#where the gas station was and and like. tried again and i awkward half smiled and saw his face get all mushy and confused like mine FELT 20 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chasingpj · 3 years

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬

pairing: percy jackson x child of zeus!reader and jason x older sibling!reader

requested: yes!

warning: two curse words, mentions of stealing, death of a parent, and i believe that is it!

category: headcanons, fluff

a/n: i may have gotten too carried away but... i had a lot of fun writing this haha. i hope you guys like it!

pre-relationship

you and percy invented the phrase power couple but coming together took a while

your relationship dynamic would be very similar to thalia and percy's at first

you're both natural-born leaders, so you guys butt heads very often

you're more calculated and organized when it comes to things and percy being impulsive really annoyed you

he's lucky that even though he is impulsive, things somehow always work out in the end

if it wasn't for annabeth urging you guys to get along, you probably would still be at each other's neck

how did she get you guys to get along, you may ask?

she locked you guys in a storage closet :)

and said figure it out ♡

this happened after a friendly sparring practice turned into a full-on fight with your powers

annabeth insisted she wouldn't let you guys out until you declared to be friends

at the time, you were like, percy will never be my friend, ew

percy was just as annoyed

after a good hour of bickering and resisting your urge to choke him out

you guys found that you had a lot in common, actually?

huh, who would have known?

apparently annabeth

you guys talked about your life outside of camp and bonded over the worst teachers you've ever had

turns out, percy wasn't that bad

you'd never admit that out loud though

after a while, you started to feel things

were percy's eyes always that pretty?

yes, they've always been

oh look, those freckles over his nose? adorable

did you just call Percy adorable? yeah, you did… gross

you tried to deny your attraction to him

you were pretty sure this was a cruel joke from aphrodite (it was… more for your dad's than for you guys, though)

then you started noticing changes in his behavior too

now you guys were sharing blankets at the campfire when it got chilly

he even shared the blue cookies his mother sent him too

that's when you should have known he was down bad

both of you have awful sleep schedules

you hated sleeping in cabin 1

it was clearly built not to be slept in, and every few days, you found yourself having late-night conversations with percy at the docks

once the harpies snuck up on you and percy told you to get in the water with him

you didn't know how to swim, and you were kinda horrified of open water

you wanted to refuse, but you were cornered on the docks

you either jumped or got eaten

the last thing you said was that you couldn't swim before percy didn't give you a choice

he grabbed your hand and jumped in

his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in the air bubble he had made around you guys

at first, you didn't focus on it

too busy trying to defend yourself from his teasing

he continued to mimic the way you screamed when he dragged you into the water

"wow, you can fly, but you can't swim?"

you rolled your eyes, trying to defend yourself

you called him annoying, and he playfully threatened to let you drown

you guys joked and laughed, staying a little too long underwater

after your laughter ceased, you found yourself looking into his eyes

the both of you became quiet

suddenly his arm around your waist, the way your chests were pressed against each other made you horribly flustered

and you're not sure what you were thinking

actually, you weren't thinking at all, but you leaned in and kissed him

like really kissed him, it was a proper kiss

ahhhhhh!!!

probably would have kissed him longer if the water nymphs didn't giggle, exposing their little audience

once you pulled away, they scattered, ready to gossip about what they saw

the news made it to atlantis pretty fast

after the kiss, things were so awkward

you avoided him for days, and he avoided you

annabeth felt the tension, and she was upset because just when you guys were getting along, suddenly, you guys were avoiding each other

the battle of manhattan was approaching soon and the last thing anyone wanted was for you guys not to get along

you both avoided annabeth’s questions, not ready to confess what you guys had shared

eventually, annabeth kept pressing you about what happened

you blew up and admitted that you made out with percy in the water

annabeth was speechless before she burst into laughter

you didn't understand why it was so funny at first

but then you did

the both of you laughed until annabeth said that she wasn't surprised at all

the battle of manhattan comes around, and in the urgency of the moment, you guys were able to rise to the occasion

your movements, thoughts, commands were completely coordinated

you guys were an extension of each other, kicking ass

at the end, you were both offered immortality

the offer took you back to a conversation you guys had where you spoke about how you'd never want to be immortal

the both of you exchanged looks before you simultaneously denied the gift

zeus was offended x2

after that, you guys returned to camp half-blood

the both of you were upset at the campers you've lost and trying to recover from the adrenaline of battle

you and annabeth sang percy happy birthday and the three of you sat together and ate blue cake in a comfortable silence

weeks passed, and one day, you're met with annabeth barging into your cabin asking when you and percy are going to talk about your kiss

it was the last day of camp, and she was insistent on you talking to him

you reluctantly agreed, mainly because annabeth threatened to lock you in a storage closet again

you guys sat on the dunes in silence for a while

the both of you wanted to confess, but neither knew how to do it

after some silence, the both of you spoke at the same time

you stuttered over each other and then began bickering back and forth on who should go first until you blurted out that you like him

you cringed and looked away as percy froze in his spot

it was silent for a moment before percy whispered, "I like you too."

cue your second kiss

your teeth slightly bumping with his since the both of you were smiling so much

and you swore you heard thunder in the distance even though there were clear skies

relationship

you lived in a foster home on the other side of manhattan, so you guys saw each other every weekend

you guys went on movie dates, long drives, and you would sleep over pretty often

for the spooky season, you went to haunted houses and carved pumpkins

you watched horror movies together, teasing each other when one of you jumped and tried to cover your face during the scary parts

you went to his place for Thanksgiving and you arrived early so that the both of you could help sally cook all day

you and percy put blue food coloring on the mashed potatoes

for the first time ever, you felt like you were apart of a family since sally had welcomed you with open arms

everything was going great but then december came around

the last time you saw percy, you guys were christmas shopping for his mom

your last day of school ended a few days after his, so you planned to meet at CHB

but when you got there, you found out he never arrived

you called his home from the payphone in the big house

sally was relieved to hear from you, a part of her hoping he was with you

but you both found out that neither of you had heard from him in a few days

meeting jason

you and annabeth tried everything to find him

then you got a dream from hera that the answer to where percy is was with the guy with one shoe

you arrive and you find this blonde kid and not your boyfriend; you were kinda actually very annoyed

but this blonde kid felt familiar

you weren't sure what it was, and then you heard his name — Jason Grace

surely, it was a coincidence that he shared the name of your missing brother

you were too young to remember his disappearance

the only remembrance you had of him was a picture of the both of you as toddlers sitting happily beside thalia

you always wondered who was the little boy in the photo and it wasn't until a few years ago did thalia tell you about him disappearing

you were a bit wary of him at first, especially since he had no memory of where he came from

it wasn't until he conjured lightning with his sword, did you have no doubt in your mind that he was your brother

the first night you guys spent in the cabin together was awkward

you couldn't really catch up since he didn't remember anything, so you told him what thalia told you about him and your mother

you didn't reveal him everything, not wanting to overwhelm him and you had decided to call it a night before you went into detail

you explained the rest of the story after he came back from his quest

you tried to ask him questions hoping he’d remember more, but his memory wasn't coming back fast enough

both you and jason were growing frustrated, so one day you iris messaged thalia

the both of you came up with an idea to jog jason's memory by showing him things that he enjoyed as a toddler

jason was pretty sure it wouldn't work, but he went along with it

thalia recalled that the two of you really liked watching the flintstones as babies

so you and jason sat down and watched every season available on dvd

and well, it didn't work...

thalia also mentioned you both really liked sweets, so you tried to jog his memory with candy bars

you had to convince jason to sneak out of camp with you

he thought it was such a bad idea, but you reassured him he'd be fine

after reluctantly agreeing, jason and you escaped at night to buy actually steal candy bars from the closest gas station

jason panicked as he watches you shove candy bars in your sweatshirt

"we're gonna get caught"

"if you keep looking that scared, we just might," you replied a little too calmly

he tried to relax, but he just looked like he saw a ghost the entire time

on your way back, you may have electrocuted a harpy and fought a couple cyclops and all the fighting and running made you lose one of your snicker bars

you were upset, to say the least

unfortunately, after stuffing him with chocolate, that didn't work either

then you tried to show him the few pictures you were able to salvage before you were taken to the foster home after the death of your mother

jason sat in front of you on the floor as you pulled the box from under your bed

you smiled, finding an old picture of your mother, and you put it up to his face, taking in the similarities between the two

"yep, you look just like her," you confirmed as you smiled sadly

even though jason didn't know her, he felt a sense of pride when you had told him so

every time a memory would come back, you were the first person he told

when his memories with lupa came back, you were shook

and then you teased him, saying that he's basically a dog

once you threw a twig and told him to go fetch

he didn't find it as funny as you and leo did, but oh well

you also asked if he howled at full moons, and you were met with the straightest face you've ever seen on jason

it was the funniest thing ever to you

every week you guys kicked ass in capture the flag

you guys were more alike than you thought

it was guaranteed that whichever team you were on would win

in the months when the argo II was being built, you had a lot of times to bond with jason

your dynamic was really fun as you were a bit more rebellious and silly while he was a lot more responsible and mature

after the argo II departed

you reuniting with percy was something you thought about for months

you were so excited when the argo II was officially ready to fly over to camp jupiter

your pulse was thumping in your ears when you saw percy in the crowd

after months of worrying about where he was and if he was still alive, it was almost surreal to see him right in front of you

you lunged into him so hard, he stumbled back as you kissed him

just like your second kiss, the both of you were smiling so hard your teeth kept bumping against his

"i love your new look," you commented on his toga, and he snorted,

"yeah?"

"oh yeah, it's kinda hot."

the both of you laughed, content to be in each other's arms again

after getting on the argo II, you were the reason jason and percy formed some sort of a friendship

you were the mutual ground for the both of them since they had a soft spot for you

the tension between the two was something you couldn't disregard and you hated how weird it was at the beginning

if they butted heads, you tried to mend the problem

you understood both of them well enough to understand where they came from

at some point, you and annabeth thought it would be funny to lock them in a storage closet

so you did

they kept complaining to be let out but eventually, they gave in

little did they know that you were standing near the door and listening to their conversation

jason told him how you helped him a lot and all the ridiculous things you made him do

and percy shared stories of you from quests and at camp

the both of them laughed and bonded over having someone as amazing as you in their lives

"y/n is pretty great," percy smiles

"yeah, they are," jason agreed

needless to say, your heart warmed at the praise from your two favorite boys

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rodr1cks · 3 years

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manic pixie pizza girl | 1.4k

fluff; you’re rodrick’s favorite delivery girl

“12 Surrey Street,” you mumbled to yourself, plopping down into your car. You sped out of the parking lot, ready to get your last delivery of the night over with.

You pulled up to the house and grabbed the five pizzas from your passenger seat and headed towards the home.

You knocked on the scarlet colored door a few times. And then a few times again when the first knocks went unanswered. You were met with silence.

You could hear ridiculously loud music from where you stood outside and you were growing irritated. You knew there was somebody home and if these pizzas didn’t get paid for you were a deadman.

You tried one last time, delivering three extra hard knocks to the door and ringing the doorbell at least twice.

At last, the door swung open, revealing the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. Your annoyance quickly reduced to a dull afterthought.

The boy called back inside, “Yeah these mom bucks are a gold mine!” He turned to face you again.

“H-hi, uh, pizza?” You stammer. He nodded at you curiously, “Yeah… Pizza.”

“Right, that’ll be $52.50, please.”

What was happening to you? You had laid your eyes on the raven headed boy for less than sixty seconds and you felt like you were disintegrating in front of his gaze. Shakily, you took the cash from his hand.

“Keep the change,” he winked at you. Suddenly, you couldn’t move, or speak, or breathe. You held up your hand, waving awkwardly as he closed the door.

You practically sprinted back to your car, ready to soak in the humiliation from your previous interaction.

The next day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the interaction you had on Surrey Street. The boy’s deep brown eyes were ingrained into your memory. You even made a note of the small mole that sat next to his eyebrow. He was tall and slim and wait, was he wearing eyeliner?

It was agonizingly painful to get through your day.

It was a saturday, so you were delivering pizzas back to back the entire day.

Your night was finally coming to an end. You had one more delivery slated before you could go home and absolutely crash. Your coworker handed over the order.

“Oh, and they specifically requested you to deliver this, by the way,” your coworker rattled off, nonchalantly. “They said to send the awkward girl with the black car.

That was you alright.

Your heart skipped in your chest. You tried to contain your hope, telling yourself there was no way he would ever ask for you.

You cleared your throat, “And what is the address on that one?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Looks like it’s 12 Surrey Street.”

Your jaw fell to the floor.

“Do you know them, y/n?”

You stuttered, unsure of what to say, “Oh, u-uhm, no, not exactly.”

The drive over to the now familiar house was nerve-wracking. Your mind was racing.

Oh, god. You probably smelled like pizza and you probably looked like garbage and- Your navigation system pulled you from your thoughts. “You have arrived,” the electronic voice droned out.

No turning back now.

Before exiting your car, you made an effort to somewhat fix your appearance. It wasn’t easy, but you improved your looks at least a little bit. You also made sure to reapply your perfume.

You grabbed the pizza from the passenger side, only one box this time. You slowly approached the door, your anxiety running rampant.

You rapped on the door three times and rang the doorbell. Tonight, the door was answered almost immediately, as if somebody had been awaiting your arrival.

“Hey,” the boy from the previous night greeted you with a slight smirk.

So he does wear eyeliner.

He was leaning against the doorway, one arm elevated, holding the top of the doorframe. You allowed your eyes to linger on his biceps a little too long.

“Is that for me?” He asked, knowing good and well it was.

You nodded, drool nearly departing from your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth to tell him the total, but he spoke before you.

“This might be weird but do you wanna come in? I won’t kill you or anything, promise.”

What? The? Fuck?

Is he serious? Okay, play it cool, y/n.

You nodded again, letting out a small squeak. So much for playing it cool.

He stepped back into the house, holding the door open for you. You passed under his arm and into the inviting atmosphere.

You hovered awkwardly in the entryway, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Well, are you gonna tell me your name?”

“Oh right, of course, I-I’m y/n. Do I get to know your name?”

“I guess I can tell you. I’m Rodrick. You might’ve heard of me. I kinda run a band, Löded Diper.”

You’d never heard of it.

“Oh, yeah! Sounds familiar, actually!” You lied to protect his ego.

His eyes lit up, thrilled by your response.

“Wanna see my setup?” The pizza you brought was long forgotten.

Part of you knew that wasn’t really a question. Rodrick led you through the hallway and into the garage. It was covered with string lights and Löded diper posters. There was a small couch and coffee table against one of the walls.

“Please, y/n, have a seat. Take a moment to digest the man cave.”

He played a couple sets for you and honestly, he was better than you had expected.

After what was probably half an hour, he retired his drumsticks. You gave him a small round of applause and he gave you a dramatic bow.

You smiled up at him.

He plopped down next to you, resting an arm on the couch behind you.

“So… y/n, the ‘rents won’t be home for a while. We could… watch a movie or something. If you want.”

You still couldn’t believe this was happening.

“U-uh sure, what do you have?”

He smiled, immediately rattling off movie titles until one piqued your interest.

“Scream it is.”

Rodrick showed you up to his room. It was decorated similarly to the garage, complete with band and movie posters, colorful lights, and some miscellaneous items scattered on the floor.

One item being a playboy magazine. You blushed and he kicked it under the bed, attempting to laugh it off.

“Uhm, sit anywhere you’d like.” He was the awkward one now. Rodrick fumbled with the dvd, eventually sliding it into the disc player.

Despite this being your favorite movie, you found it impossible to pay attention. Rodrick had found a seat right next to you on his couch.

You were staring at Rodrick through the corner of your eye, unable to break eye contact from his fiddling hands. You watched the veins in his arms contract and flex with every small movement he made. You were enamoured.

Your breath caught as he moved his hand to rest on your upper thigh.

He looked over at you, searching for your approval, “Is this okay?”

You nodded as your heart rate increased rapidly. He began rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over your smooth skin. You could feel heat blistering in your cheeks and you were suddenly grateful that the only light illuminating your face came from the flickering tv.

You glanced over at rodrick, his pale skin and rosy lips glowing in the dim lighting. You wanted nothing more than to feel his plush lips on yours.

A surge of confidence rushed over you and you rolled onto his lap.

You repeated his own question to him, “Is this okay?” You could see his jaw fall open slightly as he nodded excitedly.

He placed his large hands on the small of your waist. He smirked at you, “How about this?”

You rolled your eyes at the little game the two of you had begun.

“And what about,” You leaned in and kissed him slowly. Your lips moved in sync perfectly. He tasted like sour candy and gas station icee.

“This?”

He pretended to think for a moment, “Hmm… not quite sure about that one. Let’s try again so I can be sure.”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You kissed him again, prying past his pliant lips with your tongue. This kiss was far longer and far more sensual. Rodrick’s grip on your waist tightened as your lip lock progressed.

You pulled away from him and broke the silence, “You owe me $15.29 for that pizza, by the way.” You smirked at him playfully, having a feeling the rest of the night was going to be more fun than you could’ve imagined.

+ hi guys i promise i see your requests and i will write them!! this was in my drafts and i wanted to post hope u enjoy c: also pls feel free to message me or send me asks abt anything and everything!!!

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick #rodrick fanfiction #devon bostick #diary of a wimpy kid

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

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Hello! This is a project for @summer-in-the-archives-event that I worked on with @horizonindigo! We came up with the idea together and based our individual works around the poem I wrote, included in the fic. You can find their absolutely amazing art here!!

I freaking loved working on this one and I got more and more excited as we progressed. I also surprised myself with the poem itself a bit, definitely didn’t expect it to end up quite as cool, if I may say so myself. It was incredibly fun to write.

Big shoutout to @sunflowers-and-frogs for beta reading, I love you bestie <3

I would like to thank all the mods that made this event possible! It’s my first time taking part in anything like this and it was really, really fun, so THANK YOU <3 Love you guys :3 Anyways, enough of my rambling kdfjgkjsdfg

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Kissing, Excessive Tea-Making, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Poetry, Love Confessions Warnings: self-esteem issues, typical Lonely content, discussions of free-will and determinism, graphic kiss

Summary: As Martin fights the remnants of the Lonely's influence on their ride to Daisy's safehouse in Scotland, he focuses on his feelings for Jon to keep him tethered to reality. He watches Jon be himself in the safety of the cottage, share these small intimacies of domesticity and the words come to him as a poem weaves itself into the pages of his notebook...

He feels the taste of salt in his mouth, as he looks out of the car window at the rapidly falling away landscape, covered in the darkness of the night. He feels Jon’s presence next to him, focused on driving but glancing every so often at him with concern. Martin feels like he should say something, somehow fill the silence that has befallen them, but no words ever find their way to his mouth. He stays quiet, watching the trees pass them by, trying to ignore the anxious churning in his stomach. He’s always been pretty good at filling awkward silences with chatter; at least before the Lonely. Now… he can’t help but feel bothered by Jon’s presence, even though he did all of this for him, even though this is what he’s wanted all this time; it’s like a splinter, prickling at his mind, almost causing him physical discomfort. He swallows and feels the salty taste on his tongue; he discards the thoughts and tries his best to breathe through the discomfort, instead focusing on the sensation of Jon’s warm hand on his.

Martin used to be the warm one; he’d always been generating heat and his mind goes back to the early days in the Archives when the basement was cold in the winter and both Tim and Sasha used to gravitate towards him with their respective cups of tea during breaks. Now his whole body is cold, the chill of the ocean breeze and fog having settled in his bones so deep he thinks he’ll never feel warm again. The thought isn’t sparking any emotions in him though. It’s just a thing that he’s learned to accept, just as the fact that he’ll always be alo—

“Do you want me to put on some music?” Jon asks with another one of his glances. Every time, he raises his eyebrows a bit, and tilts his head to the side; Martin expects the concern in his eyes, but he sees something else there as well. He’s been afraid to put a label to the expression for the fear he’s reading him wrong, but the bolder part of his mind tells him it’s fondness.

Jon’s hand is warm, and his thumb grazes the skin of his palm just a little, as if not sure he’s allowed to. Martin looks down at their hands and feels warmth spark in his stomach; he smiles.

“I’m sorry I’m—I’m not really good at the whole, uh… small talk thing,” Jon adds with a flush, turning his head back to the road. “I should probably be talking about something, though, to, uh… to keep you here. I suppose.” He visibly cringes at his words.

“It’s—It’s fine, Jon,” Martin chuckles, and Jon relaxes, fixing him with a quick smile of his own. “I’m just… you know.” He looks down at their hands again and has a brief feeling they belong to someone else. Not him. Never him. “I’m not quite… out of that. Yet.”

Another look of concern. Martin feels heat prickling at his cheeks and he’s a little bit glad, because at least it’s a feeling. He interlaces their fingers and looks out the front window.

They spend the ride in relative silence. Jon tries a couple more times to start small talk and fails; they stop at a gas station at one point and Martin takes out his notebook when Jon disappears inside the station to pay for gas. He flicks through it and his eyes stop at an unfinished draft; he started writing it shortly before Peter took him down to the Panopticon, but he’d only managed to get a few first lines down. Despite still feeling the cold in his bones and his mind being clouded by the remains of the fog, words come to him, and he starts scribbling. He continues to do so even when Jon comes back with tea and an assortment of snacks, blushing just a little bit when Jon shoots a curious look at the notebook. He doesn’t ask and Martin is thankful for it. He’s not the sort to show his drafts to anyone, especially to the subject he’s writing about.

It’s 1am when they arrive at the cottage; they’re both exhausted and they quickly take their bags inside and lock the door. The cottage is small and practical, just Daisy’s style; it’s also quite dusty from months of abandonment. Martin yawns as he opens one of the bags to get the essentials. They should leave unpacking and cleaning for the next day.

He hears Jon’s footsteps on the wooden floor coming back from the initial run of the house and he turns to tell him that, but the somewhat sheepish look on his face stops him in his tracks. Has he ever seen Jon look sheepish before?

“So, uh, obviously this was Daisy’s safehouse when she was, well… Avoiding people,” he says, not meeting Martin’s eyes.

“I hope ‘avoiding people’ doesn’t mean killing them in this context,” Martin snorts, not sure if he’s entirely joking. The humour is lost on Jon, however, as he looks at him confused for a moment before he processes Martin’s words.

“Oh, no, no, I-I don’t believe she, uh… She just slept here.” Jon shifts awkwardly. “And that means there’s uh, there’s only one bed.”

Martin’s eyes widen and his lips form a little “Oh”.

“Of course, if you’re not comfortable with sharing, I can just take the couch, you need some proper rest and I’m used to running on low sleep” —Jon averts his gaze as he speaks. He grabs his bag and walks over to the couch, and Martin wants to stop him talking and just say that they should share the bed, but his voice seems to have left him at this crucial moment. He just stares as Jon places the bag on the couch and looks back at him, aware of the silence. “Martin?”

Martin swallows, a familiar cold freezing his toes. He feels the damp sand underneath his bare feet and a chill runs down his spine. He blinks and tightens his grip on the bag he’s been holding. This is real, he is real, Jon is real.

“You need good rest too,” he finally manages to say, and he’s surprised by how clear and normal his voice sounds; it makes Jon relax a bit. “We should share the bed, if-if you are comfortable with that.”

A small smile appears on Jon’s lips and a warm feeling fills Martin’s stomach again; he knows the smile is for him.

“Okay,” he says softly and picks the bag up.

They manage to keep the awkwardness of it to the minimum; they’re both very tired and at one point it just doesn’t matter anymore. Jon hands Martin a separate blanket and he pushes the disappointment down into a void inside him where he keeps feelings to come back to when he’s alone. It would be foolish of him to hope for cuddling since they haven’t talked about anything yet.

He expects to fall asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow, but he finds himself awake in the darkness after goodnights are said (Jon’s voice sounds so soft and tender Martin has forgotten all about his earlier disappointment). He’s laying on his back, eyes closed, and he feels Jon’s presence on his right. His breathing is steady, not yet slow enough to indicate sleep, but calm and relaxed. Martin peeks out through half-lidded eyes – he hasn’t gotten used to the darkness as much yet, but he can see Jon laying on his side, facing him, his eyes closed and his hair loosely framing his face. One of his hands rests close to his head on the pillow. Martin blinks, fully opening his eyes now and smiling softly. As his vision clears, Martin notices Jon frowning ever so slightly, and he wonders if the faint lines between his eyebrows smoothen when he’s asleep.

“Is watching people sleep a usual activity for you?” Jon whispers with amusement as he opens his eyes and Martin gasps with surprise and looks away, feeling heat prickle at his cheeks.

“Wha—uh, no! No, of course no—Sorry, I—” He rambles, and he thinks he might just die from embarrassment when he hears Jon laugh quietly.

“It’s fine, Martin.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Really. I-- Sorry, I thought a joke would, um… lighten the mood somewhat.”

Martin risks a look at him and wonders if the red on his cheeks is visible through the darkness. Jon looks at him with that expression again, something Martin would very much want to classify as fondness if it didn’t feel so impossible. But now that he thinks about it… Would it really be thatfar-fetched? Jon had gone into the Lonely just to get him out. Would he have done that for anyone else? Martin rolls his eyes at himself in his mind, of course he would. He did go into the Buried, and it was for Daisy, a person who has threatened him multiple times, kidnapped and almost killed him. If Jon was ready to lay down his life for her, out of all of them, it shouldn’t be surprising he would do the same for his assistant; it says nothing about his feelings on the matter.

Martin’s memories of the Lonely are hazy. He remembers the cold, the dampness, and the loneliness. He remembers his thoughts, the lonely ones, and how they felt both alien and familiar at the same time. He remembers the comfort, the feeling of fitting in, but also the pain and the fear, just before they were numbed by the cold and the fog that made him forget. And then suddenly, Jon was in front of him, looking at him with desperation on his face, tears in his eyes glowing with a green light. Was it Jon calling for him, or just the Beholding?

“What are you thinking about?” comes Jon’s voice and Martin realizes he’s been staring into the air for a while. He blinks and looks back at Jon.

“Uh…” He searches for words before he gives up on trying to come up with an excuse. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Why did you do it?”

Jon blinks at him a couple times and rises to lean on his elbow, to better look at Martin.

“What do you mean?”

“The Lonely,” Martin says, not meeting his eyes. Jon is wearing a blue t-shirt with a logo of a band Martin doesn’t recognize; the shirt is loose and it uncovers one of Jon's shoulders which would probably be distracting if Martin’s mind wasn't chilled by the remnants of the fog. “Why did you come for me?”

Even without looking at him, Martin sees Jon’s forehead ripple. A while passes as Jon searches his face and the thought that he shouldn’t have asked starts creeping up to Martin’s head. Shouldn’t have brought any attention to the subject, he should just be glad, he should—

“I care about you, Martin,” Jon says in a very gentle and quiet voice, like he’s afraid anything louder would take away the meaning of his words. Martin looks up at Jon and the hint of that intense blush from before makes it back to his face. “You’re… You matter to me. You will always matter to me.”

Martin can’t stop a small smile appearing on his face and Jon mirrors it.

“Thank you,” Martin whispers, feeling a warmth settle in his chest, finally driving the cold away.

“Anytime.” Jon lays his head back down and settles back with the right hand near his face. “Sleep well, Martin.”

Martin closes his eyes contentedly and he curls up on his right side, facing Jon, as if trying to keep this warm feeling from escaping his chest too soon.

“You too, Jon.”

---

Martin wakes up alone in an unfamiliar bed, the smell of foreign covers filling his nostrils and for a second he panics. He opens his eyes and the memories come back to him; their late arrival at the safehouse and laying down to sleep next to Jon.

He sits up, looking at the space Jon had occupied. It’s vacant now, just the curled up covers he left behind, but it manages to bring a blush to Martin’s cheeks, nonetheless. It feels so… intimate to know that they slept next to each other. It makes him feel warm and cosy.

Martin gets up and goes to the bathroom before he finds Jon in the kitchen. He’s humming quietly as he finishes cleaning the table and he looks up when Martin enters.

“Good morning, Martin.” He smiles and Martin’s afraid he’s going to melt. He takes a quick look around and notices that their sparse kitchen supplies are mostly unpacked, and the kettle is already on the stove.

“How long have you been awake?” He asks; some of the shock must have made it to his voice because Jon looks amused.

“Two hours or so. I’ve always been a morning person.” He shrugs and finishes cleaning the table. “Tea?”

A smile lights up Martin’s face and he gets swept up by the familiarity of the activity, while Jon busies himself with fixing up some breakfast. As both of them work in the kitchen, Martin notices the casual brushes of their skin and touches of the shoulders. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it consciously or if it just happens naturally, but he knows that Jon’s open demeanour is drawing him closer than before. He wonders if he’s been like this ever since he woke up from the coma, and there was just no one to appreciate it.

The morning is relaxed, the casual conversation flowing a lot smoother than the day before, and after breakfast they set out to clean the whole cottage and go down to the village to buy some actual supplies. The village is small, but the local shop provides all the essentials they need; for a moment Martin forgets about everything outside of that village and shopping for groceries with Jon, as if this is their life now, in the Scottish Highlands, living together in a cottage. They talk about cooking dinner, and the cows they passed on the way, and Martin thinks he could get used to that.

The bubble bursts when they finish up and Jon decides to call Basira. She picks up after a while and updates them on the absence of both Jonah Magnus and Daisy. Basira says she’ll send some statements up to them when the Institute stops being an active crime scene, and a shadow passes over Jon’s face. Wrapped up in a conversation about their taste in dinner dishes, it was almost too easy for Martin to forget food isn’t the only sustenance Jon needs. He finds it easier to forget things ever since the Lonely. They walk back to their cottage in silence, Martin grabbing Jon’s hand as soon as he lets go of the phone.

When they get back, Jon declares he’s going to take care of unpacking and cooking, and even though Martin knows Jon to be stupidly stubborn, he’s surprised by the strictness with which Jon insists he sit back and relax. Martin doesn’t really complain; he’s spent his entire life caring for others and, to be honest, it does feel rather good to be on the receiving end for once. He watches Jon from the couch for a while, before he takes out his notebook and looks over the poem he wrote in the car.

Wisps of mist conceal my eyes

A lone indulgence to lose one's face

And soothing a part inside that cries

With chilling sadness and numbing grace

The steadfast rhythm of waves ashore

As ocean breeze leaves a taste of salt

The words forgotten, erase what I swore

Until I hear your voice once more

I wondered many times what it might be

That we finally took to calling "us"

What would be left if we broke free

Of dread and horror's eternal grasp

The Eye looms aloft, ever-present dread

Watching all, eternal lids apart

You made your choice unaware you were led

By strings of web, against your heart

Jon starts humming under his nose in the kitchen as he cuts something on the board; the water in the kettle boils slowly and fills the air with a quiet whistle. Martin smiles while shooting a subtle glance at Jon; he seems to notice his gaze and falls quiet, but a smile lights up his face when he sees the fondness on Martin’s face. For all this talk about Jon “losing himself” in the role of the Archivist, this seems as human as you can get. Martin never favoured the approach the other archival staff took to the knowledge of the significance of Jon’s position, and he often wondered how they could look at him and see a monster. Of course he made bad decisions, but so did everyone. They’ve seen or read about so many avatars giving into the powers that fed them and yes, maybe Martin is biased, but Jon was nothing like them. They’ve all been caught in this huge web of statements that turned real; the more they struggled to break free the more tangled up they became, and it wasn’t Jon’s fault that he ended up in the centre of it. He knows Jon tried to make right choices every step of the way. Can you really blame a human being for failing to completely resist something that’s beyond mortality and human reality? One way or another they ended up here, together, and yes, maybe the Eye and the Lonely are still looming as very tangible threats, and Jonah Magnus is nowhere near being stopped, but at least they’re together now. Martin remembers thinking the Unknowing was the endgame, the last chapter of this horror for them, and he remembers the hopelessness of their story getting a bad ending that essentially pushed him into the Lonely; now he feels a different kind of an end approaching – he dares to be hopeful. Maybe everything works out in the end? Maybe, if they were safe and happy, it wouldn’t actually be the end of the world.

Martin looks down at his notebook and starts writing, sticking the tip of his tongue out in concentration.

What is a monster? Where is the line

That would separate us from the world

All I know is our paths align

And we together can battle the cold

You cut through the curtains of mist and See

The green glow fades when our eyes meet

My lips form a soft and quiet plea

To be loved has never felt so sweet

To be loved is a new feeling for me

I only know how to love from one side

But with you I hope we can once be free

Maybe ignore the whims of the tide

Although I know we're not nearly through

I taste and savour your voice, your breath

If only for a moment, we can start anew

And I will follow you even to death

As he stares at the last word of the finished poem, his hand with the pen hovering over it, he registers that his eyes have watered a bit. He blinks the tears away quickly as Jon sits down on the couch next to him, looking at him with a gentle worry. Martin looks up at the two mugs of tea he’d placed on the table.

“Did you make tea?” He asks with mock bewilderment, and Jon scoffs at him.

“I know how to make tea, Martin.” He nudges him with amusement, that gentle worry not quite gone from his eyes. “What are you writing about?”

Martin falls quiet, pressing the notebook to his chest in a knee-jerk reaction.

“Thought you didn’t like poetry,” he huffs out a laugh that’s only a little bit self-conscious. Jon shrugs, reaching out for his mug and taking a sip.

“I don’t understand it. And yes, I have been known to dislike it at times, but… Maybe I could be swayed to give it another shot.” Jon rolls his eyes fondly and looks at Martin out of the corner of his eye, a look that says ‘for you’. Martin grins, heat pricking at his cheeks once again.

“You see, i-it’s all about emotion.” He places the notebook gently on his lap face down and reaches for his own mug. “You w-want to put all of your emotions into words in a-an artistic way, that has a rhythm and, uh, and feels alive. And you want your, uh, your readers to feel that, that emotion through your words.”

Jon listens attentively and his eyes aren’t leaving Martin’s face; at one point Martin gets distracted by it and forgets where his explanation was going. Jon’s gaze has always been intense, in different ways throughout the time they’ve known each other. At first it was judgemental, the gaze of his boss, full of unmet expectations; then it was piercing, watchful and suspicious; as time passed, it seemed to gain more and more weight of the Beholding, something Tim always complained about. After Martin had joined Peter Lukas, the rare glances he got from Jon were full of yearning that Martin didn’t understand at the time; didn’t want to understand. Now, it’s that gentle fondness, interweaved with something intangibly sad and Martin feels an urge to hug him, to bring him close to his chest and never let go; to bury his face in Jon’s hair and protect him.

They move to place their mugs at the table at the same time and snort, amusement quickly turning into a fit of laughter. Jon throws his head back a little with it and Martin wonders if he has ever seen him laugh so openly before. He didn’t think it was possible for him to fall in love with the man even more, but once again, his heart proves him wrong. He stares at him with a lovestruck expression and thinks they should really talk about it. Martin doesn’t know where to start though and Jon seems to be thinking in a similar direction because his expression shifts into gentle seriousness.

“Martin, I…” He starts and bites his lip. “I need to apologize.”

Martin straightens a little; it’s not exactly what he expects.

“I—The way I used to treat you…” Pain and guilt flash through Jon’s face as he looks away for a moment to gather his thoughts. “It was not okay. None of it was okay. And I’m—I’m really sorry for that. It doesn’t—I know it doesn’t change anything that happened, but I” —he sighs. “I really am sorry. I hope I can, somehow, uh… somehow make it up to you.”

Martin reaches for Jon’s hand, and he looks down in surprise; Martin sees his eyes start glistening.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you.” He continues in a whisper and his eyes are locked on their touching hands. “I’m so sorry about the Lonely. I’m sorry that you’re trapped in all of this with me, and I would understand if you decided to leave—”

“Jon.” Martin squeezes his hand and Jon’s eyes shoot up to look at him.

“I’m sorry, that’s not an apology,” he sighs again. “I just… I’m sorry, Martin. About everything.” His other hand grips Martin’s. “I’m glad you are still here. I’m—I’m so glad, you d-don’t even know,” he laughs.

“I think I do.” Martin smiles gently. “Thank you for saying that. I’ve—I've forgiven you for a lot of it a long time ago. A-And the rest just isn’t your fault.”

Jon frowns.

“The Lonely was always there,” Martin shrugs. “Peter Lukas was just… a catalyst, I think. But now I have you.” His finger grazes the outside of Jon’s palm and his heart flutters in his chest when he sees that small smile appear on Jon’s face. “And you can’t be blamed for Elia—Jonah’s games. We’re all just… a bunch of people who didn’t know what was going on until it was too late.”

Jon’s eyes fall as he nods slightly.

“He’s still up to something,” he says quietly.

“Figures,” Martin laughs bitterly. “But we’re here now. And frankly, I don’t really want to think about him when we’re finally…” The word ‘together’ gets stuck in his throat, as if it would breach this fine line of ambiguity they’ve drawn between themselves. Jon seems to fill it in and his eyes land back on Martin.

He’s never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now. Jon's eyes are wide and glistening with something that looks suspiciously like hope, and his fingers gently graze the outside of Martin's palm. Warmth spreads in his chest and his eyes flutter a little, not breaking the eye contact. He wants to pull Jon close to his chest, to run his fingers through his hair and feel his breath on his own skin. To really feel like he's there, next to him, with him.

Before he can follow through with any of that, something sizzles in the kitchen, loud in the silence, startling them both.

“Food!” Jon chuckles slightly before he jumps to his feet and rushes to the kitchen, while Martin snorts and follows him. Jon stirs the pan with curry and sighs with relief when he sees it's not burned. He turns down the heat anyway and checks on the rice.

“Jon, this smells amazing,” Martin says, peeking into the pan with cheese and spinach. “I didn't know you could cook.”

“Well, contrary to the popular belief I was a functional human being. For a while,” Jon snorts and leans against the counter to look back at Martin. “It's Palak Paneer, my grandma taught me when I was a child.”

“It looks fantastic,” Martin grins, and Jon rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

Even though the moment's lost, the remains of the feeling can be felt between them as they prepare the plates and take the food to the table. They easily fall back into usual chatter and, as soon as they’re finished, Martin jumps to wash the dishes. Jon relents after extensive affirmations from Martin that he's alright and he can definitely take care of a couple dishes in the sink, and he drops onto the couch with a content sigh instead.

Martin finishes up with the dishes and dries his hands on a towel.

“Do you want some tea?” He asks and hangs the towel back on the rack. When there's no response, he turns to the couch. “Jon?”

Something sinks in his stomach when he sees that the object that consumes Jon’s attention is the poem he’s finished; he scratches his neck, as his cheeks take on a pink tinge. “Oh…”

He walks up to the couch, unsure, trying to gauge Jon's reaction. His face seems tense, he squeezes the notebook in his hand so hard his knuckles go white, and his eyes are focused at one point on the page.

“Um... Jon?” Martin asks weakly, his heart drumming in his chest so loud he's sure both of them can hear it.

Jon jumps to his feet, startled, and looks up at him with eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. Martin instinctively raises his hands in a placating gesture, as Jon registers his presence, looks down on the notebook in his hands, and quickly puts it on the table as if it stung him.

“Martin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look, it was just there and—”

“Hey, Jon, it’s alright!” It’s maybe a little not alright, since the poem is nothing short of a love confession and a wish Martin had no right to assume would ever be true, so Jon reading it is less than ideal. Martin rushes to gently place a hand on Jon’s shoulder but when he recoils from the touch, Martin withdraws his hand, cursing everything about himself.

“No, I, uh…” Jon runs his hand through his hair, eyes darting between Martin, his hand, and the notebook frantically. “I shouldn’t have— uh, it’s—it’s your private business, what you write about, so—”

Martin is sure he’s tomato red on the face by this point and hopes against hope that the afternoon light filtering through the curtains obscures it just a little. Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t have the embarrassed blush that usually darkens his cheeks; instead he breathes fast, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Martin sees him hunch just a little, making himself smaller.

“Um, yeah, I, uh—” He starts fidgeting with his fingers. Did the idea of—of love frighten Jon so much? He was stupid to leave it out in the open and now Jon knows, and it’s not how he feels, so he hates him… “I’m sorry.”

Jon’s eyes snap to him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?”

Martin huffs out something like a pained laugh.

“Th-That’s not exactly how- how I wanted to tell you.” He wrings out his hands and shoots Jon a pleading look. What’s done is done and the only thing he can hope for is for Jon to let him down easy and never speak of this again.

“Tell me?” Jon looks down at the notebook again and there’s the worry again, stark on his face. He breathes out, slowly, and looks at the floor. “I don’t—I don’t even want to think this is a possibility…”

Martin doesn’t need to imagine what it would be like to be stabbed, if he wanted to - he’s pretty sure the acute pain of his heart shattering in his chest is close enough. His mind tries to catch up to the emotions, slow them down just a bit, because something seems off, and isn’t this a weird way to reject someone you must have known had a crush on you? But his throat tightens with the swell of pain and shame and Martin blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes.

Jon sighs and plops down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands and pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

“We d-don’t have to talk about it, if—if you don’t want to,” Martin says quietly. He sits down next to Jon, careful not to touch him in any way, and puts his hands between his knees.

Jon lets out a bitter laugh.

“Isn’t that what they—the Web would want? Just… mindlessly follow, go with the flow until something… irreversibly bad happens?”

Martin turns to Jon with a frown.

“Wh—What?”

Jon looks at him with something glistening in his eyes and Martin can see the lines of pain and misery written on his face like they belong there.

“The web,” he says faintly. “Strings of fate. I—” He lets out a breath. “Was I just being manipulated this whole time? Was I ever really—Did I ever have a choice?”

“Jon... what are you talking about?”

“You—You said I was...” He reaches for the notebook and points at a verse with his finger. “’Made your choice unaware you were led by strings of web against your heart.’ How—W-Why did you say this?”

Martin stares into Jon's green eyes with concern, yet parts of his heart start to weave themselves back together. However confused and worried Jon seems to be, none of it is directed at Martin; he looks at him with desperation, almost pleading, and he realizes they’ve been having two different conversations at the same time.

“Oh-Oh, God, Jon, I-I didn't mean—I just, it's a-a metaphor, just that, you know,” he takes a breath. “It does remind me of a web, the-the way we got caught up in Elias' plans.” He looks down, his cheeks burning as he remembers why Jon would get caught at this specific phrase. “I'm sorry for, uh, using that, it was just the first thing that came to my mind and—”

Jon exhales next to him and Martin risks a look up. The uneasiness isn't gone from his face but he relaxes just a little bit, enough to stabilize his breathing.

“I'm sorry for this… this whole thing, Martin.” He gestures at nothing in particular and it's his turn to look at the floor, as if it's all of a sudden the most interesting thing he's ever seen. He starts fidgeting with the notebook. “I'm just—What if it’s true?” His voice goes higher at the question and he closes his eyes. Martin squeezes his arm. “What if I am just... Just a puppet? An inhuman, helpless puppet in the hands of—Of some spider pulling the strings?”

A tear rolls down Jon's cheek and Martin grabs one of his hands. It’s small and still shakes a little; he tries to put all the protectiveness he feels into this small gesture. Jon doesn’t recoil this time, instead taking a moment to watch Martin’s hand clasp around his.

“Jon,” Martin starts softly. “You're still you. You're not some—Some spider puppet that can't make choices.”

“But what if—”

“You've made a choice to go into the Lonely for me.” Martin bumps their knees together lightly and Jon looks up at him. “I don't suspect any webs would need me alive to push you into it. It was You.”

Jon looks him in the eyes and Martin barely stops himself from reaching up to his face to wipe away his tears.

“Or it just makes us think that we have a choice but are ultimately helpless against fate and everything we do is determined by intricately crafted circumstances,” Jon whispers. “Maybe free will is a lie.”

Martin blinks.

“Jon...”

“Maybe I was never able to stop it. Any of it.” Jon’s voice grows more horrified and even though his eyes are directed at Martin's face, he seems to be looking somewhere past him. “Maybe nothing we try to do really matters.”

“Jon.” Martin’s voice gains a bit of force, even though he feels all but sure. “What do you see?”

Jon frowns. “What?”

“Look at me and tell me what you see?” The force is gone; the sentence sounds more like a feeble suggestion than a request, but Jon's eyes refocus on Martin's in a frown of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“We're here now,” Martin says quietly. “And yeah, maybe our decisions are all predetermined or whatever. I still think it matters that we try. I think our experience matters. And you're not a-a monster without free will, Jon. You care about people, and you’ve sacrificed a lot for other people. You've made your own choices and, no matter if they were good or bad, they were still yours. And I think that matters.”

Jon blinks at him for a moment, then his shoulders slump with a sigh and he interlaces their fingers. Martin doesn’t miss it and he feels warmth in his chest.

“I've always been afraid of—of my will not being my own anymore,” he confesses quietly. “Of, uh... of not knowing the difference.”

“I get it,” Martin nods. “If it’s any consolation, I see a lot of Jon in you still.” Jon looks up at him with surprise and Martin gives him a half smile. “I see a very changed Jon but it's still Jon.” He strokes Jon's palm as his heart picks up the pace. “The same Jon I've first fallen in love with.”

Jon exhales softly, his face caught in a soft surprise, and Martin smiles around the dull ache in his chest.

“You don't have to say anything. I'm sure you've known for a while, but I just... I wanted to say it.”

With every second that passes in silence, however, Martin's cheeks grow hotter, and he concludes that this might have been a mistake.

“I-I'm sorry. M-Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I… I don't want things to get weird or anything, so, uh, we can, we can just forget—”

“Martin.” Jon says his name in a soft and kind of inquisitive way that makes his heart bounce around and transforms the ache in his chest into swirling butterflies again. Martin looks up and Jon’s head is tilted to the side, his face still wet with tears, but he notices something hopeful glitter in his eyes. “I love you too.”

Martin frowns, suddenly wondering if he isn't dreaming. Is Jon really saying what he thinks he is? Did he hear correctly? Maybe he misheard—

“I have for a while,” Jon's voice is still quiet and soft. “I didn't want to say anything because I thought it was too early after the Lonely and you might not feel this way anymore, but...”

Martin swallows, acutely aware of how loud his heartbeat is. He squeezes Jon’s hand and smiles slightly.

“I... I didn't know,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to cooperate.

“As soon as I woke up from the coma, I wanted to tell you,” Jon says. “I thought I was too late; that it took me too long to stop denying the feelings I had because I didn’t know how to deal with them, and I'd missed my chance.” He laughs bitterly.

“So that’s what it was about,” Martin whispers, as Jon's actions towards him throughout his time as Peter Lukas’ assistant start falling into place. Jon looks at him with a frown, so he adds, “The ‘let's gouge out our eyes and escape'.”

Jon scrunches up his nose and clears his throat.

“Yes, well. Yeah.”

Martin chuckles quietly.

“I don't think I would have lasted in the Lonely if I understood then. But then again. It didn't really matter in the end. It didn't help.”

“But it was your choice,” Jon echoes Martin's words from before and their eyes meet again.

“Yeah. It was my choice.”

They stare into each other's eyes for a moment, losing track of time, before Jon smiles slightly and looks back at the notebook.

“I really am sorry for not asking your permission, though,” he says. “I got so caught up in the metaphor I didn’t even finish it.”

Martin blinks, the warmth from his chest spreading to his cheeks again.

“D-Do you want to?”

Jon smiles softly, this new smile that Martin has only seen in the past couple of days, always directed at him.

“If you’d let me.”

Martin needs to look away, unable to handle the affection in Jon’s eyes. He mumbles an ‘okay’ with a smile that’s not entirely under his control and gets up.

“But I am making that tea whether you want it or not, waiting for someone to finish reading something is a torture.”

He hears Jon laugh as he heads back to the kitchen.

When he comes back with two steaming mugs, Jon is waiting for him with a smile and his nervousness dissipates with his next words.

“I like it,” Jon says. “Apart from the, uh, web metaphor, obviously. It's hopeful.”

“Y-You do?”

Martin swallows; the pleasant tingling in his stomach is back. He places their mugs on the table and reaches out to join their hands again. Jon intertwines their fingers immediately and caresses the outside of Martin’s palm with his thumb.

Jon looks down at the verses again and smiles softly, almost sheepishly, a familiar blush darkening his cheeks.

“I—I don't know if there would be anything for us outside of. You know. The fears and all that,” he grimaces. “At least, for me. But, uh…” He looks at Martin again with a hopeful expression that makes Martin melt a little, and he gently caresses Martin's cheek with his free hand. “I really like the thought of it.”

Martin's brain might be short-circuiting at this moment and all of his thoughts take form of fuzzy static.

“Me too,” he says, suddenly breathless. Jon's hand rests cupping his cheek and, are they a bit closer than they were a second ago? Jon's gaze slides down Martin's face to his lips and he feels he might faint right there and then. He doesn't, instead gathering up his courage to take a breath.

“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks first and Martin feels his lips form a grin.

“Please,” he breathes out; the next second their lips meet, soft but urgent, desperate and sick of waiting. Martin's hand dives into Jon's soft hair, fingers scraping the delicate skin of his head and earning him a low sound from Jon's throat. They pull each other closer and find a rhythm to lose themselves in for just a moment; the sensation of Jon's tongue swirling in his mouth, of his slender fingers on his cheek and his neck, the pressure of his body against his chest; all of it making Martin dizzy with happiness.

Martin pulls away when his lungs painfully remind him breathing is still a necessity and he opens his eyes to look at Jon – His soft lips, his nose, his pockmark scars, and his eyes, green yet with no trace of Beholding in them. He takes him in whole, with all of his flaws and all of his virtues, and he feels seen in return, seen by the man he loves and who loves him. The weight of it all hits Martin like a crashing wave and he pulls Jon in for a tight embrace.

“I love you,” he whispers against his shoulder, and he feels Jon's arms tightening around his torso.

“I love you too, Martin.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #summer in the archives event #niki.writes #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | chapter thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluff like unbelievably fluffy!

word count: 6.1

here's the playlist for the fic, the last song in the playlist if looped will lead right into Amoreena at the beginning and it works pretty well timing-wise if you like to listen while you read !!

from the beginning <3

All their bags were packed by Friday morning, Y/N and Amoreena waking up extra early with excitement for the weekend ahead of them, and they didn’t even know what was going to happen yet.

Y/N made sure everything was packed and ready for a 3rd time on Saturday morning, right before they left on the trip; making sure they had sunscreen and aloe vera, all her medicine and ginger ale by the pack for her random bouts of morning sickness that lasted all, day, long... And their dresses and his suit hanging behind the driver's seat, beside Amoreena, they all piled into Y/N’s car and took off down the road on their adventure.

Amoreena was awake for the first half of the 9-hour trip, singing like crazy as they drove through Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York, it was so amazing she couldn’t stop cheering the whole time. It was more than she’s ever seen before, even though they lived so close to New York, she’s never been through it before.

Once they arrived in Rhode Island, Spencer pulled over at the closest gas station to make sure the girls were all prepared and ready for the big surprise he had for them. They filled the car, used the restroom and bought some lemonade before getting back into the car, he turned in the driver's seat to see Amoreena and Y/N better, looking at their wide eyes memorizing the calmness in their faces before he told them.

He didn’t want them to freak out too much, he was worried about Y/N’s blood pressure and how loud she might scream and any stress that a situation like this could put on her body. He’s seen how people react to Taylor Swift, he just didn’t know how they would.

“Now, I'm only telling you so you don't freak out," he repeated the same worry she had when she broke the news of the baby, "I didn’t have to rent a place on the water because my friend lives up here, so we’re going to stay in her guest house,” he explained it simply.

“Rossi's wife?” Y/N asked, confused about who it could be and if she knew this woman yet.

“No, actually I think you might know her, her name is Taylor?”

“No,” she shakes her head furiously, “no, nope, there's no way you did this, Spencer Walter Reid I am not kidding I’m going to pass away if I see her.” She's holding both her hands in fists as she tries to stay calm, closing her eyes quickly before letting out a deep sigh.

“Taylor who?” Amoreena yells, undoing her seatbelt and standing between their seats, she almost jumps into his lap as she leans over and grabs a fistful of his shirt, “Taylor WHO?”

“Go get in your seat and I’ll show you,” he teases, watching her follow orders and get back in the seat as quickly as possible, shouting at him to drive the second he hears the seatbelt click again.

Y/N is completely speechless for the next 20 minutes of the drive, eyes wide and a hand on her stomach as she stares out the front window. She’s like a statue, not able to hear anything Amoreena is saying but that doesn't stop her from going on and on with her stories.

“Mom!” She’s finally able to break her out of the haze, “pass me your phone!”

“Yeah,” she doesn’t even question it, handing her the phone back to the antsy 7-year-old so she could continue her internal panic.

They see her house on the hill as they approach, “holy shit,” Y/N whispers as Amoreena turns on the last great American dynasty, knowing exactly where they were going.

Taylor asked for his licence plate number and car model when they were emailing, letting her gate guy know to let Spencer right in so he could keep it a secret. But they knew the house, there was no point in not telling them. Y/N looked a little relieved that he gave her the time to freak out alone and not as soon as they crested the hill.

Her driveway felt never-ending as they got closer and closer, Amoreena was still in disbelief as she squealed in the back seat, hands flailing as she tried to calm the excitement inside her body with her favourite stim.

Then Taylor walked out into the front yard and Y/N was a mess. Crying as she waved her hand in front of her face, not wanting to be a mess in front of Taylor fucking Swift, “I told you nothing crazy! How did you do this?”

“Yes, but I said 'define crazy’ and you didn’t,” he reminds her with a cheeky smile.

She shoves him, “I didn’t think you could do this?!”

Once they’re parked the door automatically unlocked, and as much as spencer hated that non-safety feature, he's glad Amoreena can get out quickly before she's screaming bloody murder. Amoreena is out the door and in Taylor’s arms faster than they’ve ever seen her move, she should be a track star. It almost knocks Taylor to the ground as she takes her in, holding the sweet little girl against her chest with the biggest smile on her face. Amoreena snuggles right into her, with a hand on her cheek and her other arm wrapped behind her neck. She couldn't be any closer to her, it was like she was her favourite relative who she hasn't seen in a while.

Amoreena is talking her ear off already by the time Spencer’s helping Y/N out of the car and walking her to Taylor, she’s holding his hand like she’s going to pass out or something, “and this is my mom Y/N and my dad Spencer but somehow you know him already,” Amoreena introduces her.

“Hi, Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you, Spencer's told me a lot about you.” Taylor’s sweet voice saying her name alone makes her stutter out a bunch of nonsense, not to mention the fact Spencer's been talking to Taylor fucking Swift about her.

Amoreena moves out of the way for Taylor to wrap her up in a hug, and Y/N cries harder than he’s ever seen on her shoulder, “thank you,” is all she can say, it’s frightening to Amoreena at first to see her mom cry like that but she knows her mom just loves Taylor like family.

What she doesn’t know is just how much Taylor saved her life. If she didn’t have someone to listen to, someone to take the pain and replace it with hope, she wouldn’t be here and by default neither would Amoreena. Spencer owed everything to Taylor swift at this point, she was a blessing in his life that he took for granted. Not realizing until that moment just how much she meant to him as well now.

“Sorry,” Y/N finally says as she pulls off her, “I’m pregnant, I can’t help it.”

Taylor’s hands fly right to her stomach, “holy crap, you never told me that she’s pregnant in your emails, oh my god!” She’s genuinely so happy for them, “how far along are you?”

“6 weeks on Sunday,” she smiles, feeling like herself again even though it’s incredibly strange to be telling Taylor before her parents even knew. “No one really knows, it’s all very new but when you know, you know… y’know?”

For a woman with an English language degree, she sure knew how to make a sentence, all of them laughing at the words she chose, but they understood.

“We should have used paper rings!” Amoreena yells, holding her hand over her eyes in disbelief as she shares her head with a sigh, she couldn’t believe she forgot that song existed.

It made Taylor laugh, scooping the little one up in her arms and starting the walk inside.

“Well come on in, I’ve got a big lunch spread ready for us and then we can go to the beach for the ceremony whenever you want this weekend, does that sound good?” Taylor is beyond excited to make new friends, much like Amoreena, they got along famously.

“Where are the cats? Do they live here or in LA or Nashville?” Amoreena changed the topic in the form of a yes and proving just how much she knew about Taylor.

“They’re here, Olivia and Benjamin will probably find us soon, Meredith isn’t very open to new friends now that she’s an old lady,” Taylor explained as she set Amoreena down in the entryway, bending down to be at her level and pointing off into the living room, “oh, see, there one is!”

Amoreena saw one of them laying on the floor under a sunny spot, running to it and petting it gently, “hi Benjamin, I loved you in the ME video,” she whispers as she pets him, making Taylor swoon.

“She’s amazing,” Taylor swooned, “I can’t wait to have one.”

“You should!” Y/N agreed, reaching to take Taylor's hand on impulse, and Taylor held it back with a smile, “oh that would be so wonderful, I can just imagine the beautiful stories you’ll create when you discover what it’s like to love someone how your mom loves you.”

Taylor’s smile was priceless, "that's the best way to think about it," she beamed at Y/N the way Spencer did, she had that effect on people. They followed her into the dining room, taking a seat near each other and digging into all the food Taylor made for them.

“Ah,” Amoreena said as she finally joined them, sitting on her knees on Taylors nice antique chairs. “Shark coochie,” she whispers the words to herself, not able to stop her mind from repeating it, but still not wanting Taylor to hear it in case it was inappropriate. She was incredibly well-mannered for someone who had a hard time reading social queues.

“It’s a hard word to say,” Taylor agreed, making her feel less awkward. Spencer may have told her about her autism in advance, wanting his little girl to be respected by everyone she met, for who she truly was, “my mom called it a coochie spread once, actually, she's going to be over tomorrow for father's day.”

"Yes! Oh, I love Andrea," Amoreena laughed at how cool this day was, smiling at Taylor the way she smiled at him that first morning at breakfast like she just found yet another person to love. “You’re so wonderful, Taylor.”

“Oh, thank you, you're pretty enchanting yourself,” she smiles, “I take it you’ve known about me for your whole life?”

“Yep,” she smiled, reaching for a chocolate-covered strawberry and taking a huge bite, covering her mouth before she continued, “I was born a month after Red came out, November thirteenth, it really is a lucky number now, mom says so at least.”

“It is!” Taylor agreed with a smile, “I have some markers, do you want to wear matching 13’s today?”

“Mom, can I colour on my hand?” She turns so fast Spencer thinks she’ll get whiplash.

“Yeah, go for it!” She agrees, spreading cream cheese on a croissant and layering tomatoes on top, definitely pregnant.

So Taylor gets a marker and both their left hands now have matching numbers. Amoreena asks to take a million photos, eventually just taking Y/N’s phone from her, permanently, to take photos of all her favourite things around the house.

She runs off with the cats at a certain point, giving Y/N a chance to thank Taylor without tiny ears listening in. “Can I get really emotional and tell you how much you mean to me or is that too weird for our first chat?”

“Not weird at all, knowing you’ve used my music to raise that beautiful child makes me love you just as much, I’d love to hear why you picked me, of all musicians, to show her how to love,” Taylor replies, as regal and kindly as humanly possible.

“My first fiancé, Stephen, he was actually like an angel and our first kiss was quite literally in the rain, but he passed away in 2010,” she explained it with a smile so Taylor knew it wasn’t a touchy subject anymore, “I bonded with Fearless in a way I can’t even describe to you, it’s my life, he was my superstar, and white horse, I mean come on, I can’t tell you how many times I cried to that after he died but it helped me not feel alone. I wouldn’t be who I am without Fearless, and then Speak Now was there for me when I needed a good cry, Last Kiss really broke me but it wasn’t until Lover came out that I realized I could find someone again, and it’s always just like you released things as I needed them like you were helping me through all the bad things,” she’s never even told Spencer all this, it was special to him that he got to give her this moment.

“When you re-released it with the vault songs, I met Spencer literally a month later. I cried my eyes out to you all over me, but That’s When makes me think of Spencer and now the whole album has a new memory in my heart that’s better. It's just like why you re-released it, to replace the bad things that happened that took all the happiness out of something you cared so much about." Y/N took a second to breathe, shaky as she got to the end of her rant that she seemed to have prepared in the 20 minutes before she had to talk to her.

"I love you, honestly. You’re my best friend and you didn’t even know me then, but you’ve held my hand through it all, so thank you,” she cried a little, holding her belly with one hand as she tried to hold the tears in.

Taylor was out of her chair and in Y/N’s arms within seconds, crying into her arms as she held her. She rubbed Y/N’s back as she cried too, “I’m so sorry that happened, but I’m glad I could be there.”

“Do you want to be this baby's godmother?” She asks on impulse without even asking Spencer if he’s okay with it, he was, it made him laugh.

“Eleonora Taylor Reid,” Spencer says from across the table, making them both turn to him with wide eyes.

“Yes,” Y/N agrees fast, “that's the name if it’s a girl, if it’s a boy he can be Taylor as well?”

“Holy shit,” Taylor smiled wide, “yes, I want to come to visit the farm and buy them baby gifts and throw you a baby shower! I inadvertently helped make them so it’s only fair.”

“Hopefully she gets your voice too, Y/N,” Spencer adds and Y/N shoots him a panicked glance, “it’s the Taylor legacy to be a good singer.”

“You can sing?” The question Y/N feared coming past Taylor's lovely vocal cords, almost on queue.

Y/N can't help but glare at spencer, he had too many tricks up his sleeve and she was at her limit.

“Yes,” Y/N finally answers, “I was going to go to theatre school, but I switched to become a Librarian, I’m not good with crowds or competition and that's basically what the industry depends on. I like the quiet, telling stories on paper is just as easy as singing it to a crowd.”

“That's fair,” Taylor agreed, “would you and Amoreena like to sing some song with me? I have my guitar or the piano? I’m not used to having new friends over without sharing at least 1 song with them. I’m sure you’ve seen my listening parties?” She was really trying to convince her to sing, Spencer knew why and what she had planned.

Amoreena came running in then, “I can play piano too, can we do the long live new year's day from the tour movie?” She rests her hands on Taylor's arm, looking up at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Of course, come on,” she says taking Amoreena’s hand and rushing into the piano room. “Here, we’ll record it too,” she offered, setting her phone up on the music stand to capture the moment forever.

They sat side by side on the bench, Amoreena showing her how she could play the opening perfectly and surprising Spencer. He knew they had a piano at home, he’s just never seen her play it before.

“She has perfect pitch,” Y/N bragged, “she can play a song after hearing it once.”

“Really?” Spencer had no idea, unbelievably proud of her as he listened to her play.

She’s quietly playing the intro to Long Live as Taylor watches, joining in with the harmony of New Year's Day, “this one reminds me of my mom and dad.”

“Does it?” Taylor coo’s, smiling at her softly as Y/N tries not to cry beside Spencer.

“They’re the knight and the princess of our kingdom,” she explained before the two of them started singing the words together, like they always have, only Taylor was beside her and not just on the TV.

“I said remember this moment, in the back of my mind, the time we stood with our shaking hands, the crowds in the stands went wild,” Amoreena’s tiny voice lead-in, fearlessly as she played away.

“We were the Kings and the Queens, and they read off our names, the night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same... You held your head like a hero, on a history book page... It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age,” Spencer couldn’t help but cry as she sang with Taylor.

This was on the concert movie, he showed her after school, this song came on and she was silent, listening to the words as she stared at him and then back at the TV. Her mind was connecting little dots, making a story about her mom and dad being the king and the queen, it all made sense now.

“Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you, I was screaming long live, all the magic we made and bring on all the pretenders, I’m not afraid,

Long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you, I was screaming long live, that look on your face, and bring on all the pretenders, one day, we will be remembered,”

Their fingers moved in sync on the keys as they harmonized almost perfectly, she wasn’t kidding about Amoreena having perfect pitch. She knew all the words and sang them almost louder than Taylor.

“And hold on to spinning around, confetti, falls to the ground. May these memories break our fall…”

The piano changes, the cords softer as they move into a new song, smiling at her mom and dad like she knew something. She had no idea what happened the night of the fake wedding, just that they had a party without her.

“And hold on… To spinning around… Confetti… Falls to the ground…”

Spencer wraps his arms around Y/N then, resting his chin on her shoulder as they sway to the tune, she’s barely whispering the words beside him as she smiles as her baby.

“There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor, you and me from the night before, but… Don’t read the last page, but I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared and you're turning away. I want, your midnights, I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day,”

Y/N’s hands rest on top of Spencer’s, she squeezes them three times, right before the next lyric.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's gonna be a long road. I’ll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, or if you strike out and you're crawling home,

Don't read the last page, but I stay, when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes. I want, your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day,”

“Hold on, to the memories, they will hold on to you,” the two of them chanting along with Taylor in beautiful harmony, Spencer felt like he was in heaven among the angels, but for real this time. “And I will hold on to you…”

The piano is so soft, it’s just Amoreena’s fingers hitting them as Taylor goes silent, letting her take the lead with a soft smile, “Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh, I, could recognize anywhere. Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh, I, could recognize anywhere.”

They stop for just a moment for Amoreena to smile up at Taylor, just like the break in the concert, “I really do love you,” she reminds them all before playing again.

“We love you, too, sweet girl,” Taylor replies for them using the same nickname for her because it was the truth. She was the sweetest girl, that Amoreena.

“There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor. You and me forevermore, don't read the last page, but I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes and I want, your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day,”

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you,” the girls all chant together, swaying back and forth to the rhythm before taking different parts in the song like they’ve planned it before.

“And Long live,” Taylor takes the one song, while Amoreena takes the other.

Please don't ever become a stranger…

The walls we crashed through..

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…

I had the time of my life

Please don't ever become a stranger…

With you…

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…"

Amoreena plays the rest, smiling wide at the best day of her life. Meaning every single word she’s saying. “And Long live, the walls we crashed through. I had the time of my life… With you…” Amoreena ends with a few extra notes, making Taylor smile as she held her in a side hug.

She turns back to the piano then, starting to play Amoreena by Elton John. “No way..” Y/N gasps, before getting ready to sing along with all the confidence in the world, alongside Taylor Swift of all people.

“It’s just that; Lately, I've been thinking, how much I miss my lady, Amoreena's in the hayfield, brightening the daybreak,” Taylor changes some of the words, much to Y/N surprise.

“Livin’ like a lusty flower, runnin’ through the grass for hours, rollin’ through the hay, oooh, like a puppy child! And when it rains, the rain falls down… washing out the cattle town… and she's far away somewhere… in her eiderdown… And she dreams of crystal streams, of days gone by when we would lean… Laughing, fit to burst, upon each other…”

Y/N turns to Spencer then, singing to him softly as she wraps her arms around him and sways her hips to the song, pressing against him like they were in the movie Dirty Dancing, something she’s always wanted to do, clearly, with the smile on her face as she sings.

“I can see you sittin’, eatin’, apples in the evenin’. Fruit juice, flowing slowly, slowly, slowly down the bronze of your body. Livin’, like a lusty flower, runnin’ through the grass for hours, rollin’ through the hay, oooh, like a puppy child.”

Amoreena’s voice was the loudest in the chorus, this was her song after all. She belted it out like it was made for her.

“And when it rains, the rain falls down! Washing out the cattle town! And she's far away somewhere… in her eiderdown! And she dreams of crystal streams, of days gone by! When we would lean, laughing, fit to burst upon each other…”

Spencer knew the words as well, who didn’t? It was Elton John's best song. He hugged Y/N, snuggling into the crook of her neck as they twirled in Taylor Swift's living room, swaying with her, forgetting they weren’t alone for a moment.

“Oh, if only I could nestle, in the cradle of your cabin. My arm's around your shoulder, oh… The window wide and open, while the swallow and the sycamore, whoa! Are playing in the valley. Oh, I miss you, Amoreena, like the king bee misses honey!”

“And when it rains, the rain falls down! Washing out the cattle town! and she's far away somewhere… in her eiderdown! And she dreams of crystal streams, of days gone by when we would lean! Laughing, fit to burst upon each other, oooh!”

Amoreena and Taylor playing the iconic piano solo together, Y/N can’t help but move in closer to watch over her little girls shoulders.

“Lately, I've been thinking… How much I miss my lady… Amoreena's in a cornfield, brightening the daybreak. Livin’, like a lusty flower! Runnin; through the grass for hours! Rollin’ through the hay, woah! Like a puppy, like a puppy, child…” Y/N’s voice loud enough to be on the recording Taylor was making as the song ended.

Taylor stopped it then, just as Y/N swore, “holy shit, that was the coolest thing that’s ever happened in my whole life.”

“Mom,” Amoreena looked at her like she broke the law or something, “you don’t swear in front of her…” she mumbled.

Taylor laughed, wrapping her up in another hug, “have you heard champagne problems? It’s okay for big kids to swear here,” she teased her.

They laughed like they were family like they’ve been there before and were always meant to return. Something just clicked with them, and without a doubt, they’d be returning. Taylor Swift of all people slipped right into their little life, filling the shoes of big sister, best friend and coolest aunt in the world all in one day.

It was the most perfect afternoon.

—

Just before the sunset, they all changed into their wedding attire. Meeting out on the beach for their small, extremely intimate wedding ceremony with miss Taylor Swift. Getting it out of the way so they could have the whole weekend for whatever Taylor had planned for them. She said she had a few surprises up her sleeve still.

They filled out all the paperwork required on Taylor's kitchen table beforehand, she had all the right documents from when she registered to ordain online. All they had to do was submit it at town hall and they’d be legally married.

But it didn’t matter to them, this was enough.

Taylor and Amoreena stood side by side at a homemade arch on the beachfront that Taylor owned, waiting patiently for Spencer and Y/N to walk down the fake aisle, hand in hand. They couldn’t stop smiling as they saw Amoreena at the end, a big smile on her face as she bounced with excitement.

They reached the end, turning to each other, Amoreena took Y/N’s bouquet, it was her duty as maid of honour and best man.

“Spencer and I have been emailing for 2 weeks about today, he’s been filling me in little by little about you both as he got to know you, I’ve really gotten to see his love for you in the form of letters,” Taylor described with a large smile on her face.

Y/N looks at him with an open mouth, shocked as she shakes her head in disbelief at him. “You’re kidding, is she who emailed you when we had lunch 2 weeks ago?”

Spencer nodded with another cheeky smile, “she emailed me as you told me not to plan anything too crazy.”

Y/N just laughed at the insanity, “sorry Taylor, please continue.”

“It’s okay,” she laughed along, “it’s actually kind of interesting how Amoreena picked long live and New Year’s Day to sing because from what I’ve learned about you both, the intermission poem from that tour really was written for you, somehow. Almost like by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance…”

Y/n’s eyed do that thing they always do when she’s remembering something she’s heard before, finding the exact filing cabinet in her mind and opening it. She finds the words.

“When she fell, she fell apart. Cracked her bones on the pavement she once decorated as a child with sidewalk chalk,” she starts the poem with a small nod, letting Taylor continue the monologue in the form of vows.

“When’s she crashed, her clothes disintegrated. And blew away with the winds that took all of her fair-weather friends, family and lovers. When she looked around her skin was spattered with ink. Forming the words of a thousand voices, echoes she heard even in her sleep: whatever you say, it is not right. Whatever you do, it is not enough. Your kindness is fake. Your pain is manipulative.”

Y/N hasn’t watched the concert recently, unlike Spencer. She didn’t realize how much it sounded like them. Spencer, however, spotted the coincidences the second he heard it that night with Amoreena. Telling Taylor, explaining in detail how Maeve and Stephen were their personal last kiss storylines, but they’ve found a lover in each other. Cheesy, but it was the best way he could describe it.

“When she lay there on the ground she dreamed of time machines and revenge. And a love that was really something. Not just the idea of something.”

She turned her attention to Spencer, replacing the pronouns to fit him for the next part, Y/N looked at him already knowing why, smiling as she made the connection in her mind.

“When he finally rose, he rose slowly. Avoiding old haunts and sidestepping shiny pennies. Wary of phone calls and promises, charmers, dandies and get-love-quick-schemes.

When he stood, he stood with a desolate knowingness, waded out into the dark wild oceans up to his neck. Bathed in his brokenness. Said a prayer of gratitude, for each chink in the armour he never knew he needed.

Standing broad-shouldered next to him, was a love that was really something. Not just the idea of something.

When they turned to go home, they heard echoes of new words: may your heart remain breakable but never by the same hand twice. And even louder: without your past, you could never have arrived so wondrously and brutally, by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance… here.”

“What she said,” Y/N says with a quick giggle, leaning in as she laughs, taking him down in a giggle fit with her.

Amoreena’s lightly tugging on Taylor’s dress then, “you have to say it, please you can’t not say it, I had this planned out before I even knew you’d beee here…” she whispers like Taylor has any clue what she’s talking about.

Y/N just starts to shake her head with a smile, “I think she means the speak now bridge,” she reminds her.

“Ahh,” she smiles, picking Amoreena up to be at eye level with them all, she sings. “I hear the preacher say speak now or forever hold, your, pee-E-eeace,” she sings it exactly like it is on the album, almost as if she’s been practicing to release it again…

“There’s the silence there’s my last chance, I stand up with shaking hands all eyes, on me,” Amoreena lightly signs right back. “Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I’m only looking at you!”

Spencer laughs then too, smiling at his little girl living out the fantasy of a lifetime, seeing her mom dressed like a princess and marrying the broken knight with rusty armour, while Taylor Swift of all people holds her. Nothing about the life they had together felt real, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I think it’s only fair if I get a say in who marries my mom because I’ve known her the longest,” she adds, “and I’m not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on this white veil occasion, but you happen to be the best dad in the whole world, so I think it’s cool that you love my mom.”

Y/N lets out a choked sob, she clearly had no idea that Amoreena was planning to say all that, but of course, she was. She knew all about every single Disney princess wedding, every fairytale ending and happily ever after, Taylor has helped her learn about love and vows and true feelings that cannot be stopped.

She knew what to say and she meant every word.

Spencer reaches out to take Amoreena from Taylor, holding her in his arms instead as Y/N snuggled in close to them, both his girls in his arms.

“I think it’s only fair I give some vows to you as well, I’m committing my whole life to this family, you should know how much that means I love you, too, Amoreena.” She snuggles in closer to his neck as she holds him back, Y/N’s head resting on his other shoulder.

“Till the day I die, I am going to be here for you: with unconditional love, with the best stories and the best morning cuddles. I don’t care if you pull me out of bed at 5 in the morning to feed the goats, or the chickens or just because you think the sun looks pretty and want me to see it too. I love you Amoreena, you’ve completed my life."

"Do you remember that day you asked me to be your dad?” his voice is so soft as he bumps her cheek with his nose.

She wipes her tears as she pulls away from his shoulder, overly emotional at the events of the day and extremely tired from the excitement she let out earlier. She nods softly, “I meant it.”

“I know honey,” he can’t help but start to cry a little as well, dropping his manly facade and being real with her. She deserved to see exactly what she meant to him, “I watched you pouring glitter glue all over that table, making the biggest mess ever, but it made me think… I had a hole in my heart for so many years, there was a part of me missing for so, so, so long, and then I found a little Eden by beautiful little kingdom, and the fairest lady in all the land took me in, and she patched up my broken heart with glitter glue.”

Amoreena tried to smile the tears away, sniffling as she tried to nod, “that's how I felt when you told me I could pick you to be my dad.”

Y/N was a sobbing mess, having to crouch down to her knees as she let it all out, steadying herself by holding onto Spencer’s leg like a child would at that height, “is she okay?” Amoreena worried.

“Your mom loves us so much, and the baby does too, so it’s making her a bit more emotional than normal,” he explains, wishing he could scoop Y/N up and hold her as well.

She wipes the tears from her face as she calms herself down and stands back up with help from Taylor, “thank you,” she manages to whisper to her with a smile.

She’s also been crying, watching the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. A family built on true love coming together, using her songs to form a bond that she’d never understand.

And she didn’t want to, some stories were best kept in families, to be sent down the line, generation after generation, to fall into the lap of someone like her one day and create a whole world with it.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband, wife and daughter, the royal Reid family,” Taylor’s voice is soft as she plays along with Amoreena’s fantasy land, hushed to match the moment as Spencer leaned in to kiss Y/N.

Amoreena doesn’t cry out in disgust this time, instead, resting her head on her dad's shoulder as she watched them peck each other's lips gently. Watching a fairytale happy ending unfold in front of her very eyes, blessed to be the result of this happy union.

...

A/N: my anon is on now if anyone wants to come talk about the fic with me!! i love to share little hc's and things with you over here (also this was the original planned ending I wasn't going to continue past here but I'm probably going to write this for the next 10 years its too fun not to)

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report vii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: FINALLY~ we get to see a little bit of JK’s pov heh

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

“I hope you don’t mind us picking up a friend first then a drive thru afterwards... we did promise someone a ride to the ceremony as well.” Chohee eyes Jungkook through the rear-view mirror. “Plus, we haven’t had any breakfast yet sooo…” Your new passenger uncharacteristically nods with unbridled enthusiasm. Huh.

“Totally not an issue at all. If you don’t mind, breakfast is on me,” he announces, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. You raise a freshly threaded eyebrow. There is no way this kid is actually offering to pay for your food. Jungkook clears his throat quietly, “Um...since you guys offered me a ride...you know…”

Without even having to look at each other, you just know you and Chohee have similar smiles plastered on each of your faces. “Well,” Chohee makes a quick glance at the man seated at the back, “if you insist, Jungkook-ssi. How nice of you to do so.”

You’re positive Jeon Jungkook will regret he even offered - in half an hour. Probably less.

Just recently, Chohee has decided to relive an old hobby of hers: teasing you relentlessly with men clearly way out of your league until you actually end up investing much more time than intended (just as planned by Chohee) - until you come to the realization that there wasn’t going to be even the slightest chance of them even liking you back. End point is - you end up getting heartbroken for irrational reasons.

Chohee, whose eyes sparkle with mirth with every mention of the Jimin, continues her teasing, despite your constant reminders to have her energy and time diverted to another subject, instead of poking her head through your currently non-existent love life.

It’s an undisputed fact that Jimin is a cutie and quite the charmer, especially with his heroic deed of saving your sorry ass from getting your drinked spiked at the bar. However, there is a part of you that knows the slightest bit of infatuation you might feel or might have felt for Jimin was probably caused by the lack of interaction with men for the majority of your collegiate life. Of course, you always came back to your principles, that of which is prioritizing your career to shun love interests.

Admittedly, you might have gotten distracted once, but you won’t ever let that happen again.

In line with your best friend’s attempt to have you score a date and a boyfriend eventually, (her timeline, not yours!)Chohee had even gone so far as offering Jimin a ride to the oath taking ceremony that’s going to be held today at the Coex convention center at Gangnam.

With Jimin’s apartment just a couple of blocks away from the gasoline station, you spot him right away when Chohee turns right into the corner. He’s stood by the entrance of his apartment building, looking effortlessly attractive as he scrolls through his phone while waiting.

Chohee presses her fist lightly against the center of the wheel, the car emitting a soft honk to get Jimin’s attention. Jimin gives a curt wave in acknowledgment and reaches between his legs to grab his satchel. As soon as Jimin opens the car door, his head jolts slightly backward in surprise when he sees another passenger already inside.

Chohee does the ice-breaker, introducing Jungkook to Jimin while she drives off. “Just before we got to your place, we had to fill the tank first and whaddya know? Met Jungkook at the gas station too! His bike broke down and I’ve offered him a ride - ergo, your new seatmate.” She adds a thumbs up. “Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin.”

Contrary to Chohee’s cheerful voice mere seconds ago, awkward silence ensues after the two men bow to each other in greeting. The only subject of sanity the car was holding onto was the soft voice of Chohee’s navigation app coming from her phone on the dashboard.

Why was it so hard to talk when you’ve all got at least a few things in common?

Right, maybe it’s the fact that Jimin may or may not have known about your beef with Jeon Jungkook. Chohee’s doing, obviously.

Thankfully, you spot a Burger King joint along the way and propose getting a greasy breakfast instead of looking for other options. There are murmurs of agreement heard in the suddenly cramped space of your best friend’s car. “Jungkook-ssi, breakfast still on you, yeah?” Chohee asks, joining the queue.

“Uh…yeah-”

“Perfect! Just making sure because _________ and I are famished!” Okay - that wasn’t exactly the word you were looking for, but if it gets you the free meal, then you’re absolutely ravenous. Chohee’s eyes briefly pass yours before sending a wink in Jungkook’s direction. “How ‘bout you Jimin-ssi? You hungry?”

He looks at you, then Chohee, then at Jungkook. “I’m fine, I’m not hungry.” You see Jungkook trying painfully hard to not let his eyes dart around too much. Just then, a low rumble erupts from Jimin’s stomach. Woops. Your brain can dictate your emotions but tummy would never lie outright.

“Jimin-ssi!” Jungkook clasps a hand on the blond’s shoulder. “It’s fine! Breakfast is on me. Order up, bro!”

With Jimin still looking hesitant, Jungkook decides to add a little fairy dust to his encouragement, “think of it as a mini celebration of us finally getting to be licensed doctors in a few hours!” Jimin gives in with very evident reluctance, even offering to pay for the whole group instead at one point.

Your swear you see hesitation cross Jungkook’s eyes briefly, but you’re glad he’s a man of honor, even if it be for this particular instance only, firmly dismissing Jimin’s proposal. Which is perfect, honestly, because this time you get a chance at revenge and a very hearty breakfast.

“No crumbs on the floor, please!”

From the backseat, you see Jungkook eyeing your paper bags on yours and Chohee’s laps, face stoic as ever. Emphasis on bags. A little more concentration and Jungkook can pretty much send lasers blasting through his eyes with the way he’s scrutinizing your orders.

As shameless as it sounds, you and Chohee were never ones to back out of a free meal - and make the most out of it, especially when one had offered so nicely. So imagine Jungkook’s reaction when he and Jimin only got a Whopper meal and you and Chohee get upgraded full meals.

“Doesn’t seem like we’re the ones who should be worrying about crumbs…” Jungkook mutters, taking a bite of his fry that’s a little too harsh for a slice of a poor fried potato.

“You say something Jungkook?” Chohee queries, unabashedly letting out a small burp after taking a sip of her chocolate flavored milkshake. Bowing his head, Jimin tries to hide his smile as he takes a bite of his burger. You decide to step in, wanting to add a little more MSG to your breakfast menu this fine morning.

“Hey Chee, heard of the news last Monday? There had been recent occurrences of drivers kicking out their passengers in the middle of the expressway, especially this road in particular… talk about some zombie apocalypse shenanigans...I wonder why though…”

Jungkook clears his throat, addressing you this time. “Your strawberry milkshake...good, yeah?” With cheeks flushed, Jungkook dares not to look forward, murmuring his regrets over ordering more food next time.

You nod with genuine gusto, throwing him an additional thumbs-up, which only causes Jungkook to sulk slightly in his seat. You eat the rest of your food with a bright smile. Ah, free food - what else is there to say?

“If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.”

After reading the Hippocratic oath, the newly declared licensed medical doctors collectively put their hands down and take their seats. There is an immediate sense of fulfillment heavy in the air. Nobody can blame them - not when one has gruelled through six years of medical school.

Jungkook inhales deeply, yet he still feels like he’s out of breath.

He draws in another long one, savoring each second of exhale afterwards. From his peripheral vision, Jungkook watches you as you wave endlessly to the someone on the far right where the family and relatives are seated. Though he can’t see much from afar, with the way your hands are moving slower by the second, he figures you’ve already managed to catch the attention of whoever it is you were waving at.

Jungkook diverts his eyes somewhere else, eventually landing on the stage where he sees his own father, standing behind the podium as he gives - what people beside him would consider - a ‘motivational’ speech in front of all the new doctors of Korea.

He wonders if he could even see him, if he knew that his own son actually made it through college, if he realized that they were under the same roof at this very moment - an occurrence he never thought would happen again.

Jungkook reverts his eyes back to you, watching you in secret as you talk to yourself while trying to address someone else. So you were waving to your parents after all. Cute. The man couldn’t fight back the small smile etching onto his face.

He was happy for you - a genuine statement, even though majority, if not all, your encounters consist of you both bickering like small kids… And yet, he can’t deny the strong feeling of envy brewing at his heart, knowing that he could never have the same type of interaction you had with your parents, with how tight you all seem.

Jungkook felt sick. Even though you ordered twice as much as he did, he felt like throwing up. He wanted this ceremony to be over with already.

Much to Jungkook’s relief, the program ends shortly after that. Excited to greet and congratulate the new batch of doctors, people from all sides of the venue rush to the entrance. With literally nowhere else to go, Jungkook decides to follow you through the crowd, in the hopes that you’ll lead him to Chohee and Jimin so he could properly thank them for the ride and he could be on his way.

He’s surprised to not see you the least bothered by it, but then again, the convention center is packed with both the oath-takers and their relatives, so you might have really not known that he’s been following you all along.

Like usual, it’s Chohee who notices him first. This girl is everywhere, all the time.

“Jungkook, you’re here!”

Chohee's acknowledgement of his presence causes you to turn in your heel quickly to verify it. You stare at him briefly, opening your mouth as if to say something when someone calls out your name. “Mom!! Dad!!”

Your English call causes a few onlookers and Jungkook recalls somebody once pointing out that you were a foreigner - and that you were also the first one to finish at the top of the class at SNU.

With Chohee’s parents tailing yours, they rush to their own daughter, congratulating her with a hug and a cute bouquet of tulips. As Jimin appears with his own party not too long afterwards, Jungkook figures it’s his cue to leave. At this rate, none of you would have noticed if he actually left.

Just as Jungkook was about to take off, a small hand grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him and he swears he sees your lips curve upward a little before dragging him back to your little group. Stunned as ever, Jungkook wonders if he hinted on a little bit of concern in your features… and you smiled at him! For the first time! At least that’s what he thought he saw.

Admittedly, all interactions between you and him were not the most friendly. Jungkook knew he acted like a dick a couple of times, but it’s the only way he knows that might allow you to lower your guard because the only thing he was certain of was that you get worked up every time you see him.

Regardless of whether or not it really was a smile, Jungkook finds himself standing in the midst of this gathering of some sort. “Moms, Dads, this is Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.”

The moms suddenly gush over them, while their fathers eye the two younger men warily. “Are you?… you’re not…” Chohee’s mother nudges her husband a little too obviously. “If they are, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” she grits, a bright smile plastered on her face. Jungkook wanted to laugh at the uncanny resemblance with her daughter.

“Oh what young fine men you are! Mrs. Park, you must be very proud of your son!” Your mother exclaims, resting her cheek on her palm. “But Jungkook-ssi, your parents must be lost then… my husband and I couldn’t figure out how this whole convention center works either…”

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, lips pursed. “Oh. Um, my parents won’t make it today. They’re very busy people…” Jungkook drags his words, hoping they’ll drop the subject.

Well, they did, but there was an inevitable pregnant pause after that - one which Jungkook was avoiding in the first place. Chohee’s mother clasps her hands together, breaking the awkward tension. “Uh - would you like to join us then? A little celebration for a memorable day?”

Jungkook bows his head curtly and declines the offer. He wanted to, but he knows it’ll only do more damage to the wound. “It’s okay, Ma’am. I still have quite a lot of things to do today, like getting my motorcycle fixed.” Jungkook nods to Chohee and the girl briefly recalls how they got to the venue together.

Jungkook doesn’t take long after that, bidding his goodbye to everyone and thanking Chohee for the ride that morning. “Well, I’ll be going now. __________-ssi, Chohee-ssi, Jimin-ssi, guess I’ll….see you when I see you.”

“See you when we see you then,” you reply and Jungkook swears it’s an actual smile on your face this time. He returns the action and gets on his way, hoping that he really does get to see you all another time.

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #bts series #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 years

Text

tuesday, two in the afternoon

fallen hero / 2.1k words / chargestep (nb!sidestep + m!ortega) / cw: smoking

mostly below the cut!

“Why did you bring me down to the beach? It smells awful down here...”

Pollux kicks a rock across the barren sand, watching it roll into the lackadaisical waves lapping at the meager shoreline. The sand squishes beneath his shoes, water leaking through the crappy canvas.

It rained not long ago—almost caught the both of them in the downpour.

His head is still damp from the few fat drops that landed from between the slats in the boardwalk they used to take cover. He runs his hand across the fresh buzzcut, forgetting for a second there’s no curls to tuck behind his ears.

“I thought you liked the beach.” Ortega comes up beside him, keeping pace as they wander through sand and rock, passing by tiny tide pools refreshed by the rain. The sun will dry what the waves can reach soon, but for now they thrive under the cloudy grey sky.

“I don’t mind the beach, but it always stinks like garbage and wet dog down here after it rains.”

“At least it keeps the place private.”

“If you don’t count the seagulls.”

“They’re worse than the tourists.”

Ortega smiles and Pollux turns to walk backwards, cocking a brow over his sunglasses. Of course Ortega is overdressed to be taking a walk on what passes for a beach these days—a fancy shirt and slacks and the watch he’s got on costs more than four months of rent on Pollux’s shitty apartment.

(Disregarding the sunglasses he’s toting around that are without a doubt the third most expensive thing he owns and even then they were a gift. From Ortega, obviously. He disregards the invading thought that the most expensive thing Ortega has won’t ever be his clothing or a watch, but his spine. Pollux thinks *if*—not *when*—he dies if they’ll pry it out and stick it inside someone else; a replacement for an accident of their own.)

Ortega is always dressed to impress, the silly man. Pollux it’s a habit, or he doesn’t have anything else to wear that isn’t something higher class or luxury, or if he genuinely enjoys silk shirts. The tailored slacks with fancy watches and Italian leather shoes. There’s no one to impress but Pollux and he hasn’t fallen for that trick in years.

“Worried about your shoes?”

“They’re...squishy.”

“You’re gonna ruin them.”

Ortega kicks another rock off towards the waves, stuffing his hands in his pocket as an answer. Pollux snorts, rolling his eyes, and he turns back around, falling into step beside him. He’s always been a fast walker--a faster runner.

Silence stretches out between them and apprehension feels like just another word for awkward, this gap between them. The few pointed inches—enough for static electricity to jump between them, for Pollux to anticipate Ortega’s touch and deftly pull away, leaving air beside his fingertips.

It’s still so hard to let him close.

“Why did you want to meet up here?” Pollux asks just to have something to say, anything to avoid Ortega looking like he’s going to throw his arm over his shoulder and pull him in to mumble something fond, or a terrible joke.

“Just to go on a walk?” Ortega tries and oh he tries so hard. More than he used to.

“Since when did you start walking for fun?”

“When you decide to come along with me. It’s fun, Lux.”

Pollux frowns—he knows this game. Ortega’s got this little tell of looking away just the right way.

“You just wanted to get me out of the house then.”

Ortega shrugs—he’s avoiding, nor is he saying no...

“Okay so I lied. I don’t have anything to talk about. But, if I just wanted to spend time with you then you would’ve said no.”

“True...” Pollux hates how he’s right more often than not. Asshole. “So you picked the beach?”

“I didn’t plan on it raining.”

Pollux sighs, tired of the sand and he wanders away--further out of reach--towards the rocks near the pillars holding up the promenade.

It’s deserted right now, the rain and the fact that it’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday keeping the crowds away. Give it a Saturday on a cool summer’s evening and it’d be packed to the gills; people screaming on the small roller coasters, the stink of fresh fried food and the lights--the dizzying array of red, blue and yellow. All the people and all the thoughts buzzing through his head; there were so many bombarding him--all of them, just as aggressive as the lights. He’s braved that terrible crowd--all because Ortega asked.

He used to do that, do things because Ortega asked nicely. Because they were fun--he had fun. Does he still remember what that felt like? Being on that promenade, breathless and young, laughing like he knew how to laugh?

They walked down to the very end once, away from the bright lights where it was just the ocean stretching out in front of them like a black abyss. All alone. Ortega asking him, pleading for one ride on the ferris wheel. “Come on Lux just one little ride.” Pollux calling his bluff, shoving his face away because it was all just a ploy for a kiss. Like this is some snapshot romance movie still.

It’s stupid to think about bygones.

There’s no temptation to jump into old times down here, just the water swelling against the rocks and the concrete walls. Trash hiding in the crevices, old green beer bottles that will break and turn to sea glass; left to wash up on the shores of Hawaii.

The beaches there are still nice--worthy of memories. Not this smog stained grey sand.It’s just a hop skip and a jump up onto the slick brown rocks smeared with algae and something that shines like oil. It stinks like it.

Pollux stops, shaking a cigarette out of the package and he cups his hand to protect the fragile flame, watching Ortega clamber up onto the rock beside him. He flops down on a relatively dry spot, free of the worst of the gross.

“What are you doing?” Pollux asks with a faint laugh and a cocked brow, letting his cigarette go unlit. It droops between his lips.

“What does it look like? I’m sitting down.” Ortega replies, smoothing a strand of hair back into the salt and pepper waves at his temples.

“Mr. Ralph Lauren is gonna be pissed you ruined your pants?” A raise of the brow and Ortega looks up at him with a look in those brown eyes.

“My shoes are wet, Lux.” Ortega whines and Pollux is *this close* to kicking him off their rock.

“I think you’re getting old.”

Pollux squats beside him, arms draping over top of his knees.

“Now you’re just being cruel...”

Ortega adjusts, grimacing when he inevitably puts his hand on a wet spot. He untucks his shirt, and he’s rather reminiscent of those “aged like fine wine” men on old magazine covers he found in shitty motel lobbies. He’d fit right on a sandy beach in Florida. These aren’t the right beaches for any of that anymore, still mostly rock. Their original glory immortalized in photographs on the fronts of travel brochures.

But they are healing—slowly. The sand creeps up the shoreline more and more each year.

“I’m not cruel. You just an oversized sun hat and a lounge chair. Maybe a nice hot beer.” Pollux teases and Ortega grimaces.

“It’s January.”

“That doesn’t stop people in Florida or Hawaii.”

“Have you even been to Florida?”

Ortega asks so harmlessly and Pollux pauses.

He’s been there half a dozen times before—fuzzy memories from over a decade ago. Rooftop gardens on top of high rise builds off the coast of Miami, galas with thousand dollar dresses and caked on makeup in the low light from crystal chandeliers. It was all for work, watching and scanning, nimble mental fingers coaxing and teasing truth from the mind’s eyes. He would watch, take in the sights and the sounds through other people’s minds. Take the truth and puzzle over the rest. Ask the dangerous questions: why and how?

He still believes the biggest mistake they made was allowing him to learn.

“I’ve watched movies.” He says instead of lying and he knows he isn’t getting away with it. “Besides, have you ever been to Florida? Or Hawaii even?”

“No, but I’ve watched movies before.”

Ortega grins and Pollux groans, resisting the urge to yet again so shove him off his rock and into one of the tide pools below.

“You’re an asshole.”

Pollux fishes around in his pocket and grabs out a matchbook, flipping it open and fuck he grabbed the wrong one. There’s nothing but the empty packaging in this one, uneven lines from tearing out matches without much grace. He flips it over onto the back and nothing--even the striker strip is shot to hell. Fuck.

“Are you out?” Ortega peers over and he grumbles.

“Grabbed the wrong matchbook” Pollux huffs, about to grab his carton back out and stuff the poor cigarette back in.

“Wait, I still got--here.” Ortega pulls a small matchbox out of his shirt pocket, holding it out to him. It’s much nicer than his ten cent books he frequently gets for free from the gas station because the cashier thinks he’s cute.

“You...still carry them around?”

His voice stalls in his chest: it’s meant to be more of questioning incredulity, but it comes out much softer. Forlorn and sticky at the front of his mouth.

Ortega sheepishly looks down at the matchbox, flipping it between his index and forefingers.

“Old habits die hard.”

He ran out of matches a lot, even the crappy little packages where the matches broke more often than actually struck. Ortega started carrying them around, little inch and a half boxes of matches tucked in his coat or shirt pocket. He doesn’t remember when the habit started. But it evolved into a habit of stealing them, seeing how easily he could sneak one away without him noticing.

Ortega protested whenever he caught him and the two of them scrambling for the box until Pollux tucked it away like magic, or Ortega tried tickling him enough times to get an elbow to the nose.

He got him back: a sufficient enough shock and Pollux complained about having a numb hand for the next week.

Pollux had a little stacked collection of them all lined up against the baseboard next to his mattress. He kept the fun ones, the brightly colored and eclectically designed ones--neon blue and mustard yellow. Held onto them until they were falling apart and he painstakingly cut them apart and glued or taped them in the pages of notebooks.

Even now, seven years later Ortega still carries them around and that tugs sharp in the back of his throat and deep in his belly—a sort of nausea that stings his eyes.

He blinks several times and fuck there’s the logo of the cigarette shop Ortega dragged him to once in a blue moon. The floor was some cheap old green motel carpeting--the windows covered in layers of advertisements and wood paneling everywhere else. But god it smelled fantastic--like a humidor stuffed to the brim with anything from cheap cigarettes to fancy and illegal cigars in glass cases.

(Fuck, it was the best place to buy cigarettes--they still had the little machines with the tokens he’d pay five bucks for at the counter.)

“Yeah...” Pollux mumbles, tearing his eyes away. “Kinda literally, you know. Dying.” He chuckles bone dry and Ortega cringes.

“You still recognized the matchbox. I can’t call you a lost cause yet.”

He looks over at him, salt and pepper black hair blowing in the breeze, the little white spots where the scars cut through his beard. The soft smile on chapped lips. Even with all the anger in the world rushing under his skin, he can’t be mad.

There’s just that wistful empty ache and he blinks, looking away. The distant shoreline etched on the horizon of a dark ocean and the patchy grey sky above. He lights the cigarette with a single match, the sharpness of the sulfur and the sweet menthol cloud of smoke the breeze dissolves into nothing.

“Here...” Pollux offers the matchbox back to him.

“Keep it. You need it more than me.” Ortega says, pushing his hand back towards him and he pulls his hand away.

Pollux fixes him with a with a long look before he heaves a sigh and looks back out towards the coast and the ocean further beyond. Smoking the cigarette, filling his lungs on the menthol and tobacco until it burns out at the filter. Ortega sitting beside him, bouncing a leg but he’s quiet. And he doesn’t look over at Pollux.

The sun barely peeks in through the clouds and it looks like this is all the rain they’ll be getting.

#fallen hero #chargestep #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero: retribution #fhr #owen writes #oc tag #oc: pollux #i tried to keep it under 2k but! we failed folks #anyway two fics in one week? WILD #i have more stuff i'm gonna spice up lmao but for now. there's this #the lets go to the beech beech fic lsdjlfsd #this is going in the queue hopefully it. shows up lmao

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeknnubu/

I think I can send links but- I just saw this Pre K teacher tiktok & now all I can think of is a future AU where Steve takes like maybe a younger cousin or maybe a friends kid to school (or even his own kid??) and he walks in on fucking bad boy Billy Hargrove, still rocking his leather jacket and combat boots, seated on the carpet doing this with a bunch of Pre K kids as their teacher. Just this big mean badass dude sitting with a bunch of kids, being the best, most sweet teacher in the world

Bonus points for him having a battle jacket of some sort that he lets them add too and play with the dulled down spikes and studs on. And he has a class where the kids all make a patch one big patch for him to add to his jacket because he loves them so much

AND even more points if he just says his whole nice personality is “fake and for work only because it was the first job he got” but It’s actually real, and he really just likes being with the kids all day because their fun & they unconditionally love him, especially on his bad days where he’s sad & less motivated. I just crave soft emotional stuff 😔

steve, for as kind a fellow as he is, really should have thought twice about offering to take his nephew to pre-k every day.

jill, his older sister, had to be at work by 6 every morning during the week and had no means to take her son, patrick, to school every day.

and steve offered because what else was there to do? he worked two jobs that both started later in the day and jill offered to give him gas money to do it, so why not?

plus, patrick really was a sweetheart, he was just an energetic kid. steve preferred older kids. the younger ones tested his patience too much.

but imagine his surprise when he walks into the building, going to patrick’s classroom, turning into the doorway to see billy hargrove, same as he was when they were in high school, sitting on a colorful, patterned rug, animatedly talking to children.

“biwwy!” patrick yelled as he ran from steve’s side to his... teacher... and hugged him super tight.

“hey, patrick, my buddy!”

steve felt like this may be a dream. there is no way that billy hargrove, mullet and all, was patrick’s pre-k teacher.

billy looked to the door, where steve was still standing, and offered a smile. patrick looked to where billy was looking, excitedly telling him about how his super fun uncle was driving him to school now.

billy was engaging with the kids. he talked along with them and was able to balance all the kids at once. he looked happy, steve realized.

steve left a few moments later, making sure patrick was ok and staring at billy for a while longer.

it’s not until the day before winter break that billy and steve actually interact again.

the class is having a holiday party and parents are encouraged to come and bring food, drink, or just general supervision.

steve had made tons of cookies, enjoying his fattening hobby of baking, and they were all decorated with fun santa’s or snowflakes or christmas trees.

he was even told to make a few blank cookies and bring spare icing for kids to decorate during their party stations.

when steve got to the classroom closer to the afternoon, it was still nap time for the 15 kids in the class, all curled up on small cots and bundled in blankets.

when he came in, billy was sitting at a table near the door, organizing strings by color and had stacks of paper and boxes of markers organized the same way.

“hargrove,” steve greeted, “i made cookies, didn’t know if there were any allergies, so they’re pretty plain, no chocolate or anything. and i didn’t decorate a few, like you asked,”

“thanks,” billy didn’t look up to him, still hunched over the table detangling strings. “‘can set ‘em over there,” billy vaguely gestured.

steve went to set them on a table with a fun, winter themed cover over it.

he came back to sit by billy at the craft table because he didn’t know what else to do. plus, he didn’t want to wake any sleeping children.

“so, why are you a pre-k teacher?” steve asked.

“getting straight to the point, huh?”

“well, you look like that,” steve gestured to his embellished leather jacket, the mullet, the tight jeans (not as tight anymore, he did have to get up and down off the floor), and the hefty black boots that could probably crush a kid’s tiny fingers. “and i haven’t heard about you going through a brain reset or something, so what’s up?”

“it’s the only thing i could find,” billy grunted, not liking this conversation.

“don’t teachers have to go to college like everyone else? and have to have like a specific thing that says they’re qualified to be a teacher? seems like an awful lot of work for this to be the only thing you could find,”

“well, i can boss four year olds around all day, who wouldn’t like that job?” billy countered.

steve went to respond when there was a creak heard from behind him. one of the kids, a young girl with a wild head of hair, was walking over to billy with her blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.

“hey, jeanie, what’s wrong, doll?” billy asked, drawing his eyes away from the tangled string, which he didn’t do when talking to steve. he was giving the girl— jeanie— his full attention.

“i woke up,” jeanie said as she made her way closer to billy, “i got nightmares,”

billy’s face turned sympathetic as he put his arms out for jeanie, allowing her to crawl into his lap and rest her head on his chest while he wrapped her tight in his arms.

“wanna tell me what it was about?” billy asked, but only got a shake of her head in return, “that’s ok, you can sleep for another 10 minutes, doll. you’re safe,”

she was cuddled up in his arms, poking at the dull spikes on his shoulders and the silver buttons around the jacket. she looked utterly peaceful as she started to doze off again.

billy was so gentle with the little girl, adjusting her in his arms, making sure she was stable in his lap, before moving one arm back to the string, as if doing it one armed would be easier than before.

“i can do it,” steve offered in a hushed tone, “the string. i can untangle it for you,”

billy slid the string ball over to steve’s side of the table and let him take a crack at it while he started rubbing jeanie’s back.

steve had managed to get the string ball undone in the 10 minutes of nap time they had left. the boys didn’t talk through those 10 minutes, but steve would sneak glances over at billy often.

billy, for someone who tried to run a group of kids over once upon a time, was really great with younger kids. he was able to keep jeanie asleep, even when he moved an arm or straightened his back, something steve couldn’t do with patrick.

another parent showed up right when nap time was going to end, carrying bags of board games and such.

two more parents showed after the kids had woken up, and soon the party was in full swing. the kids were having a delightful time, half of them covered in glitter and icing, but nothing a good bath won’t fix.

billy was thriving in the chaos of four year olds, making sure they were following directions but still having fun, keeping the morale up and excitement high.

the parents seemed to love him, from what steve heard. one parent, wendy, even said that she didn’t like billy to begin with, thought he would be irresponsible and mean, but her kid loves him.

billy, for as much of a big guy as he was, didn’t seem to tower over kids menacingly when standing at full height. and it didn’t seem taunting when he would crouch down. he was on their level, in many ways.

once parents started taking kids home at the end of the day, billy, steve, and patrick were left to help clean up, though patrick was knocked out on the multicolored rug, he’d used up a lot of energy that afternoon.

“so, what do you want me to do?” steve asked, watching billy sweep the floors.

“you can leave if you want, i’ve got it. plus, pat seems to be knocked out, huh?”

“he’s already sleeping, and i feel really bad leaving you to clean everything.”

billy sighed, looking around at the disaster that was his room, “could you start wiping down tables? clorox and paper towels are in the far right cabinet, second shelf,”

they got to work and the whole classroom was clean within the hour. billy was throwing his bag over his shoulder and steve was carrying patrick in his arms as they walked out to their cars.

“do you mind opening my door?” steve asked after many attempts to get patrick adjusted in his arms to move and open the back door.

billy moved over to open the back door of steve’s car before walking back over to his car, the same car he’d been driving since high school.

i guess people really never change, steve thought.

once he got patrick settled into his car seat and got the car running to warm it up before he drove home, steve stood and talked to billy for a few minutes. just casual conversation, a thanks from billy for steve’s help.

“would you, maybe, wanna go get a drink or something some time?” steve asked, awkward as ever.

the rest was history, steve and billy would see each other for a date every weekend and they’d wave to the other in the mornings and afternoons.

they had a similar situation when the spring party came, steve bringing decorated and undecorated cookies for the kids and showing up during their nap time.

but steve had something in his bag that he wouldn’t let billy see.

through the party, steve would bring the mystery item to each kid, making extra sure that billy never saw it.

even at their date that weekend, billy couldn’t get it out of steve to find out what it was.

at the very end of the year, they have another party (and steve does not remember his pre-k days, but he doesn’t think they had this many parties).

billy has been weird the past week, finally realizing that he’s not gonna see these kids often, if at all, anymore. he’d grown very attached.

but, in true billy manner, he refused to let anyone know he was upset about a bunch of toddlers.

that’s where steve’s secret came in handy.

you see, on that day of the spring party, steve had gotten a piece of paper and has each kid sign it in a different color. he’d brought it to a small shop and they’d been able to transfer it onto a patch, one for billy’s jacket.

it was scaled down to be the size of an index card, but all the names were still legible.

when they’d given it to billy at the end of the day, before kids went home, billy almost cried.

he loved the kids so much and loved the connection and impact they have had on him without him knowing. he’s gonna miss rocking jeanie to sleep three times a week because she can never stay asleep alone.

he’s gonna miss the chaos that this group of children, specifically, brought. they made his day great, even if he was feeling especially shitty.

they helped him feel good about himself. kids don’t lie, that’s for sure, and billy created such a strong bond with them that all their thanks and love will be forever ingrained onto his heart.

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #teacher billy #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

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vanillann · 3 years

Text

five star conversation (r.p)

a/n: i’m going to cry, i can’t believe this is the last part of my favorite mini series:(

word count:

5 star conversation masterlist

place four: a 1 star gig

Flynn was always on top of things, she always was, but when she wasn’t you didn’t want to be lodged on a tour bus with her. She had already tried to throw her phone out the window, thank God Alex was looking for his hat and he caught it.

“They canceled our reservation! That must be illegal!”

I curled closer to Julie on her bed, letting my head rest on her shoulder every time Flynn let out a line of words. Reggie had a small panic attack with the yelling and Flynn tried to apologize but he didn’t blame, he was just as mad. So now the boy walked around the gas station we had stopped at and Julie and I let Flynn rant to us, she deserved it.

“Maybe another venue will host us,” Julie spoke up when Flynn didn’t yell again, her feet had finally stopped leaving marks in the carpet from pacing.

“I’ve already called two and they said their full, which had to be a lie, and plus how do we get the word out to the fans!” Flynn reached down and grabbed my knee, looking at me with sad eyes.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, waving it in the air while I sat up.

“I can always do a live and explain everything, why don’t you get some air,” I rubbed her shoulder, hoping she would take my advice, She had always given Reggie and Alex a heart attack and maybe going to the little nature walk across the street would be good, she could throw some rocks at some trees.

“I’ll get some air, yeah okay.”

She hurried off the bus, most likely to throw or kick rocks around the parking lot as Flynn never liked nature trails, it was nice to dream. If she dented this bus, we’ll be in debt.

“I can’t believe the venue canceled, it was our last gig on tour too!” Julie stood, looking down as I laid on her bunk and played with my phone in between my fingers.

I didn’t have to heart to tell the fans that we didn’t have a venue, that we wouldn’t have a final gig that was supposed to help release the new album coming out in five months.

It might have seemed small, we were blessed we even had this opportunity but it doesn’t change the fact that the one we're most excited for now was not happening.

“I’m going to find the boys, you coming?”

I closed my eyes, the boys. Everything they worked for was now becoming a nightmare, their idea of the perfect tour was ruined with falling through plans and missed opportunities.

“No, I need to go live and get the word out anyways,” I brushed off Julie, I didn’t have the heart to look any of them in the eye and tell them. To break their heart like everyone else in their life has, I just couldn’t do it. Julie waved behind her, I waited until the bus door shut before I let my head rollback.

I looked up at the bunk above me, Flynn’s, and let my mind wander over the past few months. They were perfect. Watching the fan scream their name for hours and they showed them in their element. The pictures that have been taken, many saved in my phone of the people I would always turn to. The edits that have been made have made me laugh harder than I imagined. Before this tour, nobody knew me, not that I ever cared, but I was behind the scenes. Now, the fans want me on the stage even if I don’t contribute to the music.

The music, the music had been show-stopping. Luke has been through four journals the past few months, writing back fast food drive in’s and doing stupid things with friends, that how the new album was coming out so fast. They were all so excited, Reggie was so excited to have one of his own songs featured as a single.

Reggie.

I let my hand run over my face, feeling the embarrassment from the incident at the fair. Watching his face move closer to mine, like a slow-motion picture and then ripped away when it was ripped in half. I took a minute and tried turning it into a moment, but it was never our moment. All the giggles and inside jokes hurt my chest and I thought back to the more recent time of the tour.

The motel, the way the light shines across his face and we wondered would the world cave in around. The feeling of his hand gripping my shirt because he always felt he had to be touching someone, he said it reminds him not to act so dead.

The diner when he gave me sweet little comments and took my fork from my lips. When we laughed about food poisoning and wondered would we ever be the same people after he played with my finger from across the table.

The fair where I gave him his first horse, then named it after an artist I introduced to him too. The way the wind passed his hair like he was made to run away from the world that had disappointed him more than once.

Every one-star establishment that made me believe could kiss my butt because now we had nothing. I didn’t need any more one-star buildings and places in my life. They’re just cheap and used for people who have no other options.

I sat up quickly, so quickly my head hit Flynn bunk.

No other options and cheap, exactly what someone in our situation could use right now. I let my phone spin between my fingers, unlocking it quickly before finding my search bar. We sat in the center of California, there had to be a one-star building somewhere near, one that we could turn into a dive bar or something. I smiled when a cheap bar popped up first, the area large enough to hold people and a small stage the band could work with.

Larry’s Bar was suddenly open for business. I dialed the number quickly, praying for the first time in a week something would go my way.

“L-larry’s Bar,” the woman sounded out of breath but I couldn’t care.

“Can we rent out your bar for a band?”

“Huh?”

“We need a venue for a band performance,” I realized why Flynn handled this and not me, this was out of my comfort zone.

“Are you sure you have-”

“Incredibly sure, yes or no?”

The line went silent, for a minute I thought she hung up on me and I considered crying with Reggie’s stuffed horse for a minute.

“The bar’s yours,” the lady's voice sounds light suddenly like we finally both got some good news. She definitely made my week without knowing.

“We’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” I didn’t wait for a response, rushing out of the tour bus to find someone. When I spotted everyone leaning against an ice machine outside the gas station with sad faces, my legs couldn’t stop me from rushing. I was happy Fylnn already kicked all the rock because otherwise, I would have felt.

“Guys!”

“Hey,” Alex's voice was sad and sincere, about to place a hand on my shoulder but I was bouncing on my toes.

“Whip off your sad faces, I got us a gig!”

“Just got off live, the fans are going to spread the information,” I yelled throughout the bar, and Luke and Jessie, the lady from the phone, moved the last few tables around the bar to make more room. Reggie and Alex did a quick soundcheck, we were currently renting amps and such from across the street since the owner's daughter was apparently a “Luke Girl”.

“Thank God, I would hope we don’t do all this work for nobody to show up” Alex called back as he did the classic comedy drum sound, giving a smile as he grabbed the extra drumstick from his back pocket.

I rolled my eyes, hopping off the stage to the small table at the door for Flynn and me to sit at for tickets and shirts, CD including, and a special code for the single Reggie was presenting tonight.

Luke and he had been fighting over it for ten minutes because Reggie changed the one he wanted to release last minute, it must have been good if Luke was letting him get away with it.

“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Flynn sat in her seat with her arms crossed, people would be arriving as soon as possible and we were prepared for anything.

“What can I say,” I smiled brightly, taking the seat beside her.

“What made you think of this?”

I wanted to say, Reggie, that he almost always somehow inspired my best ideas but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Almost everyone knew of the almost kiss and how awkward things have been between us, so awkward I couldn’t say his name.

“Just about what happened at the motel, how we had to make it work.”

It wasn't a lie, that was for sure.

“Well, you saved the tour,” Flynn leaned over and squeezed my shoulders, her bucket hat titled as it smashed against my face. I hugged her back, smiling into her shoulder, I saved the tour.

The crowd screamed as the band finished off “Bright”, sweat dripping down them as they gave wide gestures.

“Thank you! Now it’s surprise time!” Julie passed the microphone to Luke, who looked so excited for his next set of words.

“The rumors about the new album are true,” he let the mic drop until the screams died down, “and we are here to show one of the singles for the said album that will drop on March 3rd at midnight!”

The crowd went crazy again and I laughed against Flynn, we both decided to stay in our chairs for the performance as we had an amazing view and we didn’t want to push through everyone. I was scared that everyone would see the one-star and turn the other way but every ticket that was bought came.

Reggie smiled as he took the stage, his bass switched for an acoustic, which confused me but I didn’t think much about it, I knew he liked to mess with it sometimes.

“Hi everybody!”

Reggie gave a peace sign to the crowd, the few girls who wore Reggie’s face on their shirt screamed at the top of their lungs.

“This is a song I wrote a few weeks ago on tour called “Five Star conversation.”

I looked over my shoulder at Flynn, her eyes wide as she watched Reggie get situated on his stool in front of the mic.

“What song is this?”

“Uhm, this one?”

All she did was point and I decided to go back and watch him play. I could always ask later, I’d have to make merch with it anyways.

“Dingy bathrooms and motel floors, I’d never wanted you more than right now,” Reggie's voice came out rough as his voice played with the melody just right. His finger-picked at the string and I was shocked by the slow melody. This definitely wasn’t a song I’d heard.

“The city lights across your face, I swear you fell from grace. The world around me seemed to disappear the second you spoke,” that when it happened, the moment he turned his head. He looked in my eye, the words rooting themselves in my chest, tattooed across my heart.

“Our five-star conversations were softer than the pillows beneath me, I wish you could have really seen me.”

I felt myself chew on my bottom lip, feeling my eyes turn to me as his attention never left my face. He was watching me, the same way he had in every other one-star establishment, but this felt different.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know the five-star conversation I had with your soul.” The medley rang out, Julie’s soft humming joined in behind and I wondered how anyone could focus.

How could anyone think straight when someone was looking so adoring under the flashing light of a cheap bar that smelt like feet?

How could I pay attention while he looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky when he hung the moon?

“Crappy food and screaming doors, I wonder if you knew of your own grace!” His word rang back in my eye, like a bug that wouldn’t quite go away, not that I would ever want this to stop.

But it had to stop because I was suddenly the center of attention and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn't know the world more than I did. But I was rooted in place watching the boy I had fallen so hard for a look at me with his puppy eyes and wonder where we would stand after this.

“Don’t let me lose our five-star conversation in a one-star world after all,” he strummed the last bit of the song, I barely processed half the word before I let my legs go. I was walking somewhere, wherever my feet would allow me to go. I was outside, the brick wall of the bar brought me back to reality.

The same reality where I didn’t think boys wrote songs that sweet and they didn’t look at you like that. They didn’t look at you like you spun gold strings and gave them pretty smiles, but he did.

He always did, he always looked at me like I belonged next to him saving tours and making horrible plans. He looked at me like I could be his muse for the rest of his life, of death is more appropriate. He looked at me as if I was more than his because I wasn’t his, I was myself and that’s all he wanted.

He was in love with me, the same person from the motel, the same person for the diner, the same person from the fair.

I was the five-star person in the world star world, I was the extra star he was always looking for.

“(Y/N)!”

As soon as I watched his body slide out the door of the bar, I walked to him. I didn’t realize how far I walked until he started rambling.

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot but I couldn’t stop-”

My hand gripped the thin jacket material, not thinking twice and my lips smashed against his with force. He fell back slightly, his hand grabbing my wrist for a second before he was running them over my shoulder and down to my elbows. He pulled me closer if that was possible, and I let my hand touch over his heart.

The heart that wanted me, Reggie wanted me. There were girls who would wear his face on a shirt and he wanted the person that made those shirts.

I was his five stars, even if I loved him in every one-star and three-star establishment.

I felt myself pull away, our forehead resting on one another and I took a shaky breath.

“I’d give that kiss two stars.”

He smiled down at me, raising his eyebrows and letting his tongue run over the side of his cheek with a smirk.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll make it five stars.”

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Text

fic: something to hang on to

When Jamie buys a camera, she isn’t really thinking about it. They’re driving through Virginia, stopped off at a little gas station; Dani’s outside filling the rental Jeep, which puts Jamie on snack-duty. At the counter, she spots a display of disposable cameras and, almost without thinking, adds one to the pile of sugar and caffeine. It isn’t a plan. Isn’t for any particular reason.

Dani, pawing through the plastic bag of their spoils, raises it from a mess of M&Ms and Pringles and says, “You like photography?” She asks it the way she asks everything, like every little detail she learns about Jamie is another brand-new color added to the shine of the world. Jamie shrugs.

“Never was much for it, but this brave new land is pretty enough. Don’t mind keeping track of it for later.”

It’s more than that, she thinks as Dani raises the viewfinder to her eye and clicks a photo of Jamie behind the wheel, one hand steering, the other stretching across the center console to rest on Dani’s knee. I almost lost you once, Poppins. Wouldn’t have had anything but my own memory to remember you by. This...this will help.

Later, much later, years later, Jamie will look back on that moment as one of her wisest. Later, on a bed she can no longer sleep in, holding a thick album between shaking hands, she’ll think some of the most important choices you ever make are split-second recklessness. A camera, tossed in at the last second. A habit, built on nothing more than needing Dani’s smile immortalized.

Open the album. Take a breath. Flip the page.

***

A photo: Dani sprawled on a red-and-white beach towel, chin propped on folded arms, gazing out away from the camera as though she has no idea anyone is watching.

They’re with Henry and the kids--the first time they’ve seen the Wingrave family since the events at the house, and, though they don’t know it, one of the last times they’ll see them all together--in Florida. It’s strange, Jamie reflects, watching Miles chase Flora across an endless strip of sand. Strange how much world can fit into one country. England was green, rolling with hill and fog and haunted by things older than any of them can imagine. Florida feels...young, somehow. Too warm, too bright, too perfect on a Saturday afternoon.

She’s hugging her knees, seated on a blanket with Dani sitting just an inch further away than she’d like. It’s the safe thing, the smart thing, but she misses her--misses the way they sit in hotel rooms and empty bars, knees touching, pinkies overlapping. Dani, in a sundress that matches the blue of her right eye, is laughing as Miles grabs Flora around the middle and tries with all his ten-year-old strength to hoist her off the ground.

“Miles,” Henry calls, his voice laden with the anxiety of a man who has only just begun learning how to parent. “Miles, be careful--”

“They’re all right,” Jamie interrupts, tossing a handful of warm sand toward Henry’s precarious perch on a plastic chair. "Have you been wound this tight the whole fucking time?”

He looks pained. “You’ll excuse me for never having raised two children before. They’ve been a bit...”

“Precocious?” Dani suggests brightly.

“Demonic?” Jamie says at the same time. Henry sighs.

“Adventurous, shall we say, to meet in the middle.”

“They haven’t been...” Dani’s smiling, the way Jamie has grown accustomed to over the last few months: a beautiful smile that never entirely reaches her eyes. It’s the way she smiles when she thinks she needs to wear a mask of stability, when she needs everyone to think she’s doing all right.

Henry frowns. “Haven’t been what?”

Dani shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Scared? Having nightmares? I don’t know...”

She’s asking-not-asking about that night, like she told Jamie she wasn’t going to do. They don’t need me bringing it up, she’d said back at the hotel, holding tight to Jamie in a way that said she very much needed to talk about this against her own will. They deserve to just live their lives.

Henry looks puzzled. “Strange, but no. No nightmares. Flora had a few at the very start, before we left London, but...no. Not since arriving here.”

Dani nods like this is all she wants to hear, and rubs her cheek with one slightly-sunburnt hand, the moment passing into obscurity as Flora shrieks and Miles trips directly into an oncoming wave. It’s all good here, all sunshine and ease of temper, and Jamie watches Henry stand. Brush off shorts that look truly insane set against his pale legs. Go awkward-jogging into the surf to lift a giggling Flora heavenward.

“They make a fine little family,” she says, pitching her voice so only Dani can hear. Dani nods. There’s a tightness to her mouth that says she’s only half here, only half able to let the sun bake away the shadows. Jamie touches her ankle lightly, wishing they were somewhere less requiring of distance.

“I’m all right,” Dani says. Not a lie of intent, at least, though Jamie suspects it’s more that she wants to be all right. She watches Dani roll onto her front, eyes on the endless ocean, the children tumbling around in its gentle grasp, the man doing his best to keep up.

Could watch her forever, Jamie thinks, knowing it’s far too early to say something so catastrophically huge. She’s been having these thoughts more and more, wild notions of turning this brand-new adventure with Dani into a lifetime event. It turns a key somewhere deep within her chest, some far-off engine making a deep rumbling sound that sends her tripping toward a very real, very powerful feeling of terror.

Her hand slips toward the bag of sunscreen, paperback novels, sliced oranges. A camera, small and yellow and used mainly in moments like this one, emerges. Dani never notices as she brings it to her eye, frames Dani’s blonde ponytail and sun-pink skin, snaps a photo.

Later, when the pictures are developed and spread out across a hotel bedspread, shots of Miles with an orange-peel grin and Flora standing before a monster of a sandcastle intercut with Dani’s far-off pensive expression, Dani will touch the print. Lingeringly, fingers trembling just the slightest bit.

“Why this one?”

Because I loved you more than words could capture, Jamie will know it’s far too early to say. It’d be reckless. It’d be testing the bounds of something still fragile, still one-day-at-a-time hopeful.

“Why not?” she’ll say, and tuck the photo safely back into its sleeve.

***

A photo: Jamie and Dani, backs to the freshly painted Leafling sign, standing carefully apart with shoulders back and a small bouquet of flowers clutched in Dani’s hands.

They keep to themselves, mainly, but some of the nearby shopkeepers have been kind as The Leafling goes from mad late-night concept to brick-and-mortar reality. They bring welcome-to-the-block plants and casseroles that are mostly-edible, and Dani accepts each one with true Midwestern courtesy. Jamie leans back, watches the art of neighborly behavior being painted before her eyes: older women who compliment Dani on her earrings, young men bullied into helping move heavy boxes into storage by their mothers. Dani, in the middle of it all, wearing a soft pastel sweater and a smile that has finally remembered its own strength.

She wasn’t sure how this would go, if Jamie’s honest about it. She’s been telling Dani not to worry for weeks, telling Dani they don’t need to know much about a business to run this one. I grow, you arrange, we make out like bandits with all the nice Americans who value pretty things. It’ll be perfect, Poppins. She’s been saying it, and she thinks she even believes her own words most of the time, but there have been dreams. Anxiety running its red thread through her sleep, telling her she has no skill in this arena, no education to speak of, no idea how to survive in American business while hiding her relationship with her “business partner”.

The day the shop finally opens, Jamie has been saying “it’s going to be great” for so long, she almost surprises herself by rushing into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet. Dani, expression warm and just the tiniest bit teasing, leans against the doorframe.

“You all right?”

“Perfect,” Jamie gasps, staggering to the sink and thrusting a toothbrush into her mouth. “Jus’ great.”

“Too late to turn back now,” Dani points out. “What would we do with all the business cards?”

Jamie groans, spitting mint foam and rinsing out her mouth. “You could show just the slightest bit less glee, Poppins. I’ve just run us into a brick wall of imminent failure.”

Dani laughs, coming up behind her to hug her tight around the middle. “We should probably at least unlock the doors for the first time before you decide it’s time to shutter them again.”

She’s good today, Jamie senses--not the fake-good where she tries her best to pretend she isn’t listening for some deep-down movement Jamie can’t register, but truly happy. Her body is relaxed, her hands certain as she tips Jamie’s cheek and kisses her calm.

“How,” Jamie gasps when they break, “are you not out of your bloody mind right now?”

Dani shrugs. “It’s like the first day of school. Spend all summer planning and worrying, but now it’s happening. Just gotta jump in.”

There are already people waiting when they arrive, to Jamie’s mingled horror and delight. Most of them are their fellow shopkeepers, waiting with the brilliant smiles of people who have already lived this particular nightmare themselves, and just want to pay forward the relief of customers actually turning up. They’re kind, these people--they don’t know Jamie in the least, don’t have the first idea what shadows lurk behind Dani’s eyes, but they take their hands, squeeze, and congratulate them all the same. Jamie thinks they even mean it, most of them. Americans are complicated, boisterous, scandalous people--but they can have such heart.

One woman, old enough to be Jamie’s grandmother, presses a bouquet of peonies against Dani’s chest. “For luck,” she says croakily, patting Dani’s cheek like she’s known her since Dani was three feet tall. “Dry ‘em, hang ‘em somewhere in the back. Remember we’re all rooting for you.”

“Rooting,” a man who owns a nearby pizzeria hoots. “Good one, Carol!”

Jamie almost rolls her eyes, but Dani is beaming. When the others make flapping get in front of the sign gestures, they can’t help but obey, standing with a perfectly-maintained half-person between their shoulders. She wants so badly to reach over, to take Dani’s hand, to kiss her with all the terror and relief she’d never known she could feel at once. Instead, she smiles as professionally as she knows how for the camera someone produces. It’s enough.

Later, tapping a finger against the print the photographer drops on their counter, Jamie says, “Look like I want to pass out.”

Dani glances toward the window, takes note of the empty street, presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’d have caught you.”

***

A photo: Jamie, sitting just behind Dani on a plush couch, arm wrapped around her waist, cheek pressed to flyaway blonde hair. Dani, grinning her widest, cheesiest grin, leaning back like she knows there is no world in which Jamie would ever let her fall.

There are parties, occasionally--usually thrown by other under-the-radar couples they get along with well enough for drinks, not so much that they truly build relationships. They like the quiet life, the two-person road trips, the easy silence after a long day. But, sometimes, life is grand and big and loud, and on those nights, they venture out into the world.

There are a pair of men maybe five years their senior who have been together for “a decade”, if you ask Mike, “a century”, if it’s Paul telling the tale. They’re good people, and their home is a safe space Jamie doesn’t anticipate finding.

Friends are hard, she thinks. Always were, but they’re so much harder once you’ve lost a couple.

Still: when Mike and Paul are set to celebrate a round ten years together (”An eternity,” Paul clarifies, leaning against the Leafling counter to invite them over), they go. Dani wants to, and it’s good seeing Dani want things like this. It’s been almost a year together, almost a year of exploring the map and one another, and Dani’s been getting softer around the edges, less prone to jumping at shadows. The Dani Clayton of a year ago wouldn’t want to attend parties, lest the beast inside leap while her guard is lowered; the Dani Clayton of tonight is holding up a dark green dress, brow furrowed.

“Too much?”

Jamie hums a moment to buy herself time. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’d like to actually leave the house tonight.” Jamie wiggles her eyebrows, buttoning a black shirt and searching for a good pair of suspenders. Dani laughs.

“I think you can keep your hands to yourself for a few hours.”

“You,” Jamie points out, sidling up behind her and kissing her neck, “have always had entirely too much faith in me, Poppins.”

Dani is, however, a woman of her word when it comes to accepting social invitations, and soon they’re sitting on an exceptionally soft couch in an exceptionally loud living room. Jamie glances around, reading the environment, registering the two women holding hands by the coffee table, the men dancing near the kitchen, the way even the male-female pairs seem not to see anything odd. Mike and Paul have been doing this a long time. This is as safe a space as their own home.

She likes the way Dani relaxes, a little more with every drink tucked into her hand, a little more with a lit cigarette pulled from Jamie’s, a little more still when Mike nudges her and mutters, “Your girl looks good tonight, Clayton.”

She likes, most of all, the way Dani doesn’t flinch away when a Polaroid comes out. These are good people, brave people, smart people. If there are photos taken tonight, they will be pressed straight into the hands of their subjects, gifted away before the chemicals have even processed.

Dani presses back against her, seated on her lap, laughing at some joke Jamie hasn’t really been paying attention to. She’s too busy watching Dani’s profile, the way her head tips back when she’s really laughing, too hard to care what she looks like. Too busy reveling in how it feels to hold Dani in a setting so much more public than usual, her fingers stroking the soft material of Dani’s dress, her body burning and the most comfortable it’s ever been.

Later, with the Polaroid on the nightstand, the green dress on the floor, and a sheet tucked up against the fall chill, Dani says, “We should do that more.”

Jamie chuckles against her shoulder, kissing a patch of freckles. “This?”

“Yes.” Dani wriggles a little, giggling. “But also that.” She’s gesturing to the photo, propped between a lamp and copy of some old Shirley Jackson novel. “It was nice, wasn’t it? Not...”

“Hiding,” Jamie supplies. Dani makes a humming noise soft in her throat.

“I like not hiding you.”

***

A photo: Dani, eyes dark with a smolder only Jamie ever sees, a cigarette between her lips, hair loose around her shoulders.

Nights spent home with Dani, nights where there are no groceries to pick up, no accounting to be done, no errands waiting to be noticed, are Jamie’s absolute favorite thing in the world. There’s just something about this sense of home they’ve been building together, this sense of locked door and secured window and no one else invited to partake that gets Jamie the way nothing else does.

Especially Dani. Dani at home is less reserved, less careful. With every month that passes quietly, no sign of anything but her own mind, Dani gets a little less tight. A little less prone to gazing off into the middle distance. A little less likely to disappear from an otherwise-normal conversation, emerging several minutes later like she’s pulling herself out of a dream.

And, some nights, she’s not just here--she’s utterly present, every atom of her tuned to Jamie like they have no need of space between them, no need of separation. These nights, the nights where Dani strides into the room on a mission, are Jamie’s favorite of all.

“Why,” Dani says, leaning back in a kitchen chair with legs spread and head tilted to exhale smoke toward the ceiling, “are you looking at me like that?”

“Me?” Jamie teases. “You’re the one gazing at me like I’m some terribly interesting new buffet.”

She’s half-joking, but there’s something about the way Dani looks at her on this very particular sort of night, with every line of her body tuned toward Jamie’s, that makes her feel a stupid kind of brave. A reckless kind of excitement unwinds outward, until her fingertips itch to grab at Dani’s hair, her knees weak with the desire to pull Dani close.

She’s doing it now, smoking that cigarette with all the languid energy of a woman perfectly at home, watching Jamie with a faint smirk playing around her lips. No one else sees that smirk, Jamie understands, and it makes her a little faint every time she thinks it. To have something of Dani, some integral comfortable part of Dani that belongs solely to their apartment, their life together, is still a good fortune Jamie can’t entirely parse out.

Her hand moves toward the camera, small and plastic and containing some of the best memories of Dani she desperately needs to keep. Dani lets her snap off a shot, shakes her head when Jamie lowers the camera.

“That’s going to be one of yours.”

She says it every time Jamie tries to capture the white-hot energy of this kind of evening. Dani doesn’t like to see herself through this particular lens, gets fidgety and embarrassed at the sight of her own face etched with such a confident hunger. Jamie asked the first time if Dani wanted her to stop taking the photos altogether, and Dani had shaken her head.

“I don’t mind. But they’re yours, okay?”

She sets the camera aside, moving to take the cigarette out of Dani’s hand, taking a long drag and dropping it in an ashtray. The rest doesn’t need anything in the way--no lens, no embarrassment, nothing but the way Dani’s mouth opens beneath hers, hands already roaming. The rest is not Jamie’s, but theirs, a joint ownership of soft moans and soft skin and soft assurances that this is still, always, home.

Later, with Dani asleep, one hand thrown loosely over Jamie’s hip, Jamie will look at the photos that are hers and hers alone. Dani, mouth wet and swollen from a night spent confined to their bedroom around their anniversary. Dani, grinning and half-asleep, glancing over her shoulder to coax Jamie into putting the camera down, joining her among the blankets. Dani, smoke-haze around her face, wine glass in her hand, looking just past the camera at Jamie’s own desire.

Dani’s choice to share a life with her, Dani’s decision to share every inch of herself with Jamie, is more than Jamie feels anyone deserves.

***

A photo: Dani in front of the Eiffel Tower, sunglasses on, arms spread wide.

A photo: Dani kneeling at the Grand Canyon, gesturing bewilderment at the sheer scope of the place.

A photo: Dani standing before the alleged largest ball of twine in the world, looking rather like she regrets letting Jamie pick the destination this time.

They travel until Dani can’t stomach it anymore, can’t take the uncertainty of unknown roads and unmapped hotel beds--but, first, years of travel. Years of postcards and rental cars, of Jamie turning maps upside down and Dani being shockingly savvy in small-town situations.

These photos, more than any other, feel like they have to be taken for someone else’s idea of posterity, and Jamie feels a little strange, at first. Dani’s already seen much of Europe by the time they meet, and has no photos whatsoever to show for it. Jamie, who started turning up in photos for the first time as an adult, says, “It’ll be good to show ‘em off,” while never quite bringing herself to the edge of an unspoken follow-up question: to whom, exactly? It isn’t as though she and Dani are having children, isn’t as though there will be grandkids tottering around down the line to tune out their stories. Who, exactly, are these mementos for?

Dani is far too kind, far too pragmatic, to put the question to her. Dani only poses, grins, lets Jamie take all the pictures she wants, and then--camera tucked safely away once more--grabs Jamie’s hands and leads her into living it: the food, the outdoor markets, the snowstorms, the sun-kissed hikes. As the years go by, Jamie takes more and more photos, never quite able to explain to herself why it’s so critical. Never quite able to look away when Dani finally covers the lens with one hand and brings her close, kissing her like it’s the first time.

They stop looking at these photos together, after a while. Stop trying so hard to go back, as the days grow shorter and the exhaustion begins to steal the warmth from Dani’s smile. At first, it’s about moving forward--always one foot in front of the other. At first, every photo taken is set aside as a gift to another life. And then, finally, it’s about the moment they’re in, nothing more. Jamie sets the camera on a shelf. Refuses to look at Dani through any barrier but her own two eyes. Dani doesn’t like the snap-click of the camera anymore, anyway--each time, she flinches, like Jamie is about to show her a glimpse of whatever horror she’s been seeing in the mirror.

I only see you, Jamie promises, the ache in her chest so great, she’s sure it will swallow them both. But Dani can’t bring herself to look. Can’t bring herself, just in case Jamie is wrong.

Later--so much later, with eyes stinging and arms empty--she flips through the album and remembers Spain, California, Minnesota, Greece. Later, she finds Dani sticking her tongue out, spinning like a deranged nun out of musical, sitting quietly in a cafe with a small cup of coffee warming her hands. Dani, stiff-shouldered and trying not to laugh as Jamie made faces the one time they ever ventured back to Iowa. Dani, hair blowing back into her face, arms looped around Jamie at a terrifying, exhilarating first Pride parade.

And, in the back, the photos of Dani as only Jamie knew her. The sly grin a second before pinning Jamie to the couch. The sweet surprise from Jamie coming home early with dinner. Shot after shot of no make-up, or smudged eyeliner, or ruined lipstick, of Dani in pajamas on Christmas, or Dani in bed after a shower, or Dani laughing herself silly at nothing Jamie can remember now.

They’re all here, and they’re all Dani--all of Dani Jamie’s got left now--and still, they’re wrong. They sit, plastic and unyielding, beneath flimsy protective sheets, and they don’t laugh like Dani, don’t breathe out against her skin like Dani, don’t smell like Dani’s shampoo or swear like Dani tripping over a shoe in the dark or look at her with that solid, palpable love like Dani did and should still and never will again.

Jamie sits, album in her lap, staring down at Dani with paint smudged on her cheek and their then-new bedroom behind her, and suddenly can’t remember how to breathe. Had she known? Somewhere in the back of her mind that day in a gas station, picking up a little yellow disposable camera, had she known that one day, this would be all she had left of Dani? Surely not. Surely, she hadn’t believed it would go this way, all the way back then. Surely, it was one day at a time, and we’ll have time, and any day with you, Poppins.

Had she known? No. No, of course she hadn’t.

And yet, the idea of not having these in front of her--the idea of Dani’s face slowly, surely, washing away over time as Jamie fails to find her in a world so uncompromisingly cruel...

She touches a shot of Dani with her left hand covering her mouth, her ring gleaming gold against her smile, the day the state had legalized civil unions. Dani as gold as sunshine, in one of the last truly clean moments, before old ghost stories dug rotting fingers into their life. Her vision grays, her head suddenly too heavy to hold up.

She hadn’t known. But she’s glad. She’s glad she has, at least, this much to hang on to.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #put it on the list of stuff you can blame jess for #as with everything I have ever written I thought it was going one way and then it did something else

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obxfishon · 4 years

Text

Chasing Waterfalls

(this gif has my heart (LOOK AT THAT SMILE), creds to the creator)

JJ x Reader

Description: Emotions flow like the water in the waterfall.

Prompts: “I wish I had a boyfriend.” “so what do you look for in a guy?” “real stuff, like the shape of his ass” “So, I found this waterfall…”

Word Count: 1.9k (I’m slacking sry)

“BYE MOM I’LL BE HOME TOMORROW!” You scream as you run from the house.

John B’s was pretty close, and you were about to make today unforgettable. The crew had been down in the dumps thinking that there wasn’t anything new for them to do, it was just the same old same old, but you found something at work yesterday.

You work at the country club with JJ, you both applied together a few summers ago when it was becoming apparent that you needed money to go on all the adventures.

While bussing a table yesterday, the girls behind you were talking about this amazing hike that led to a waterfall that had water deep enough that you could jump off into it. You read the name from their tab and searched for her instagram, sure enough she was public and posted the pictures from the hike with a location tag.

Saving the location you texted the Pogues to meet at John B’s tomorrow with food, proper shoes and a bathing suit. You didn’t want to give too much away but they needed to be at least a little prepared for what you had planned.

Racing onto the property you see that you are the last one to arrive, the rest all sitting on the porch trying to figure out what you have planned.

“Are you all ready to have the best day of your life?” You questioned as you jumped onto the porch with them.

“C’mon (Y/n), just spill, what do you have planned?” Kie asks, excitement evident in her voice.

“So, I found this waterfall, well I actually heard about it at work yesterday, but then I found the location and we’re gonna spend the day there!” You explain, watching the smiles grow on everyone’s faces.

“It’s about an hour and a half drive, but I think it’ll be so worth it!” You finish, slightly jumping up and down.

Everyone smiled and nodded and started packing everything that would be needed for the trip.

“(Y/n),” JJ squeezed you into a tight hug and spun you in a circle, “you have saved us all from extreme boredom, so, you’ve been moved up in the rankings and have become my favorite person, John B you’re now in second.”

“HEY! I thought I was forever at first?!” John B yelled from the van.

“Well I haven’t heard you offering any fun ideas, but you do house me and drive me places, just be happy you're still towards the top.” JJ remarked and grabbed the last load of things to bring to the van, throwing a wink your way.

You met JJ and the rest of the group when you moved here a few years back, your mom ran a convenience store that kept you afloat for the most part, getting a job at the county club helped you guys have a little extra cash after the bills were paid.

You clicked with the group better than anyone thought possible, together you all formed a family and there was nothing that could wedge between you all.

—-

The drive was full of awful karaoke and dances between all of you. The energy was unmatchable, everyone just letting go of the stresses of home.

Quicker than expected you all arrived and gathered the necessary belongings into backpacks before setting off on the small hike to where the waterfall was waiting.

It was a hot day and this seemed to be a popular spot to come so there were quite a few other people when you came over the final hill and laid eyes on the waterfall.

It was beautiful, the water fell perfectly and the water was a crystal blue, speckled with a few other people enjoying the cool water.

The group set up towels and the rest of the stuff in a sunny spot before heading for the ledge that people were jumping off. Kie wasted no time in running to the ledge and jumping off, letting out a yell of pure joy as her feet left the ground, she resurfaces with the biggest smile on her face, calling for the rest of you to follow.

John B, Sarah, and Pope followed, but you hesitated due to the nerves that came out of nowhere, JJ picked up on this.

“M’lady,” JJ held out a hand, offering a little extra confidence with it, that you took before both running to the end and jumping off, not letting go of him until you had to in order to swim back to the surface.

Everyone was swimming and throwing water on eachother, occasionally getting out to jump back in again moments later.

After a good amount of time it was decided to get out and take a little snack and rest break, so the group moved to the towels and relaxed in the warm sun.

Looking out to the water again you watch as a couple clung to each other as they floated around the water, just based on the way they looked at each other you could tell they were in love. Without thinking you opened your mouth.

“Ugh, I wish I had a boyfriend,” eyes slightly widening when it came out of your mouth, but you shrugged it off, everyone wished that… right?

“You know, (y/n), I don’t think I’ve ever even known you to date, have you?” Sarah moved her head up to look at you, as well as the rest of the group now.

“Nope, it’s hard to find someone who can handle me,” you smirked.

It was true, you hadn’t really dated before, sure you had crushes and had been in that weird talking stage before, but nothing ever became official.

You were a very strong willed girl, you knew what you wanted and how you wanted to be treated, and some people just seemed to be turned off or scared of that.

You also currently had a crush so deep that it didn’t really let you see anyone else as an option. As soon as you met JJ it was hard to ignore the butterflies that came every time he brushed your shoulder or smiled so big that it reached his eyes, just the small things.

“What do you even look for in a guy?” Kie propped her head up on her hands.

“Oh you know, real stuff, like the shape of his ass.” You smirked again and looked back at the group to see them all rolling their eyes and scoffing.

“Okay but really, what would it take to sweep you off your feet?” This time John B pushed.

Realizing you weren’t gonna be able to joke your way out of this you shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean, I don’t know. I want someone strong willed like myself, someone who really cares, would be willing to drop anything in order to help someone,” sighing you continue, “he needs to be a good listener, willing to pay attention to the little things. He needs to be able to make me laugh, that’s a big one. Oh! And someone who is giving, not like buying me things, I don’t need that, but someone who is willing to give me their time and is willing to work on things together.” You nodded your head and looked at them all, just staring back at you.

“You want someone the opposite of what your dad was.” JJ locked eyes with you and you felt your smile falter a bit.

“Yeah... yeah I guess.”

Your dad was awful to your mother, always told her that he could have done better, just rude and uncaring. When you were 12 your mother caught him cheating. She packed the two of you up and you left, she didn’t have a destination in mind, just drove until she ran out of land, literally. The two of you happened to stop at a gas station by the ferry and saw a listing for the small house that you two lived in now. She paid for a hotel for the week, got things in order to buy it, and set divorce papers to your father all in that week.

After that you two had started thriving in this new house, just you and her. Of course the divorce got messy, but he gave up custody of you without a fight, so after a year the divorce was final and you and your mother never spoke of him again.

“I learned from my mother what it means to be a strong woman, she taught me what it means to love someone, how to find the attributes of that love in someone else. She also taught me about where she went wrong, I know what traits can quickly turn toxic so when I see that in someone I keep my distance.” You are looking at the ground trying to hold back the tears.

Feeling an awkward silence you stood and plastered a fake smile on.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’ve had enough rest, I’m gonna go jump in again.” Nodding you turned and quickly walked to the other side of the water where the ledge was, where you were slightly hidden from the others.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and just tried to forget about the memories that we’re trying to break through, this was supposed to be a fun day, so dammit you were gonna be happy.

“Hey, (y/n), are you okay?”

Your eyes shoot open to see JJ staring back into your own.

“Uh,” you plastered the smile back on, “yeah, yeah I’m fine!”

“Bullshit,” JJ pushes your hair behind your ear and then takes you into his arms, holding you in a tight embrace, “I’m sorry I brought up your dad, I know it’s a touchy subject, I wasn’t thinking, trust me of all people in our group I understand not wanting to talking about your dad, but you know I’m here for you no matter what.”

He felt a sob shake your body in his arms and held you closer, rubbing small circles on your back, then pulling away from you to wipe your tears.

“(Y/n), I’ll give you my time, my attention, shit, I’d give my life for you,” JJ looked down at his feet then met your eyes with his own, “I hate to see you in pain, let me make you happy, okay?” He smiled at you and you felt a smile grow in your own face, nodding as he wiped the rest of your tears from your cheeks.

He pressed a short kiss to your forehead and grabbed your hand as you two walked towards the original destination.

“You know, as far as the qualities you look for in a guy, I do have to say, I DO have the best ass around,” he looked at you, causing a short giggle.

“Eh I dunno, could use some work.” You tried to hide your smile as you passed him, your hand reaching out slapping his butt as you sprinted for the ledge, hoping he wouldn’t be able to catch you.

He caught up to you at the very end, grabbing your waist before you both launched off the cliff.

After landing in the water he kept his hold on you, you both just floated together, you head resting back on his shoulder.

Maybe he would be the first boy that passed your test, the one to finally break down your walls.

Only time would tell.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj obx #obx jj #obx imagine #obx #obx fanfiction #obxstuff #outer banks #outer banks imagine #imagine #fanfic

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moonlit-raven-haven · 3 years

Text

The Past III

Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.

This is unedited!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: angst, drinking, some language, mentions of blood

A/N: Here’s part three! Sorry it took so long to update! My personal life has been quite hectic and draining and I couldn’t find the energy to write again up until a few days ago. I hope you guys enjoy it! Information regarding tag lists at the end.

Y/N is discharged in the morning just like she had told Harry the previous day. Not having a ride home, she decides to dial Gemma who picks up after only a few rings.

“Hey Gem, think you could pick me up and bring me some clothes please? Mark is at work right now.” Y/N asks and explains as she flips through the random TV channels on the small flat-screen television in her hospital room.

“Hey Y/N, I actually can’t right now…” She trails off, almost as if trying to come up with an excuse not to pick her up, but she doesn’t. “I’m sure Harry can pick you up.” She adds in to her trailing sentence. Y/N stays quiet on the other end of the line. She’s going to see Harry tonight anyways, but would she be able to spend a whole day with him without it being painfully awkward?

“It’s okay...I’ll ask Anne.” Y/N replies as she huffs slightly, going through all of the television channels for the second time, but nonetheless she starts the process all over again.

“Mum is busy with grocery shopping and whatnot.” Gemma says with an urgency to her voice, and Y/N finally concludes that Gemma, or Anne and Gemma want her to spend more time with Harry. Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose slightly before sighing.

“I’ll ring Harry.” She finally gives up, knowing it was no use trying to tell Gemma that she could see past her lies. Y/N ponders on taking the bus, but she knows she’ll get weird and concerned looks, having only the clothes from the previous night and dried blood on her hair.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon!” Gemma exclaims into the phone, the smile evident in her voice as she hangs up, leaving Y/N to hear the ringing of the dead line. She pulls her phone away from her ear and takes a deep breath as she scrolls through her contacts, finally stumbling upon Harry’s name. She hadn’t deleted the number, and she knew it was the same, receiving a text from Gemma with his number attached. Y/N clicks on his contact, an old picture of the two showing up in a small circle next to the call button. The picture is one that Anne had taken at Christmas before they stopped speaking. Y/N was curled up into Harry’s side, the Santa hat she had been wearing slowly beginning to fall off her head as Harry had an arm wrapped around her sleeping form. He was looking down at her, a soft smile on his face as his own Santa hat lit up with small Christmas lights. Y/N smiles at the picture, reminiscing back at how simple things once were.

After a few minutes of hearing the television but listening to her own thoughts, she decides to tap the green button on her screen that has been taunting her for several minutes. Y/N hears the line ring, her heart beating faster with each lengthy tone, and after only the third ring she hears a click on the other end of the phone.

“Hey Y/N.” Harry greets through the phone, his comforting voice making Y/N’s once fast beating heart slow down enough for her to feel calm once again. He knew it was her, he must have saved her number after all these years, but the thought makes her heart sting; why hadn’t he tried to reach her?

“I...Um...I was wondering if you could pick me up from the hospital?” Y/N questions through the small device in her hand as she fiddles with the rough material of the thin blanket that the hospital provided her with.

“Yeah sure...I’ll be there in 30.” Harry says, and Y/N can hear the jingling of his keys and the opening and closing of the door.

“Thank you...and be careful please...the roads are still pretty dangerous to drive on.” She mumbles, shivering slightly at the memory from the previous day.

“O’course...I’m always careful. See you soon.” Y/N hears the muffled sound of the car engine over the phone before hearing a soft click, only hearing the television quietly playing in the background. Over the next 20 minutes Y/N is discharged by the doctor and disconnected from the various monitors. She gathers her belongings, grimacing as she puts on her clothes from the previous day, some of it covered in dry blood still. She grabs her phone off the small hospital table and exits the fluorescent room, thanking the staff on her way out before waiting for Harry in front of the hospital. The floor is wet from the storm the previous day and the current light drizzle of water. She wraps her coat around her tightly, shivering slightly as a gust of wind passes by her.

“I should’ve waited inside.” Y/N thinks to herself as the cold wind bites at her skin, but she’s being courteous for Harry’s sake, or maybe she’s doing it for herself. What she knows is that a mob of fans wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them. So she waits for him outside, hoping that they could drive off as soon as he arrives at the hospital so they could leave.

Y/N is staring up at the gray clouds before she hears a soft calling of her name. She looks up, noticing the window of Harry’s black Range Rover is rolled down. He’s wearing a black hoodie with colorful letters that she can’t make out due to his distance, and some big sunglasses that make her let out a little laugh at their size. She gives him an awkward smile before walking towards the big car and getting in the passenger's seat, immediately engulfed by the warmth of the car and Harry’s scent. Y/N settles into the leather seat as she closes the door and secures the seat belt around her body as Harry begins to drive away from the hospital parking lot.

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Harry questions, his eyes focused on the slick road in front of him.

“No no…” Y/N quickly starts off. “We could go back to your place...we were meeting for dinner anyways.” She finishes her statement as Harry just hums in response. It’s silent between the two despite the words that need to be said; the words that would probably fix everything between them. The rain gently hits the windows as the heater hums in sync with the sound of the engine. The road is smooth beneath the tires as Harry drives through a series of small winding streets.

“Can I turn the radio on?” Harry is the first to speak, and now it’s Y/N’s turn to hum in response. His hand travels over to the radio, turning it on before browsing through different radio stations, but he can’t settle on anything and shuts the radio off once again, his hand settling back on the steering wheel. The car ride is filled with an almost unbearable silence, each raindrop sounding heavier than the last against the car, but finally, just as Y/N is thinking that jumping out of the car isn’t a horrible idea, they reach a small and gated house. Harry pulls up next to a small metal box, rolling down his window and quickly punching in a few numbers before rolling it up once again. The raindrops rolling off the leather interior, the sleeve of his hoodie now a darker shade of black.

The metal gates open up and Harry applies light pressure on the gas pedal of his car, causing it to move forward onto the long cement driveway, all the way to the end which connects to a house, his house. Harry presses a small clicker on the roof of his car, opening up the large garage connected to the house as he pulls into it and closes the garage door once again before turning the car off.

“Let’s get you inside so you could get showered and changed before dinner.” Harry says softly as he gets out of the car, not looking at Y/N once. He knows that it’s still early, early enough to barely eat lunch, but he figures he could try to avoid the dreaded, but much needed conversation for a few more hours. Plus, he doubts that she wants to be in the same clothes from the day of the accident, much less have her hair matted and tangled with dried blood.

“Oh yeah...thanks Harry.” Y/N says as she climbs out of the car, and takes a look at the garage. It’s like any other person’s garage, but emptier due to his constant moving around and barely being home. She gently closes the black car door and walks around to where Harry is standing, inserting a key to a door in the garage. He twists the key and handle, opening the door before pulling the key out. He walks in, holding the door open for Y/N as he motions for her to walk in. She complies and enters the house that’s lit up by the outdoor light. The place is a lot simpler than she had expected, since his career took off she expected him to change just like every other superstar, being taken by the fame and money, but he was not. He remained Harry Edward Styles, her friend of many years and who she always thought would be her first love.

His house is decorated in modern and minimalist furniture, but somehow still feels like a home. Y/N can’t tell if it’s Harry’s scent or small random things laying around that make it feel like home. Picture frames of his family and friends, a random jacket here, some shoes over there, and a few random cups scattered throughout the living room and kitchen. While she looks around, she believes that Harry has moved on from their friendship, and maybe even whatever nonexistent relationship there was between them. There wasn’t a picture of her in sight, or any clue of her ever being part of his life, but what was she hoping for? For him to dwell on her for five years? That would be selfish of her, but maybe for now she wanted to be selfish.

Harry watches Y/N intently as she looks around, noticing slight changes in her expressions, from a half smile to a small frown. Was she regretting her choice of coming with him? Would she turn around right now and ask for him to drive her home? He suddenly thinks that this is a horrible idea, and that maybe things should’ve just been left as is, but he still tries and hopes that she doesn’t want to run away like he has been wanting to do.

“Bathroom is over here.” His voice sounds a bit shaky, almost as if he is nervous. He begins walking through the house, reaching a short hallway with only two doors and some cabinets at the end. He opens the door to their left, revealing a bathroom, and then continues to take a few steps forward, opening the door to their right, revealing his room.

“There’s a bathroom in m’ room if you would like to use that one. You could change in my bedroom afterward if you would like, I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner so you don’t have to worry about me barging in...I mean not that I would barge in...just in case you were worried ‘bout that...not that you sh-” But before Harry can ramble on any further, Y/N cuts him off, a small laugh escaping her lips at his nervous behavior.

“I’ll use your bathroom, you go ahead and make dinner.” She says with a smile adorning her face, oh how much Harry missed that smile. He simply nods and exits the room, opening and closing the cabinets in the hallway before returning with a towel and handing it to Y/N.

“Thanks Harry.” She says softly as she begins walking to the bathroom door in the corner of his room.

“O’course. I’ll leave some clothes on my bed and then I’ll leave and close the door.” Harry explains to her as he walks over to his dresser and begins to open drawers. Y/N hums in appreciation as she walks through the bathroom door and shuts it behind her. She opens the sliding glass door, letting out a small sigh of relief when she sees the water knobs are the same as the ones in her own flat, thankful she wouldn’t have to ask Harry for help. Y/N turns the water on to her desired temperature and begins to strip off her clothing before getting into the shower, sliding the glass doors shut. As she showers, she can hear the muffled opening and closing of drawers outside in the room before she hears the shutting of what she assumes is the bedroom door.

Harry exits his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to the kitchen. As he pulls out the necessary ingredients for spaghetti and garlic bread, his mind (once again), begins to occupy itself with unnecessary thoughts, because never in a million years did he think they would be having dinner together after five years of silence. Harry was aware of how she tried to contact him, and he saw all the missed calls and texts from her, but he was too hurt to ever pick up the phone or to even see her. Now he feels guilty, realizing that he probably caused her pain that she still hasn’t healed from. Had she moved on quickly? Did she see other people before meeting Mark? Or was Mark the person that finally allowed her to begin to move on? Harry shakes his head slightly, now beginning to serve the plates of food and pulling out a bottle of wine. Those thoughts shouldn’t make him feel jealousy, after all, he had tried to move on fast, sleeping and dating people over the past five years, and he was almost one-hundred percent sure that she saw every headline regarding his relationships, whether they were rumors or whether they were confirmed. And while Harry can’t be sure, he can only assume that it hurt to see the headlines, because when he heard of Mark’s existence in Y/N’s life, the pain he felt in his chest was too much to ignore.

Harry is closing the bottle of wine and sitting down when he hears light footsteps in front of him, and as he looks up he sees Y/N, her cheeks are slightly flushed and there is a sheepish smile on her face as she sits down across from him.

“It smells good…” She says softly as she pics up her fork and begins to eat. She’s wearing his hoodie, boxers, sweats, and even his socks, which makes her feel quite flustered, it feels too domestic, like if they are dating, and the thought makes her heart pick up slightly in speed.

What they both thought would be an awkward dinner was actually pleasant, their conversation flowed naturally, almost as if nothing between them had occurred, and as if they haven't spoken in five years. Once their plates are clean of food and their glasses are empty of wine, they clean up the kitchen and head to the living room, sitting down on opposite ends of Harry’s couch, their glasses of wine full again. Their conversation flows smoothly once again, eventually falling into a silence that was almost unbearable.

“Have you listened to any of my music?” Harry questions, as he sets down his wine glass on the coffee table. The question probably sounds narcissistic, but he needs to know, because there are songs that were written for her, messages that he hopes she received. Y/N sets down her glass of wine and tilts her head back before looking over at Harry.

“I only listened to your first album...I couldn’t really bring myself to listen to your second album.” She explains rather timidly, afraid that he would take offense to the statement, but he nods his head in understanding and gets up from the couch.

“We’ll start from the beginning then, so you could get the full experience.” He says jokingly as he walks over to his vinyls and record player. Harry pulls out his first album and sets it up before sitting back on the couch, this time a little closer to her. They fall into casual conversation again, but Y/N doesn’t really listen to the music, too invested in listening to Harry, that is until he puts a finger to his lips, his infamous rose ring glinting in the sunlight.

“One of my favorite songs that I’ve ever written.” Harry says softly as he looks at Y/N. She chuckles softly as “Woman” begins to play in the background. Y/N smiles at the opening line, Harry has always been one for romance, and she couldn’t help but wonder who he had asked to watch romantic comedies with on Netflix, and then the song begins.

I’m selfish, I know

But I don’t ever want to see you with him

Y/N then wonders who this man was, this man that made him selfish and want to keep someone to himself, and who is the person that he loves so much that he wrote a song about not wanting to see them with anyone else? But then these questions are answered when Harry begins to speak.

“Y’know...when mum told me ‘bout you and Mark, I wished desperately that it was me you were with instead of him. And I wanted to go find you, and say that I fucked up, that I’m an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry, but I didn’t. I couldn’t bear the thought of him opening the door, and while I’m selfish for wishing that I was in his place, I also can’t ruin your happiness again…” Harry trails off and sighs, he turns away from Y/N and tilts his head back until it’s resting on the couch and he’s staring up at the ceiling.

Y/N looks at him blankly as he stares up at the ceiling. She had expected a conversation of apologies, then maybe a few words of “glad we’ve moved on,” and then things to be how they once were, but she wasn’t expecting a love confession. And as much as she wants to say that she understands, and that she forgives him, she can’t do that.

“Harry...you can’t do this to me. You can’t waltz back into my life and expect me to drop everything for you. You’re the one that left, I tried to make things right between us. I have a life of my own now, I’ve moved on from our past…” Y/N’s voice is assertive, refusing to let Harry come back into her life unannounced after everything that had occurred between them. But as assertive as she sounds, and as serious as she is about her words, she knows that her last statement isn’t true, and he knows that it isn’t true as well.

“You’re right, I left, and I know that you called...that you tried to reach me, and I blocked you out...I shouldn’t have. But I was afraid that I had ruined our friendship that night I tried to kiss you...now I reckon that I did more damage when I left unannounced.” Harry finally faces her, and while his words are directed at the girl in front of him, he knows these words are also his thoughts. When she doesn’t respond, he is fearful once again, maybe he should have left things alone. Y/N lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes, not wanting to look at him in fear of breaking down.

“Look Harry, it’s in the past, and I want to forgive you, but I can’t...at least not right now. I spent so long getting over you, trying to forget our friendship and that spark that we once had…” She trails off and opens her eyes once again, staring directly at Harry. “But I need time, and I need space…” Her last words are quiet as she gets up from her spot on Harry’s couch and grabs her few belongings. “I would like to go home please.” Is all Y/N can muster past her lips as she walks over to the door, the very little energy she once had now leaves her body. Harry doesn’t protest, knowing that he has caused damage to the woman he loved, once again.

The drive back to her flat is silent, the hum of his car and the cars around him driving through the rain being the only sounds they can hear. And while the drive to her flat is short, it feels long and tense, making Y/N eager to get to the comfort of her own home and away from the current situation. Finally, the car is parked in front of her flat, and Y/N gives Harry a weak smile once she is out of his car.

“See ya around, thanks for lunch...maybe we can catch dinner another time.” She says as she closes his car door, and Harry’s heart flutters; he hadn’t fucked things up even more than before.

“I would like that.” Harry is quick with his response as he gives her a toothy grin before giving her a slight wave and driving off. Maybe things will be okay in time.

_._._._

A/N: There are two tag lists for Harry content! One for ALL future Harry Styles fics, and one for JUST this fic. Comment “All Harry fics” or “Just this Harry fic” if you would like to be added.

_._._._

All HS fanfic

@rachkon @tpwkhoney @girlboss99 @hilarydenise813 @eternalharry @tpwkxkiwis @wholesomestyles @indieslytherin @harryspirate @harrehiluvyeh

Just this fanfic

@darcysbxtch @makncheese1928 @urdadbtch

Usernames I can’t tag

@mybm1998 @marvelstudies2020 @90smessy @only1doodle

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “What Happened.”

Sorry for any issues this one might have, but I am trying to write it between flights and and scrambling to find a plug that will work, so I hope you like it anyway, and I hope it answers some questions you have

Three months leave

IT was going to take an extra three months before the ship would be ready for launch. Even as they spoke, it was docked at the Europa station as they put on the final finishing touches. Until then, it had been Commander Vir’s job to go through files on the personnel he wanted aboard his new crew.

He had suggested some alien additions to make the crew more diverse, which the GA had loved considering that the ship was an amalgamation of both human and alien technology. It had Rundi communications systems, Celzex weaponry, Vrul shields, and a Tesraki warp core. The design otherwise was completely human. But for those reasons, the project was obviously very time consuming, and they were lucky that it was going to be finished in as little a time as it was.

Sunny hadn’t seen Adam very much in the last month or so considering that he had been working hard to find an extra five hundred members for his crew, and speak with the brass about what he had seen on the other side of the wormhole.

Sunny knew that it was important that Adam do his job, but a part of her was annoyed they hadn’t been able to speak properly since getting back.

Instead, she was stuck in base housing on the cost, alone and with nothing to do aside from long walks on the beach. She had never been the the beach beforehand as anin didn’t have any substantial bodies of water like that, at least near her, and there was something about the endless water that unsettled her. Even Krill and Conn were off doing important things. Krill was giving his services to a level one trauma center in New York, and Conn was helping the base MPs conduct polygraph tests, though he had sort of replaced the polygraph.

That left Sunny alone most days to think.

She hadn’t gotten over Adam’s disappearance, and not how he had tricked her, pushing her from the bridge before turning around and preparing himself for death. She felt a bit cheated, and like a decision had been made for her. She wasn’t stupid, logically she knew that is what she would have done if she were in his place, so she couldnt fault him for that, though she still coudln’t help feeling hurt over it.

And these thoughts she was left to stew on, tossing and turning in the quiet of the night while everyone else was out and busy.

Needless to say she didn’t expect the little bell on her front door to ring late one evening, and when she opened the door she certainly didn’t expect to see Adam waiting on her front porch.

HE was smiling, though the skin around his face and neck were already flushed a light pink with embarrassment.

In his arms, he held a large collection of flowers.

“May I come in?”

“Adam!” Her surprise was a bit delayed

He shuffled his feet, “I uh, I got the go ahead to take the day off so I…. thought I would see you.”

He shifted again.

He looked better now than he had on returning from his ordeal, face clean-shaven and in clean clothes that actually fit, though she had to admit his cave-man look hadn’t been so bad.

She stepped aside, and he tentatively followed.

She closed the door and he turned to face her, “I uh…. um … well I…. flower…. Or I mean, I got you, flowers I…… Bought some, but also picked…. some ….. I not that that really matters I just.”He sighed took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “I got you flowers.” he held them out, and she took them in half amusement, picking one from the top and popping it into her mouth before setting them down on the little side table.

“Look, I’m sorry we haven't been able to talk since I got back… and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little bit of me avoiding having a tough conversation.”

“I like that you are at least being honest with me.” She said quietly., “Do you want to sit down?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a walk…. I.. I think better when I walk.”

She shrugged and agreed, following him outside to where a thin layer of clouds had veiled the sun which was slowly inching towards the horizon. The clouds muted the colors and the sea was grey in the distance.

Together they walked a little ways along the sand, him shifting nervously, and her walking to the side, relaxed though she didn’t feel like it

The silence stretched on for nearly a mile before Sunny -- growing frustrated -- was forced to break it.

“You tricked me.”

He looked down at his feet, “I did.”

“You tricked me, and because of that I have had some of the worst few months of my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand you did what you thought you had to, and I get it that if I was in your place, I would have done the same without hesitation, but…. I I feel cheated, and I feel used, and for some reason I can’t stop it.”

He looked away, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“At least say SOMETHING.”

HE turned to face her single green eye wide. Looking down she could sense that his hands were shaking. A part of her felt bad about that, but they needed to have this conversation, and she wasn’t going to let him out of it.

“I… would do it again to save your life, and I won’t apologize for that, but I’m sorry that that’s how you feel.”

“I thought we were a team.”

“And we are.”

She paused, her feet digging hard into the sand, and he drew to a halt beside her, “I need you to understand Adam, when Drev say a team, they mean a battle pair and that means….”

“I know, I know……. I know what it means, and I am agreeing with you.”

“Will, you try, for me.”

“Yes, but sunny, I I don’t know how well it will work out, I…. well I’m broken when it comes to this sort of thing I don’t even know if I can.”

They went silent again and she could see the veins pulsing in the side of his neck. Beads of sweat collected on his brown and face. He looked almost nauseous, like he was scared or something, that too made her feel bad, but she didn’t really know how to help.

On instinct, she reached out a hand, inches from his before pausing, “I…. Can I?”

He paused look down at her hand.

His clenched into a fist.

He was pale whit like snow now.

“I…. I don’t think I can right now but…. Thanks for asking.”

She watched the expression on his face closely, and on his face she saw him proceed through a rapid series of emotions starting with fear, working over to shame, sadness and finally ending on guilt.

He turned away.

She walked up next to him, head tilted, “You don’t have to, Adam, but maybe if you told me why I could better understand. Of course you don’t have to.”

He took a deep shaky breath, “You deserve to know. But just don’t… I don’t know laugh or something. I know logically it wasn’t a big deal but….”

“Adam, I promise I won't laugh, you have my word.”

He nodded his head slowly and sighed, “I can trace it all back to one event I think. It was MY freshman year of high school…. Maybe and I was the awkward, nerdy sci-fi weirdo who believed in UFOs and Aliens.

***

Adam Sat Under a tree outside the school arms wrapped around his knees back tucked against the bowl of a tree which cast the shadow of its leaves down over the ground to wave and rustle in a light breeze.

It was lunch break, and he was watching the other teens standing around in their cliches. The football jocks were playing a game to one side, the cheerleaders were clustered around a bench, and all the rednecks were sitting in the back of their trucks in the parking lot laughing loudly and occasionally turning on their trucks just to rev the engines as loud as possible.

His hair was long-ish, kind of scruffy and hanging down around his ears. The clothes he wore were baggy hand me downs from his older brother Jeremy (a senior) and shoes with holes in them from his older brother Thomas.

He didn’t mention the holes to his mom, dad was in between jobs right now, not that it was a big deal, he would find work, it was just paperwork in the way, but he didn’t want to worry her with something extra that didn’t matter right now.

He looked down at the ground where he had a stack of books waiting in the grass for him, The Martian, War of the Worlds, and an old tatty compendium of start wars stuff with pictures and diagrams.

The T-shirt he was wearing was one he had purchased online, and had a diagram of the star-trek enterprise on it.

He shuffled his feet in the grass waiting for his brothers to show up and feeling sort of lonely as he waited.

Since he was a little younger, he got out a half an hour before they did, and only got to spend thirty minutes of his half hour lunch break with them, otherwise he tried to avoid people as much as possible. It wasn’t that he was bullied per-se, because he wasn’t really, neglected by his peers was probably a better term for it.

They were nice to him in the way you are nice to small children or crazy people, keeping up polite conversation just long enough to leave as soon as possible. He was used to the treatment, and didn’t bother subjecting people to his presence more than he had to. He knew he was weird.

He was sure he would have a harder time if it were not for his older brothers. Jeremy, who was a popular football player, David because he was student body president, and arguably the best looking guy in school, though he never seemed to be dating anyone, and Thomas, who was a bit of a loose cannon and didn’t mind getting in fights to protect his family members when he wasn’t hanging out with the other weird and unpredictable kids.

He was sitting there thinking about his brothers and staring down at the grass, when he saw a pair of shoes appear in his vision. They were white vans, or something similar with bright green laces, and when he looked up he saw a girl standing over him. The school was small enough that he recognized her immediately. Her name was Amanda and she jumped between the Drill team and the Basketball Girls click.

She was smiling, and he watched her as she turned her head back to her group of friends who were giggling and trying not to look like they were looking over in their direction.

Adam sat up a little straighter, “Can I help you.”

She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly pink, “HI…. Adam.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

She shuffled her feet, and off in the distance, her friends giggled and looked away.

“Can I help you with something?’ He wondered, waiting for the punchline somewhere. Something about the weird UFO kid, or maybe they were going to ask him to help them do something against school rules, so when they got caught they could all blame it on him. Or maybe they were going to ask him to be the designated Sherpa for their bags or something.

He had been tricked into most of those things before, though by now the teachers and the principal knew that he was just socially stupid and not a troublemaker.

“Relax ok, I’ve just come to say sorry?”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for treating you like you were weird.” When she smiled it seemed genuine, “You see its…. One of my friends.” More giggling I the background, “She thinks you’re cute, but she didn’t know how to act before.”

He glanced past her to where the group of girls had burst in to excessive giggling.

He frowned again, “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

She crossed her arms, “Serious, Adam.”

“Who is this friend of your.” His eyes narrowed, but past that he was looking towards one of the girls in the group. She was pretty with honey blonde hair and an infectious smile. She played the violin, and he knew for a fact that she was a comic book nerd. He had seen her carrying them around, and she was a petty good artist too. He felt his face flush a bit but tried to fight it back.”

“She smiled, “Avery.”

His eyes shot wide, and he felt his face turn scarlet. The part of his brain that had been skeptical immediately shut off as the human brain is prone to do when they think something good might be about to happen.

“I… really.”

She grinned, “Really.” She reached into her pocket and passed him a note, “She wants you to meet her by the stadium.”

His hands were shaking a bit as he took the note, but he felt his heart hammering in excitement.

Was this his way out of exile?

He had always been extroverted, starved for all the friends he wanted and all the people he wanted to talk to. Avery had the life that he wished he did, a large circle of friends, and fun things to do every weekend.

Maybe with her around, he would finally have that.

All the better if they were dating, but he was getting ahead of himself.

He watched as the group of girls dispersed and Avery moved towards the back of the building over towards the stadium, her beautiful, honey-blond hair blowing in the wind.

He stood awkwardly gathering up his things and shoving them in his bag without zipping the zipper all the way before turning and cutting around the other side of the school. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands were cold and sweaty as he made his way around the other side of the building and towards the stadium.

His heart only began to race faster when he saw her standing alone under the stadium between the cross-bars and in the shade of the metal benches above.

He approached nervously, his hands shaking in excitement.

She turned her head, bright blue eyes catching his.

He stopped in place at the edge of the shadow. But she smiled and waved him in, “Adam over here.”

He followed nervously his feet trailing in the dirt. As she approached she nervously rocked back and fourth on her heels hands in her pockets. He paused a few feet away. She looked up at him through her lashes, and he noted she was wearing little Iron Man earrings.

“Hi.” She said nervously

“Hi.” He replied back

She shuffled her feet, “Look I…. I’m sorry about laughing at you earlier today In class I…. well I think your funny, not, like in a bad way or anything.”

HE knew he was bright red at this moment, probably brighter red than any tomato, “Really?”

“Yeah, so I wanted to say sorry, and…. And maybe make it up to you.”

His heart was in his throat, “Oh, you, you don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

It went quiet as she stepped forward, and he was frozen in place. She was right in front of him now. She leaned forward a little, and he was frozen in place. Her eyes closed, and then so did his, he waited for the moment, and waited, and waited, but nothing came.

Someone snickered, and he cracked an eye to see Avery’s once pretty face twisted up into a sneer of contempt and malicious amusement.

“April fools.” She jumped at him, and in surprise he tripped backwards over one of the metal bars landing hard. The zipper of his backpack, not all the way done up, erupted outward spilling all his books out onto the dirt.

Laughter.

He turned his head looking around to the cracks in the stadium seats where dozens of eyes stared at him laughing.

Avery stood over him as others began flooding down from their spots laughing.

He crawled back, his head down, “But it’s not even April.” He whispered

“Its not even April.” Someone mimicked from behind, and he ran into soemthing hard looking up to see one of Avery’s friends standing over him. She was state shotput champion last years, and her arms were as big as his head, “What is this.” She reached down and picked his book off the ground.

“Please, give it back.” He said crawling to his knees and reaching up for it.

“The Martian.”

“please.”

She flipped open a few of the pages. He stood up trying to reach for his book but he was blocked by another two of her friends.

The laughter continued, the mocking voices over and over and over again.

He tried to push forward reaching for his books which had been picked up off the ground.

“Gross, Its all sticky!” the friend yelled.

“No it isn’t.” He protested, it was true, he took very good care of his books. But of course no one listened. A chorus of disgust rose up around him. His books were dropped, one clattering to the rocks its pages bending, the other one landing halfway in a puddle of stagnant water.

He cried out and dove forward pulling it out of the water even as mud dripped form the hardback.

He cradled it in his arms, feeling hot tears of anger and humiliation begin to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

Laughter continued.

“Look.”

Fingers pointed.

HE stood fists clenched ready to hurt someone, but when he turned the same girl from before hand his book in either hand and when he moved she pulled.

There was a sharp ripping noise as the spine of the book tore a quarter, and as he cried out she laughed and dropped it into the puddle.

As a paperback, the book didn’t stand a chance.

Mud and water caked his hands as he reached in to pull it out on his hands and knees. Something hit him hard in the back and he pitched forward into the puddle getting the book wet a second time as the kids laughed.

He scrambled sitting up coughing and spluttering feeling the slimy grittiness of the water on his lips.

Someone knelt down next to him. A voice in his ear, “If you tell anyone. I’ll tell the teacher you tried to touch me.”

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he tried wiping mud from his face. The laughter receded and he was left along kneeling on the gravel.

His face grew hot and read as he stared down at the ruined cover of his book. Hot tears dripped onto the mud coating his hands.

His breathing started up in great gasps his heart hammered so fast he thought it was going to burst out of his chest. His head was going to explode either from anger or frustration he didn’t know. Choked sobs broke from his mouth as he knelt over the books ruined in his hands. He couldn’t breathe. He stood vision clouded face hot wet and muggy from the heat.

And then he ran.

He had no idea where he was going or what he was doing.

His paperback held muddy and dripping in one hand he pelted into the woods and didn’t stop running until his foot caught on a branch and he went rolling into the leaves.

He lay there on his stomach heart still hammering breath still coming in ragged gasps. He just couldn’t calm his breathing down.

He didn’t know where he was.

He felt like he was having a heart attack, or dying, or something. He lay there gasping on the forest floor for hours.

It grew dark. The mud dried on the back of his book and against his chest and hands.

It was only when he heard the voices did he finally sit up, mud caked and bleary eyed.

“Adam!”

There were no other sounds for a long moment before the call started up again.

He stumbled over, it was dark so his feet kept coughing on branches and twigs.

“Adam, ADAM! I swear ADAM.”

“Thomas?” He said his voice so raw it was barely above a whisper.

“ADAM!” Footsteps rushed towards him through the trees, and Thomas burst from the foliage his scruffy blind hair run wild, his jeans covered in dirt, “Adam there you are where have you-“

He didn’t have time to say much else as he was hugged tight around the middle.

“Adam I…. what’s wrong. What happened! Who did this to you!”

Thomas looked ready to rip someone apart, but Adam didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t say anything about the event for the next two years.

***

Sunny stared wide eyed as Adam turned away again.

“Look, I know its stupid, it happens to plenty of kids and they don’t take it the way I did, but. I mean, with the panic attack on top of it, and then a few years later the same thing happened on my first date, so now I just… I can’t…”

Sunny was quiet for a moment while he looked away.

“Who the FUCK do they think they are.” She snarled.

He looked up in surprise, “I what.”

She marched around in a circle, “What the hell kind of person does that to someone. That’s just sick and wrong. That is just… horrible.” She pulled out her spear, “I swear If i ever meet someone like that if i ever meet THEM, I am going to-”

He caught her arm, “Sunny stop, it was a long time ago.”

“It doesnt matter!”

A small smile cut across his face, “IT doesn't matter sunny, you want to know why.”

“Why.”

“Because I saw their pictures.” he grinned, “Avery got really fat and her friend got hit by a car, not fatally but I consider it Karma doing me a solid.” He paused, “It’ll be ok…. I just need some time. Think you can do that for me?”

She paused and nodded her head, “Yes, I think I can.”

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