#sent an email and realized i talk like an old person... also WHY SCHOOL!! why they work me so hard why i dont talk to my penpals anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukisdeliveryservice · 3 years

Note

hello!! could i kindly request for a student campus crush! wonwoo hehe and you’re best friends and have unrequited feelings but u dont know if he feels the same so over a sleepover u tried confessing and you can continue from there hehe -🐼

let me hear you say | j. ww

✎ pairing: best friend!wonwoo x female reader

✎ genre: collegel!au, friends to lovers!au, mostly fluff

✎ warnings: none!

✎ wc: 2.40 k words

✎ notes: hi 🐼 anon! i got a little carried away with this one because soft, cuddly wonwoo makes my stomach do flips but i hope you like it! i'm not sure how i feel about my portrayal of yn here because i wanted them to be really supportive of wonwoo but kind of having a hard time because of their feelings towards him. i hope i was able to express that without portraying them as kind of eh :/

“Don’t you ever get tired?” You take a quick glance at your best friend as he folds up another piece of paper with a phone number written on it.

“Of what?”

“Of everyone in this school falling head over heels for you,” You say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, proceeding to look back down at your notes. In reality, you were trying to prevent yourself from looking at the cute (albeit, confused) way your best friend was staring at you over your abrupt question.

“Well I can’t say I’m not flattered, but there aren’t really that many people yn,”

A total lie, you think to yourself. Every time you two walked around campus, your best friend attracted the adoring stares of all your classmates like some hotshot celebrity. Yes, he was popular, and yes, he totally deserved it, but if everyone knew how dorky he was, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to hand him their number after a single conversation.

Another lie, if everyone knew what a nerd Jeon Wonwoo actually was, they’d probably fall for him harder. You would know of course, first hand experience taught you a lot of things.

It taught you how endearing it was when Wonwoo wore oversized clothing, so that he could pull the sleeves over his palms when sipping on a hot drink at the local campus cafe. It made you realize his habit of pushing his glasses up his nose, because he was too stubborn to get the bridge adjusted. It made your insides melt whenever he was nervous because he had a habit of fiddling with his fingers. You were certain that if anyone was completely head over heels and absolutely smitten by him, it was definitely you.

“Not many people my ass,” you scoffed, “you spoke to her once, just once! And now you are holding her number.” Wonwoo laughs at your poor attempt at hiding your annoyance, “For your information, we were talking about a group project, and exchanging contact information. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

You gave a little huff before going back to pretend-studying, you definitely couldn’t focus when he was sitting right across from you. You knew you were more prone to jumping to conclusions nowadays, and you hoped that Wonwoo didn’t notice your shift in behaviour. In reality, you couldn’t help but feel a little pang of worry whenever your best friend was asked out on another date. And while he rejected the offer every time, you worried that one day he might say yes and you could lose him forever.

Not that you were against Wonwoo falling in love someday. If he found a good person that he wanted to be with for the rest of his life, you would support him in a heartbeat. It was just the selfish feeling that blossomed in your chest that prevented you from feeling any true happiness for these kinds of situations, and you hated it.

You knew that he would never abandon you completely, because Wonwoo was the best friend you could ever ask for. But you also knew that it would kill you inside to see him sweep someone else off their feet.

You’ve known Wonwoo since high school, and you definitely harboured a puppy crush on him all of first year. This was back when he was still trading pokemon cards in the gym stairwell and poking at you to buy him something from the milk vending machine. The crush went away eventually and you found yourself enjoying the rest of your high school career with your closest confidant by your side.

Once you both entered university, Wonwoo had a sudden growth spurt that now put him a total head taller than you. He no longer lurked at the stairwells during lunch and instead made lots of new friends that he went out for coffee with. He started dressing nicer, and once he exchanged his old glasses for a pair of round silver ones that rested on his nose so perfectly, he instantly transformed into someone straight out of a kdrama.

Now, you have caught feelings again. And you’re scared to admit that this time a puppy crush doesn’t even encapsulate everything you’ve been feeling lately. Of course Wonwoo’s sudden change in appearance didn’t spark anything new in your feelings towards him. It was the fact that he had a new air around him that was just completely different.

Wonwoo in high school was shy, and you loved him for who he was. You two had your own small circle of friends and you would spend all your time reading or playing games in his bedroom. Wonwoo in college however, was breaking out of his shell and being the first to approach people and make new friends. He was still introverted of course, shyness and introvertedness were two different things after all. But you were proud to see Wonwoo take the initiative to make plans more often and reach out.

Wonwoo has also gotten a lot more comfortable around you. He’s grown fond of resting his head on your shoulder after a long day of classes, and wrapping you in his sweaters whenever you came by his flat. In conclusion, everything about university student Wonwoo, was driving you, (and probably the entire campus) crazy.

“Hello? yn? Don’t you have a class soon?”

You swat away the hand that was waving in front of your face to meet the eyes of the cause of all your heart troubles. One smile from Wonwoo and you were in shambles. You had it really, really bad. “Right, right, sorry I was just...distracted.”

“We’re still on for tonight right? You can just head straight to my dorm after your last class.”

“Of course Won, did you really think I was going to miss out on another rewatch of Extraordinary You?”

“Of course not,” Wonwoo chuckled. You were met with another one of those soft gazes from him, and you immediately tried to break your stare. Something in your heart tells you that you should just confess right now, and that Wonwoo was a sensible individual who wouldn’t let go of your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Hey Won, can I tell you something after class later?”

“Of course.” There was that smile again. If you weren’t so busy trying to slow your heart rate down, you would have caught the way his eyes brightened at hearing your question, and the way he looked down to twindle with his fingers.

You give Wonwoo your own smile before heading off to your last detour of the day.

Sleepovers with Wonwoo always consisted of a mountain of blankets, a never ending pile of snacks and a show to watch before eventually both of you fell asleep. When you arrived at his flat just as he was adding the finishing touches to a home cooked dinner, you realized that sleepovers with Wonwoo also consisted of another thing: Your tragic inability to keep your heart rate down.

“Dinner will be ready in a bit, you can just wash up and get changed for now,” Wonwoo turns to greet you before adding some pepper to the tteokbokki.

You nod and head over to his bathroom, where you already find your change of clothes resting on the counter. Any outsider would have been under the impression that you and Wonwoo lived together, considering that pieces of you were scattered all over his apartment. From the matching toothbrushes that were kept by the sink, to the drawer reserved only for your clothes in his bedroom.

The only reason that you and Wonwoo didn’t room together upon entering university, was the fact that your parents were wary of you rooming with a boy you weren’t even dating. Not that it mattered now, considering that you at least spent two nights at his place away from your own dorm.

After you showered and changed into your pajamas, you realized that Wonwoo had given you one of his sweaters to wear, instead of the usual shirts you slept in. Usually you would have raided his bedroom after dinner to steal one (you slept much better when you wore his clothing) but this time it appeared that he had taken the initiative for you.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw that Wonwoo was already sitting at the dining table and was on his phone. It looked like he was texting someone, and you felt your heart sink a little when he laughed at a message. No, you are not going to be jealous. You are going to be happy for your friend because he deserves all the happiness in the world.

“Is that the girl from your group project?” You sat down across from him and started piling the tteokbokki and rice onto your plate. “Yeah, she said that the professor just sent out a mass email to our class, saying that we were going to be given an extension. Turns out that email was meant for another course, but everyone is already celebrating the new deadline.”

Wonwoo shuts off his phone and turns to you, “Was there something you wanted to tell me today?”

Right. You were going to confess your feelings. It was now or never, and you weren’t sure if you could hold it in much longer. “I can just tell you after dinner, I’m starving.”

Tragic. Tragic. Tragic. Why couldn’t you just say the words, “Hey Won, I have feelings for you, do you feel the same way?” Must you be in a spiraling paradox of questioning the presence of unrequited love in the relationship you had with your best friend? Yes, most definitely yes. Since the world likes to make everything difficult for those in love.

Dinner was eaten in a comfortable silence for the most part. You liked that you never felt the need to fill the air with more conversation whenever you were with Wonwoo. There were days where you would just sit in each other’s presence and do your own thing, and those days left you with lots of time to ponder on your feelings for him. Tonight was the night that you were going to say these feelings aloud for the first time...you just needed a bit more time to procrastinate.

After you both finished your food, you relocated yourselves to the couch. You fidgeted with the end of your (his) sweater while Wonwoo searched for the show on Netflix. You figured that you would let him know in the morning, since there was a chance that you two would fall asleep before the episode ended. And you didn’t want to confess beforehand either, in fear of having to endure a brutal one hour of awkward tension if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Who would have thought that out of all the days the wifi could have chosen to bail on us, they chose the day where we were going to find out whether Haru belonged to Dan-oh’s story or not,” Wonwoo fiddles with the remote some more, while you panic in silence at the thought of spending the night with no distractions from your feelings.

“It’s not like we don’t already know how it ends,” You take deep quiet breaths to calm yourself down, you can definitely make it through the night, “We can just do other things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

You couldn’t answer him right away. The only thing you had on your mind was the fact that Wonwoo’s hand was now resting on your knee and that it was baffling how good he could look in pajamas. Wonwoo, sensing your inability to form words nervously glanced up at you before moving the conversation in a different direction, “Look, I know you had something to tell me today yn, but I realized that I wanted to share something with you too. I am in love-”

“I am in love with you Jeon Wonwoo!”

There. You blurted out a long-awaited confession before the anticipation consumed you whole. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your hands in fear of seeing the look on Wonwoo’s face.

“Let me hear you say it again.”

“What?” You turn to Wonwoo, who no longer looked nervous. Instead, he wore the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that made you want to both kiss and strangle him. “Say it again.”

“Not when you look like you just won the lottery you nerd, you didn’t even say-”

“I am in love with you too yn.”

Well, you were never one to complain about the fact that your feelings were returned. But the way Wonwoo was cooing at your adorable expression of shock only made you want to shove him off the couch.

Which you proceeded to do.

“Hey! Aren’t you happy that I like you too?”

“Of course I’m happy! You didn’t have to try to beat me to my confession though, tonight was going to be my night!”

“You didn’t seem like you were going to say anything for the rest of the evening! You were going to wait until the next day weren’t you?”

Absolutely yes. “No!”

Any remaining tension in the atmosphere washed away as you and Wonwoo made fun of each other on the living room floor. You were beyond relieved and a little giddy that your best friend in the whole wide world saw you in the way that you saw him.

“But on a more serious note Won, were you also going to confess tonight too?”

“Actually no, but once you came out of the washroom wearing my sweater, I just had to say it before I tackled you with cuddles or something.”

“You gave me your sweater instead of my clothes to wear!”

“I know!” Wonwoo was holding your hand now and rubbing circles into your palm. The idea of cuddling the entire night didn’t sound so bad. “But you looked all nervous and shy and I was hoping that you were going to be the one to say something first.”

“Can we just agree that we confessed at the same time?” As the adrenaline from the confession began to slip away you suddenly became very tired, and you were hoping to just spend the night in the arms of your favourite person.

“Deal. So can we cuddle now?”

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #wonwoo #chanberriees request #chanberriees fic #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger.

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly.

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring.

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #the sommelier #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x reader #hannibal x reader x will

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

And the adventure begins

Bruce Banner x daughter!reader

A/n: yay! Another part out! Finally lol. Now time to work on my Loki fic and ignore this one for two weeks lol💀 jk I’m trying to keep up y’all I promise. Anyway hope you like it💕💕

Masterlist

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

Now that you think about it, maybe you shouldn’t have skipped school today. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation.

....On another planet. Watching Thor be forced to fight some old dudes “Champion”, whatever that means.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

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

Nerves filled your body as you walked to school. You had an audition in the school play today and you were determined to get the part. Tony had offered to take you to school today but you decided to walk as it would give you extra time to learn your lines. As you pushed through the busy streets, occasionally bumping into a random pedestrian, you heard some girls whispering.

“Oh my god is that..”

“Yes! oh my go, he's so handsome”

“Ask him for a selfie”

“No you go ask hm”

At first you rolled your eyes, thinking it was just some youtuber or Tik tok star, you kept walking, eyes down re-reading your script. Then you heard the girls speak again.

“Thanks Thor, I’m sorry Jane dumped you.”

Hearing the name, your head swiveled up. You scanned the crowd looking for the blonde man, at first missing him as he wasn’t in his usual outfit of a cape and battle armour. But then you saw him, in a hoodie and some jeans. Picking up the pace, you jog toward the god not noticing the darker clothed man next to him.

“....it was a mutual dumping”

“I didn’t know the renaissance fair was in town” you say, a small smirk making its way on your face at the quip.

Both Thor and ...Loki?! Turn around in surprise at the sudden voice behind them. Only to see you looking up at them with a arched brow.

“Lady Y/n! How wonderful it is to see you” Thor boomed as he brought you into a bone crushing hug. Over his shoulder you could see Loki roll his eyes.

“Honestly, had I known this trip would consist of young woman flocking to you, I would have allowed your hammer to kill me.”

Thor ignored his brother as he put you down. “My how you’ve grown.”

You smile and say, “Well the last time you saw me I was twelve.” Then you eye Loki with distrust. “Um Thor, why’d you bring brother dearest back to New York?”

Loki looks at you with distaste, “ Who is this child, and why is she conversing with us?”

“Brother” Thor warns and then turns to you, “ Lady Y/n, we are searching for our father, it seems as if my brother” Thor harshly pats Loki on the shoulder, “ Has misplaced him.”

You look at Loki and then look at the building that has been demolished

, “ Woah, I didn’t know Gods put their parents in nursing homes” You say “ If you want we can go back to the Tower and try to track him down”

Thor smiles at the suggestion, “ A wonderful idea, tell me, how have my comrades been in my absence?”

You cringe at the thought of explaining the events of the so called “Civil war”. Then notice a ring of sparks forming around Loki.

“Uhh Thor” You say as you nod your head

“What’s this..wha.what are you doing?” He asks in alarm. Loki looks confused as the sparks get larger and more erratic.

“ This isn’t me” Loki says in confusion. Then suddenly the ground opens up beneath him and he falls through with an alarmed “Oh!” only leaving behind a business card. You and Thor look at each other, confusion written on both of your faces.

“Loki” Thor whispers as he nudges the card with his umbrella. You look at him with concern and think to yourself

“Does..does he think the cards Loki?”

You bend down to pick up the business card and read it out loud.

“177a Bleeker St” you look at Thor and ask,” Do you know anyone from there?”

“ No” He says, ‘ i don’t even know where that is.”

You sigh, looking down at your script and making a decision. “ Well, lets go find your brother.”

And with that, you turn around and start walking to your destination.

“Oh well, school can wait”

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

You and Thor find yourselves in front of two big black doors. You stand near Thor as he raises his hand to knock. Suddenly, before his hand is able to touch the door, you find yourselves inside the building.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself as you look around.

“Thor Odinson” a deep voice says. You look up to see a floating figure in the shadows coming towards you both. Thor pushes you behind him as he holds him umbrella threateningly. If you weren’t in potential danger, you would have laughed at the sight. The figure floated into the light and you saw it was a man.

He was wearing a cloak and some weird robes with yellow gloves. He was relatively handsome, salt and pepper hair that was slicked back, high cheek bones and a goatee. He wasn’t horrible to look at. His deep, baritone voice was soothing.

“God of Thunder” He said looking at Thor. He glanced at the umbrella. “ You can put down the umbrella.” Then his gaze turned to you.

“Y/n Banner. I wasn’t expecting you here” He said eyes narrowing at you,” Shouldn’t you be in school?”

You chuckled nervously, “ Eh, how can I abandon a friend in need?”

The man smiles and looks back at Thor and suddenly your in a different room. Looking around in awe you hear Thor start talking.

“So..Earth has wizards now” He says, picking up a dagger from a display on a table, then dropping all of them trying to put them back. You try to hold back a laugh, feeling embarrassed for the god.

You might have failed though because Thor looked at you with an unimpressed glance. You giggle out loud this time, as you watch him struggle with the knives. Everytime he managed to put one back, another fell.

“The preferred term is Master of the Mystic arts...” Clank! another knife falls. The man looks very unimpressed, at your giggling and Thor's clumsiness.” You can leave that now.”

At those words Thor leaves the knifes, trying to regaine his cool, he leans against the table.

“Alright wizard, who are you and why should I care?”

“Thor! That’s rude!”

Ignoring you, their conversation continues,

“My name is Dr. Stephen Strange and I have some questions for you.” He says as he eyes you and Thor. “Have a seat”

Within a second you’re in another room in the building...or least you think it is. The wind blows your hair back as you are suddenly dropped into a chair. You can see Thor look around startled and confused at the sudden setting change. You’re sure your face mirrored his as well.

“Tea?” Dr. Strange asks nonchalantly, a cup of tea appearing in your hands. You look at it in awe, not used to this level of magic, or magic at all. Thor on the other hand looked unimpressed with the cup.

“I don’t drink tea.” He says examining the cup that looked small in his hands.

“Well what do you drink?”

“Not tea.” Thor says shaking his head. You roll you eyes as you go for a sip of tea, but before you can a large pitcher of beer was in its place. You look up at the two men with a raised eyebrow.

“I hate to be a bother, but I do drink tea”

Strange looked at you in amusement as he returns the beer to tea.

“Jesus made water into wine, you make beer into tea. Interesting..” You say as you sip your tea. It was perfectly brewed of course. Dr. Strange smiled at the comparison

“Well its not exactly like that” Then he turned to Thor, “ So, I keep a watch list of individuals and beings from the realms that may be a threat to this world. Your adopted brother Loki is one of those beings.”

You scoff and roll your eyes and mutter, “Yeah no kidding.” Then you finish the last sips of tea, as you bring it down, the glass is already refilled

Thor looks up from his glass that he basically chugged,”Thats a worthy inclusion” His beer is refilled as well. He looks at it in astonishment.

“Then why bring him here?” Strange asks leaning forward.

“We’re looking for my father.”

“So..if I were to tell you where Odin was..all parties concerned would return to Asgard” He then looks at you, “ or upper Manhattan.”

“Promptly” “Try and keep me away from this place.”

“Great then I’ll help you...and get to that later”

You smirk at the doctor, knowing that it’s basically impossible to squash your curiosity once you get started. Then you realized something.

“Wait, if you knew where Odin is, why didn't you tell anyone?”

“Well he was very adamant he was not to be disturbed,” He turned to Thor, “Your father had chosen to remain in exile. Also you don’t have a phone.”

“Hmm, no I don’t have a..a phone but you could’ve sent an electronic letter. It’s called an email.”

“Thor you don’t have a computer.”

“What for?”

You lock eyes with Dr. Strange and share a look.

“Uh huh well, my father is no longer in exile, so if you can tell me where he is, the quicker I can take him home.” Thor then takes a sip of his beer.

“Okay, hes in Norway.” Suddenly your on your feet again standing an a library of some sort. You’re a bit unbalance and catch yourself on the self. Strange is muttering to himself as he looks through a book. Then again, you’re in another room with a shelf. Nearly falling over you cling onto Thor, but he’s in no better shape than you, beer spilling everywhere.

“Oh we don’t need that” Boom, in another room, this time you do fall and Thor breaks another shelf. He places the glass on a table, shaking the spilled beer of his person.

“Can you stop doing that?” He asked irritated

“Please” you add in, looking up from your place on the ground.

You’re on your feet in a blink of an eye, feeling dizzy at the continuous movement.

“Can I..I need a piece of your hair.” Strange says looking at Thor.

“Let me tell you something, my hair is not to be --OW”

You smile sweetly as you pass the yanked out hair to the Strange. “ Here you go Dr. Wizard.” He makes a face at the nickname but takes the hair with a nod of thanks. Thor looks at you in betrayal.

“Don’t be such a drama queen” You say rolling your eyes. You then walk away from the duo, examining books and artifact that were in the room. You were too caught up in looking at all the cool stuff you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation. Suddenly you were in the front room again. You managed to stay on your feet as Thor tumbled down the stairs. You watched in amazement as Dr. Strange did some hand movements and created a shape in sparks.

“Could’ve just walked.” Thor muttered as he brushed the dust and wrinkles out off of his clothes.

“He’s waiting for you.” Then Dr. Strange turned to you,” Would you like to go home Ms. Banner?”

You looked at him with consideration,” Um Mister Strange, do you think you can help me find my dad?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Then he turned to Thor,” Don’t forget your umbrella.

“Oh right.” Thor sticks his arm out like he’s summoning his hammer. You look at him confused. Then you here several bangs and crashes, as if something is being thrown around the rooms.

“ohhh thats where your hammer went”

Dr. Strange looks at Thor unimpressed again.

“Sssorry” The umbrella lands in his hands and he brushes the glass off the hammer.” I suppose I need my brother back”

“Oh right”

The a portal appears a few feet off the ground, in comes Loki screaming as he falls and hits the ground.

He flips his hair back as he catches his breath, “ I have been falling..FOR THIRTY MINUTES”

You snicker as you go to help the god of mischief up,” Come on reindeer games, lets get you up”

He doesn’t decline your help but he doesn’t thank you either. You turn to see Thor and Strange shake hands.

“Handle me?!” “Oh boy” “ Who are you?”

“Loki..”

“You think you’re a sorcerer? Don’t think for one minute--”

“Alright bye bye” The portal then is thrown to them as Loki charges with two daggers.

It’s silent in the room as you whislte,” Well he’s very catty.”

Strange laughs as he nods,” Come on kid lets find your dad.”

You’re then taken back to the library and you give him a piece of your hair.

“You have had quite the adventure today.” Dr. Strange says as he looks through the books again.

“Ehh, when you live with the Avengers stuff like this is an everyday thing.”

“I could imagine” He says smiling at you. “ Well..it seems like your father is off world”

“Off world?” You question,”why would he be...?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Then a bag appeared in front of you.

“I have a feeling you won’t stop searching until you find your father.” He nods to the bag. “ Everything you need to survive in Sakkarr is in there, I trust you know how to use knives?”

“Yeah, Bucky taught me.”

“Perfect, now you must try to get on the grandmasters good side, that’ll give you the resources you need to find your father. Don’t get caught by scavenger or scrapper , you’ll either get eaten or sold into slavery.”

“Slavery?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Sakkarr is known to be the ‘dump’ of the universe. It’s filled with people you must be weary of. The main entertainment are these gladiator type fights the Grandmaster puts on.” He thinks for a bit the conjures up a portal. He pulls a amulet out of it then hands it to you. “If you find your father, or need a quick escape, rub this amule three times t and I’ll make a portal for you to come back home”

You nod, nervous to go on your personal mission. You look up at Dr.strange and hug him. “ Thanks Dr.Wizard.”

He pats your back uncomfortably,” It’s Stephen.”

You let go of him and smile,”Well, beam me up Scotty”

He rolls his eyes and creates a portal, you take a deep breath and look at him. He sends you a reassuring smile and you’re filled with determination. Then you step through.

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

You step through it to see...the steps to some weird looking palace. You look around to see an even weirder looking city. It looks like its built out of scraps of metal or parts. You walk up the steps and into the palace. You look around, astonished at the amount of people??

Beings. So many different kinds of aliens. All different colors and shapes. It was like a Star Wars movie. Then you see a familiar face.

“Loki??”

He looks up at you in confusion, you speed towards him, happy to see a familiar face. Even if it is Thor's evil brother.

“Ah Thor's child friend. This doesn’t seem like your type of setting.”

“I’m looking for my father, Stephen says he’s here.”

He scoffs, looking around the room. “It seems everyone is looking for their fathers.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Norway with Thor and your dad”

“Well it seems that father dearest has been hiding a secret daughter. Who appeared after my father died. And is destined to destroy Asgard.”

“Well shit” you blurt out. “Are..are you okay?”

Loki looks at you like you’re a puzzle.

“What.”

“Well..” you start nervously, “it sounds like a traumatic experience, so..are you okay?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, just staring at you. Suddenly he turns around. “We must see the grandmaster. He’s the only one who can guarantee your protection, and I’m sure you would prefer not to be slaughtered brutally in the competition.”

He walks ahead of you, and you stare after him wondering what just happened. Then after he noticed you’re not following him he turns and says

“Well, come on. I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh right.” You catch up to him and walk by his side. Looking around in wonder.

“Why are you looking around like that?” Loki asks as he makes his way through a crowd of...pink women. They had their hair in very intricate styles and weird metallic unitards. They eyed you as you passed by them.

“I feel like I’m in a Star Wars movie.” You pass by a man, he looked almost reptilian. He had pale yellow skin with green slits as his eyes. He looks like he was gambling or something.

“I don’t know what that is. Why would stars commence in battle? It makes no sense.” Loki scoffs as he turns to look at you. You laugh at his misunderstanding.

“I just..never seen..” you trail off not knowing how to explain. Luckily, Loki seems to get what you were says.

“ I can see this is a bit of a change for you. But..you have seen people from other planets before.”

“ yeah..it’s just a lot to take in.” You smile at Loki, “ I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I can freak out about it after I meet the Grandmaster.”

He nods his head and starts walking again, but this time he’s closer to you. Finally, you reach a large room. It’s filled with guards all wearing different colored armor. They part as Loki walks through them, confident with long strides. You follow him, shrinking under their gaze. Loki leans down to whisper to you

“ when you meet the grandmaster, do not be too meak . And do not mention anything about your father till I tell you. Actually, just follow my lead.”

You look up at him and before you say anything, a large woman appears in the room. She looks normal to you. Stocky, a stern face with white markings. A slicked back bun. She’s wearing yellow armor with black accents. She’s holding a large staff with an orb attached to the end.

“ Didn’t the Grandmaster just see you” she says to Loki, glaring at him. Loki smiles charmingly and says

“Oh yes, but it appears that I have found a...friend.. of mine. She, like I, has arrived here on Sakkarr by accident and is hoping to meet with the Grandmaster.”

Then Loki nudges you in front of him, and into the view of the woman. She looks at you with distaste.

“ Poor child is skin and bones. She’s puny.”

You look in offense, but before you can say anything Loki spoke for you.

“Yes, and that’s why I have decided to take her under my wing.”

“ Can she not speak for herself? You expect the Grandmaster to—“ “ Easy Topaz”

“Loki! How wonderful to see you again, even though it’s been about twenty minutes”

A voice cut through the air. Suddenly everyone in the room stood up straight. Topaz immediately stopped talking and turned. A man came in on a floating throne. He was wearing red, blue, and gold robes. He had a blue line down his chin and blue under eye liner. He...he looked like..

“Jeff Goldblum?”

Loki looked at you like you were insane and the Grandmaster and Topaz just looked confused.

“What did she call me?” He whispered to Topaz, she looked at him in equal bafflement. She then tries to hand him the staff.

“ Why are you handing me the melty stick?! She had a slip of a tounge! That’s not a capital offense”

“What is wrong with you?” “I’m sorry! It just slipped out!” “ Do you want to die” “To be fair, that was the biggest compliment I could have given him. Jeff Goldblum is basically a god of cinema.”

Topaz looked at the Grandmaster, “ apparently this..Jeff.. is a god from her world.”

“Hm, child.”

You and Loki stop your whisper arugument and turn to the Grandmaster.

“Come forward.”

You look at Loki in fear and step up to the floating throne.

“Hm” The man says as he examines you. You suddenly feel self conscious about what you’re wearing. A Jurassic park shirt (ironically) with a turtleneck under, some plaid pants and converse. To be fair you weren’t expecting to end up on a different planet.

“I don’t know what Jurassic park is, but look there’s a big lizard on her shirt” he says to Topaz, “ you like lizards?” He asks you. Your eyes widened at the question not expecting it.

“Oh I think I’ve embarrassed her, it’s okay if you like them. I don’t personally like them, they’re all scales and fast and blegh” the Grandmaster rambles then Topaz chimes in

“ and they can grow back limbs”

“Yes! That’s disgusting”

“ I’m sorry, it’s not a lizard, it’s a dinosaur ” you explain. “ it’s from a movie, it has Jeff Goldblum...”

You trail off as they stare at you.

“ Go on, you keep mentioning this Jeff Goldblum, I’d like to hear more about him.”

So there you were, explaining all the different movies Jeff Goldblum was in. From the Fly to Jurassic Park. Everyone seemed...intrested. The Grandmaster somehow got it in his head that you were this great storyteller. So now you were on his good side, just like Loki.

“ Storyteller, I welcome you to Sakkarr! I have never met a child with such interesting stories!” He turns to Topaz, “ Aren’t they entertaining?! So adventurous!”

“ I think they’re weird.” “ Oh don’t be such a buzzkill”

“ I thank you Grandmaster, for being so gracious with my...ward” Loki says, “I assure you that I will keep her out of trouble.”

“ Yes yes, now go, if she is going to stay here, she’ll need to fit in. Topaz, see if you can find a tailor for the child, she’ll need a change of clothes. You as well Loki”

She nods and gestures for you both to follow her. As you walk through the futuristic castle, you are completely in awe. Even though you live with Tony, this is a different kind of technology. Topaz gives you both a tour. She mentions the fights and the arena, but you don’t pay too much attention. Finally you make it to the tailor. After being fussed over and much debating, you finally come to an agreement.

You end up with a sort of body armor. With a black catsuit made out of a leather like material, there were pieces of armor covering your legs, hips, torso, shoulders and arms. Blue fabric was wrapped around your waist, draping down the front and under the armor there. There was also fabric wrapped around your upper arm and shoulders preventing the straps from rubbing against your skin. Finally, to top it all off, a long blue cape drape down your shoulders. You felt awesome. You took the daggers Stephen gave you out of the bag and attached them to your hips. And the amulet around your neck.

“What do you think?” You asked Loki. He looked at you for a bit.

“Your daggers should be attached to your thighs, that way the hilts are at your fingertips and not your shoulders.” He squints for a bit, “ that cape looks ridiculous.”

“Fuck off man I look awesome.”

Loki just laughs and goes to put his outfit on. “ Such foul language for a child.” Then he comes out fully dressed. With a yellow cape.

“ oh? My cape was ridiculous?”

“Hush.”

You smile, and a silence falls between you both. You sigh and look down, playing with the end of your cape. Loki looks at you, examines your face, then looks away.

“ Why...why did you ask if I was alright?” He questions, “when you first saw me..?”

You looked at him your face scrunched in a puzzled expression, “ because.”

“Because what?” Loki asks, not understanding where your coming from.

“ I don’t know, because like I said, something that traumatic must’ve been shitty. I know I wouldn’t be okay.”

“I do not understand you. Why care about someone you never met? Nevertheless someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” Now you were really confused. What does he mean by that?

“No midgardian would trust me. Especially after...” He stops, hinting about the attack of New York. “ I am not... not a good person. Nor a good influence. Not for a child.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Your words seem to startle him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“ That’s. Bullshit.” You stand to face him.

“Loki, I’ve known you for about six hours. And in that time, you managed to help me gain favor of a ruler, enough for him to give me a room to stay in and new clothes. You also helped me when you could’ve just left me alone. From what I’ve seen, you’re pretty chill.”

“Chill?” He asks quirking an eyebrow.

“A good person.”

He stops and looks at you, “ you think I’m a good person? Even though I nearly destroyed your planet?”

“ Sure. We all make mistakes.”

He stares at you for a while. Smiles briefly and then gets up from where he was leaning.

“ You, my dear, are one odd child.” He walks out of the room. “Come along, I must get you to your room. It’s late and I am certain you e had a long day.”

You follow him to your room, turns out someone was paying attention to the tour. He leads you to your temporary room, shows you how to open the door and lock it, then makes sure your settled.

“Well, it’s time for me to retire. Good night child.”

When he doesn’t get a response he turns around, he sees you’ve fallen asleep on the bed. He chuckles at the sound of you muttering in your sleep.

“ An odd child indeed.”

Then he covers you, turns out the lights and shuts the door. Leaving you to go to his room.

( he promptly freaks out over how quickly he’s grown fond of you.)

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

Taglist: @ella-ivanov

#thor ragnarok #bruce banner x daughter!reader #loki x teen!reader #marvel x reader #loki x poc!reader #avengers x teen!reader #bruce banner imagine #bruce banner #hulk #marvel #thor odinson #reader insert #poc reader #thor odison x reader #dr strange

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

brand new eyes

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: having a penpal in the sixth grade was overdone, in your opinion. and handwritten letters just weren’t convenient. you weren’t happy at all to start talking to some random girl your age across the sea, but once you started, neither of you could find it in you to stop.

warnings: fluff!!!! mutual pining. badly written letters (actually the whole one shot). brief battle with sexuality. a seriously strong connection between two characters (almost soulmate territory here tbh). every single mistake here is 100% mine!

word count: 8.7k!

At first, you were sure that the pen pal letter suggestion for extra credit was stupid. Why would you handwrite a letter when you could send an email? Why would you send a letter by mail that would take much longer? It took two weeks for a handwritten letter to arrive, and only seconds for an email. It didn’t make any sense.

And then you got your first letter.

You realized very quickly why handwriting was what your teachers asked for. You never knew that handwriting could be so vulnerable, so open. You had never seen letters that were so loopy, so delicate. That letter was written so neatly and so personally even if the girl who had written it hadn’t meant it to be that way, and you knew that a computer even with all of its special fonts wouldn’t be able to do that.

You understood why the handwritten rule was there.

But you didn’t like it when it was your turn to craft something so beautiful.

It wasn’t a competition by any means, but you didn’t want your letter to look anything like the words you scratched down into your notebooks. You wanted them to be neat and pretty and most of all understandable for the girl behind the pen and across the sea, because she had done the same for you.

By the time you stopped ogling over the letters and started actually reading the words that the girl had written, you learned her name. You learned it within the first line, actually.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was obviously from Sokovia, she spoke English as her second language, and she had an older twin brother that she both adored and was annoyed by. She was in the equivalent of your grade in her country, and she liked to cook with her parents. The letter was basic and slightly elementary, just an introduction to what she was willing to share with a stranger that lived thousands of miles away.

But that didn’t make it any less special.

You started on your return letter minutes after you let her pretty words sink in.

You drafted your letter and let it sit for an hour without you looking at it, and then came back to it only to cross things out and revise it, and then put it on the expensive paper that your mother had bought for you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. It started with a greeting, your name, and then into the same sort of things that she spoke about in her own letter, the things that people that went to school with you had learned in passing over the years.

It felt like giving someone the rundown of your uneventful life so far in the simplest of ways. It felt like someone getting to know you as you wanted them to, because you were telling your story. There was no other side, or truth, or lie, just what your pen and your brain decided to write. It was controlled chaos. And you adored it.

Your print was easy to read. It wasn’t loopy like hers or as “girlish”, as one of your classmates said when you brought both letters to school to get an extra one hundred. It wasn’t fancy and alluring like hers, but there was still something magical on the pseudo-aged parchment.

You sent it off to the post office the next day, and you put her letter on your desk.

§§§

By the time that your third letter from her came, you already were drafting your own. It came straight to your mailbox and when you checked the mail that morning, you were ecstatic to see it waiting for you, like a pet waiting for it’s person to come home. As usual, it started off with the gentle scrawl of your name, just a bit larger than all of the rest of the words that were on the page.

I can’t believe that it’s already been weeks of us writing. We started in August, and it’s nearing the end of October. Speaking of, is it starting to get cold there for you? It’s already cold for us. Our grandmother always makes us the best tea and soup when it gets cold outside, and I could send you the recipe if you wanted!

My brother and I are curious about one thing, and we hope that we get your answer in time, but, is Halloween really a thing? We have both heard of it, but we’ve never done it here. It sounds magical. I’ve always wanted to dress up however I wanted and get candy for it. If I were to do it, I would probably be a Disney Princess, maybe Merida. Sadly, we don’t do that here. Does it really happen in the United States, or is that a movie thing?

Hopefully you don’t mind my questions much, or my short letter. Pietro likes to read over my shoulder while I write and receive the letters, and I like to write at the kitchen table. There’s no escaping him. You’ve never talked about siblings, do you have them?

The rest of the letter was like that, aloof yet curious and bouncing around all the same, and then signed with her always rushed conclusion, which was nearly the same every time.

You read it and put the letter in the box that you had bought from a thrift store, a box just big enough for the size of the neatly folded and tied off letters that she gave you. You clipped the box shut and put it back under your desk, and then started working on your response.

Instead of just a letter, you sent her a letter in a small box that had the candy that you had gotten on Halloween night, and the mask that went with the rest of your costume. It wasn’t the Disney Princess that Wanda wanted to dress up as, but it was something. It was your something.

§§§

As the December portion of your letter writing, you and your penpal were supposed to learn of the other’s traditions during the Holidays, whether you or them celebrated or not. A huge slide show about the culture of your Sokovian friend was supposed to be shown, and you knew that there would be a lot of the same PowerPoints, a lot of the same pictures and sayings and explanations. You wanted something different. You also had no idea if Wanda did Christmas, but you had to ask.

Wanda,

I’m sure that you know that our assignment now is to present a slide show about what our penpal does during the Holiday season, but because I don’t know whether you celebrate Diwali or Christmas or Hanukkah, I’ll start with asking you about New Years, because I’ve never met a person who didn’t celebrate New Years.

What do you do on New Years Eve? I’ll start by telling you that I watch the ball drop with my family, eat food, and drink cider after it hits midnight. It’s a big deal here for us, because the new year is a time for self revolution, apparently. I’ve never done a New Years resolution, but maybe I’ll do one this year. Have you ever done one?

I know that food is very big over in Sokovia, so what kind of food do you traditionally have when you’re celebrating? Do you like it? Can you cook it yourself? Because I know that you have the same questions for me that you have to put in before you leave for Winter Break, I’ll answer my own questions.

And you did. You were thorough, partly because you thought that it was kind of you to do so because she should get a good grade, and also because she had written that she was thankful for your descriptions on multiple occasions. You had noticed that she was the more whimsical writer and that you came off as the more grounded one, and it intrigued you.

You wondered if you two would come off that way in person to other people, if you ever got the chance to meet.

When her letter came two weeks later, wrapped in aged string as always, you skipped to your bedroom, already pulling the box out from under the table and starting to read it. You smiled through the whole thing.

In her own way, not as precise or even in order as you, she had told you everything you needed to do a good slide show about Sokovia during the Holidays.

§§§

You were emotional at the end of the year. Not because you were leaving the sixth grade and going to a new building in the school and leaving behind your kind teachers, but because the pen pal assignment was over.

No other assignment had been so important to you, or eye opening. You were only twelve years old, but you were old enough to know that you had never found a friend like you had in Wanda, who was still thousands of miles away. No one else, not even the people that stood feet apart from you, offered you friendship like Wanda Maximoff did.

You couldn’t stop writing to her.

It was your turn to send a letter, the final letter that you were supposed to send, and then her closing letter was supposed to come two weeks later. You couldn’t just close it. Your entire mind was screaming at you to not close the book that you had hardly started yet.

So, as your pen rested on the parchment paper (without drafting first), you lifted it up, and changed your mentality from a “goodbye” to a hopeful and questioning one, as you hoped that she felt the same and wanted to talk just as much as you did.

Wanda,

It’s the end of the year. Technically, we should be done with our letters because it’s the end of the year, and the assignment is graded. This should be a closing letter, but I don’t think that our friendship was ever dictated by the grades that we got. We were always closer than all of the other pen pals at school that I knew, and I was hoping that you would want to continue writing.

You couldn’t write much more after that, because your pen was shaking and you were starting to get in the danger zone of dropping tears on the paper. If this was your last letter to Wanda, you wanted it to be pretty. Just half as pretty as she always made hers, if you could manage it.

You sent it off the next morning after finding an old string that was nearly the same colors as hers and getting your friend across the street to hold it down and color the outside of it for you.

§§

A part of you wanted to say that you wouldn’t have been expecting to still write handwritten letters to a girl in Sokovia in the ninth grade, but you certainly were. While everyone else in your class had lost contact after the assignments were done or tried and failed to keep contact afterwards, you and Wanda continued talking all through the years.

It astounded your parents, who were sure that in the beginning, you were just obsessed with someone who was your age and who wasn’t exactly like you. They thought for sure that you would have lost interest in talking to Wanda, but after three straight years, gas spent taking you to the post office, and money spent on special stamps and the same paper, they were starting to finally get the hint.

Because you were so close with Wanda, you hardly had close friends in your neighborhood, and maybe two or three at school. There was no one that knew you like Wanda did, and no one that knew Wanda like you did. One particular letter where you confessed probably the worst thing you had ever done to her that no one else knew was what finally let you know that she was the most judgement-free person in the world, and that you would do anything to keep her. You would never forget how the letter went, and how her response sounded.

Wands,

I’ve done something terrible. I may have accidentally gotten involved with a boy who already had a girlfriend, and I had no idea. I had literally no idea, and today she just called me out of nowhere and started crying over the phone to me, and I had no idea that he was with her. At all. It was so pitiful, and she’s not mad, and she says that she won’t tell anyone it was me, but still. She seemed to really like him, and I think I may have just ruined a relationship. I have no idea what to do, and all I feel is guilt. Nothing more or less. Should I send her something? Give her a gift card? I feel terrible because she was just so sweet about it.

The letter went on and on with your scripted rambling, so repetitive and panicked that you were shocked to know that Wanda had, in fact, read the entire thing. She got a message back to you rather quickly, and that made you both nervous about her verdict and glad, because you felt like with an answer so quick, she must not have judged you too harshly. You remembered opening it with shaky hands, and inhaling and exhaling when her first words after your nickname were “breath in” and “breathe out”.

Wanda once said that writing to you was like writing to a diary who always wrote back, and you couldn’t agree more. She knew everything, and she never judged. And, when the time came for her to put all of her eggs in your basket of trust, you did the same for her.

You distinctly remembered getting the few letters that you kept at the bottom of your letter stack, even though you liked to have them in chronological order. In the eighth grade, Wanda was having a crisis over her sexuality. Being anything but straight in Sokovia wasn’t the best thing to be, and you knew that. The first letter she ever sent you about her sexuality had dried spots on it, where she had obviously cried. Her handwriting wasn’t anywhere as neat as it usually was, and it sent you into a state of panic.

We talk to each other about everything, so here I am asking for your advice because I won’t be getting anything here. I know that usually we keep our letters formal for aesthetic purposes, but I can’t this time. Also, no one other than you can read this.

From there, she told you that she was sure that she liked women, and that she was even more sure that her parents would be upset at her. She told you that she had been dwelling on it for a while, thinking about it and having it weigh heavily on her mind. She was all over the board with it, from her parents being upset to her being afraid that you were going to be opposed to it as well, or tell her that she was “too young to think that way”. She ended the letter by telling you that you were the first person that she had ever told.

You started your letter with your own confession, and Wanda Maximoff was the first one you ever told, too. You were past having your crisis, though, and you helped her through hers without a second of complaints. You always wished that you had someone to help you when you were down and questioning yourself, so you knew that you would be that for Wanda without hesitation.

You two grew together even more, and by the ninth grade, you both knew that there wasn’t going to be anything in the world that could stop your letters.

You came home one day after a long day and checked your mailbox out of habit, knowing that a letter wasn’t due for a few more days. But there it was, wrapped and sitting pretty for you. Your name was scrawled beautifully on the front in the handwriting that got better and better with every year, but you would recognize it anywhere. A smile grew onto your face as you walked to your front door, unlocking it and rushing inside to get to your desk. Of course, your name came first in the loopy letters.

I hope you’re doing alright! Things have been busy over here on my side of things, but never busy enough to not write you back. I just wondered, have been wondering for a while, really, if we were ever going to meet. We’ve been writing to each other for years, but I’ve never seen a picture of you. I know everything about you, but I’ve never met you. You are my best friend in the entire world, but I’ve never heard your voice. One day I would love to finally meet you. Would you be open to thinking about one of us flying out? Maybe after school is over for the both of us, we could make it happen. Number

It was much longer than that, but that was what caught your attention, more than her description of her busy week did. You read the letter three times. And then again. Your heart thumped in your chest as you tried to get a grip on yourself, irrational nervousness gripping your throat like an iron fist.

You knew the day was coming. You knew that it was. You two didn’t know what the other looked like at all, and neither of you had ever asked. Sometimes, you thought about it, but other times you found that it really didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she looked like because she was the best friend you had ever had, so you forgot about it. But that wasn’t what worried you.

The thought of meeting her nearly put you in cardiac arrest. You couldn’t meet her. What if you met and you two were totally bored of each other? What if how close you were on paper didn’t reflect at all in real life? What if you two found roadblocks in conversation that you never saw before? You didn’t want to meet her, not at all. You were terrified of it.

Because if you didn’t connect with Wanda on sight, then you doubted that you would ever be able to connect with anyone else. If you were wrong about Wanda being your person and her being yours, you would be crushed. If you figured out that the person who you gave your all for didn’t like you anymore after meeting you, you would die on the spot. You couldn’t afford to find it out.

You sat at your desk for an hour after reading her letter, smoothing your hand over the paper like you always did before you wrote your response. You knew what you needed to say, you just didn’t know how to say it.

What she had already written helped you, too. She was implying that they met up after graduation, which was still years away. You had time to hold off on it, to not talk about it for a while. You had some stall time in the bank, for sure. And you were going to use it.

§§§

You made the mistake of not putting the letter in your box.

Your mother came into your room, and she saw the letter. Your desk was typically off limits, so you were upset that she read it anyway, but what she said led all anger out of your body and made way for fear.

“You should totally go see your friend, sweetie!”

“What?”

“I’d pay for you to fly out,” your mom said. “I’d come with you, but I would pay for you to fly out and see your friend. You’ve been writing each other for three years now, and you’ve never seen each other. You guys should do it.”

“You’d fly me out to Sokovia?”

“You’re a great kid, of course I would.” You took the letter from her hands gently and put it in the box, and she gave you a look. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

You didn’t answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to meet her,” you admitted plainly, and then your mother gave you a look.

“She seems so excited to, after all these years. She’s such a sweet girl, what are you worried about?”

You couldn’t answer that. Your fears were your own, and they sounded ridiculous out loud. They made no sense to everyone else, and sometimes not even to you. Wanda Maximoff was nothing but sweet and kind and a good friend, and there you were, trying to blow her off because you were scared of a possible lack of face to face connection.

“Can we just drop it?”

And you did. In fact, all four of you did, until later.

§§§

By the end of your junior year, you were done for. Not because of tests or applications or any of that, it was because you realized that you were in deep for Wanda Maximoff.

It all made sense. The need to keep writing to her, the excitement you had felt getting a letter since sixth grade, the way you marveled over her penmanship and loved everything that she said and did. You were so in love with her, and it was irreversible. You were in love with her and what the two of you created together.

And you couldn’t lose that because of a bad meeting.

You avoided the topic of going there or Wanda coming to you, and you finally got each other’s numbers so that you could text on some international texting app, but primarily, it was still the heartfelt letters with the occasional heart stamps and constant string coming your way. And you wouldn't haven’t wanted anything different.

You sat at your desk on the last day of school as you wrote to her, writing about how you were about to watch some of your slightly older friends graduate in a few days. You also mentioned how you were excited to be a senior and get through your last year of high school just so that you could go and do whatever it was that you wanted to do, because you were only seventeen, and you didn’t know anything.

Sunshine,

I can’t wait to get out of high school. It’s not bad, just boring. I wish the people here were like you, and then maybe I could actually carry a conversation with them. Have you told your family yet? I told mine. My mom was… shocked to say the least, but she was fine with it. I think she might have suspicions about us writing to each other now, but who cares? I want to know if you’re alright.

How’s your new job going? I know you were excited to get one, so I hope it’s treating you well. It’s funny that you and Piet work across the mall from each other. I knew it was gonna be like that, even though you said it wouldn’t be! You two are inseparable, it’s so cute. Does he have any idea what he wants to do after we get out of school?

I kind of think that I want to start my own business. A flower shop, maybe. You know how I sort of have a green thumb. I think it would be good for me to own something. What do you think?

You wrote for about thirty minutes more, answering the questions she had asked you in a previous letter and signing your name at the bottom, a small smile on your face as you thought about her and her brother making food together like they always did.

You loved her. You really did.

§§§

It was in the middle of your senior year when you realized what the problem with her coming was. You had been keeping it so far in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize that the alarms were blaring in the back of your head.

You knew that if you saw Wanda in person once that you would never be able to let her go. You would have to pick up and move to her country or she would come to yours, and it would kill your mother for you to move. So, that would mean that you would be asking for Wanda to leave her own family to be with you, and you couldn’t be selfish.

So, you would be selfish in a way that was also selfless by holding off on seeing her.

You hadn’t told her that you loved her, and you planned on never admitting it. You were sure she kind of knew, even just a little, but she never said anything. The way that you were holding onto the idea of her probably said enough for her to know. You just hoped that she knew that you were in love with her as a friend, at least. Wanda was the type who needed to know that they were loved, and she so was.

You loved her without even knowing what she looked like. You loved her without knowing whether she had a nasty habit or if she was a neat freak. You loved her without seeing her in a dress or in your favorite color or even looking into her eyes. You had never even heard her voice before, but that didn’t matter at all. You fell in love with her hand writing, then the way that she wrapped her letters, and then her words themselves. And then, you just were in love with Wanda Maximoff. All of her. All that you knew. And the things that you didn’t.

You thought about a confession letter for a long time. You were terrified of it, to say the least, because what if it backfired? What if she thought that you were only interested because she came out to you? What if she thought that you didn’t mean it at all?

Or worse, what if she just completely didn’t feel that way at all? What if the feeling she got when she wrote to you was nothing but platonic? That would be the biggest nightmare of all, and you had no idea how you were ever going to be able to pick up your fancy pen and put it to your special parchment after reading that.

By the time that you finally stopped wrestling with yourself about whether you were going to tell her that you were in love with her, you got a letter in the mail. A heart stamp was on the outside and it was tied with the string it always was, and the familiarity calmed your racing heart. You opened it gently, like you did with all of the letters you got, and then you saw her familiar scrawl.

How could someone’s handwriting feel like home?

Moonlight,

I would love to tell you about everything that’s been happening here, but I believe that it’s rather boring compared to what’s been bursting at the seams in my own mind. With every letter that I’ve ever written to you since we were thirteen, I’ve hesitated with my pen over telling you what I know has been true for years. I think that, finally, I know that I have something to say to you. I’ve always wanted to admit this to you, ever since the seventh grade.

I think that I fell in love with you, a long, long, time ago. I think that I know I did. I haven’t told you, and I never intended to tell you, because I was scared. I’m still scared here, as I write this letter, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

Pietro already knows, but he knew before I even did. I’m sure it has something to do with us being so in sync, that he knew where my heart, love, and loyalties were before I even knew myself. I tell you everything, and something as monumental as falling in love with someone, I believe that you should know. But I couldn’t tell you. Not in the beginning, and apparently, not even after a year or two.

I’ve never seen you or heard your voice or held your hand, but I don’t need that to know that I truly have fallen in love with the person that you are. You are a beautiful person with the most gorgeous soul I have ever had the privilege of talking to, and I think that we have stumbled upon a connection that we may never see again, if you feel the same way.

If this made you uncomfortable in any way, please tell me. I’m sorry if this came on too strong, or too up front. I never want to make you upset.

It’s okay if you don’t want to carry on writing to me after this letter. I just thought that I needed to tell you after all this time. We never lie to each other, and I think that this lie to save me from possible embarrassment or losing the greatest friend I have ever had has expired. Thank you as always for reading, Moonlight.

Your Sunshine, Wanda.

Your jaw was slacked, and your mouth was open. Your heart was beating so quickly, but it wasn’t frantic. Your mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, but you were calm. You were supposed, but you weren’t. It simply felt… right. It felt like you had secretly been expecting it all along, like your soul had known the whole time, or maybe even like it had known that you felt the exact same way. It felt like you were receiving news that you had already heard about.

But that didn’t take away any from the pure elation that you felt. You set the letter down so that you didn’t accidentally wrinkle it, and then put your head in your hands to hide your smile and think, like they would help you any.

She loves me. Wanda loves me. And not in the way that friends loved each other, that’s not how she loved you. She felt what you had been feeling, a bond so strong that it could be felt on paper.

Your hands shook as you reread the letter. You scanned over it for a second time, a third time, and you were tearing up by the fifth, finally setting it down again and leaving it on your desk. It didn’t deserve the beautiful darkness of the box where it’s predecessors went, not yet. Probably not ever. You would have framed it in the moment, if you could have.

Part of you was glad that she admitted it first. You were going to, one day, maybe. But the worst part was the hypothetical wait for the letter to cross the pond. Whoever sent the confession letter would have to wait about two weeks for a response, and that felt like forever. You knew that just as much as she did, and she still took the chance to do it.

So, with the most fond and gentle smile on your face, you took out your special pen, wrote Sunshine as the entrance, and then professed your own love right back at her, trying as hard as you possibly could to make it as beautiful and raw for her as you felt on the inside, and as the one that she gave you. But, all you could think of were the first two sentences, but you knew that you were going to go for much longer than that.

Sunshine,

Oh, Wanda. How I wish we were both brave enough to do this earlier.

§§§

By the end of your senior year, you two were dancing around each other, taking it slow, as if you both hadn’t professed your love for each other. You kept writing your steady letters to each other, the same nicknames, the same doting words and pretty scratched across the paper with dark ink.

For the most part, nothing changed. But neither of you could deny the way that you wanted to see each other. And so, your time was up. You had to stop messing around.

The first time the two of you planned to see each other, it was supposed to happen over that summer break. It was supposed to be a nice experience for everyone, at a time that was actually pretty convenient.

And then, right during the week she was supposed to come, her aunt passed away, right in her sleep. It didn’t even come to your mind to think about rescheduling so fast, and that was the first time you had ever gotten an email from Wanda. She emailed you the morning that she found out, saying that she would rather send the first email than have you show up at the airport upset because you didn’t know she wasn’t coming. She was able to resell her ticket and you assured her that it was totally okay for her to not be coming, and you gave her condolences, as well. Wanda was very close to her family, and you knew that she felt that loss.

The next time the plans fell through, it was because you were going to surprise her. Your mom paid for your ticket, and you had finally grown out of your own mind and realized that it was going to be what it was regarding meeting Wanda. But, when you emailed her two nights before, spilling the beans because you didn’t want to just go to the airport without knowing how the hell to get around, you got a quick response. Turns out, she wasn’t anywhere near her house, or the airport. She was on a marine biology trip in some waters off the coast of Romania, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to write you all about it yet. You begrudgingly canceled the trip and told her that of course, it was alright. That night, your mom assured you that the two of you would just try again later.

But then life happened. You went off to culinary school, a last minute yet sure decision after Wanda had taught you that there was so much more to love about food other than the taste. She had your new address and you had hers, because she moved from Sokovia to Italy for her marine biology major. The letters came and went faster, with the smaller amount of mileage.

Long story short, neither of you had enough money to go and spend thousands on a trip, and not even one helping the other out or splitting the cost helped much. Wanda was getting increasingly nervous about whether it was ever going to happen, and though she never stated it directly, it was very obvious. You were getting there, too.

The thing that kept you going was the letters. The same as they had always been on her end and yours, they were the one constant in your life. Wherever you went, you knew that her letters would follow you, and that you would still write from your heart and send your own across the sea over to some place in Europe. You knew that as long as her letters were lengthy and detailed and that if she took the time to wrap them as gently as she had been, that you two were strong. And as long as you kept giving advice and writing her entire short stories about you week, she knew that you were still hers.

You would be hers until your heart stopped beating, and long after that. You were there for her for as long as she wanted you to be, and that was widely known.

§§§

It took four years for you to get back home and in a place where you could afford a ticket in or out. Wanda took a little longer, but that didn’t matter. It only gave you even more time to save and plan for when she came, and the date came.

You were both twenty two when you bought her the winning ticket. You were flying her out to Florida for a week and a half. The Keys, to be exact. You knew that she was going to love it and the beautiful waters that came with it, and it was away from the meddling eyes and mouths of your family, the ones who had been routing for you from afar (and in the beginning, behind your back). It was just going to be the two of you in a condo, and you knew that it was going to be heaven on earth.

Now, hell on earth was the anticipation of waiting at the airport. You had no idea what Wanda Maximoff looked like, partially because it didn’t matter while you two wrote, and also because you wanted to see her for the first time in person. You two had a flare for dramatic romantics, another reason that you two clicked so well.

You stood with a sign that you had made the night before with paint that you had mixed yourself into her favorite shade of red, a scarlet, almost pink color. You were in a sundress because it was sweltering outside, and you were almost nervous about how she would take the heat after being somewhere so cold all of her life. You were rocking back and forth on your feet without even noticing, and your stomach growling was the last of your worries. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking, but you willed them to stay still so that she could at least have a chance of reading it.

You were sure that you were about to pass out. It seemed like it had been millennia and a day all the same with her in your life. Everything that you had written each other was really about to come to life, after ten long years. You felt almost like it wasn’t real at all, like you were about to be woken up by your alarm back in your apartment over at your old school. But it was very, very real, and all the receipts and your racing heart advocated for the truth in it all.

The gates opened, and all of a sudden, people were lazily walking out, as one would do after a long flight. You were certain that the woman who was standing next to you could hear you start to slightly hyperventilate, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you in that moment was Wanda.

A man came up from behind you and bumped you, and he said his apologies while you bent down to pick up the sign. Despite your nervousness, you stopped to tell him that it was okay, sign still face down on the floor. He grinned at you and then frowned when he looked up, causing you to mirror his expression.

Your name. It was clear as day, accented, close, and sounded like a sigh of relief and wonder floating in the wind. It came from a woman you didn’t know the voice of, and just like that, you remembered what you were doing. You left the sign on the floor, stood up, and turned around as fast as you could, eyes slightly wild as they soaked in everything about the woman standing in front of you.

Her hair was almost a cross between light brown and light red, even in the fake lights of the airport. She had light makeup on and she looked a little tired from the flight, but the look of elation on her face wiped it all away. Her pink lips were curved into an open mouthed smile, like she had forgotten the words while they were already halfway to her tongue. Your heart raced as you looked at her, and you didn’t even need to question who she was. Or who she was to you. You couldn’t look at anything but her face, the face you had been missing so achingly without ever seeing it before, the face that you knew was bound to give you comfort that you had never felt one in your life, until the end of your days. Her eyes were wide and a clear blue as they stared back at you, reflecting your exact expression, and you sensed that the two of you had already synced up and gotten on the same page, just like you had both predicted.

“O-oh my god,” you breathed out, just inches away from her. “Wanda!” You went in for an embrace at the same time, both of you somehow knowing which way to lean your head to avoid collision, and just where to put your arms. You fought shaking when you held her, your nerves completely shot at it finally happening. You were actually with Wanda, in an airport, hugging her like there was all the time to spend in the world. “Oh my god,” you repeated, and you felt her squeeze you a little closer to her. You could have cried in that moment.

“You,” she pulled back from you to take your face in her hands, her blue eyes scanning over your face like she was studying priceless art. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was the way she looked when she watched the animals underwater. She shook her head slowly, eyes welling up with the thinnest layer of tears as her lips turned up into a smile. “You are beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked downwards, feeling yourself get hot at the bold and sincere compliment. You knew that anything more than about three words was going to smoke you stutter “Wanda, have you seen yourself?” She laughed, a soft sound that you had imagined hearing so many times that you almost thought you had made it up, until you saw the upturn of her mouth and the mirth in her eyes.

“I’m- I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Wanda breathed out, and you felt the same exact way. How had you pulled it off? After nearly a decade of pining that was mutual and writing to each other about every little detail in your lives, she was finally right in front of you, where you could see her and touch her.

“How’d you know it was me?” You asked after a second of grappling for something to say. “I didn’t have my sign up when you came.”

The smile that was on her face went from being flat out joyful to content, almost peaceful. It rubbed off on you immediately as you leaned back into her touch, ignoring all of the people bustling around in the busy airport. “I just knew that it was you.”

§§§

For the entirety of the day Wanda arrived, all the two of you did was stare at each other and hold onto each other, like you were both equally terrified that the gods were going to come down from wherever they resided to split you up again. There was hardly even any talking when you arrived at the condo, and it felt natural. The two of you had already spoken so much, and now you needed to catch up on just seeing her. You’ve seen her soul, her mind, her heart, and now you were seeing her face. It felt like you had always known it.

But you were the first one to speak as you held hands on the deck, her thumb drawing subconscious hearts on the back of your palm. “You have a way with words, sunshine.” The name contrasted to the sky, which was dark but illuminated with an almost full moon and stars. The city was mostly behind you, so the natural light was what you got. It was all that you needed.

You felt her content fade into joy. “Really?”

You knew that she was nervous about her English, but to you, it was perfect. From her accent to the way that she sometimes missed connotations that were specific to the language to the idioms that accidentally slipped into your letters, you loved it. “Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder. “And I never would have imagined that you sounded so… sweet.”

“Sweet?” She parroted, and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Somehow, you knew that she could feel it, in some strange way. “Can I ask you something?” The answer was yes. It was yes, and it always would be yes. So, you said that. She cleared her throat, a quiet sound that you stored in your memory to keep, simply because she made it. “Did you… did you mean what you wrote?”

You were stumped. There had to be hundreds of letters between the two of you, and thousands upon thousands of topics. But you couldn’t question yourself for long, because then you knew exactly what she was talking about.

Did you truly love Wanda? The question came up a few times between you and your mother when you were in your first year of culinary school. Were you in love with Wanda Maximoff, or were you in love with the idea of Wanda and the mystery she brought? The question had been brought up, many times by your mother, who was only just making sure that you were being smart, and the answer never once varied. Yes. You loved Wanda Maximoff with every breath you took, every stroke of your pen, every glance at her pretty script. You knew that Wanda was it for you, and seeing her only solidified it. The way your hand fit together like they were the missing parts of a lost artifact made it concrete. The way she gave you everything back and the way you did the same told you everything you needed to know.

You leaned off of her shoulder and turned to face her, a soft smile on your face as the moon came out from behind the singular patch of clouds in the night, illuminating her features. You saw her face and her spirit through brand new eyes, and it was wonderful. It was all you could ever ask for. “Wanda,” you started, your voice quiet enough to not disturb the moment, and the sound of waves crashing not too far away. “I’ve loved you since I knew what love was, and I have been in love with you for as long as I knew what the difference between the two really was. Everything that I have ever sent to you, every word, I meant it all. And I’ll mean it for the rest of my life.”

She was staring at you blankly, with only a bit of something lingering in her gaze. Then, as soft as a breeze, she was muttering something under her breath in her mother tongue and putting her hand on your face. “Can I kiss you?”

You ignored the way that your heart surged in your chest. The moon was still out and bright, shining down on the two of you like you had paid for it to be a spotlight. “You never have to ask,” you said, and then, as fluidly and gently as humanly possible, she tilted her head and leaned forward, and you met her halfway.

§§

You had never been scuba diving before, but Wanda was in her element. She helped you suit up after she told the instructor that she was certified, and then rolled her eyes playfully when he checked behind her work. You cracked a smile. The entire time he was instructing, she was nearly bursting at the seams to get into the water, and the second he said that the two of you were allowed to go, she was holding your hand and asking if you were ready.

You never thought that Wanda could look more beautiful than she already had, but in and near the water, she was something else. She was in a state of grace and peace all the same, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be so tranquil, for the rest of her life. All you wanted in return was to be privileged to see it.

The gods that made you fear a bad trip were actually on your side, because Wanda excitedly pointed out a group of migrating sea turtles, not even paying either of you any mind at all, carrying about through nature. You smiled at them and at her, unable to decide which one was going to be the apple of your eye at the moment. You chose her.

§§§

You got out of the shower, your skin still slightly damp and the air humid from the heat of the water. You smiled at Wanda when you caught her looking at you, giving you that same blank stare that she had the first night the two of you got there. You stopped in your tracks, giving her the encouraging look that you knew she needed. “You okay, Wands?”

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched. It was the first time she had spoken the words aloud, and you both knew it. The weight of the words and the confession felt so true, so genuine, that it went straight to your heart and made it swell with warmth. A small yet generous smile stretched onto your face as you felt everything fall into place. “I love you, Wands.”

“More than I’ve ever loved anything,” she continued, like she hadn’t even heard you, and you looked back at her with a doting expression. “And, I’ve been holding off because I don’t know how to say that,” she paused, and then she fell into deep thought.

You took a step closer, assuming that the small language barrier had come up. When it took her more than a few seconds and you saw the little scrunch of confusion between her brows appear, you spoke up. “There’s no rush,” you said gently.

“If other people were to look at us, they would say that we have only known each other for three days,” she said, and you nodded. “But, I feel that we’ve known each other for thousands of years. I feel that we were made to meet, and that we were always going to no matter what came up. Why else would we both be so focused on talking to each other? I have always seen you as someone special to me, always, but now that we have finally seen each other face to face, I think that my… heart is recognizing you as it’s other part.”

You had no words in your mind at that moment, because they were all in your heart. You couldn’t open your mouth to convey the pure shock and relief that you felt at her admitting something that you had been feeling the whole time. You swallowed and felt your eyes burn with tears, but before they could fall past your cheeks, Wanda stood up and wiped them from your face before pulling you close.

Nothing mattered. Not the fact that you were still wet and she was in her pajamas, not the fact that you were in a towel, not the fact that the pizza man was knocking at the door. It was you and her, like it always had been in your mind, and Wanda’s too.

You were it for her, and she was it for you. And while you hugged it out in that beautiful condo in Florida, you silently thanked your sixth grade English teacher for making you write to a random girl your age all the way across the Atlantic, and you thanked Wanda for being the one who wrote her way right into your life.

so. uh! hiiii! i hope y’all liked it! i loved writing it, even though she was a lil bit of a challenge, not gonna lie. feedback is always appreciated!!

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel fanfic #wanda fluff #scarlet witch #marvel au #wanda maximoff fluff #lgbtq #lesbian!wanda

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typical-simplelove · 3 years

Text

Since We Were Three (J. Oleksiak)

Summary: What happens when you go work for the Dallas Stars and your childhood enemy plays for them, too?

A/n: Here is a fun enemies to lovers I wrote. This is the first time I've ever written for that trope, but I want to write more so buckle up! Enjoy this!!

Warnings: people doing things enemies do (sorry, that's really vague), mentions of sex, breaking/spraining ankles

Word Count: 12.1k

You didn’t expect to move to Dallas; it wasn’t even on your radar. All you really remember is sitting at your parents' house back home and you got an email from your Linkedin saying that there was a position open for something you were qualified for. You didn’t even bother to look at where it was; you opened the application, read the prerequisites, and filled it out. You were desperate to get a job, so it didn’t matter. Only after you emailed your application did you realize where it was - Dallas. It didn’t even register in your mind at the time that your former neighbor and lifelong enemy lives in Dallas or plays for the Dallas Stars, the organization you just sent an application for. They were looking for someone to work in their marketing department. If you knew that your former neighbor and lifetime enemy was working for the Dallas Stars, then you’d probably not have submitted the application. You decided, however, that the pros greatly outweighed the cons, and you doubted that you’d ever need to interact with the players unless they had a marketing issue. You doubt they would, right?

You got an email three days later asking for an interview. You emailed them back saying that you lived in Canada and weren’t sure if you could make it down for an interview. Thankfully, they said that they’d be willing to have a virtual interview; however, you’d have to be willing to move to Dallas for the job. You knew for a fact that you’d be more than willing to move to Dallas. That wasn’t the problem. So, you and the Dallas Stars’ representative set a time for your virtual meeting. You had the interview, and it seemed like they liked you. You got an email three days later that you got the job; you moved to Dallas three days after that and started four days later.

You completely forgot about the fact that your enemy slash former neighbor was in Dallas until your mother brought it up.

“Hey, yn, you know, you don’t not know anyone in Dallas.” You were confused. You literally moved to a country in which you knew no one.

“Mom, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jamie, remember him? Jamie Oleksiak. You hated him growing up. Well, remember, he plays for the Dallas Stars. You should contact him.”

The normal warmth in your face immediately drained. Yeah, now you remember. The only reason you had the slightest inkling as to what Jamie was up to was because your mother and his mother were good friends. You don’t care for him at all.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright and tell your mother “no”, so you pivoted. “Maybe,” you said and your mother seemed to think that meant that you’d be reaching out to Jamie. You weren’t. You were going to do everything in your power to try to avoid him. There was no way that someone who worked in marketing would ever come in contact with any of the players, right? You didn’t work in media that was in constant contact with the team, and you didn’t work in anything to do with the contracts or paychecks. As long as you keep a quiet profile, you expect you should be fine, right?

This worked for your first season working with Stars. You were new and a few years out of college, so your more experienced colleagues made sure to observe what you were doing. You were happy with this. Before working in Dallas, you only worked for one small company and you were one of two people in the marketing department. The reason you were looking for a new job was that this company went bankrupt. Yeah, you were grateful for the oversight you received. You made it one year without seeing, hearing, talking to, or being around Jamie. The fact that the two of you were in the same city made your blood boil. You hated Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being, and you hoped to avoid him as much as possible.

You went into the second season thinking that you’d have the ability to remain anonymous to the team and stay in your lane. This, unfortunately, did not work. You went to work on the morning that training camp started. You sat at your desk and noticed that everyone was quite angsty. You turned to a friend and asked what was going on. She told you that someone from management was coming to find people to work for the GM, specifically, someone in marketing. You knew that you’d be the last one selected considering your lack of experience. You were wrong.

The minute the representative from the GM’s offices walked in and saw your application, you were swept up and taken to their offices. Happy with the new promotion, you didn’t realize that you’d be closer to Jamie.

The notion hit you nine days after you were promoted when Tyler Seguin walked into the office and walked over to you.

“Yn, right?” he says and you nod. “We need someone to fill in with media personnel and they asked for you.”

“Oh!” you say; you had experience in media but not that much to get a recommendation.

“Yeah, they said to be there at 1:30pm.”

“Thanks,” you tell Tyler; he smiles at you and waves.

So you were going to be getting closer to the team than you thought.

. . .

As you walked down the hall towards the locker room, you ran right into the wall. Except it wasn’t a wall.

“Oh, you’re not a wall,” you say mostly to yourself. It was a very hard and firm person.

“So, you’re telling me you would have walked into me also if I were a wall?” You look up and see none other than Jamie Oleksiak looking back at you.

His beautiful eyes made you want to throw up. There was no word to express how much you hated him. Literally just staring at him for a second made you want to run away and scream.

“I, no, I just thought I had more time before I had to turn the corner.”

“Sure,” he says in a voice that makes you want to punch him; however, looking at him, you know it wouldn’t hurt at all and do the damage you wanted. Since when did he get so big? “Hey, Yn. I heard you started working for the Stars organization. Welcome to Dallas.”

“Yeah, no, you’re not my welcome party. And I’ve been in Dallas for almost a year.” You immediately back up but trip over your feet. Jamie instantly reaches out and helps you balance. You feel your face suddenly grow warm. Why did Jamie’s enormously large hands have this effect on you?

“You always were quite clumsy growing up. Tripping and falling for me, I mean in front of me.” Jamie’s joke didn’t go past you. It infuriated you. He liked to think that you were in love with him. You weren’t.

“You know, the only reason I kept on falling was because you kept tripping me. It’s your fault.” You storm away angrily and head to where you need to be.

Jamie smiles after you. “That’s the feistiness that I remember.”

You turn around and glare at him. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be fun.

. . .

You’ve hated Jamie Oleksiak since he tripped you in daycare when you were three years old. The first three years of your life, you didn’t mind Jamie. Your mothers were best friends, and you were both neighbors. Your parents were both ER surgeons and sometimes they had to go in for emergency surgery. This was one of those days. Your father was already working and your mother was called in for emergency surgery, so Jamie’s mother was going to pick you up from preschool. You put on your small, sparkly light purple backpack and followed Jamie and his mother out the door. The minute you were about to cross the parking lot, Jamie stuck his foot out and you tripped and fell on your face. You didn’t immediately feel the pain until Jamie’s mother helped you up and mentioned that your face was bleeding. You touched your face and began to cry. Jamie tripped you purposefully and now your face was bleeding. From that day forward, you hated Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being. How could someone who was supposed to be your friend and care for you purposefully hurt you? Where was the logic in that? Why could Jamie purposefully hurt you unless he didn’t like you? He must hate you to want to hurt you.

It wasn’t just because he tripped you; Jamie began to make your life miserable. From taunting you on the playground to tripping you all the time. It continued into kindergarten and elementary school. Middle school was terrible. He taunted you and made fun of you. He always found ways to make anything you were enthusiastic about a reason to taunt you. He joined clubs because you were in them and so he could bring his stupid with him who would the experience unenjoyable for you. You remember your parents telling you to ignore him and Jamie probably had a crush on you. He didn’t. He just out of nowhere opted to make your life miserable.

It only got worse in high school. As his popularity grew in high school as a result of hockey, he only became more cocky and unbearable. He always found a way to make you miserable. Whenever you had any remote crush or boyfriend, Jamie always swept in and ruined it for you. By the time you graduated and went to college, you were ready to leave the horrors that Jamie brought on to you. You were quite proud of the fact that despite your mothers being friends, you had no idea about anything to do with Jamie’s life. You went to college and built a life that was the exact opposite of the misery that Jamie brought into your life.

. . .

You walk into the locker room and Carrie, one of the other media execs, greets you. “Yn, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“We need you to fill in for a few weeks with our media team because one of the media personnel had to leave for a family emergency. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure how good I’ll be at it, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Carrie laughs. “It’s not too hard. You just have to take photos and videos of the team during warmups, practices, and stuff like that. If you know how to use Instagram, then you should be great.”

“Well, then, I think I should be good.”

“We’re going to give you a separate phone to use that you can just keep at your desk in the GM’s offices.”

“Perfect, that sounds great.” You and Carrie continue to talk and work out the little details about your new temporary position. You walked back to your desk in the GM’s offices with a smile on your face. You were happy to have this new position. At first, I didn’t recall to you that you’d have to be in contact with the team. When you heard Jamie’s voice echoing through the halls, your blood began to boil. You definitely weren’t looking forward to having to have to work with him.

. . .

The day after you got the word that you were filling in with the Media Department, you started right away. You were told to sit in the practice arena ready to take photos and videos of the team. As the practice was ending, Carrie asked you to head to the locker room and take one-minute interviews with the players. She gave you the list of players: Tyler Seguin, John Klingberg, Esa Lindell, Roope Hintz, and, much to your disappointment, Jamie Oleksiak. You sighed. You really didn’t want to have to talk to him, but you were going to be professional and try not to let him get to you.

You walk towards the locker room and Carrie tells you to wait a moment; the players aren’t ready. After fifteen minutes of small talk, you and Carrie walk into the locker room. The players that you and Carrie were going to interview were sitting on the bench waiting. You glance around the room and Jamie is looking at you with a curious eye.

“This is yn; she’s filling in for a few weeks as media personnel whilst Tristain is out with a family emergency,” Carrie explains. “Be nice to her please.”

Jamie meets your eye again and smirks. You roll your eyes and some of the players notice with confusion.

“Yn, why don’t you start with Tyler and I’ll start with John and we’ll work our way around?” Carrie explains.

You nod. You glance around the room and take note of who you’d be interviewing. You were going to be interviewing Jamie Oleksiak much to your disappointment. You get through the interview with Tyler, but he stops you before you can move on.

“What’s with you and Big Rig?” Tyler asks.

You smile at him trying to hide your disdain for your former friend. “Nothing, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Tyler laughs. “If you say so.”

You move on and interview Roope next. His interview made you giggle like a maniac behind the camera, and you didn’t notice the glares that Jamie gave his teammate and you.

You finish your interview with Roope and get ready to interview Jamie.

“Hi Jamie, ready for your interview?” you ask professionally.

“Yeah, I am,” he says in a tone that you can’t quite decipher but it’s already got your blood boiling. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“So, Jamie, tell me, what’s been the best part of the start of the new season?”

He puts a smirk on his face and you know exactly what he’s thinking - you’re not going to get an answer you like. “Uh, I’ve liked that I’ve been able to rekindle our companionship.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what this is, and you have to give me a different answer.”

Jamie’s answer didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates and they were begging, no yearning, to ask more.

“Fine,” Jamie pauses briefly to think of another question. “I would say just being back with the team and skating with everyone again is probably the best part about the start of the new season.”

You nod and glance down at your list of questions. “What do you hope to get out of this new season?”

“Hopefully a Stanley Cup?” he says and quirks his eyebrows in a way that sends warmth to your face but also infuriates you. You nod in a sign of acknowledgment and Jamie can’t pass up the opportunity to get a rise out of you. “Maybe you, too.”

You instantly drop your notepad and glare up at him. What was his problem? Why was he like this? Jamie should know you hate him, so why does he suddenly think that you two were going to fix the hatred that’s been building for years? Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the room. “Can you please stop? Just so you know, I hate you, so whatever fantasy you’re playing out in your mind? It’s not happening, Jamie. Can you please stop making it harder for me to do my job?”

Jamie smirks. He knows he should stop, but he won’t. “I always liked watching you get frustrated at me.”

“Jamie! Just cut it out!”

“Is everything okay over here?” Carrie says, trying to calm the situation.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Jamie’s just rehashing things from our childhoods.” You explain.

“Wait, you two know each other?” John asks comically.

Jamie nods. “Know is not quite it, but yes.”

“What does that mean?” John asks

“That means that Yn hates me.”

“You hate me too, Jamie; don’t just put this on me. You’ve only ever made my life more difficult throughout every part of it.”

“Yn, why don’t you interview Esa, and I’ll finish with Jamie, that good?” Carrie suggests

“Yes, that works,” you walk over to Esa and breathe out a sigh of relief. Yeah, you knew that this was exactly what was going to happen.

You finished your interview with Esa, and you and Carrie walked out of the locker room to prep the videos to be posted.

“Dude, what did you do to make her so angry at you?” Esa asks. “It seems like your mere presence pisses her off.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it does,” Jamie admits. “I can’t remember why; all I remember is that one day we started hating each other.”

“I’d hate to be in your shoes,” Tyler tells his teammate. “A pretty girl hates you, and you very obviously like her.”

Jamie pales. He didn’t think it was that obvious to anyone, ever. “What?”

Everyone laughs.

“It’s obvious,” Roope agrees. “You like her. Just the way you looked at her and acted around her. You’ve got it bad.”

“No, I don’t,” Jamie grumbles.

“Dude, you were staring at her the entire time she was interviewing Roope. All the giggling made you jealous, didn’t it?” Esa states.

“I’m not jealous, and I don’t care. There is nothing but hate between us.” Jamie tries to defend himself. It’s useless; Jamie knows for a fact that he was jealous that Roope got to be on the receiving end of your giggles.

“Whatever, this is going to be fun,” John says.

It truly will be.

. . .

When you got home from work that day, you immediately called your best friend, Lisa, to tell her all about your day with Jamie.

“You know?” you being. “He’s just as infuriating as when we were children. He had the audacity to believe that we could possibly be friends. I mean, come on, the antipathy and rancor between us can be felt for miles and miles. He drives me crazy so much.”

Lisa was glad that you weren’t doing a video call because the smile on her face was wide. Deep down, she knows that there are other feelings besides this hate between you and Jamie; she just wasn’t sure if it would ever come out. “Maybe he wants to be nice again.”

“No, that’s not what this is. If he wanted to be nice and try to be friends again, then he wouldn’t have done exactly what he knew would drive me insane. It’s probably like caffeine to him; driving me insane is the coffee that wakes him up in the morning. You know, now, probably, he wakes up and hatches a plan to try to drive me insane.”

Lisa laughs. “Aren’t you taking this a bit far?”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m acting appropriately. You didn’t see his smirk; I wanted to punch him in the face so badly. Obviously, it wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him as he’s huge now.”

“Oh? Down there too?”

Your face warms suddenly, and you’re glad Lisa can’t see your face. “That’s not what I meant. He’s giant and super muscular. I guess you could assume that he’s packing quite a bit.”

“You know, yn, maybe this is just pent-up sexual tension and frustration. Maybe you just need to get laid and get laid by someone in particular.”

“You’re telling me that when we were seven when Jamie broke my ankle, that was pent-up sexual frustration?”

Lisa laughs. “Okay, maybe not your entire relationship was pent-up sexual tension. Maybe just now and parts of high school? You have to admit, Jamie is quite hot, now, right? Maybe the past few years of hate has led to the dire need to just sleep with each other.”

“Thank you for your take, but these past few days is the first time I’ve spoken to Jamie in almost five years. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Just talk to him. Maybe tell him that you want this to be as professional as possible and try to move past the hate. Yn, before you argue, just think of what working for the Dallas Stars could do to your career. That’s a high-profile job. Maybe if you try to be professional and polite, then maybe he will too?”

You wanted to contradict everything Lisa said, but you knew she was right. For your job to go smoothly, it was important for you to keep a professional attitude and any hate you have for Jamie on the backburner. “You’re right; however, I’m not promising that it’s going to work. I’ll try my best to be professional, but if he starts to aggravate me, I’m not sure if I can keep up that facade.”

“That’s why you talk to him. Maybe set up a time to meet up or something and just discuss what you have to say.”

“That would require me to unblock him on literally everything, even Facebook.”

“Does he still even have that?”

“He does; it’s not even his real name. It’s an alias. He only made it to try to talk to me and bother me. I doubt he uses it and it may be deactivated now.”

“This is besides the point. Yn, Jamie is obviously not going to try to be professional with you, so it’s up to you to make that clear.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The only lingering thought you had was whether or not this would work. Surely, Jamie could be a decent human being to you, right?

. . .

The next day, you went and sat in the practice arena ready to take the photos that your job required you to take. Today, you decided was going to be the day that you had that all too important conversation with Jamie. You really didn’t want to have that conversation, but you knew that it was important in having a not chaotic working environment for everyone, not just you and Jamie.

When practice was over, you waited outside the locker room for Jamie. He walked out on his own and smirked when he saw you waiting. He didn’t know for sure you were waiting for him; however, when he saw that your phone was off, he assumed you weren’t there for work.

“Hey, ynn,” Jamie says to you and your blood instantly begins to boil. Jamie knew that you never gave him the jurisdiction to call you that, yet he still used it. You wanted to call him out on it but thought better of it. You were here to try to be professional and rehashing this would contradict your objective.

“Hey, Jamie, can we talk? It’s about something important.”

Jamie’s smirk instantly left his face and worry washed over his face. You didn’t know that Jamie could be sympathetic towards anything you said. “Yeah, is everything okay?”

His response shocked you and it took you a moment to regroup. “Oh, yeah. I just want to talk about our relationship, well, lack thereof of one. I think that when we’re here at work, we should be professional. We should put any hate that we have for each other on the side while here so that we can have a better working environment.”

Jamie laughs. “This is what you wanted to talk about? This couldn’t have been a text? You had me so worried, yn.”

“It’s important to me, Jamie,” you protest. You didn’t want to get angry at him, so you calmed yourself down. “I think it’s better for both of us if we can just keep our history and past behind us while we are doing anything to do with the Dallas Stars.”

“If I were to take you out on a date, then we could hate each other as normal?”

“What?” you falter.

“You heard me, yn. You never had a hard time hearing what I had to say.”

“No, absolutely not. You will not be taking me out on a date, ever.”

“Come on, really?”

“Jamie, this is beside the point. I’m trying to move on from our pasts and you aren’t really making this any easier. Isn’t this what you said the other day? You were hoping for a rekindling? Well, this is the first part. Trying to put behind us any hate.” You were raising your voice now. “I’m trying to make my job easier, but you’re making it incredibly difficult. Jamie, all I want is to come to work and not have to worry about whether or not an outburst I make at you will cost me my job.”

Jamie doesn’t have anything to say. “Yn.”

“No, don’t do that. You know, the reason we hate each other is your fault, so you should be the one fixing things, not me.”

“What?”

“You tripped me purposefully when we were three and laughed at me.”

“Wait, this is what this is about?”

“No, that’s the first time you treated me terribly. It was the start of you belittling me and making me feel terrible. I hated going to school because I was always worried about you and your stupid antics.” Tears are forming at the corners of your eyes, and you try to will them away.

Jamie feels terrible now. “I’m sorry, ynn. I didn’t know.”

“Firstly, don’t call me ynn; you don’t get to do that. Secondly, seriously? You’re telling me that you didn’t know you were being a total ass to me? No, I don’t believe that because I know for a fact that your mother talked to you. Do you want to know how I know that? Because she apologized to me time and time again for what you did to me. Don’t you dare say that you had no idea.”

Jamie looks down at you and extends his left leg so it’s jutting out. “You’re right. I was a total ass.”

“Only took you twenty-plus years to finally admit that.”

“Come on, ynn,” Jamie says and you glare at him. “Yn, I’m trying here, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Oh my goodness, Jamie. Literally, that’s what I’ve been trying to do! You not willing to accept my proposition is the whole reason we’re rehashing this stuff.”

“Yn, I’m sorry. What can I do?”

You look at him and are shocked to see that he has remorse in his eyes. “Nothing, just let me be.” You take a step to the right and begin to walk away. Unfortunately, because Jamie extended his leg, you tripped over it and went crashing to the floor hurting your ankle in the process. You screamed out in pain; you always had weak ankles after breaking them in elementary school. Your cry out in pain brought some people out of the locker room.

Jamie’s eyes go wide in fear. “Yn! Are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay? Jamie, did you really have to trip me?”

“Really? I didn’t mean to! My leg was just there, and you tripped.”

“It doesn’t matter; let me just get up.” You put your hands flat on the ground to help yourself up. The minute your leg is stable enough to be stood up on, you get up but fall immediately. You cry out in pain again.

“You might have sprained your ankle,” Roope says. He was one of the people who rushed out of the locker room when you first fell.

“No, I don’t think so. I just have very weak ankles after Jamie broke, I mean, I broke my ankles in elementary school.” Your correction of Jamie breaking your ankles does not go unnoticed by him. He wants to ask why but feels it’s not the right moment.

“Here, let me help you,” Jamie reaches for your arms and you move them away. “Really, yn? Just let me help you.”

Jamie and Roope help you up and put you on the bench in the locker room, and Roope goes to find a trainer to check on your ankle.

“I’m sorry, yn, really,” Jamie says with a soft voice. You begin to put your foot on the ground but Jamie stops you gently. “Put it on the bench. It’s important to keep it elevated.”

“It’s cold, though,” you pout.

Jamie laughs. “Here, put it on my lap then, okay?”

You look at Jamie hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trick, yn. I think I’ve hurt you enough over the years. Just put your leg on my lap.”

You do as he says and Jamie rests his hands on top of your ankle. Your face grows warm at the touch and you suddenly don’t hate Jamie. “So, you’re finally admitting that you made me miserable?”

“I don’t think I made you miserable,” Jamie says and you scoff. “Wait, let me finish. I think I didn’t make your life any easier. I’m not relenting any more than that, babe.”

You flinch at the pet name, but your face grows warm. Do you address it?

Jamie makes the decision for you. “Yn, I have a question for you.”

You nod, signaling him to continue.

“You were saying something about how you have weak ankles and then said something about me. This isn’t me trying to be self-centered or whatever. I just genuinely want to know. I don’t remember what happened.”

“Well, we were in elementary school and you once, I’m pretty sure it was accidental, put your hand out and it hit me while I was walking down the stairs and I fell. I landed weirdly on my ankle and broke it.”

“So you blame me?”

“Yes, absolutely. Do you blame me? You had a way of hurting me and making it seem like an accident.”

Jamie laughs and you giggle along; he’s about to comment when a trainer walks in.

“Let’s see what’s the matter here,” he says. You are suddenly extremely aware that your leg is sitting on Jamie’s lap and his hands are on your lap. The trainer examines your ankle. “It’s nothing too terrible; just a small sprain. I think if you keep it elevated as much as possible then it should be healed in a few days. Can you try walking on it?”

You nod and put your foot on the ground gently. Jamie puts his hands on your waist as you try to stand, and your skin is burning beneath his touch. “I think I’m good to get back to work.”

“You sure?” Jamie asks, concerned.

You nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you walk away from Jamie’s embrace. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Just ice it and keep it elevated once you get home tonight,” the trainer tells you. You nod and walk out of the locker room.

“What did you do to her?” Roope asks Jamie.

“Too much damage to ever fix,” Jamie says with a sigh. There was no way that your relationship with Jamie would ever go past professional acquaintances after what you revealed to him today. If Jamie knew one thing about you it was that you were strong and steadfast with your opinions and rarely changed them, especially when it came to people. Jamie doubted that he’d be an exception considering all of the past history there.

. . .

The days that followed your fall, you avoided Jamie as much as possible. You could proudly say that you didn’t hate him anymore. That’s not true. You still hated Jamie; however, when you heard his name, you didn’t immediately roll your eyes and get angry. Sometimes, you’d smile and other times you’d have no reaction. This shocked everyone because they all knew about the hatred you had for the Dallas Stars hockey player.

Shortly after, you were taken off of the media job and went back to your marketing job. The night of the home opener, however, Carrie comes up to your office with a request. “Tristain can be back at work but not for games at the moment. Do you think that you could fill in tonight? We had her on the schedule and no one else can be there.”

You hesitate; the only thing holding you back was the fact that you’d be seeing Jamie again.

“Sure, of course!”

You sort out the details with Carrie and are set to be available as part of the media team tonight for the home opener.

Later that day, you’re standing outside of the locker room filming the boys get ready for warmups. Once the video was taken and posted, you put the phone in your pocket and begin to head to the place you were supposed to be. However, someone grabs onto your arm gently and stops you.

“How’s your ankle?” Jamie asks softly.

This should infuriate you; however, his concern has you touched. You don’t show it though. “Better. I think I’d be better, though, if I didn’t have to worry about my ankles but oh well.”

Jamie shakes his head; he wasn’t sure why he was expecting anything else from you.

“I have to go, good luck tonight, Jamie,” you tell him and walk away. You’ll admit, your comment was quite snarky and unneeded. You feel bad for what you said, and Jamie was only trying to be nice. You had to keep up familiarities, right? You hated Jamie Oleksiak for the majority of your life, so why did you suddenly feel bad for what you said to him?

. . .

“Are you coming out with us tonight, Yn?” Denis asks. The team won and wanted to go out and celebrate.

You shake your head. “No, thanks for the invite though.”

“Oh, come on, why not, Ynn?” Jamie asks. Why was he asking you that? Did he not remember that the two of you have hated each other since birth? “Don’t not go because of me.”

“Funny. You think that I care about what you do or think. I just have a few things I have to do.” you lied; you weren’t going to admit that Jamie was the reason you weren’t going out.

Jamie smirks. “Fine, if you say so, but I will continue to think in my head that the reason you’re not coming out with us is because of me and the animosity we have for each other.”

“Well, look at you. Did you finally begin to remember the vocabulary we learned in high school?”

Jamie’s face turns red. Yes, he asked his sister to send photos of his old stuff from high school to try to impress you. He wasn’t going to admit it, however. Ever since that heart to heart in the locker room, Jamie wanted nothing more than to impress you. You went back to bantering and driving each other crazy; however, this was a lighter teasing and driving each other crazy. Some would even call it flirting. Would Jamie say he was flirting with you? Yes, absolutely. Would Jamie say you were flirting back with him? No, absolutely not. You hated him, so Jamie knew that whatever he thought you felt was obviously in his head.

“No,” he grumbles and some of his teammates laugh at him. The one thing that was sticking out to Jamie was that you didn’t correct him when he called you by your nickname. You went along with it. Was there some progress being made? “Enjoy whatever you have to do tonight, yn.”

You smile at him softly that has Jamie’s heart beating fast and walk away.

“Dude, you’re in deep with her,” someone says as they clap Jamie on the back. He didn’t have the energy to determine who was talking to him or contradict what they were saying. They were right; Jamie was in deep and he had no idea what to do about it.

After taking the video you needed for the Stars Instagram of the boys playing soccer at the next home game, you wave goodbye and head to the media offices; you once again had to fill in for the media team. You take five steps and hear a loud “ow!” from the one voice you despised. You turn around to see Jamie rubbing his head and staring down at his teammates. You can’t help but smile.

“Stop staring at her, you idiot,” Roope calls out and this gets a laugh out of all the boys. “Just ask her out instead of staring,” someone else yells. A deep red blush overtakes Jamie’s face and you can’t help but smile. You walk away with a giant smile on your face. You immediately shake it off. Why was Jamie getting flustered making you smile? You hated Oleksiak, right?

. . .

When you got home from work after a long day, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. You had a minor sinus infection and the day was exhausting. You had a massive headache and felt nauseous all day. There was nothing more you wanted to do was take a hot shower, curl up in warm clothing, and call it a night. You weren’t expecting to come home and see a DoorDash bag sitting outside your door. You knew for a fact that you didn’t order anything. You picked up the bag and noticed there was a note attached.

Yn,

I heard that you were feeling sick, so I bought you some soup.

Enjoy,

Jamie

Jamie bought you soup? Jamie was asking about you? Where did this come from? Why would Jamie extend any kindness towards you? Isn’t he supposed to hate you? Isn’t Jamie supposed to be making your life miserable? You’ll admit, after the incident where you sprained your ankle slightly, you and Jamie have been cordial. Whenever you both talked to each other, mean words were being passed around. However, it was more of a teasing and flirting meanness. Does this mean that you and Jamie were friends now? No, right?

You walk into your apartment and open the bag - it was Italian Wedding Soup, your favorite. Your heart warmed at the fact that Jamie remembered your favorite soup. Growing up, your grandmother always made this for you when you were sick. Sometimes, she’d bring some over to the Oleksiak house if anyone was sick there, too. You grabbed a bowl and ladle and put some soup in a bowl. The minute you took the first bite, you sighed in content. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was close. You started to immediately feel better. How did Jamie know this was exactly what you needed? You wanted to text him to thank him; however, you didn’t have his phone number and didn’t feel comfortable sending him a text through Instagram quite yet. You opted to write him and note and were going to leave it in his stall the next morning.

You finished the soup and began to feel better. You were happy and thankful for the soup, but you had one lingering thought. Why would Jamie do something like this for you?

The next morning, when Jamie got to his stall, he noticed that there was a gift bag sitting on the bench. He looked around to see if maybe one of his teammates left it there. It wasn't his birthday and there was no big milestone coming up. What was the message behind it, then?

“It was here when I got here,” John tells Jamie.

“He wanted to open it, but we told him that it wouldn’t be nice,” Roope says.

“I didn’t want to open it; I wanted to see who it was from. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, Jamie, just open it.”

Jamie grabs the bag and looks for a card or maybe a note. He removes a piece of tissue paper and sees a note. He smiles as he sees your familiar handwriting that always got Jamie’s heart racing back in high school.

Jamie,

Thank you so much for the soup last night. How did you know it was my favorite? I didn’t have your phone number, so I am leaving this for you. Enjoy a small treat from home! Again, thank you.

Jamie smiles and peers into the bag. Inside, Jamie finds a bag of snacks that are endemic to the Toronto area. Only, you would know what his favorites were. “It’s from Yn,” Jamie tells his curious teammates.

This gets a few raised eyebrows and snickers from the people that were currently in the locker room.

“Why did she leave you a gift?” Roope asks.

“I bought her some soup and had it delivered to her house yesterday because I heard she was sick. This is her thank you.” Jamie blushes with these words and can’t meet anyone’s eye.

“You got her soup?” John asks curiously. What did this mean? “Are you trying to date her?”

Jamie pales. “What? No. She just wasn’t feeling well, so I tried to make her feel better.”

John smirks. “How did you know exactly what she would want?”

Jamie, not realizing that his teammates were setting him up, answered obliviously. “It was always her favorite growing up.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because I loved her, still do.”

This was not the answer that everyone was expecting. “What?” someone asks.

“What?” Jamie looks up from the note to see everyone staring at him.

“You love Yn? The girl who hates you? The girl who you treated like absolute shit your entire life?” Roope confirms.

“I, yeah, I loved her. In middle school and elementary school, I just messed with her because she was a girl and, you know when you have a crush on a girl that young, you tease her.”

“No, you don’t,” Miro says.

Jamie glares at his teammate. “Whatever, not the point. I thought I was being obvious, and then in high school, I realized I was in love with her.”

“You wanted to treat her right, but you knew she’d find it suspicious.”

“I forgot about my feelings when she went to college and my career picked up, but when I saw her that first time I, just,” Jamie stops talking because he isn’t sure how to continue.

“Realized your feelings.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe just talk to her? Tell her how you feel?” John suggests.

“That probably won’t work. How do I tell her that I’ve been in love with her since we were three and I treated her terribly because I was scared of my feelings? Oh, and I ruined any possibility of her dating anyone in high school because I was a jealous idiot who couldn’t figure anything out.”

Jamie’s words get a few pitiful glances, “that sucks”, and pats on the shoulder. No one knows what to say or do. Jamie was in love with the one person who might never love him back.

. . .

Walking into the ballroom, you were trying to find your boss so that you could tell her that you were here. Tonight was the annual Casino Night and you were working behind the scenes to make sure the night went smoothly. This was the first time you were attending because last year, the marketing team didn’t need you to work it, and you also caught a cold right before.

“Oh, hey, yn’s here,” Carrie calls out and crosses your name off the list. “Perfect, you’re going to be sitting at the table in the front welcoming guests and stuff. You are going to ask for their name, ID, and ticket. Once you do that, you’ll tell them their table number and give them a gift bag. A few of the players will be serving as ushers tonight, so they’ll bring the guests to their tables.”

You nod. You want to ask who the players are, but you don’t want to sound eager.

“The organization assigned Roope Hintz, Denis Gurianov, and Jason Dickinson as ushers. They also put Jamie Oleksiak. I know the two of you have some hardcore animosity between you two, so if you don’t want him there, then we can get someone else.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be okay,” you tell Carrie. For the first time in your life, you were serious. Things between you and Jamie were cordial and professional. You still hated him like crazy but significantly less than when you were growing up. You weren’t even sure that you and Jamie would be at this point, but here you two both were.”

“Okay, great, why don’t I bring you to your station and show you how the software works,” Carrie says and leads you to the entrance of the ballroom. The next ten minutes pass, and you think you’ve got the software and system figured out pretty well that you should be okay. Carrie told you to organize the table in any way that’s fitting to your needs, so you begin to reorganize based on how you think you’ll be able to work more efficiently.

Walking to the front entrance from the back entrance are the ushers. Leading the pack is Jamie and Roope. They were walking and talking casually when Jamie suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Keep walking,” Jason says and smacks Jamie over the head.

“What are you staring at - oh,” Roope follows Jamie’s eye line and spots you organizing the table.

“She’s so beautiful,” Jamie says with heart eyes. You were wearing a dark green dress that fell just above your knees and matching green stilettos. Your hair was done in the way that you knew looked best. Jamie recognized it as the same way you did your hair for Senior Prom and graduation.

“You know, maybe tonight you should tell her?” Denis suggests.

“I don’t think so,” Jamie says with reluctance. “I know she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Then try not to stare or gape too much, then.”

Jamie nods. “We should head to where we need to be, right?”

The four boys continue walking to where you were. “Hey, yn,” Roope greets you.

You look up and smile. “Hi, well, you guys clean up nicely.”

“As do you,” Jamie tells you, and the heat rushes to your face. So, Jamie was complimenting you now.

“Um, so, I’ll be greeting guests and taking their ticket information,” you explain. “Your job, which you've probably been briefed on, is to escort them to their table numbers.”

“‘Briefed on’?” Jason begins. “Are we in some kind of spy or FBI movie?”

“Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Not the point, but that’s it basically. I think Ryan from marketing will be here to help me with the tickets. Carrie told me that two of you will be on my side of the table and two on Ryan’s side.”

Ryan suddenly appears and greets you with a hug. “You look nice, yn.”

“Thanks, Ryan, you clean up well, too,” you say back to him. You don’t catch the glare that Jamie was giving to Ryan. “I was just explaining what we’re going to be doing tonight to the boys. Two will be working with you and two with me.”

“Perfect, thanks for briefing them; you four can talk amongst yourselves as to who you’re going to be working with. I don’t care either way.”

“See?” you look pointedly at Jason. “Ryan used ‘brief’, too. Oh, I also don’t care. Actually, I’m going to head to the washroom quickly before people start to arrive.”

You get up and walk away, but you don’t notice Jamie watching you leave. He was incredibly captivated with you and wants nothing more than to sweep you up and kiss you. He wants to profess his love to you and love you forever. Sadly, you would never feel the same way as a result of how he treated you growing up. Jamie is drawn out of his thoughts by Jason smacking his arm.

“Dude, you have to stop staring,” Jason says.

“Oh, you like her?” Ryan asks. “She’s quite a catch.”

“Oh, no, I don’t,” Jamie denies. He gets stares from his teammates. Jamie isn’t sure why he denied having feelings for you. You weren’t even here to hear them anyways.

“Good, I like her, and I think I’m going to ask her out. I wasn’t going to say anything if you liked her, but since you don’t, I should be okay to do so.”

Jamie nods but locks his jaw. “Excuse me, I have to go to the washroom, too.” Jamie walks to the bathroom angrily. Of course, Ryan likes you, who wouldn’t? Why couldn’t Jamie just tell Ryan he likes you? That way, Ryan won’t be asking you out. Too entranced in his thoughts, he runs right into you, again.

“Oof, wow, hi Jamie,” you say to him giggly after regaining your composure. “I should stop doing this, you know, running into you. Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

“You look really angry and pissed off.”

“Oh, well, I’m not, so, don’t worry,” Jamie says in a voice that doesn’t express what he just said.

You laugh softly.

“What?” Jamie asks.

“You say you’re not angry, but your tone says anything but,” you explain with an amused smile. You look up to meet Jamie’s eyes, and you see the fury going on in his head. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Jamie brushes you off and walks away toward the washroom.

You want to yell after him, but you don’t feel it’s your place to do so.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Ryan says to you. “Jamie and Jason are going to be your ushers and Roope and Denis will be mine.”

You nod and sit down. So, Jamie was going to be closer to you than you thought. “Perfect.”

When Jamie gets back from the washroom and sees you talking to Ryan in a much too friendly manner for his liking, Jamie sulks again. This was going to be a long night.

Somehow, despite his anger and frustration, Jamie was able to put that all aside as he was working as an usher for the Casino Night. Just being near you and around you was enough to calm him down. Watching you interact with the guests made Jamie’s heart warm. He always knew that you were incredibly caring to everyone you met; he just didn’t know that your actions would make him melt and fall more in love with you. After about an hour and a half of welcoming guests, Carrie walks over and says that one group can go and get something to eat. She walks away and the six of you talk amongst yourselves as to who should go. The decision is made for you when two guests walk up to you and begin pulling out their IDs. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Ryan, Roope, and Denis head into the ballroom to have dinner. After welcoming them in, Denis ushers the guests to their table. You take a breath of releasing exhaustion and Jamie smiles at you.

“Tired?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of people to talk to; when I took this job, I thought it would just be marketing, not the rest of this, too,” you tell him. “It’s a very versatile job.”

“Well, if it weren’t versatile, then we wouldn’t have ever come into contact with each other, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.”

Jamie looks you in the eye. “Well, I think it’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?” you say to Jamie, and he nods. “I’ll take that into consideration as I make my decision.”

Jamie chuckles deeply, and you feel the shivers go up your spine.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you ask Jamie.

“Sure,” he tells you.

“Why were you, actually never mind,” you stop asking, seeing Denis walking back to the table.

Jamie was about to question why, but he sees Denis and another guest approaching. He takes this as the reason that you stopped talking. You put on a bright smile and begin talking to the guests and welcoming them. Jamie ushers them into the ballroom after you talk and gives you a wink. You feel the warmth reach your face; you see Denis shaking his head and you question him.

“Just give him a chance,” he replies to you.

“What?” you ask confused.

“I’m serious, just give him a chance.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You will, just give him a chance when you realize you know what I’m talking about.”

You nod. What in the world could he be talking about?

Three hours after the event starts, Carrie comes over to the six of you and tells her that you were all relieved of your duties and were free to enjoy the event. You weren’t sure what to do now.

“Where are you headed?” Jamie asks.

“I’m not sure, you?”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“I’ve never been to one of these before, and most of my friends are working or have their own dates. I don’t have a table to sit at and don’t want to intrude.”

Jamie nods. He extends his arm for you, and you look at him skeptically.

“What?” you ask.

“Dance with me,” he tells you.

You want to tell him he’s crazy and that there was no way in hell that you were going to dance with him. However, you wanted to. You wanted to dance with Jamie, so you loop your arm through his and he leads you into the ballroom. The two of you find a spot on the dance floor and maneuver yourselves into a dancing position. Jamie rests his two hands on your waist and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. You giggle softly; your hands don’t reach because Jamie is too tall.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re too tall; I can’t get my arms to go around your neck,” you tell him.

“Oh,” Jamie says. His eyes suddenly light up. He removes one of his hands from your waist and takes your hand. “Now, you put one of your hands on my back. This work?”

You do as he says and nods. “Yeah, and now we dance!”

“That we do.”

You and Jamie begin swaying with the music. You remember that you had a question you wanted to ask Jamie, so you decide to prompt him with it now. “Hey, Jamie?”

“Yes, ynn?”

“Why were you so upset earlier?” you ask.

Jamie suddenly stiffens, and you begin tracing patterns on his back with your hand to try to calm him down. “No reason.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you just get angry for no apparent reason?”

“No, I did get angry for a certain reason.”

“Care to share? A penny for your thoughts?”

What about a kiss for my thoughts. “It’s stupid. Ryan just said something I didn’t like, so I got angry.”

“Oh, okay.”

Jamie smiles at you, and you both continue to dance to the song. When the song ends, you begin to release your grasp of Jamie, but he doesn’t do the same.

“Jamie, the song's over.”

“I know, one more?” he asks. You want to say yes, but you aren’t sure why you don’t want to. You aren’t sure what this shift in your relationship is, but you need some time to figure it out on your own.

“I’m sorry, my feet hurt, I think I’m going to head to the back with staff and just rest, okay?” you pivot.

Jamie nods and releases his hold on you. “I probably have to do some sucking up to the donors and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, probably,” you tease. “See you later?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Jamie says to you, and the two of you go your separate ways. You head to the back to find Carrie, and Jamie heads to his teammates.

“So, did you finally tell her?” Denis asks excitedly.

“No,” Jamie says glumly.

The team gathered at this certain location all shook their heads in annoyance. When will the two of you finally realize these things?

You’re sitting in the back kitchen with a piece of chocolate cake as the event wraps up. Carrie told you that you could just sit in the back if you didn’t want to go out. Yeah, that’s what you did. You didn’t want to see Jamie again because you didn’t know what the shift in your guys’ relationship was. You needed to talk to Lisa as soon as you could before you saw Jamie again. Sadly, the universe didn’t care that much about what you felt.

“Is this the pity party?” Jamie asks as he sits across from you. He grabs the fork in your hand and takes a bite out of your cake.

“Hey!” you jokingly scold. “And no, this isn’t a pity party. I just don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You could have come and found me, you know.”

You open your mouth to say something but close it right away.

“What?” Jamie asks with his mouth full of cake.

“Stop eating my cake,” you tell him and take your fork out of his hand. “Should you really be eating this anyway?”

“It’s cake.”

“Yeah, and you’re a professional athlete.”

“I don’t follow.”

You sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating only healthy things?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“But you’re eating cake.”

“Oh, now I get what you're saying,” Jamie says to you. “Just don’t tell the nutrition staff.”

“Then maybe you should wipe that chocolate icing off your face,” you joke.

“Oops, my bad,” Jamie begins wiping the icing off his face but misses.

“Here, let me,” you say and scoot your chair closer to him. You use your thumb and wipe the icing off your face. “Better.”

“Thank you,” Jamie says to you, and his face gets closer to yours so close that your foreheads are touching. “Yn, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you say to him, realizing how close your face is to his.

“You know how you asked me earlier today about why I was mad?” Jamie asks, and you nod. “Well, I wasn’t entirely telling you the truth. Yes, Ryan said something I didn’t like. When you walked to the washroom, I was staring at you because you were so beautiful. One of the guys told me to stop staring at you, and Ryan asked if I liked you. I don’t know why, but I told him no even though I’m so in love with you. Ryan then said that he was going to ask you out, and I got mad. I got mad because I want to be the one to love you, and I think Ryan might be the one to get that first.”

You pull back slightly, shocked. “What?”

“I’m in love with you; I always was.”

There’s no way you feel the same way. Where did that come from? “What? No, Jamie. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve treated me like shit our entire life. There is no way you’re in love with me. No, you’re not. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You get up abruptly and walk out of the kitchen.

You walk to go find Carrie, so you could tell her you were going to head home. You were going to tell her you feel sick, which you do. You find Carrie and tell her you’re going to head home. She says it’s fine, and you head to the exit.

“Yn, wait, don’t leave because of me,” Jamie says to you as you’re about to leave. Somehow, he found you and was following you.

“No, Jamie, if you didn’t want me to leave, you shouldn’t have said those things to me. Why? Do you hate me that much that you want to mess with me so badly?”

“What? No, of course not. I don’t hate you, yn!”

“That’s rich; I’m leaving. Goodnight, Jamie.”

You don’t see the fallen look on Jamie’s face as you walk away, but his teammates do. Jamie goes back to his table but doesn’t say anything. Why did he think you’d ever feel the same way? Because he was nice for a few months? No, he should have known better. This was his fault, and he had to live what he did.

You held in your tears until you got to your car. The minute your door closed, you broke down. How dare he do this to you? How dare Jamie say something like that to mess with you? What was his problem? Why would he do that?

You and Jamie both went home miserable that night. Jamie went home heartbroken, and you went home angry and annoyed. What happens next?

. . .

You called in sick the Monday after Casino Night. You weren’t ready to face Jamie even though you knew that you’d probably not see him. You weren’t sure what to think. Jamie was always someone that you knew would be in your life. However, you always thought he’d be there as your lifelong enemy who you happened to still be in semi-contact with because your parents were friends. As of late, though, you’ve been seeing Jamie as a friend. You weren’t going to lie, you found Jamie ridiculously attractive, and ever since the accident you had where you and Jamie finally talked, you began to see him in a different light. Instead of your first thought being how much you hated him, you thought about the good things he had to himself. You saw how friendly he was to everyone, and he always asked how you were. He had a selflessness to himself that you were starting to love about him.

“Why are you telling me all this, yn?” Lisa asks you exasperated. “I always thought that the two of you were perfect for each other, even in high school. Don’t lie, you thought about it, too.”

You pause for a moment carefully thinking about what you were going to say. “I guess you’re right. I did have a small crush on him in high school because, for almost six months, he was mostly nice to me.”

“And what about now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yes, please, Lisa.”

“I think you’re in love with him, too. I think you always have been; I think he’s one of those people that is always going to be in your life whether or not you like it. At first, everyone thought you two were going to be the best of friends and take over the world. That all changed when he tripped you and the rest is history, but I think it’s different now. This time around, you both are mature adults who, I think, subconsciously realized that the way they dealt with the crushes they had on each other was by absolutely hating each other. You both didn’t know what to do, so you’re coping mechanism? Hate each other senselessly because you didn’t know what else. Now, Jamie realized how he feels and wants that with you. He said it first, right? Maybe he wants to show you he’s changed and truly loves you now.”

“I guess you’re kind of right,” you tell Lisa. “I just, I don’t know how I feel.”

“Do you find him attractive?”

“Yes, of course, he’s gorgeous.”

“Did you always think that?”

“Yes, because he’s always been gorgeous.”

“Was one of the reasons you hated him because he was so gorgeous?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Lisa,” you tell your best friend skeptically.

“My point is that if you truly hated him, you wouldn’t have called him gorgeous so quickly. I think you would have just denied finding him attractive and that’s that. Now that you know what nice and kind Jamie is like, I think you want more. You want to have more with him because you’ve seen what a great person Jamie is. Because you’ve seen the goodness, you want more and all of it. Can you say that you currently hate Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being?”

“No, I cannot say that I hate Jamie Oleksiak with my entire being.”

“Your first reaction to him telling you how he feels was not to punch him or to hurt him, was it?”

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” you say calmly.

“What was it then, yn?”

“In my head, and I don’t know why I said it, but it was ‘there’s no way you feel the same way', and I was surprised those words even formed in my head.”

“Don’t you see, yn? You feel the same way! You just didn’t know it! Your head and heart have been trying to tell you how you feel by spreading warmth to your face, making you feel shy, or just wanting to be around him. Yn, you’re in love with Jamie Oleksiak.”

“Holy shit, I’m in love with Jamie Oleksiak.”

“You’re in love with Jamie Oleksiak, yn.”

“Oh dear goodness, what do I do now, Lisa?”

“Apologize and tell him.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah, I can do that, right?”

“If you want to be with him, then yeah.”

“Okay, I can do that, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? What could possibly go wrong?”

. . .

Believe it or not, a lot. The next day, you were set to go back to work, but you woke up with a massive migraine, an aching cough, and a debilitating stomach ache. You couldn’t go to work feeling like this, so you called in sick for real this time. You finally had the courage to go see a doctor, and they told you it was just a bug. They gave you some antibiotics, and you were back to work in three days.

On the Saturday after Casino Night, Carrie asked if you could fill in for the media team, and you agreed enthusiastically. Maybe you’d finally be able to see Jamie and talk to him?

Unfortunately, that was not the case. You weren’t outright trying to talk to Jamie or get his attention, but you weren’t not doing that. You tried to act normal, but Jamie wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You were able to catch him alone after the game, but when you called out to him, he didn’t respond. You went home that night crying thinking you ruined something great without knowing you had something great at the tip of your fingers.

The following Monday, you were sitting in the GM’s offices when Jamie walked in looking for one of the team managers. You were the one of two sitting in the room, and Jamie walked to the other person who was on the far side of the room to ask if the manager was there. You’ll admit, that hurt.

You saw Jamie a few days later on your way to the locker room to give some paperwork to the coaching staff. You were about to turn the corner when your foot got stuck in a loose floorboard, and you went tumbling to the ground.

“Are you okay?” someone asks you as you try to get up.

“I mean, considering I just fell to the ground, no, but thanks for asking,” you answer and lookup. “Jamie.”

“Yn,” he replies back to you. “I’m going to go.”

“Jamie, wait, please.”

“What, yn? Are you going to reject me again because I don’t want to have that conversation with you, then.”

“When we both aren’t at work and in a public place, can we please talk?”

“Why should I agree to that, yn? Because, for your information, you’re breaking my heart. I can’t do this if you’re just going to make me feel terrible.”

You falter slightly when Jamie tells you that you’re breaking his heart. “I’m really sorry, can we just please pick a time and place to talk?”

“Sure, right here, right now.”

“Jamie, that’s not what I --”

“No, if you want to talk, then right here. I don’t want to have this conversation later if you’re going to reject me again.”

You’re getting kind of sick and tired of Jamie insisting that you’re going to reject him again because you’re not. “Jamie! I’m not going to reject you again! Do you think I’m some kind of heartless monster who loves to see you suffer? Guess what, I don’t! I hate that my words made you hurt and put you in a terrible mood. I apologize for that. You know you got to speak your mind, isn’t it time for me to be able to speak mine?”

Jamie is about to say something, but you stop him.

“No, I’m not going to break your heart, I promise. Just listen, okay?”

Jamie nods and takes one step towards you.

“Casino Night? You caught me off guard. My entire life, I hated you and that was all I knew. Wake up? Hate Jamie. Go to bed? Hate Jamie. You have to admit, though, you didn’t make it hard, but that’s beside the point. When I literally ran into you all those months ago, I picked up where we left off because that was all I knew. Then, come to find out, I didn’t like that. When I tripped over your foot and we talked? That was the shift inside of me. I didn’t know what I was feeling. The next few things I’m going to say I didn’t makeup on my own, Lisa helped me with it. She told me that I got to experience nice and kind Jamie, and I loved it. I did, I loved being on the receiving end of it. She was saying how I wanted more, all of the love and kindness you have to offer. She’s not wrong. I want everything you have to offer because I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“Casino Night? I didn’t know what I was feeling. If you gave me a bit more time, on my own, then I think I would have realized it soon. I’m not sure if you know this, but in sophomore year of high school, I had a crush on you because, for once, you were quite nice to me. I like nice Jamie because he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Jamie Oleksiak, I’m in love with you even though I spent almost twenty years hating you. And, that’s all I have to say, so I’m going to go now.”

You begin to turn around, but Jamie’s next words leave you stunned. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were three.”

“What?”

“When we were three years old, I realized I had a crush on you. I wouldn’t have called it a crush, but I always saw how in love my parents were and one day wanted that with you. You know how children get ‘married’? Well, I wanted to marry you. I didn’t know how to process how I felt so I treated you like shit and for that, I’m sorry. I realized I was in love with you in high school, but at that point, too much damage was created for me to go back and change things. When I saw you again a few months back, I realized that I never really got over you, and I wanted more with you.”

You take a step forward. “So.”

“So?”

“So, we’re two idiots who are in love with each other, then?”

“So we are,” Jamie says to you with a smile.

“Now what do we do?” you ask.

“Well, I’d like to take you out for dinner and maybe kiss you? Then, take you out for dinner again and call you my girlfriend. What do you think?”

“I think you should kiss me now and we can just jump to the ‘I’m your girlfriend’ part.”

“That’s a deal,” Jamie says and leans down to kiss you. He places a gentle kiss on your lips before leaning back to take a breath. He leans in again, and you both deepen the kiss he places on your lips. All of five seconds pass when you hear cheering behind you. “I guess this is why you wanted to talk in private, right?”

You laugh. “Yeah, it was. Maybe you should listen to me more often.”

“Well, now that you’re my girlfriend, I guess I have more of a reason to.”

“And why’s that?”

“So I get to keep you and love you forever?”

You smile and say, “that I can do.” You perch upon your tippy-toes and kiss Jamie again. Who knew that two childhood enemies could one day learn to love each other?

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty @beauvibaby @boqvistsbabe @rmaye @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @habsfan @besthockeyfics @plds2000 @kaitieskidmore1 @iwantahockeyhimbo @sidscrosbyy @barzysandmarnersbitch @ollywahlygator @leafs-forever @laurenairay @no-pucks-given @sixmapleleafs (Join my taglist here!)

#jamie oleksiak #jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak x reader #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars x reader #Jamie oleksiak fic #claudia writes

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ravennm84 · 4 years

Text

The Laptop

So, I read a prompt from @charming-mage about Lila’s laptop being damaged and her mother finds out that Lila’s been lying to her and the school. I thought it was a cute idea and the girl would have no way of trying to turn things onto Marinette, so I went with it. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

It was a silly little accident that ended up exposing everything. Lila had accidentally spilt coffee on her laptop and caused it to short out. Her mother, being terrible with technology, had taken it to a repair shop to see if it could be saved.

Greta Rossi had taken her lunch break and gone to the repair shop to check on the state of the laptop. The woman behind the counter, Evelyn, gave her head a shake, saying there was too much corrosion and the damage to the motherboard. “Best I can tell, you didn’t unplug it, take out the battery, or tilt it to let the liquid drain out away from the main components. That was pretty much a death sentence to this thing.”

Greta groaned at that. It would be expensive to buy her daughter a new laptop, but it was necessary so she could do her homework and communicate with her friends when akuma attacks were so bad that the school shut down. “Were you able to save anything?” She asked the woman.

“Some things,” she nodded, handing Greta a flashdrive. “Mostly your photos, some saved documents, I also noticed that you were emailing your daughter’s school when the laptop was damaged. I was able to save that conversation for you.”

Her hand froze as she stared at the woman. “Are you sure? I only ask because that wasn’t my laptop, that was my daughter’s laptop.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened slightly before nodding. “It was the first thing I was able to recover since it was mid-correspondence. I assumed it was your laptop since the emails were addressed to you and were signed by you. If that’s not the case… I think you should probably read those emails and talk to your daughter’s principal as soon as possible.”

A little uncertain of what the woman just told her, Greta called the Embassy to tell them she would be taking the rest of the day off. Going home, she plugged in the flashdrive and started looking over the emails that Evelyn had mentioned. Sure enough, they were between Principal Damocles and supposedly signed by her. The first emails were dated the day Lila had told her the school was closed due to akuma attacks, only the email said that she was pulling Lila out of school to go on a diplomatic trip to Achu.

A little taken aback, Greta looked up the akuma incidents to see just how bad things were. She normally wasn’t permitted to look up these kinds of things at work, nor did she ever have the time since she had to make sure the Ambassador’s days were scheduled down to the minute and all the paperwork was ready to be signed. But now that she had a moment to look, she could see videos of Ladybug and Chat Noir defeating every akuma… and two of the akumas had been her own daughter! This meant that Lila had been lying to her for months!

The next email was from the day of the Scarlet Moth incident, she remembered her co-workers talking about it. That email to Damocles said that her number had changed and gave a new number, which just happened to be Lila’s number.

Another email requesting doctors notes for Lila’s numerous injuries and disabilities: tinnitus, a sprained wrist, a dislocated kneecap, and tonsolatius. Lila had responded with photocopied doctors’ notes that even Greta could tell were fake, and the principal had responded with gratitude for the prompt response.

Some of the more recent emails spoke about Lila being pushed down the stairs by another student and how a family heirloom had been stolen by the same student! Only to be followed by another email requesting another doctor’s note referencing a disease Lila claimed to have that makes her lie uncontrollably. Was the principal a total idiot?

The most recent email, the one Lila had been working on when the laptop was destroyed, stopped mid-sentence as Greta Rossi told Damocles that she and Lila would be going on another extended diplomatic trip to London, as she would be working personally with the Queen of England. If Greta hadn’t been furious at her daughter before, she sure was now.

Still, part of her wanted to have some faith in her daughter, so she would set up a test when Lila got home. Which, coincidentally, wouldn’t be long as she had spent a good few hours reading over the emails and she had finally looked into akuma reports that had occurred since they had moved to Paris.

Lila came home about half an hour later, texting on her phone with a cruel smile, but abruptly stopped when she saw her mother. “Mama, you’re home early. Is it because of the akuma attacks?”

“No, mia bella. I was just given the afternoon off, so I decided to spend it with you. How was school?”

Watching her daughter carefully, she saw her change in posture and expression as she began to do the same fake crying she did when she was 6 years old. “Oh Mama, it was terrible. The school got attacked by another akuma and Chat Noir was just so reckless, his Cataclysm destroyed half of the school. It got closed down until repairs can be completed again.”

“Mia Bella! You weren’t hurt, were you?” Greta asked, faking shock and worry. She suspected that Lila had completed the email on her tablet or a computer at school and sent it to Damocles. Now, her daughter was trying to make an excuse as to why she was staying home. But Greta wasn’t about to be fooled again. Oh no, she had given her daughter a chance and now she was going to make her pay. “That’s it, I can’t allow you to keep attending such a dangerous place.”

Lila stopped mid-sob to look at her mother in surprise. “W-what are you saying?”

“Lila, from what you’ve told me about Hawkmoth, the akuma’s, and those terrible vigilanties; I can’t force you to stay in such a dangerous place due to my job. Go to your room and pack, I’ll call your Zio e Zia in Italia and ask if they can take you in while I finish my assignment here in Paris.” Greta continued to watch her daughter as she spoke, her expression becoming more and more panicked and upset as she spoke. Lila had never liked staying with her uncle and aunt because they lived on a farm that was far from everything, had no internet or cell service, and Greta’s brother was of the mindset that if you didn’t work on the farm, you didn’t eat.

“Bu-but Mama, you can’t just send me away like this! What about school-”

“You just told me that the school was shut down again due to the attacks, and after all the other times the school has been closed, I doubt if you’ll be able to graduate with the other schools or even be accepted into lycee at this point. At least if I send you back to Italia, you’ll be safe and be able to go to school without worrying about being attacked.” Reaching forward, Greta took Lila’s hands firmly between her own. “Please understand, mia bella, I am your mother and I love you more than anything. Even if you’re upset with me, I must do what is best for you and your future.”

Lila didn’t bother hiding her scowl as she tried to tug her hands from her mother’s grip. Then the girl really looked at her mother’s face and realized something was wrong. “Mama?”

Greta returned her scowl. “I am very disappointed in you, young lady. I was giving you a chance to come clean and tell me the truth.” Lila’s eyes blew wide open and was about to say something, but was cut off. “I saw those emails between myself and M. Damocles on your computer. Funny thing, I don’t remember writing them. I also don’t recall changing my contact number, going on a diplomatic trip to Achu, or telling him about a bunch of injuries, disabilities, and diseases that you don’t have. I also don’t remember my bosses assigning me to go on another diplomatic trip to London to work with the Queen of England, seeing as I’m not an ambassador.”

“Wait, Mama! I swear, I can explain-”

“You’ve already said enough! You and I are going to the school right now to speak with M. Damocles. You are going to tell him everything that you’ve been lying about and I’m going to have a talk with him about your supposed fall down the stairs since I’m pretty sure you lied about that as well since I was never notified and you were never taken to the hospital.”

“No, Mama! Please-”

“Be quiet! If you dare try to fight me on this or say one more lie, you will be on a plane back to Italia tonight and spend the rest of your school career with your Zio e Zia, understand?

Pouting the entire time. Lila went back to the school with her mother and was forced to confess to everything she had lied about. M. Damocles also ended up looking at the CCTV footage, something that Greta thought he should have done in the first place, and showed that her daughter had not been pushed down the stairs and had planted the not-family-heirloom in the other student’s locker. Greta demanded that he tell Lila’s class exactly what her daughter had done and that he apologize to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng for getting her expelled. She also demanded the student’s information so she could speak with the girl’s parents and force Lila to apologize. Damocles, still thinking that Greta was an ambassador, told her about the bakery and promised that he would alert the class to Lila’s misdeeds before the two Rossis were out the door.

Greta thought the Dupain-Chengs were wonderful people, offering them pastries as soon as they were upstairs and listened intently to her when she described the things that her daughter had been lying about. When she asked Marinette for her side of the story, Greta got even angrier at Lila. Threatening, bullying, and framing that poor girl when all Marinette had done was tell Lila to stop lying to her friends. Not only had she been lying to the school and her classmates, but all of Paris, if she were to go by the posts on the Ladyblog that Marinette showed her. She had never been more disappointed in her daughter.

Once they got home, Greta forced Lila into her room and confiscated her phone and tablet. “I thought it was bad when you were lying to the school and playing truant, but now I find out that you are being a bully, and tempting a terrorist to attack you! How foolish are you?”

“Why are you believing that goodie-two-shoes ove-”

“I believe her because there is literally video evidence of you setting her up and trying to get her expelled! After what you’ve done, you’ll probably get expelled!”

“What!? But I didn’t do-”

“You bullied a student, committed months of truancy, forged signatures on doctors’ notes, and changed my contact information so the school couldn’t contact me. Any one of those are grounds for expulsion!” Greta shook her head in disgust when she saw the shock on her daughter’s face. Lila actually believed that she wouldn’t be punished for all the things she had done. Well, that was not something that she was going to allow, and she didn’t trust the principal or Lila’s teacher to do the right thing by her daughter anymore. “You know what, pack your bags right now. I’m calling my brother and putting you on a plane tonight. It’s clear that you need to learn some responsibility, and I highly doubt that you’re going to do that here.”

Lila tried to argue with her, but no amount of begging, pleading, or threats was going to change her mind. Lila was on a plane back to Italy within a few hours and Greta would be spending the next month cleaning up the mess her daughter had made in Paris. She was fortunate that she was able to keep her job. Luckily for her, her boss was a big fan of the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie and she had told him when she had brought in a big box of the pastries. That smoothed things over a bit, although she was no longer permitted to bring her daughter on assignments anymore. Greta considered that a small price to pay to keep her job, and maybe her daughter would learn that her actions have lasting consequences.

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @bayball @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @maskedpainter @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @seesea22 @seraphichana @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

#lila salt #ml prompt #lila gets exposed #lila karma #mlbjustice

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

The Principal

Prompt 37: Forbidden romance AU: Katniss is the school principal. Peeta is a new teacher fresh out of college. Age!gap Everlark. Smut happens. [submitted by @mrspeetamellark]

Author: JHsgf82

Rating: M (may go up for the next part)

Word Count: 5,336

Author Note: Edit by @mrspeetamellark. Thank you! Quote is by L.M. Montgomery from Anne of Green Gables. Okay, so I preface this with, I’m not a smut writer. I’m branching out into this territory, but I’m still quite inexperienced, so go easy on me. Due to lack of time, the smut scene is pretty short, but I plan to write a much more extended one, several, actually, in the next part (s). I hope you enjoy it!

Trigger Warning: Age gap/age difference, Older!Katniss. Both adults.

Katniss strode down the familiar halls of D12 to her office, her father’s old, brown, leather satchel slung across her shoulder and a single muffin in hand, which she’d bought from this nearby bakery she’d decided to try out. She wore a black boatneck tank beneath a long, ribbed green cardigan (left unbuttoned), black dress pants, and belt.

At 30, Katniss was the youngest principal in the history of D12 and one of only two female principals. Her female predecessor, two principals ago, Ms. Lucy Gray Baird had been an inspiration to all, and though Katniss never met her, she felt her influence everyday. For one, her eye always caught Principal Gray Baird’s picture on the wall‒her dark, curly hair pulled up in a bun, makeup on her face, and smiling. And two, she’d heard Lucy Gray Baird could sing like a bird and likewise led students to frequently place in All-District (or higher) choral competitions as Katniss had done when she was a teacher.

But Katniss didn’t participate in those things anymore. And as for Ms. Gray Baird, well, some said she was alive, but no one knew exactly where she’d flown off to after she retired. Whether she was off somewhere living peacefully, or dead, strangely, Katniss felt as though her spirit roamed these hallways‒and Katniss was not a supernatural or superstitious kind of person.

Two years ago, Katniss was offered the principal position. It was a great honor, and although she hated leaving her teaching position, she couldn’t decline it. Since she’d become principal, Katniss had implemented some good changes, so she thought, and she truly hoped her father would be proud of her.

Katniss prided herself on being authoritative, firm but fair, and decisive. She trusted her gut instincts when making decisions in work and in her personal life, and normally, she made good ones. Last night, however, was not the best decision of her life, and she’d already caught some heat for it this morning. But, to quote one of her favorite authors: ‘[Today] is a new day with no mistakes in it…yet.’

Once settled into her office, Katniss brought up her email and her schedule. She was to meet with the new teacher in only ten minutes. It didn’t leave her much time; she could either quickly send out a few emails that needed to be sent and scarf down her muffin or save the muffin for after the meeting and deal with the hunger gnawing at her insides.

Fortunately, Katniss was something of an expert on hunger‒not life-threatening hunger, but she knew what it was like to do without and forego her urges. Again, not last night. Last night seemed to be the exception to all rules pertaining to Katniss Everdeen. What she had experienced last night was similar to what she was feeling now, albeit entirely different‒last night’s hunger had nothing to do with food.

With a sigh, Katniss dug into her temples. This was neither the time nor place to be thinking about last night’s escapade, but she couldn’t seem to help it. As her hang‒headache wore off, more details kept coming back to her, and she felt herself reclining back in her chair a moment. There was nothing wrong with a little daydreaming, a quick fantasy, although work was not the best place for it; but perhaps, it would sustain her throughout the day. Resist. She squeezed her eyes shut, commanding her hippocampus to shut down its function, gripped the arms of her chair, and leaned forward resolutely.

As she attempted once more to focus on her work, that other type of hunger, actual hunger, pricked at her, urging her to take a big bite of the muffin.

Great. In a matter of seconds, she’d thought about the very two things she’d vowed not to‒the muffin and last night.

Satisfy it.

At least the former.

Hoping to satiate her stomach, Katniss reached out with pinched forefinger and thumb, thinking she’d just tear a little off the top, but then…no. She didn’t trust her urges lately, even if last night had been incredible. She needed to learn, or re-learn, how to control them, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. So, she ignored the muffin. This would be an exercise in self-control.

She returned to the e-mails.

Not long after, her assistant chimed in over the phone’s intercom, “Miss Everdeen, Mr. Mellark is here.”

Pressing the button, she talked into the speaker, “Thank you. Send him in.”

When the broad, blond man stepped through the doorway of her office, Katniss felt all the blood drain from her body. Her eyes widened, and her mouth, all of a sudden drier than cotton, dropped open. Realization dawned on his face, too, his pale eyebrows shooting up and his body going stiff. Much like hers. Katniss felt as though she had a ramrod stuck up the back of her shirt for as straight as she was sitting up.

Oh no, not him.

But it was him, the man from last night, the man she took home with her after a chance encounter at a bar. In a flash, those memories her brain had been sorting out, which she’d so deliberately been trying to subdue, came rushing back at her, assaulting her. And the night’s events unfurled before her eyes in a montage of flirty conversation, sexy looks, sensual touches, lingering kisses, and...sex, incredible sex.

Katniss felt pinpricks stabbing her all throughout her chest; she could barely breathe. Inhaling and exhaling, slow and steady, she placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, urging it to calm down, as if that would do a thing; then, she fumbled for the water bottle in her bag. She located it and took a quick swig, kind of wishing it was alcohol‒although, look at the mess that got her in…

“Are you alright?” he gently asked. She glanced back up at him.

On second look, yeah, it was definitely him, the very same blond man she’d had in her bed less than 3 hours ago. What was his name…? It started with a P…something to do with bread… Shit. She couldn’t even remember his name!

But it was even worse than that. Not only did she sleep with a man who was now her employee, but he was six years younger than her!

Oh God, was this going to be her legacy now? Screwing the younger teachers? She could just imagine the whispers and the looks she’d get, what the parents and her colleagues would say if they found out…

As for him, he didn’t seem wholly un-phased, although he looked calmer than her. He was just standing there watching her, his cheeks slightly ruddy and his hands tucked sheepishly into his pockets.

“F-fine,” she choked out. But she wasn’t. This situation was anything but fine. And what kept reverberating in her head was: ‘How could I have been so stupid?’ It was stupid enough to get intimately involved with a guy she just met, one much too young for her, while intoxicated, but for him to be a teacher at her school…! Okay, so she didn’t know that then.

Pushing aside her ignorance over who he was…but yes, there was that. She really should have known. Upon recollection, he’d said he was a teacher; he’d even told her that tomorrow was his first day and he had an early morning meeting with the principal of his new school‒there were only a few schools in this area… She should have pieced it together, or at least, been more cognizant of the warning signs.

Why had she done it? Well, all she could really say was that she’d wanted to lose herself last night. And it had been nice, more than nice. Last night, she’d realized how starved she’d been for human affection. For touch. Closeness. Had it really been so long? Or, maybe it was his specific touch she’d been craving? No, that was foolish. What kind of useless drivel was her mind formulating now? This is what she was reduced to when she was hungry.

But how could she have even entertained the notion in the first place? How did it even begin? Oh yeah, she remembered now…she’d been in a shitty mood, had a bit too much to drink, and he was hot.

Thinking back, Katniss recalled their eyes locking across the bar, and she’d done a double-take, then a triple-take, then a slow observation up and down his body, what wasn’t blocked by the bar, anyway. She’d planned on leaving it at that, as a look-but-no-touch kind of scenario, because this guy was clearly younger than her, and frankly, she just wasn’t in the mood. Or, so she thought. But he had other plans…

Katniss watched him stand from his seat, take his drink and napkin, and approach her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat at the enticing sight of his lower half which had been previously hidden from sight.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked. Polite or cliché line, whichever the case, she didn’t have any fight left in her today, so she merely shrugged. He was good-looking, and he smelled nice, like a masculine aftershave (a rain-soaked wood perhaps) and strangely, also like cinnamon and dill.

‘Okay, this is fine, so long as he isn’t a talker…'

He was a talker.

But Katniss rather enjoyed the velvety sound of his voice, and he seemed nice enough. He was clearly working subtle flirtations in, and though she appreciated the ego boost, it was best to cut it off before he put in too much effort.

She was direct, so she went with a blunt tack.

Katniss sighed, exaggerating her annoyance with him. “Go away, little boy. Go home to your mother. I’m sure it’s way past your bedtime.“ This young guy was hot and obviously interested, which was flattering, but she was in such a shitty mood that she didn’t even care if he thought her a bitch.

"Ouch.” He grimaced yet seemed undeterred. Boldly resting his hand on her arm and leaning in to where his lips barely brushed the shell of her ear, he whispered, "I promise there’s nothing little about me."

Katniss couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. "Really? Is that the line you’re choosing to go with?”

Still, he didn’t seem discouraged. “I admit it’s not my wittiest remark, but I get better with time." He shot her a little wink.

Cheeky kid.

"How old are you?” she asked.

“24."

"I was right, just a child.”

“Last time I checked, the age of legal adulthood was 18."

Katniss scoffed. "What are you, a lawyer?" Not her wittiest remark, either.

"No, a teacher.”

Huh. Small world.

If only she knew then how very small, indeed…

“So, how old are you?” He rested his chin on his knuckle, making him look even more boyish. She couldn’t deny he was cute.

“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that,” scoffed she.

"Alright, then how about I guess?" She rolled her eyes as he went off in his head. "Mmm…27?”

“You’re sweet, junior.”

“Thanks, but I prefer ’Peeta.’" He stuck out his hand, and reluctantly, she offered hers.

"Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeated, tasting her name on his lips like it was a fine wine or something.

This guy was good. He’d kept her talking and gotten her to introduce herself. He hung onto her hand, placing his other atop their clasped ones, trapping hers there.

“Well, Katniss, so you’re older than me." He shrugged. "You look young, and it doesn’t really matter to me, anyway."

"Why not?”

“Because you’re beautiful. I’d know; I have an eye for beauty." He flashed her a perfect smile. "Why don’t you let me buy you a drink? It seems like you’ve had a rough day, and I could use one, too. No harm in having one together, right?”

She eyed him suspiciously.

“Look, I’m not planning on getting sloshed; I’m just a little nervous about my first day of work tomorrow, so I could use a little something. Keep me company? I promise you’ll barely have to put up with me at all.”

Smiling faintly, Katniss nodded.

Yes, he was very good. Persuasive. Incredibly persuasive. He’d persuade her of a whole lot more that night…

Even knowing where it was inevitably leading, they’d taken their time at the bar, chatting about a little bit of everything but nothing really. Peeta (that was his name) kept touching her in a manner that was just enough to get her engines revving but not enough to make her uncomfortable.

And Katniss had thought, why not? Why not give herself a little treat? She made it sound like she’d gone for an ice cream at Dairy Queen rather than dragged a young, hot guy she just met home, but at the time, it hadn’t mattered. She’d impulsively decided to live a little, for once.

And he was good, so very good.

They’d barely made it in the door before they were tearing at each other’s clothing, lips roaming, bodies pressed up against each other. They’d slammed into a couple of surfaces before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He’d carried her off to her bedroom, which took her a moment to remember where it was. He’d covered her body with his, propping himself up slightly, and she’d ground her hips up and into him while he teased her center and tasted her tongue, then her breasts, then moved lower.

He’d eaten her out, and after, he’d pressed her up against her headboard; she’d had to grip it tight and hold on for the ride as he swiftly entered her from behind. Then, when he was ready, he’d flipped her over onto the bed and slipped inside her again, lacing his hands with hers and thrusting strong and steady until she reached completion a third time.

By the end of the night, they were sweaty and spent, and she was a little hoarse.

But she recalled how it wasn’t all fast and rough. He’d also been tender with her, brushing the hair out of her face, peppering her face with little kisses, and whispering sweet nothings into her ear while he spooned her.

But all that fun was over. Now, it had come back to bite her in the ass.

First off, Katniss had woken feeling disoriented, and a bit sore. When she remembered (the gist of) what had happened, she’d been mortified, but at least the mystery guy with the odd name had had enough sense to be gone when she got up.

Good, she’d thought. Saved her the embarrassing conversation of having to kick him out.

At the time, it had seemed like a better idea to go to her place than his. He would know where she lived, yes, but if he tried to murder or harass her, that’s where her neighbor came in.

Her cranky old neighbor, Haymitch, was a cop, when he wasn’t drunk, that is. Katniss imagined him to be like one of those rogue cops in the movies and TV series, who wasn’t afraid to pop a cap into someone who deserved it when the criminal justice system failed. And for some strange reason, he’d taken a shining to her. Most of the time they mutually despised one another, but occasionally, it was as if he flipped a switch and decided to be pleasant, and he could even be protective of her. He’d hollered and acted crazy once to get rid of a guy for her, even pulled his badge on another crazy boyfriend. And if all that didn’t work, at least she had a weapon under her bed.

Speaking of crotchety, old Haymitch Abernathy, she’d passed him in the hall while he was stumbling out of his door for this morning’s paper, and he’d accosted her…

“Ya really shouldn’t be dragging strange men home from bars, sweetheart. S’not safe.”

“Didn’t know you cared, Haymitch,” she said dryly, folding her arms. Although, she did. He was a textbook type, putting on a tough façade, acting as if he didn’t care about anything or anyone when actually he cared a lot.

“Sure,” he shrugged, “you’re like the daughter I never had‒and never wanted.” He added the last part with a slight curl of the lips.

“Gee, thanks, Haymitch.”

“No problem.” He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. “So, I take it this one was okay?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he was okay.” More than okay… “He even left without me having to tell him to.” She tapped her fingers against her arm.

“Ah, a smart one. However, I do have a complaint. Y’all made quite the racket last night!”

“Haymitch, god!” Katniss groaned. She pressed her fingers into her temple. They did; they really did‒she was surprised they hadn’t broken her bed‒and she was trying hard not to smile about it. Not in front of Haymitch. “Please, please do not talk like an overprotective parent one minute then comment on my sex life the next.”

“Then keep it down, why don’t ya?!”

God. Well, now he knew about her one-night stand. Oh well. Not like he’d say anything to anyone, and he was the least of her worries.

Back to the matter, and the man, at hand.

Peeta Mellark, the new teacher, stood in the middle of her office as if he didn’t dare come closer without permission. He was dressed in an orange and white striped button-down dress shirt tucked into navy pants, and he wore a navy tie. His ashy blond hair was gelled and slightly coiffed.

He looked good.

He’d looked good last night, too, more casual, dressed in a slightly form-fitting baby blue Henley and jeans, and his hair had fallen in waves across his forehead. Last night, he’d been cute and hot and fun; today, he was handsome and distinguished, and he’d suddenly aged five years. Katniss couldn’t decide which look she liked better on him. Both were attractive in their own right…but no, she absolutely should not be focusing on his looks right now, or ever.

Composing herself, she finally beckoned for him. “Mr. Mellark. Have a seat.”

He sat down, threaded his fingers together, and gave her a tentative smile.

Well, he certainly was much less confident today. Not that she could blame him; she was rather a jumble herself. She supposed she’d better address the elephant in the room.

She sucked in a breath and swallowed the lump in her throat before proceeding.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t realize it was you. I couldn’t remember your name at first.”

Good one, Katniss.

“Ouch.” He gave a little chuckle. “Well, I remember everything about you, Katniss. Like, you have one sister; your favorite color is green; you love to get out into nature and go hunting, and you’re obsessed with hot chocolate and love to dip your bread in it.”

Well, they had covered some informational ground last night, hadn’t they?

His sexy grin returned, and just like that, the ice was broken, and he was the same cheeky, charming, albeit slightly smart-mouthed man she remembered from last night.

“Are you trying to be romantic or piss me off?” she blurted out.

“Neither. Just saying…”

“By the way, you should address me as Ms. Everdeen or Principal Everdeen. And we’re in a meeting.”

“Excuse my informality, Ms. Everdeen,” he stressed her name. How was it he could sound both contrite and like a smart ass at the same time? “I suppose it is much more appropriate if I call you that here.”

What was he inferring? That he might address her differently elsewhere? That they might actually associate with one another outside of school ever again? Their night together had been fun, amazing, really, but that was over. Even if she wanted to see him again, it was now forbidden…

Damn it all if thinking of it as ‘forbidden’ wasn’t getting her all hot and bothered. She squeezed her legs beneath her desk, digging her nails into the arms of her chair to ground herself.

She inhaled and slowly exhaled. “Yes, it is. Thank you, Peet-Mr. Mellark.”

Katniss still couldn’t understand what in hell was the matter with her. And how had she not put two and two together last night? She supposed it was because she hadn’t been on the hiring committee when he was hired; she’d only seen him as Mr. Mellark on paper. And they’d only exchanged first names last night.

Plus, she’d been stupid and horny.

“By the way, how’d you sleep, Ms. Everdeen?” Peeta gave her that sassy little smirk of his.

She scowled at him. “Never you mind how I slept.”

Peeta chuckled.

He was on dangerous ground. If he kept laughing at her, he was gonna get his cute, tight little ass fired. But then again, she couldn’t really do that. She had no legitimate reason to fire him. Sexual harassment, maybe, but she certainly couldn’t not claim that without coming clean about what happened between them.

“You know, I wanted to greet you properly this morning, but I had to get going. So sorry to just leave a note.”

Yes, she recalled his note. It was…a little sappy for her taste, but sweet.

Katniss sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. All of a sudden, her shoulders felt tenser than ever and that small twinge from before had become a gigantic pain.

“Did you injure yourself?” He wasn’t laughing or smiling this time; he seemed genuinely concerned.

“No,” she snipped. She had, but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. She certainly wasn’t going to tell this young, twenty-something that she’d pulled a muscle having sex with him. How humiliating that would be. Granted, it was probably made worse from sleeping on it the way she did, but the initial pull came from the sex. It made her feel much older than she was, and he seemed just fine. Bodies truly didn’t seem to function the same in the thirties as in the twenties; it was like an invisible line was crossed. “It’s nothing,” she told him. “Just a crick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He paused. “You know, there’s a remedy for that.”

“Oh yeah?” She eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable pick-up line‒an offer to massage it for her or something. And dammit, she was getting turned on again!

“Heat,” said Peeta.

Oh. She internally berated herself for her lusty thoughts. What was worse was that now she couldn’t get the image of him massaging her out of her head.

“There is also massage, of course.” He flashed her that brilliant smile of his.

Damn mind reader!

With a sigh, Katniss drummed her fingers several times on her desk. Okay, this would be fine. It was over and done with, and they could begin a new, professional relationship‒so long as he got it through his head that this wasn’t fun and games.

“Okay, let’s get something straight, Mr. Mellark. This can’t happen.”

“What can’t?”

“This.” She motioned between them. “You…and me, whatever. Not again.”

“Oh, so we are going to talk about it,” said Peeta, crossing one leg over the other.

“I think we need to. Because this…I don’t know…this flirtatious talk and those smiles of yours can’t continue.”

“I can’t smile at you?” Peeta’s brow furrowed, and he placed a hand on his chest.

“Not like that, no.”

“I was just being friendly, Miss Everdeen.”

“No, you weren’t. You know what you were doing; you…nevermind.” She placed both hands on her temples and rubbed. Once she’d dug in really good, she covered her face with one hand, dropping the other to her desk. Suddenly, she felt his large, warm hand cover hers.

When she looked up, Peeta was leaning forward. Her gaze flickered between his bright blue eyes and his hand covering hers.

“I’m sorry to cause you stress. I promise I won’t make things difficult for you.”

“Thank you.” Katniss’s words came out with a gust of breath. “I appreciate that, Mr. Mellark. Thank you for being mature about this.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” Peeta removed his hand and used it to scratch the stubble on his chin. She couldn’t help drifting back to the way that stubble had felt against her inner thighs…

“I mean, what happened was a complete coincidence,” he continued. “No reason it should affect our positions here.” He dropped his hands to his lap and folded them.

“Right. So, then…” She perused his file. Thank God she was a speed-reader because she hadn’t had the opportunity to learn about him in a professional capacity, as she should have been doing, last night. “I see you have your Master’s in Elementary Education. And hm, seems you come highly recommended.”

Peeta’s hand had raised to partially cover his mouth, and she thought she caught the slight upturn of his lip. Was he laughing at her struggle to keep her composure, or…She swore if it was because she’d said ‘come’ she was going to reach across her desk and slap him, consequences be damned! He said he would be professional!

But really, what did she expect? He was young and most likely, immature, and she had just banged him last night. He probably wasn’t taking her seriously right now, at all.

“What?” she snipped.

“Nothing.”

Peeta was eyeing her muffin now. Did he really have such a short attention span? How did he ever make it through school, let alone become a teacher?

“I hope you enjoy the muffin,” he commented.

“Thanks.” What a strange segue.

“You know, I was going to make you breakfast this morning, but since it was your place, I didn’t want to overstep my bounds by rummaging around in your kitchen.”

How thoughtful. But overstep his bounds? Well, they were both so far out of bounds last night that the boundaries weren’t even visible.

“Plus, I had to leave early for this meeting with you, which I didn’t know was with you, since you never gave me your last name last night, and I was only told I would be meeting with Principal Everdeen.” He gave a sardonic little laugh. “What are the odds?”

“Glad you find this so damn funny, Mr. Mellark.”

“Not funny ha-ha, just kind of ironic. Not great literature-ironic or anything, but interesting.”

Katniss huffed. “Mr. Mellark,” she chided.

“I know I’m supposed to address you by your title, but you can call me Peeta if you want.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, then I suppose suggesting a rain check on breakfast would be a bad idea?”

“Yes, it definitely would.”

Peeta nodded. “Well, at least you have the muffin. Do me a favor and tell me how you like it.”

“Alright…" She sighed. How odd. Then again, Peeta didn’t seem like the typical guy. He’d made a lot of…quirky remarks last night. “But let me remind you, this is a professional meeting.”

“Of course.”

Before she could go on, Peeta interrupted.

“But you have to admit, it is a bit ironic, isn’t it?”

Katniss folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head to rest on them a moment. “Peeta…,” she began in a warning tone when she raised her head.

“You’re not at all glad to see me?”

“No, Peeta. Sorry, but I’m not.” At least, not here she wasn’t. “This is horrible. It’s not ironic, and it’s not fate, unless you count it as a cruel joke of the universe, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

At the look on his face, she huffed in exasperation. “How can you not be as mortified as I am? It’s worse for me, but how do you feel knowing you fucked your boss the night before your first day of work?”

“Well, I’m not ashamed like you are, and I can brush it off.” Apparently, he couldn’t. “Two people met in a bar; they liked each other; they hooked up; it’s no big deal.”

“Maybe not for you. But can’t you see how this changes our whole dynamic?”

“Only if we let it.”

Katniss sighed. He made a good point. Perhaps he was wiser and more mature than she gave him credit for, even if he wasn’t acting it right now. Maybe if she started treating him more like a colleague and a man rather than a kid. She certainly saw him as all man last night.

“Alright.” Peeta casually folded his hands in his lap. “What is it you’re concerned with?”

“I don’t want anyone to know we know each other, let alone that we had a…physical involvement.”

“Fair enough.” Peeta nodded.

“And you’re to always address me by my title, not my first name, and definitely not by any of those little pet names you were spouting last night.”

Peeta laughed. “You didn’t like them, huh? I guess it was a little much; I just get…chatty when I’m turned on.”

Katniss rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Anything else?”

“I also want you to know that what happened last night…that’s not me, or something that I normally do. Ever.”

Peeta nodded. “I didn’t figure you for the type. And neither am I, if I’m being honest.”

Katniss pressed her lips together.

“So, may I ask–and I’m not fishing for a compliment here, but‒what was different about last night?” he asked.

“Well,” Katniss heaved a sigh. “I was in a crappy mood last night, a really, really crappy mood. I don’t want to get into it; it’s personal, so let’s just leave it at that.” She thinned her lips “I was upset; then there was the alcohol, and you were…” There. It was more than that, of course, but she wasn’t going to stoke his ego further, nor add to the inappropriateness of the situation by saying how attracted she was (still is) to him. Not like it would come as a surprise, given her enthusiasm last night. “Nice to me.”

Again, Peeta nodded. “I see. Well…” He raised his broad shoulders and paused as if he didn’t know what to say next. “I hope I made your night better.”

Katniss couldn’t help it; she snorted. “Um,” she picked at her nail, grinning slightly. “You did. You…definitely did.” She looked up then, the smile falling away. “But I meant it when I said we should be professional, so I think this should be the very last this topic is ever brought up.”

"Anything else?"

"No, I don’t think so."

“Okay, then, let me see if I have this straight. You are Ms. Everdeen or Principal Everdeen to me, and I am Mr. Mellark to you. We’ve never met before today, but we have a mutual respect for one another and a purely professional working relationship.”

“Right. Very good.”

“Well, I do have a very high IQ. It’s in my file, you know.”

Again, she rolled her eyes.

“I think we have an understanding.” Peeta reached out to shake her hand, and when she touched it, she felt that same bolt of electricity she felt last night. “And I promise to be completely respectful and professional from here on out.”

#JHsgf82 #mrspeetamellark #prompt 37 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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deviltoys · 3 years

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IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!

hey, kevin here, i apologize that somethin' of this matter is being posted so late like this and so sudden. i won't be typing as i usually do as the accusations here are a serious matter and there won't be a need for my usual, light-hearted typing style.

it has come to my attention, though this information has been kept private for maybe a month, two? but has only just recently been brought to my attention by a good friend of mine. the claims were sent to him over instagram by my ex; kai or huhrizon. the photo will be attached below in which, kai, is laughing about the fact he believes he's found out that i am a minor. more specifically, fifteen. which couldn't be farther from the truth, this thread will be debunking and defending myself before he can come out and express these fabricated lies to try and ruin my reputation because he's upset that i wasn't ready for a relationship.

kai messaging mattia over the fact he believes he has uncovered 'my mother's facebook profile'. which will be debunked below.

very interesting that you decided to not only, try to uncover things about my identity after i politely explained to you that i no longer wanted to pursue a relationship, but that you're brewing up fake rumours just to try to get back at me for it.

onto the main claim. kai has been professing, that i, am infact a fifteen year old falsifying his age online. the reason he believes these claims are that, one, he found my mother's facebook profile. and two, that there was a photo on there of me, with the caption 'happy birthday kevin' posted onto the account. mattia has explained to me that this photo isn't here to be displayed as evidence, solely because kai sent the picture through instagram's vanish mode.

* this mode automatically deletes anything sent after the chat is closed.

mattia informed me that this photo was overall suspicious though as kai had blurred out the user's facebook handle. very odd indeed kai, very odd. i have no clue what this women looked like as there were no further photos, so until then, i don't know how i can debunk the woman not being my mother; appearance wise.

what reason do i have to believe this is motivated out of spite? before kai and i had become acquainted, i followed him through dylan, who had publicity posted about how his friend had created a dark blog. wanting to follow more creators who shared a similar interest, i followed him. immediately, kai had started sending asks about whether or not i was single. we had not talked nor even messages before, we had liked a few of each others posts and that was the max of our interactions. but i responded with a flirty remark, which i am now known for, but wasn't at the time. flirting was thrown back and fourth and after awhile i had realized i was no longer ready, mentally or emotionally for a relationship at that point in time. i still had full feelings for kai, yet kindly expressed my discomfort with a relationship. which he mutually accepted and that was that. i thought we were ended things on great terms, we both communicated and got our messages out of the way.

apparently this was not the case, as kai, without my knowledge goes to search for any sort of dirt he can find on me. which, i will be using a post by dylan to explain why i have reason to be swayed into the fact this was out of anger— i love dylan, and he's not included in these accusations whatsoever, but this post is important to view. do not drag him into this, please. i'm serious.

dylan admits to kai being able to ruin people's lives for fun. which is obviously, not a good look for him. he purposefully goes on the hunt for any information he can attach to someone. unluckily for him, he couldn't find anything worth exposing, so he restorts to making up lies about my age in an attempt to get some sort of revenge? as punishment for breaking his heart i presume. very, very mature after a breakup which i calmly and kindly let you know that i wasn't ready for anything further.

now, onto the rebuttal i have for his big accusation; me being a fifteen year old who's mother's social, kai sniffed up. my mother does not own any form of social media, she has an email which is technically not even a social app. ( this is used for her grad teachers, in order to contact her for reasons that will be explained ).

my mother hasn't had any social app for years, much less posts or takes photos of us to display whatsoever. my mother entered a relationship with a man, who at the time she didn't know was very, very anti-lgbtq.

* before anything else it's important to note that kai, believes i have a brother. i told him this in order to stray away any true information about me, as there are very few people i fully trust with the knowledge of my personal life. much less, someone who i just met at the time; i.e kai. kai had mentioned a friend of either his or his brothers being named 'hank' to try to also fit the lie of having a brother, i told him it was a funny coincidence that my brother had the same name. i do not have a brother, my sister and i are both trans— she being mtf, and i being ftm. she has given me explicit permission to disclose this, as i wouldn't ever dream of letting that information out without her word.

this leads into my main argument. my mother had been with this man for quite awhile, and had finally asked us for permission to give him the news, that we were both transgender and that he should know for the future of our family. he obviously, did not take this well. to keep details minimal for the safety of my family, i'll briefly explain some of the shit he's done to my mother. stalk, threaten, send unsolicited photos and dead animals to our home, try to get my mother to meet up - or find her location to meet up with her, and many, many more vile things. my family has been hiding, moving, and changing our identities ever since. my mother has wanted a healthy, safe environment for her children to grow up in without fear that their lives would be taken or in some way ruined by this man. we can't keep a house for more than a year before we're forced to go into hiding because of a message from him or some sick prank from somebody who knows about the situation. this is all i can say, as i don't want him to somehow get ahold of this post. which is also why i am withholding my families legal names as well as her ex's legal name just to be cautious. though it is never ever justified to lie to your partner, kai and i had barely talked and i felt pressured by the environment and excitement to rush headfirst into a relationship. causing me to hold back any truth to my personal life, excluding interests, stories, and stuff of that sort. which deserves an apology all on it's own.

now, where this fifteen, number came from. not a clue in hell, my sister, is sixteen but was fifteen at the time i was in a relationship with kai. i have no clue if this has anything to do with it, but he knew, as i told him i was celebrating her birthday through text. letting him know, the age she was and the age she was turning.

i live off the grid and always have. my legal name is not on here, my family or friends names, etc. my personality, all me, the stories or hobbies i have? true. my job? true. i express the true me on here while still holding back information that could cause my family into another year of hiding. my mother never has and never will have any socials. she barely uses her email out of fear, but has no choice as it's her only means of communication to her job.

another quick thing i would like to mention, to be truthful, as this is a post solely based on trust alone. as i have no physical evidence to back it up. i sent a photo to kai, letting him know it was taken when i was in middle school. i told him my mother put a filter over it, which is weird right? i just explained how my mother doesn't have socials, he's got to be lying, right? no, my teacher had taken the photo and she had edited on her photo to show our grandma, who she sent the image through phone messages. this was no lie, but it was a misdirection to try to get kai to believe my mother posted about me. i still didn't trust him and never fully did, so this was another. morally wrong, attempt to cover my true identity by lying to him about it. which, again, never right to lie to your partner. but i have a family to protect, it's hard to make friends and relationships online when you have to hide who you truly are your whole life. and i'm sorry that's been the case, though the information my mutuals privately know is all the truth. i've grown to trust a fair few, so thank you.

as a summary, these claims are total bullshit. i can provide more context or answers to any questions you may have, below, through dms, or through my inbox. this was once again posted before he could get his word out, as i wanted to make sure everyone knew what i had to say, in case he decided to 'expose' me while i was at work, or too busy to compile a rebuttal. thank you all for listening, you don't have to believe a word of this. as yes, my story does sound far-fetched but i have no way that i can verify it without putting my family in danger. which, i'd much rather lose my online status over a silly rumour than harm my family for another multitude of years. this is a rather short and rushed post though, as it's been bugging me for awhile and i just need to push it out.

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gunterfan1992 · 3 years

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Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

Wip Wednesday

Untitled fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. We are now months into this... tentative thing that is beyond friendship, beyond flirtatious, they still don't know much about each other on paper... but this feels a lot like dating. And then one day, Hotch abruptly stops answering his phone.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

(Set in season 6, unbeta'd, still the first draft, text/email templates are temporary)

((Notes: Spencer's POV this time, he is 29 and working at CalTech, Hotch still doesn't know how old he is though he does know that he's at least younger than 45 now. Hotch has been MIA now for about 18 hours.))

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch is working. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be apart of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking.

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

[]You're going to get me in trouble.

[][]Did I make you smile?

[]I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[][]Then why are you checking your phone?

[]You know why.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague.

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules.

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, and Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath.

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes realize he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call.

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it.

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

Please let me know of his well-being.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s.

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

His morning routine progresses as usual, to start. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well.

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling.

He becomes even more distracted when his email pings, a response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen, right in the middle of his department announcements. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is hurt, he’s in surgery, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a faction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted.

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

The reply is almost immediate.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. But then his mind sticks on something from the email.

Boy Wonder.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch?

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or lables as official.

It’s easy to see, now why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean.

Except, every victim has elevated potassium rates.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?”

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “... Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

tbc...

#THIS IS JUST A SNIPPET #I s2g it is but it is also long af #legit this ended up being 1900 words i just didn't feel like stopping you know?#so yall get like... 25% of the entire chapter basically #sorry not sorry #expect a wip every week now #wip wednesday #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting #don't ask about the dots tumblr and I are in a formatting fight and aren't on speaking terms rn

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning: Fluff, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

17. Growing

“Are you sure you can go to work now?” Yuta asked as he stopped in front of the publishing house. It’s been three days since he found (Y/N) in their home and although he didn’t tell her, he already bought their old house. That way, when her dad comes back, he can ask him to go to rehab. The girl nodded while checking her bag. “So this is how it feels like…” She gave him a curious look. Feels like what? “Bringing your daughter to her first day of school.”

(Y/N) had to giggle at that, Yuta is so cute. “Are you going to cry, otou-chan?” She teased but Yuta just chuckled, pinching her cheek. “I’ll call you later.” He raised an eyebrow at her. She would always say that but until now, he doesn’t know her number yet. “I promise, I’ll call.” She said before opening the door of the car. Yuta shook his head laughing to himself as he started the car. Let the waiting game begin.

The two were out for lunch, Jaehyun is abroad and Johnny is not around, leaving (Y/N) alone in the publishing house. She wanted to get lunch with her co-workers but she had to finish the illustration she’s tasked to do. And since she’s bored, she decided to get her phone and click speed dial 2. The phone was ringing as she bit her lip, deciding if this is a good idea or not. “Mosh mosh, Yuta Nakamoto desu.” And she automatically smiled at that. He sounded so hot talking in Japanese.

“Mosh mosh, (Y/N) desu.” She repeated while giggling that made the guy smile.

Yuta cleared his throat, seeing the investors look at him weirdly. He put down his phone for a second, making Doyoung shake his head at him. “Please give me a second. It’s an important call.” Then returned his phone to his ear, turning around from the group of guys. Doyoung just gave the men an apologetic smile then glared at Yuta. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Are you busy?” she asked, obviously overhearing what he said. “I’ll just call you later.”

“It’s fine. Did you eat lunch?” She said no and he sighed. “I’ll order food for you, what do you want?”

She had to gasp at that. “Jungwoo is already buying me food. Go back to your meeting, Yuta. Call me when you're done.” He asked if he can do that and she just said yes.

“I’ll call you later.” She immediately ended the call that made him sigh then returned to the meeting as if nothing happened. Doyoung sighed at the smiling CEO. He’s really lovesick for his own good.

(Y/N) finished her lunch and is doing her work when her phone rang, grinning at the person who said hello on the other line. “Did you have lunch?” Yuta asked and she hummed a yes. “Busy?”

She shook her head although he clearly cannot see her. Jungwoo only smiled while watching her. “Just finalizing some illustrations.” She claimed then put down her drawing pen to focus on him. “Is the meeting done? What happened?”

There was an obvious shift in Yuta’s voice that made her bite her lip. Is that a wrong question? Did something bad happen during the meeting? Is she at fault? “The company has new investors from New Zealand.” He said then sighed. “More paper works, more production to look after.” She giggled at that. At least it’s good news. But this only means that Yuta will get stressed once again.

Three days of spending the night in his place made her aware of the demanding job of the CEO. Sometimes, she can hear him in the middle of the night still talking to some people. He would often stay up late just working on his laptop and even while eating, his eyes were glued on his phone. “I’m staying over at Jungwoo’s place tonight. We have to finish the manhwa for publication on Friday.” She claimed and Yuta hummed in response.

“I’ll be out of the country on Friday.” He shared that surprised her. Suddenly? “I’ll leave the apartment keys to you if you want to stay there on weekend. I’ll be back Monday night.”

She really needed a place to stay. She should stop going to someone’s house just to stay the night. She realized that when Yuta left the apartment keys to her that Friday morning, even asking her if she wanted souvenirs from New Zealand. Honestly, she wanted to come with him but she can’t leave especially now that she had to finish the first chapter of her manhwa set for publishing.

She stayed at his place that Saturday morning since Lucas is back in Korea and she wanted Jungwoo to spend some quality time with him. The place seemed empty without him. How can he live here alone for years? Does he bring girls over? Or maybe he’s living with her girlfriend. Wait, does Yuta have a girlfriend? Is he married? She shook her head, why would he show interest in her if that’s the case?

She decided to do the laundry first, putting her clothes inside the washer. (Y/N) noticed one of her bra missing. Maybe she left it at Jungwoo’s place but that’s hardly the case. Lucas is sensitive about female’s clothes in their apartment. So where could it be? (Y/N) also put Yuta’s clothes in the washer since the ahjumma who was supposed to clean his house cannot go today. Maybe she can just clean up the house in exchange for staying here.

His clothes smelled like him and she suddenly missed him. Why does he have to be abroad now? And why is she so horny for him? Checking the calendar, it must be her ovulation period. Well, that explains her getting this horny. The vibrator, she thought, Yuta has it. Is it still here?

After cleaning the living room, she took a quick shower and wore his larger white shirt. (Y/N) had to borrow his computer so she went inside his study room and opened his desktop computer, surprised to see pictures of her as his screen wallpaper. Well, if this isn’t Yuta she would be terrified. How did he get these pictures? While she’s staying here? She opened the browser to send Johnny an email but it only restored some tabs. (Y/N) smiled, he was searching topics about flowers used for confession, how to tell a girl you love her, and even things like the traditional way of pursuing someone. Is he that serious?

And since she already has access to his computer, she decided to dig deeper and find out something about the guy. Maybe he can find his kinks by searching his browser history. But it’s clean, even a secret folder isn’t available on his computer. Doesn’t he watch porn? How is he so good in bed? Is he born with it? Or he had other girls to practice with? Well, the way they first met is rather smooth. Maybe he really is a fuckboy. So what’s with all this romance shit?

An engine search of nearby alcoholic rehab centers got her attention. He did say that before, he wanted to put her dad in rehab and have him sober. But how can Yuta, a total stranger, force her dad to do that? And where is he? He never picked up her calls and she didn’t know any friends that he has. He never returned to the house as well. A smile escaped her lips when she found out he searched about how to make bungeoppang. Why is Yuta confusing her?

Her phone rang that surprised her, an international number. Speaking of the devil. “Hi, have you eaten?” Yuta asked and she giggled. Did he call just to ask this? “Are you at work? Busy?”

“I’m at home.” The line got silent for a few seconds before she clarified, “I mean your home.” If possible, she can see how he smiled on the other line. “Sorry, I didn’t ask permission but I used your computer. And your clothes.”

The guy on the other line laughed. “It’s fine.” Then he stopped. “You saw the wallpaper?” She giggled at that, teasing that he’s too obsessed with her. “I had to keep myself sane when you’re not beside me.” (Y/N) wanted to swoon at that. How can he say those words so flawlessly? No doubt, he has some practice. “Wait, hold on…” he started. “You’re wearing my clothes?”

“Well yeah. I had to wash my clothes so I borrowed yours.” She bit her lip. Two can play a game. “Is that a bad thing, daddy?” she asked in a whisper and Yuta cursed. “Will I get punished, otou-chan?”

She could hear something closing on the other line then a click as if he’s locking something. “Fuck baby!” he cursed once again before sighing hard. “It’s still early here and the investors are here. Please don’t do this to me.” (Y/N) had to giggle at that. “Besides I’m not thrilled with the idea of punishing you. I just want to see you in my clothes.”

“Do you want a video?”

Yuta laughed. “Save it for later. I’ll call you when I’m alone in the hotel room.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” He giggled. Yuta had to remind her to get something to eat before dropping the call since he has a meeting to attend to. Now, (Y/N) had to get herself busy while waiting for their sexy night time call.

She already sent her work to Johnny, finished cleaning the house, and even finished the work Ten had asked help with. Yet there’s still no phone call from Yuta. Did he forget? Is he too busy? But she can’t stop her horniness now. Why did Ten ask her to edit his illustration? A phone sex one shot where the couple had the best masturbation of their life. And now, it made her excited and wet.

The vibrator, she thought. She’s sure Yuta hid it somewhere here in his house. Or in his office? How can she let off alone? Maybe she’ll look for amazing porn and just finger herself. Or she could call Yuta? No, he might be really busy. Glancing at his bed, there might be a way she can get off with his help.

She had never done it before. Totally, a first. But she had seen a lot of deal like this in porn and it’s pretty normal. She removed her sweatpants, leaving her in just her underwear and Yuta’s white shirt. She felt dirty just imagining what she would do to an inanimated object and it can’t help that she’s thinking about Yuta’s reaction when he sees his sheet wet. Will he let him see it?

She sat on his pillow, letting her wet core rub against the dark sheets and she moaned at the friction. It was good. Really good. But something is missing. Him.

She wished Yuta is here then maybe she’s not humping his pillow and he’s already giving her the best orgasm like what he always does. Maybe she can ride his cock or even better, he can eat her out. And the thought sent shivers down her spine as her wet core brushed against his pillow.

The imagery of Yuta under her, riding his face rather than his pillow sent (Y/N)’s mind into a frenzy. How would those red lips kiss her pussy lips? How can that warm tongue explore her cavern? She moaned at the thought, holding the headboard using her left hand or she might bump her head from the pleasure. Her right hand pinched her nipples, squeezing her breast imagining Yuta’s hands doing the deed. There’s no doubt, Yuta is the only one who can give her the orgasm she needs.

She was close, too close when her phone rang. Both her hands were occupied and she’s still reaching that much-needed orgasm so she didn’t bother about the call. It stopped for a second then it rang again that made her annoyed. Who would call her? Pissed off, she accepted the call without checking the caller ID. “What took you so long?” She bit her lip at that. Yuta. “Are you busy? Did you eat?”

And that’s the least of her concerns now. She humped the pillow faster, letting her moans escape her mouth to reach Yuta then maybe he could get the idea. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, obviously pissed off and it just sounded so hot against her ear. The girl dropped her phone in front of her, moaning loudly that if he had neighbors they’ll obviously hear.

She whimpered at the pleasure of her orgasm, rubbing her wetness on his pillow and even leaving a stain. (Y/N) picked up the phone and Yuta was asking for a video call. Really? When she’s just done with her orgasm? She declined the request and put the phone against her ear. “Hello?” she said in a shaky breath.

Yuta clucks his tongue at her. “Good?” He sounded agitated that she didn’t answer back, scared. “Is it another vibrator?” Oh yeah, she thought, Jungwoo’s vibrator. “Are you having fun without me, baby girl?” She gulped at his words. It sounded so hot that she grew wet again. This is bad. “Did you lose your tongue, baby girl?”

He sounded so dominant on the phone that she wanted to see him, maybe he’s in bed stroking his cock with a serious face. Maybe he looks angry and she wanted to see that. She shouldn’t have canceled that video request. “No, otou-chan,” she said softly.

“You were moaning loudly earlier. Why are you so quiet now?” he asked and she bit her lip. Totally hot. Her fingers trailed on her clit and she gave a breathy whimper. “What are you doing now?” But she didn’t answer, biting her lip to prevent moaning. He cursed in Japanese that made her arch her back at how erotic that sounded. “Were you touching yourself, princess?” She answered a muffled yes, turning around that she’s lying stomach flat on his bed as she inserted a finger inside her. “Is it satisfying? Your fingers?”

“No, Yuta,” she answered just as a moan escaped her mouth. Yuta laughed on the other line. “I want you.”

He chuckled once again. “Doesn’t sound like it, princess.” he teased. “Open your video, I want to see you.” A video request can be seen again and she only saw him in a suit, lying in what looks like a bed before looking the other way in embarrassment.

The guy can see her in his shirt, her nipples perked up. He can’t really see what she’s doing but the shaking of her body made him aware that she really is fingering herself. How wild, he thought. Why is she so horny like this? He opened his dress shirt then his pants, touching his cock which started to get hard at the image presented in front of him. “Princess, let me see you. I’ll make you feel good.”

(Y/N) had to fix her phone so that he could see her fully and she moaned when she realized that he was also touching himself. "Yuta…" she said breathlessly. "I want you."

"Oh sweetheart, I wish I'm there right now." He groaned against his phone. "I wanted to do a lot of things to you," Yuta said sensually while touching his body. "I want your pretty lips wrapped around my cock." And he changed the angle of the video to where he was jerking his hard rock arousal. "I want you squirming in orgasm under me. To dick you down real hard that you can only remember my name." She kept on calling for his name as her fingers sent her to the edge of her orgasm. "(Y/N)." He called sensually. "Baby!"

And that does it. She orgasmed on his bed for the second time but this time, she spoiled his sheets. Yuta was chuckling as she was riding out her orgasm, his hand still lazily jerking his cock. "Naughty girl." He teased. "Do you like soiling the sheets?"

"I'm sorry." She said biting her lip. "And it's not only the sheet that I stained." She said guiltily then showed him the pillow with a wet mark. "I'll just wash these tomorrow..."

"Don't." Yuta reacted instantly. "Leave it. I want it on my bed when I return on Monday."

"Pervert."

"Says the girl who was humping my pillow." She rolled her eyes. "You like unanimated objects, is that your kink?" He asked and she gave him a curious expression. "My pillow. That stupid vibrator…"

"Speaking of the vibrator, where is that?"

Yuta chuckled. "First drawer to the left side table." She dropped her phone for a while before checking the place Yuta mentioned, surprised to see the object shattered inside. A gasp escaped her mouth and he laughed once again. "I already told Jungwoo that I will pay for it." He reasoned out and she shook her head, still assessing the object. How did he break this? Is he that mad? "So say goodbye to my pillow for making you cum." Does he have anger issues?

But that is hot, she had to admit. She feels loved; like someone is being really possessive of her. "Can you calm down Yuta?" She sighed. "You should break yourself for always putting me on edge." He giggled at that. "Are you going back on Monday?" He nodded and she pursed her lips. "Can I stay the night on Monday? Lucas is still here in Korea."

Again, a chuckle. "Sure but I won't let you go to work on Tuesday." She raised an eyebrow at him and he just smirked. "Do you think you can walk properly after I'm done with you? I don't think so, princess." She smiled at that. Well, she wanted that.

Yuta promised to message her in the morning and asked her to get some rest already. He smiled when the video call dropped. This girl, really. Why is she shaking him like this? And why isn't it Monday yet?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 16 / Chapter 18

Happy New Year Everyone! 🎉🎆🎇

#yuta smut #yuta nakamoto smut #nct smut #yutasmut #yutanakamotosmut #nctsmut

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Chimerical

Chimerical’s stories aren’t at Gossamer, but you can now find them at AO3. If you have not read them, are you in for a treat! For instance, Regular People and Regular People Still are some of the X-Files fics I have read and re-read. You may also know Chimerical from her site Chimerical Publications, which was an extensive Mulder and David Duchovny fansite. Big thanks to Chimerical for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I’m not surprised at all that X-Files fandom is still popular, it was an amazing, creative show with iconic characters. Aside from just being entertaining, like all good Sci-Fi it asked deep, profound questions about the nature of relationships and humanity. It’s these things that people remember more than the MOWs.

However, I’m surprised to hear that my stories are still read, mostly because there is always something new, someone has a new take, and of course, we have the more recent episodes which provides all new fodder for writers, which is wonderful. But it’s super nice to hear that stories from the classic show still mean something. Also, I wasn’t a prolific writer, there are only 12 stories, but perhaps they struck a chord and people like to revisit them the way you like to re-watch a favorite episode or movie.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Fanfic is certainly not new, but The X-Files was absolutely at the right place, at the right time. The internet was just really taking off, and it enabled fans to connect instantly in ways that hadn’t before. I remember that Fox used to send out Cease & Desist letters in an ill-considered attempt to stem fanfic because the Suits just didn’t understand what it was. Nowadays, of course, they embrace much of it, encourage it, even. Supernatural wrote whole episodes about it. But in the early days they were really stupid about it.

But what I took away from it was that great community can exist with people you have never met in person. There is a great sharing of ideas and love of great characters.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

It’s true, no Facebook, twitter, tiktok – it seems strange!

But I connected to fandom though the old Usenet message boards, you couldn’t wait until the episode was over until you could leap on and start discussing the episode. And it was painful if you were on the west coast as I was because you would get spoiled. In truth, it wasn’t must different than Twitter, just without the character limitation. But it was rather the wild, wild, west, no moderators and no terms of service. It could be a free-for-all, and some of the disagreements were legendary! For writing, certainly ATXC was the big dog for fic, and of course alt.tv.x-files for discussion. There were many different Yahoo Groups and AOL mailing lists, that catered to interests in fanfic (Friendship/Adult/Slash) or to the characters and/or actors.

But frankly, the main thing I remember was what a complete PITA it was to just get anything posted. There were all these size limitations and ASCII issues that don’t exist today, you had font and formatting limitations, which cause people to get weirdly creative with italics, bolding, quotes and so on. And you had to break your story up in weird way simply to jam it into the email because there were size limitations. And it never failed that no matter how many Beta Reads you had, you didn’t see that last damn typo until AFTER you hit the send button. There was no edit button, all you could do resend the whole damn thing. It was the fanfic version of the 20 mile walk to school through the snow……Kids today have it so easy! LOL….

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Actors are, and always will be, the face of the show. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are amazing actors, and the nuance they brought each week was a wonder.

But one of the things that the X-Files also did was make people aware of the people behind the scenes, the showrunners, the writers, the directors. This was also something new. For most TV dramas, most people couldn’t tell you who wrote an episode if you had a gun to their head.

But people knew the writers like Vince Gilligan, James Wong, Darin Morgan, and of course Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz. And they knew the directors, Rob, Chris and the late great, Kim Manners.. It was like a repertory company. You could count on Morgan & Wong for the creepy, you could count of Vince Gilligan for the humor and relationship stuff, you could count on Darin Morgan for the “what the hell was that, but I loved it.”

So I guess what I took away was a deep appreciation for the craft, for the work. This carried over to other fandoms. I’m more aware of the creative team beyond the actors.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Believe it not, I didn’t watch at the beginning. I’ve always been a Sci-Fi fan but for some reason this wasn’t on my radar. I came in about the middle of Season 1. I was channel surfing and stopped the X-Files, it was the episode “Ice.” I won’t lie, I stopped because I saw David Duchovny in a henley and I’m never one to pass by an attractive man. But as I watched, I became intrigued by these two characters, and their conflicted relationship with each other, even though I didn’t really know what was really going on. But I had to know more. That’s good writing, where you can walk in half-way through an episode and be captured.

I immediately checked out the old AOL Service forums and found a group. Of course, back then, there was no streaming, there was no BitTorrent. So, you just had to wait until when and if the network decided to show a repeat, which meant you were screwed if you were trying to catch up. But someone on one of the boards offered to send me VHS tapes of the episodes of missed. That’s fandom as its best - I’m excited about this and I want to share it with you. So in about a week I was caught up and hooked. I had to see how these two people’s story turned out.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I’ve always written as a hobby, taken many writing classes, have always written short stories, worked on a novel or two. I’ve got friends who are writers by profession. But the closest I ever came to doing it professionally was co-writing a play that ran for a month off Broadway many years ago, so I’m a dabbler, at best. I’m a big reader, and good stories always make me think, “well, what if this happened….”

So, X-Files wasn’t my first fanfic rodeo. I had been involved in Quantum Leap fandom and Beauty and the Beast, some Star Trek. Once I good hooked on the show, I immediately began searching out fanfic. But it took me a long time before I wrote anything. I’m not sure why, perhaps I was waiting to see where the story went. But X-Files was different in that it blended one of my favorite genres with a truly compelling relationship story. And I don’t just mean romance, it was a melding of two entirely different ways of looking at the world that was captivating. Scully was so strong and Mulder so complex, how could you not love them.

So, I enjoy writing, I learn from it. I learn from the feedback, both good and bad. I’ve never understood fanfic writers who say “just sent me nice feedback.” No one loves criticism, and not all criticism is valid. But you learn from it. I’ve had people tell me they hadn’t looked at an episode from that point of view and they like it - and I’ve had people tell me that I didn’t know what I was doing, everyone knew that Scully would never cuss (to which I say, please, she grew up on military bases!) But it helps you improve.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

It was a period of my life I cherish because I met some friends who are still my friends to this day, all these years later because we found other things in common besides a show. It was great to share ideas and debate storylines. And it was a fun, creative, and exciting time. Each episode was must-see and then talking to my friends about it later was the best part.

I started to drift away when David Duchovny left the show. I thought then, and still think, they should have called it a day because the beating heart of that show was Mulder and Scully together. You can’t rip out half the heart and expect the patient to live. On an intellectual level, I got why Duchovny left, I got why Anderson stayed and I got that Fox was a fledging network back then and XF was a cash cow. But on an emotional level, it all turned upside down, especially when the much-promised “search for Mulder” never really happened.

Fans got angry. They were angry at David for leaving, they were angry at Gillian for staying, and they were angry at poor Robert Patrick, perfectly decent person, for merely existing. It got ugly and I got up caught up in that. Frankly, I was as much to blame as anyone in carrying on stupid arguments about crap that didn’t matter. And one day I just realized I’d let all the joy be sucked away, and this just wasn’t who I wanted to be, or how I wanted to spend my time. So, I took a break, I still watched the show as it limped on, but I disconnected from the fandom part of it. And by the time I’d had my break, the show was done!

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I’m always a fan. There are many shows I’ve followed and liked, Supernatural, Fringe, Walking Dead, but I don’t get involved in the internet drama. So, I don’t get as invested.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I assume you mean besides Mulder and Scully! In literature, My favorite writer is John Steinbeck and every character he created was indelible and singular. East of Eden is my favorite book and the characters of Adam & Caleb Trask, as well as Cathy Ames are so well drawn. Of Mice and Men, Cannery Row, they’re all perfect. Another favorite book and character is Alexandre’s Demas, The Count of Monte Cristo. The arc that Edmond Dantès’ life take is quite Mulder-esque. And of course, Harry Potter, I’m a sucker for a character fighting against overwhelming odds.

On TV, Sam Beckett from Quantum Leap. That was an amazingly well-crafted series, also featuring a female show runner, Deborah Pratt. I love the character of Raymond Reddington on The Blacklist, there is something about a completely unapologetic bad guy. I would have once said Dean and Sam Winchester, but sadly that turned into a case of staying too long at the fair and I stopped watching a couple seasons ago - But the early seasons rocked. Literally every single character in M*A*S*H was golden, and they knew when to call it quits. Thomas Magnum from the original Magnum PI. (People my age will still remember the “Did you see the Sun Rise, Ivan” episode!)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Oddly enough, a few weeks before you reached out to me, I watched the X-Files movie again. I remembered the incredible excitement when it came out. Fox did this tour across the county; it was like a mini-con. But I remember they had the trailer on a loop and my friends and I sat through it so many times we could recite the entire thing by heart. TV shows, such as Star Trek, had made the leap to movie, but I don’t believe a TV show had ever made the leap to films while the show was still on TV. But damn, it was good.

I watched the two recent XF mini-series. They did much to revive the old feeling, especially the episodes by Darin Morgan, who is a national treasure. And it was wonderful to see David, Gillian and Mitch. I’m sorry there won’t be more.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I haven’t in quite a while. Mostly because real life has interfered (work, personal stuff, Covid) over this last year and I have trouble concentrating. But I would certainly return to it, you need the escape of a good story.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Oh yes! But they were all from the time I was writing. Lydia Bower, DashaK, BlueSwirl, XFBandit, Paula Graves, Taverl, Prufrock’s Love, and dozens of other are still on my PC.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Like children, they each have their virtues but some may be harder to love than others. While I love a good smutty MSR, I was also a big fan of conflict resolution. So, I’m going to cheat and split the baby here. Based on feedback, I’d have to day my most popular story was Regular People and its sequel. And I really enjoyed writing that. It’s simple, it’s sweet, it’s what I hope for Mulder and Scully. The chance to just BE, if only for a while.

I wanted to try a slash story, so Wind River. That story was inspired by the murder of Matthew Shepard. I have dear friends in the gay community and I was so angry that this could happen in this country, so that one was about the need to treat people compassionately and who better to do that than Mulder and Scully.

But in truth, my own favorite is one that didn’t get much attention, called Rock Bottom. I wanted to explore that the fact Mulder and Scully, were, on occasion, just truly awful to each other and yet still reason to come back together.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I have a couple unfinished stories. There’s one from Quantum Leap, I want to finish first and when that’s done, I would like to finish the two X-Files that are half-baked.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do legal writing as a profession now, so I write all day long, but analyzing a case or a legal matter is not the same creatively and I do miss that, so I see returning someday, you need to feed your soul.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Well that’s all over the place, much like my mind! Often I was inspired by something I thought was unaddressed in the episodes. That’s where the Just One series came from. Or it’s a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern kind of thing -- That is, what’s happening off screen while the main action is going on. I find that intriguing, and that’s where Risking Everything came from. The incident in By Coincidence actually happened to a friend of a friend and I thought it would make good fodder. Pentimento came to me following a lecture I attended at a gallery, what happens when you peel back the layers you thought were true. You never know what’s going to connect.

What's the story behind your pen name?

“Chimerical” means existing as the product of unchecked imagination, given to unrealistic flights of fantasy- which seemed right for a fiction writer, especially for XF. In the early days, it became the phonetic “KiMeriKal” when I was on the old AOL service simply because Chimerical wasn’t available as a screen name! But I’m finally [email protected]!

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Yes, my friends are aware, some of them have been my betas over the years. My brother knows I write, but I don’t think he’s ever read anything because he would find the smut elements uncomfortable coming from his little sister!

Is there a place online (Tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

The most recent versions of my stories are at AO3. If I ever get around to anything new it will be posted there as well.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Thanks for reading, thanks for remembering me, and it was a great time in my life. Fandoms are great communities as long as we can always remember there’s a human being at the other end of the keyboard. Be kind, be compassionate, and never stop imagining the possibilities.

(Posted by Lilydale on February 23, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #chimerical

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