nights staying awake and staring at the blankness, trying to decide if he felt ready to fill it in.

He was, but was she?

Sarah took it in surprise. “Who is this from?”

“Me.” Sam hesitated for a second. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“Sam?”

But he was already down the stairs and into his second-hand bookstore. There wasn’t anyone in right now; it was his usual lunch hour. Smith Center wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to support this little store, and next to the Bunker it was Sam’s favourite place in the world. Now he paced the aisles, feeling dizzy.

He heard Sarah’s footsteps on the stairs and walked quickly towards the cash register. To his dismay, Sarah didn’t follow him. She was walking purposefully, looking for something. Sam craned his neck and saw her pull a book off the shelf and scribble something in it.

Heart in his throat, Sam watched her approach, hands behind her back. When she got up to the counter, she put a book down.

“I want this one.”

The Princess Bride.

Sam had a flashback to their first date.

Their first real date, at a diner that actually made amazing salads and chicken burgers. “I hate that my name means princess,” Sarah groaned. “I never wanted to be one.”

“I think you’d be a kickass princess,” Sam argued. “Princess of art and awesomeness.”

Sam picked up the book with trembling hands, and opened it.

In Sarah’s messing handwriting was one simple word, a word that held so much power.

Yes.

Sam walked around the counter. “Really?”

Sarah nodded, eyes shining. “Yes!”

Sam swept her into his arms, her arms going around his neck as he held her. “I promise I’ll be good,” he whispered.

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” Sarah replied. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Oh!” Sam fumbled in his pocket for the box. “I have a ring.”

Sarah’s eyes widened when she saw the ring. “Sam…”

“Bobby helped me find it,” Sam explained. “It’s not a diamond, I know how you feel about those. It’s moissanite.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sarah whispered. “And it’s so sparkly!”

Sam grinned as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “Only the best for my princess,” he said.

Sarah nestled against him. “I guess I can be your princess. But only you.”

Sam held her close, tears in his eyes. “As you wish, my lady.”

The ‘S’ wedding was the third ‘Men of Letters’ wedding (Donna and Jody jokingly referred to themselves as the Hipster Hunters, ‘creating networks before it was cool’), so it was a calmer project.

Sarah made her own dress with Anna’s help, and she spent the bulk of the lead-up to the wedding working on that and the decorations. Hannah, Meg and Gabriel got involved too, and one of the big storerooms in the Bunker was off-limits for everyone else.

Sam was in charge of the rest (which was mildly terrifying), but he pulled himself together. He asked Benny, Dean and Jody if they would help with cooking, and planned a menu, he sent out invitations to the few guests who didn’t live in Lebanon, and he got a playlist together. That was the toughest part.

Sarah enjoyed music greatly, and her taste was much more eclectic than his. She’d already given him a list of songs she wanted to play absolutely, but as for their first dance…

He just didn’t know what to do.

There were songs that reminded him of parts of them, parts of their relationship, but Sam couldn’t think of one song that could sum them up perfectly.

It was finally two weeks before the wedding, and in utter desperation Sam asked Dean. “I feel like a failure,” he confessed bitterly. “How come I can’t find the right song?”

“You’re thinking about it the wrong way,” Dean answered. “Cas picked ours because he felt like it told his story waiting for me.”

“Awwww…”

Dean didn’t even blush. Sam was so proud. “If she’s giving you the song choice, give her a story. Find one that feels like you’re saying it.”

And just like that, Sam remembered a band Sarah loved unapologetically, one that he was sure had a song for them.

He was right.

The wedding guests were partly from Sarah’s family (some of whom weren’t totally impressed with Sarah’s decision to move to the middle of nowhere, Kansas), so the magic in the ceremony had to be even more understated than Jody and Donna’s wedding. It was present in the smaller things: a bit of extra room, guests from Heaven, the easing of joint pain in the older and injured guests so they could enjoy themselves.

Sam barely noticed. The bookstore was crowded with people (even with most of the books moved upstairs by his three best men), and the walls were draped in soft blue fabric, embroidered with silver flowers and golden stars. He stood near the counter, waiting for Sarah to come down the stairs.

And she came, drifting down the stairs on her father’s arm.

Sam’s heart nearly stopped. Her dress was beautiful, and he recognized the pattern—Buttercup’s dress from the Princess Bride. Only instead of pale blue it was silver, shining against Sarah’s skin. The tiara sparkled against her dark hair.

The crowd stared in awe as Sarah approached, smiling hugely under her misty veil. Her father was crying, and Sam realized that his own eyes were blurring.

Sarah hugged her Dad, and he lifted the veil from her face and pressed her hand into Sam’s. Sam took her other hand, held them close in his much larger ones.

Chuck was watching them, and it was a moment before he cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Their vows were the traditional ones, passed down in a church Sarah’s mother had once belonged to. Sarah knew God now, had angels for in-laws, but she asked if they could do as close to a Catholic wedding as you could outside a church for her mother, and Sam had agreed.

And even though he’d heard the words before, heard them thousands of times in movies, they felt powerful and strong when he spoke them.

“I do,” he said. I will do everything to love you, to take care of you, because you are the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.

“I do,” Sarah said, and he heard I will love you and cherish you, I will never leave because you are my home.

And he kissed her, hoping that she’d heard him, that she understood.

And one look in her eyes when the kiss ended, her shining, beautiful eyes, told him she had.

The bookstore was far too small for dancing, even with Gabriel’s “tweaking”, so they walked together down to the hall. It was decorated too, and it felt like they’d stepped into a softer world, one where their families could be friends and chat without fear.

Maybe it wasn’t a different world, Sam mused as he ate with Sarah on his lap. Maybe it was the one they were starting to build.

Dean tapped his glass, and Sam grinned at Sarah. “I win,” he whispered.

Sarah kissed the grin off his face. “You had the advantage.”

Sam smiled and watched his brother stand. Yes, he was pretty sure Dean was going to be the one that did the speech. Cas had sorted out his outfit, and Adam had been dealing with minor crises (spilled wine, crying second cousin, odd symbol on one of the napkins).

“I’m not going to go on too long,” Dean promised. “I know my brother’s looking forward to his first dance. I’ve been helping him practice, and boy did he need it!”

Sam scowled at him. He wasn’t a naturally graceful dancer, sue him. There was no need for everyone to start referring to him as ‘Moose’.

“Anyways, where are my notecards…damn it. Guess I’m winging it.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Sammy, when we were growing up you always talked about the lady you wanted to fall in love with. You wanted someone beautiful and brave, who liked to read and didn’t like licorice.”

Sarah laughed. Sarah gave him a thumbs up.

“You wanted someone kind, too,” Dean continued. “Someone who liked dogs, who liked to cuddle, and who wanted to help people. I always told you that there was no such woman, that there would never be anyone that perfect. Truth was, I never thought you’d find anyone good enough for you, who’s all those things yourself.”

Sam’s throat went tight.

“And now look,” Dean said. “You found her, Sammy, and I was so wrong.” He raised his glass to Sarah. “Welcome to the family, little sister! I’ll educate you about licorice someday!”

Sarah wiped her eyes.

“Alright, time for dancing!” Dean’s voice was gruff now, and Sam could see the effort he was putting in to not breaking down. “You ready, Sammy?”

Sam set Sarah on her feet and led her to the dance floor. He took her in his arms and nodded to Dean.

There’s a place

I’ve been looking for

That took me in and out of buildings

Behind windows, walls and doors

Sarah’s face lit up as they started to dance. “How did you know?” she whispered as he spun her around.

“Knew what?” Sam asked, baffled .

“This is how I think about you,” Sarah said. She leaned her head against his chest. “I know…I know you’ve had it bad Sam. And I can’t understand what you went through. But there have been a lot of moments where I thought I would never be happy. Never have this. I’m glad I do now.”

Sam held her as tight as he could, letting the music swirl around them for a moment. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m so happy that I have the chance to do the same for you. We’re together now, and everything is going to be alright. We’re here.”

Sarah laughed. “Come on, baby. Let’s keep dancing.”

And I wouldn’t change a thing,

I’d walk right back through the rain,

Back to every broken heart on the day that it was breaking.

And I’d relive all the years,

And be thankful for the tears,

I’ve cried with every stumbled step that led to you,

And got me here.

Hours later, a little while after the older guests were starting to leave, Sam went outside for a break. His head was spinning a bit from champagne (he’d lost his tolerance for alcohol), and he took a few deep breaths of the soft spring air.

“You look happy, Sam.”

Chuck had materialized beside him.

“I am happy,” Sam said, inclining his head. “And that is thanks to you.”

Chuck shook his head. “You’re not very good at giving yourself credit. Or your wife, for that matter.”

“I didn’t mean her,” Sam said hurriedly. “I just meant that you—you brought me to her.”

“No, I didn’t.” Chuck sounded like he was patiently explaining to a two year old why the square block wasn’t fitting in the triangle slot. “I gave you a sign that you could be happy with her. You and Sarah created your love together. That had nothing to do with me. I am very happy that it worked out, and you’re both to be congratulated.”

Sam bowed his head again.

“Sarah told me she’s only accepting her ‘princess’ name because she likes being your princess,” Chuck mused. “Do you know what your name means, Samuel?”

Sam looked at him, startled by the change in his voice. There was a deeper tone to it, more like the Voice that silenced the chaos in Heaven a few years before.

“I…I don’t, actually.”

“Samuel has two meanings. It can mean ‘Name of God’—which is a bit confusing, frankly, and why I didn’t use it—but it also means ‘God has heard’.” Chuck tilted Sam’s chin so that their eyes met. “Sam, I have left you unanswered for too long, and you have come through many trials with a worthy soul. Go in peace now, with hope in your heart. I will hear you.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for starting to do my job again.” Chuck drew Sam down and kissed his forehead. “Enjoy your party. Enjoy your family. Enjoy your bride. The Bahamas, right?”

“Sarah really wanted to go,” Sam said.

Chuck laughed. “Pack sunscreen!”

“I will.”

“Goodbye, Sam. See you soon.” And Chuck vanished.

When Sam and Sarah returned from the Bahamas, the first thing they did was hang up the painting Sam had made for Sarah. It was a simple picture, and one day their youngest daughter would draw far better. Sarah still called it the greatest work of art she’d ever seen.

It was a sketch of a slightly-better-than-stick man kneeling in front of a woman surrounded by canvases. Each canvas had a letter on it.

They spelled out ‘Will you marry me?’

Song used: ‘Here’ by Rascal Flatts

#spn fanfiction #spn au #sam winchester #sarah blake #sam winchester/sarah blake #AWOBS verse #nesting #wedding #acme146 fanfiction #crosspost from AO3 #rascal flatts song

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endoftheline72 · 7 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 3 - Repost for Tumblr

She’d give him another ten minutes. Just ten more, then after that, she would let the panic that she’d been talking herself around for last two hours take control. The light was fading, the wind had doubled in the last half hour and the snow was now falling so heavily that Caitriona had trouble seeing more than a few feet out the window and he still hadn’t returned. Johnathon had left earlier in the day to climb the small mountain in an effort to get signal on the phone and alert the outside world of her whereabouts.

The weather had been reasonably good then and Johnathon had explained it shouldn’t take him more than a few hours. That was four hours ago and Caitriona was really beginning to worry. If anything happened to him what on earth would she do? She could barely hobble more than a few feet, even on the crutches that Johnathon had found tucked away in the attic. If he was hurt out there, she had no way of helping him or of even helping herself. She glanced at the clock. Eight minutes. Flicking the blankets back and mentally bracing herself against the anticipated pain, she slowly lifted her leg, swinging it over the edge of the bed and fumbling for the crutches. She sucked in a breath as her foot hung down towards the floor, the blood throbbing painfully to the joint. “Breathe.” She murmured, her mind recalling the gentle instruction Johnathon had quietly spoken to her earlier that day when he’d wrapped her ankle again, “Just breathe.” If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost hear him, the deep timbre of his voice, soft patience in his clear blue eyes, the warmth of his hand on her arm as he’d knelt before her, waiting with her for the pain to pass. Now, like then, the pain began to ease with each breath, at least to the point where it no longer left red streaks darting behind her eyelids.

Six minutes. Shaking hands gripped the crutches and Caitriona awkwardly hauled herself unsteadily to her feet. Breathe. After every small step she was forced to stop, wait for the pain to ease, then take another wobbly, off balance step. It took every bit of concentration she had not to topple over. Fortunately, concentration seemed to take priority over panic, every step helping her to calm herself. Three more steps and she’d be level with the kitchen bench. Step and breathe. Four minutes. She was almost there when she heard them. The distinctly heavy thud of boots on the front porch. The door pushed inwards bringing with it a gust of frozen air and the snow dusted blond head of Johnathon. Worried blue eyes met his, taking in his tall, solid form. “Thank God.” She said on a long breath as her eyes slid closed. The relief of seeing him, alive and in one piece, flooded through her, hands shaking as the crutches absently clanked to the floor. In an instant he seemed to be beside her, a strong arm wrapping around her waist, holding her steady, “Think you better sit down before you fall down.” His deep voice was calm and flowed like honey into her mind, smoothing the sharp edges of nervous worry that had been grating on her for what seemed like hours. Caitriona gave up trying to speak and instead mutely nodded, laying an arm across his coat covered shoulders, leaning into him, letting him half carry her as together, they hobbled towards the couch. Johnathon slowly lowered Caitriona into the seat, “Foot up.” He bent, chilled fingers gently gripped the back of her leg, causing her muscles to tense slightly. “Sorry.” He lifted her ankle, resting it on a cushion and reaching for one of the folded blankets, holding one edge, flicking it open then tucking the edges of the blanket around her legs, “Better?” He asked quietly sitting back on his haunches, blue eyes searching hers.

She nodded, “What happened Johnathon?” Her voice was slightly uneven, still coloured with equal measures of concern and relief, “I thought you were only going to be a few hours. It was getting dark, the weather was getting worse and I didn’t know what was going on.” It came out faster than she wanted it to. She took a breath in an effort to stop the cascade of what she was sure must sound like inane babble, tumbling from her mouth. “You could have been hurt and I would have been useless to help.” She dropped her gaze, hating herself for sounding like an irrational fool, staring at an errant crease in the blanket instead. He was little more than a stranger, there was nothing between them and yet the utter relief of seeing him safe had made her crumble like a deck of cards. Just one more log on the emotional fire of confusion that seemed to be constantly raging inside her mind lately. She lifted an unsteady hand and brushed the hair back from her forehead, “I'm the one who should be sorry. This is the last thing I’m sure you need to be dealing with after hiking through a storm to send my stupid messages.”

“It’s alright.” He offered her a soft smile, “The storm last night caused a lot of timber fall on the trail. It took me longer than I thought to get up there.” He dug into his coat pocket and retrieved the phone, “All the messages sent though and,” He shot her a lopsided grin, “Once I got decent signal up there, the phone wouldn’t stop buzzing and ringing.” He passed the offending object over, “Seems you were most certainly missed. A couple of calls came in while I was speaking with the local police. They went to voicemail, so you’ll have to wait until we get signal tomorrow to hear them.” “Tomorrow?” She looked up at him as he stood up and shucked out of the coat, looping it over his arm. “Tomorrow. Apparently the road is opened closer to town, but they are expecting heavy snowfall to arrive sometime in the next two days.” He perched himself on the coffee table beside her resting foot and began untying his laced boots, “We’ll head for town as soon as it’s light tomorrow.” Johnathon pulled one foot free with a slight grunt, “See if we can’t get out of here before the next storm comes through." A second boot joined its mate, "Sound okay?" “Can we get through after the weather today?” Caitriona glanced towards the now dark window, the wind blowing the occasional white flake against its clear surface. “We’ll give it go. Might be slow going, but worth a try.” Johnathon said standing ,tossing the boots in a reckless pile beside the log basket, “But in the meantime, I’m going to have a hot shower and get dry clothes,” He started walking towards the bathroom, untucking his shirt on his way, “You have a few texts there that you might want to look at.” Then he was gone, the bathroom door clicking shut, an empty silence settling over the room.

Tomorrow. She would have to face up to all of this for real tomorrow. No more thinking, no more pondering and considering. It would all come rushing back in full force. Tomorrow. Sam, Tony, production, the whole outfit. If her ankle was broken that would push filming back. She still had a four week break left of the hiatus but if recovery was to take longer than that, an expensive delay would be inevitable. All the crew who depended on the show for a job would be forced to wait, not to mention the stress a delay of wages would mean to them. Production and crew would be pissed off at her and rightfully so. Going on a road trip because she was upset wasn’t exactly the smartest idea she’d ever had. It ranked right up with there with deciding to go to Sam Heughan’s room after witnessing your significant other entertaining two guests privately in your own hotel room.

Caitriona glanced at the phone in her hand, wondering if either of them had anything more to say about that whole debacle. She swiped a finger across the screen, unlocking it and looking at the message folder. “Oh holy Christ!” She cursed aloud. A few messages? She shot a dark look at the closed bathroom door. Johnathon Chase, the lord of the understatement. There were precisely 84 unread messages and ten voicemail notifications. She decided on production as her first target. They were organising transport of her family and retrieval of the car, along with a medical specialist that she would be required to visit in New York. Depending upon what their diagnosis was, she was scheduled to fly out back to Glasgow as soon as possible to begin costuming for the upcoming season. That got rid of 14 of the 84 messages. So far, nothing too bad.

Her family was next. There were three messages from her mother and father, which in itself was fairly novel. Both parents steadfastly refusing to text, claiming that if they wanted to talk to someone they would call them up or go and see them. They were preparing to fly out from Ireland when these messages were sent, which would mean that by now they would be well and truly on their way. Her parents would, according to several of the messages be accompanied, by her eldest sister, Sarah, who had also recruited another sister, Deidra, currently working in New York. The plan, as far as Caitriona could decipher from the mixture of message senders, was for her family to unite in New York and then travel to her. That cleared out another 15 messages. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

On the other hand, she sighed loudly, recognising the next number in the line of messages as Tony’s. Mentally bracing herself, she opened the texts. All of messages, just seven of them, centred around a common thread, that being Tony attempting to explain what she’d seen in that Seattle hotel. First, it was under the guise of a misunderstanding, then as a mistake on his part, and finally, landing the blame squarely on her own shoulders. He’d done it, according to this theory, because she had been busy and distant towards him. Busy, yes. She agreed with that whole heartedly. It was part of the job, part of her responsibility as the star of this contraption. She did take exception to the insinuation that they had become distant. 'Become distant' implied that they had, at some point, been something other than that. As far as she had been able to tell, things were exactly the same as they had always been. They hadn't become that way, they always were that way. Point and case was before her very eyes. She had left furious, fallen off the grid with no contact and the best he could do was offer justification? There was no are you alright Caitriona, or anything resembling something along the lines of I’m glad you’re okay. Just avoidance and blame. She deleted the messages from the phone as she read them, wishing her mind was similarly configured. She could press a button on a phone and the words disappeared, lost forever into the emptiness of cyberspace ether, never to see the light of day again. Her conscience however, didn't possess such a button and left to its own devices, in the quiet stillness of the room, fueled by guilt, guided by regret and driven by uncertainty, it tended to think in circles. Maybe she was reading too much into this. After all, she tried to reason with herself, things had been going okay before that night in the hotel. If the relationship was really as toxic and unfulfilling as she was more recently considering, wouldn’t she have detected it before? She didn’t like to think she was that stupid and oblivious, but right now, in this moment, she wasn’t so sure. Had the signs been there this whole time? Had she, in an effort to not repeat LA, fallen headlong into something that was just as bad? Circle complete. It was maddening to her. She scowled and shook her head, hoping to physically dislodge the uncomfortable thoughts from her mind. It didn't work, instead her mind made another connection as her eyes read the number of the next sender. Sam. 51 messages. Most of the messages contained some variation of him professing his feelings for her, several, in quite graphic details that left her face warmed with embarrassment and her quickly pressing the delete button. Some were trying to convince her that their professional relationship didn’t have to change even if their private one happened to. A moot point, she argued with herself. Things had already changed because of it. She couldn’t even begin to process how awkward work would be right now. It was one of the main reason’s she stopped him and was determined to not go there. She was being professional. This was her shot. Maybe her only shot at this business and she had no intention of screwing it up with an off set relationship. Caitriona needed Sam to be able to do this job well. Needed the actor, not the man. Things may well be difficult now, but a relationship that went bad with her on screen lover would be a show ending, possibly career killing mistake. She knew it, even if Sam thought otherwise. She had to be the adult, even if Sam wasn't.

Life wasn’t meant to be easy, but no one ever warned her it would be one shit storm after another. Worse, no one ever told her about the way this would make her feel. Like she was failing at everything and everyone. She hated it. Hated doubting herself and hated that feeling of uncertain dependence most of all. She'd tried to be independent her entire life. She'd left home early, left the shelter of her family, needing to do things her own way. She'd been successful at it as a model. Caitriona hadn't expected that to change when she'd left that insipid lifestyle behind, taking a chance on acting. But it had changed. She gone from entirely independent and in control of almost everything, to relying on Sam for her job, relying Tony for her plus one at events and now, even relying on a practical stranger in Johnathon Chase, to get her back on her feet. Dependent and helpless to control anything right now. She couldn’t even walk ten steps on her own for Christ’s sake.

Caitriona ran a frustrated hand through her hair and tossed the phone on the table, letting her head fall back against the chair. Her mind was about to continue its frustrating contemplation of her situation and life in general, when a mark on a sheet of paper caught her eye. It was laying on the table, beside the phone she’d angrily tossed there moments ago, the silver of a set of car keys stark against the white background. A neat black script, indicating her name decorated the top of the paper. Her dark brows drew together as she sat up and reached for it.

Caitriona, the letter read, Here are the keys to the ute and a map with the road marked that will get you to town. The red circle is the section of the road where you’ll get signal for the GPS and the ute's two-way radio signal to call for help. It’s a about ten miles from the cabin but it should be doable once the snow stops enough to be able to see where you’re going. There is spare water and food in the ute and plenty of blankets. Don’t worry about me or anything else, wait for the weather to clear and get yourself back to your family. I know you can do this if you have to and if something happens, just stop, breathe and wait for the pain to pass. It always does.

Johnathon

P.S. Pro tip: Stay clear of sharp corners and icy lakes.

She glanced at the bathroom door and smiled, shaking her head at his smart ass post script and sniffling back a tear. 'I know you can do this if you have to' , he had written. The context between his thought and her situation was slightly different, she recognised that but....

She took a deep clearing breath and let it out.

Stranger or not, Caitriona hoped Johnathon Chase was right.

Could she do this?

Tomorrow she would find out.

Also on AO3

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10919163/chapters/24903501

#untouchable #outlanderrpf

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