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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~sixth chapter rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Two months later, you sat outside The Daily Bugle and impatiently bounced your leg. While waiting to see if your boss liked your first draft of the Cleatus Kassidy article, you reflected on your past two months in New York.

It was now June. You and Venom had fallen into a routine. You’d work on the Cletus article by day and go patrolling at night. Of course, being Venom wasn’t a nightly occurrence. You’d only go out eating once or twice a week. Still, you managed to have 11 run ins with Spider-Man.

You and Peter had become significantly closer in that past two months as well. You’d help him with his homework, though you secretly thought he was smarter than you, and he helped me with your story. Some nights, he’d visit you on your fire escape and watch the sun go down. You had no idea how he got there, but you didn’t care.

You’d send him science puns while he was at school and he’d bring you food and keep you company when You had writers block. Your favorite was the long talks on the roof. You would sit there for hours and tell each other everything. You knew all his secrets and he knew yours.

Well, not all.

But the best part of all was that every now and then, you’d catch the other staring. Then, the other would stare back until someone, usually Peter, started to lean in. Every time you thought you were finally going to take the next step, something would interrupt you. Whether it was May knocking or Ned barging in or Peters phone ringing. That was another thing about Peter. His damn phone was always ringing and then he’d have to dash off somewhere, leaving you with a random excuse or something about an internship. Sometimes, you’d wish he’d just throw his phone aside and kiss you already.

“Great work so far, L/n.” Your boss tore you away from your thoughts. “I knew you’d be right for the job.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jameson.” You stammered as you stood up. “I really appreciate you giving me this job. I was kinda blackballed back in San Francisco.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “But you ask the hard hitting questions that people want to hear. Once this article is out, I want you to write one on Venom.”

“Venom?” You gulped at her name.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You know that scary black monster that’s been fighting Spiderman? I’m thinking an exposé on that menace webhead and his latest enemy, and I think you’d be perfect for the job.”

 “I would love to.” You said quickly. “I’ll start researching right away.”

With that, you turned on your heel and left the building before Venom caused a scene.

“Monster?” Venom roared once you got in your car. “Scary?”

“I know.” You whined. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was gonna call you that.”

“His whole job is reading about the most dangerous criminals in New York. If he thinks we’re scary, what’s Peter gonna think?” Venom asked. You laughed in dismissal until you thought about what he said.

What would Peter think? What if you told Peter who you really were and he ran away? He was sweet and understanding, but how understanding could he possibly be when you tell him you can turn into a flesh eating monster?

That’s when you realized you were scared. You were scared of letting Peter in and him letting himself right out. You were scared of repeating the mistakes you made with Andy. No, not scared.

Petrified.

What if Peter didn’t like what he saw? What if he realized you were too messy to be with? Or had too much baggage? Peter deserved a nice girl. One with a normal family and friends. One without depression. One without a flesh eating symbiote attached to their immune system.

“What’s wrong baby?” Venom asked with concern. She cuddled around your neck and nuzzled into your cheek.

“I can never be with Peter.” You whispered, mostly to yourself. Hot tears of frustration filled your eyes so you looked up to keep them from falling. Admitting it felt like a fatal blow to the stomach. Venom tied your hair up with one of her arms and wiped the tears from your face.

“Why do you say that?”

You thought about it for a moment before answering. You didn’t want to tell Venom that you were feeling insecure. She freaked out on you whenever you said something negative about yourself. You didn’t wanna another 100 slide PowerPoint titled “why Y/N L/N is the baddest bitch in the galaxy”. Especially since forty of those slides were just pictures of your butt. You appreciated Venom wanting to help but you were feeling the kind of insecure that a pep talk couldn’t fix. You needed to figure it out on your own. So instead, you told her a different fear you had.

“Because. Look at us. We’re the only thing keeping each other alive.” You reasoned. “What if we get separated and die? I can’t become one of those people in Peters life who loved him and then left him. His mom, his dad, his Uncle Ben. I don’t want to die and leave Peter behind. He’s been through enough. He’d be so much better off without me.”

“We’re not gonna die. You protect me and I protect you. Nothing will hurt us as long as we have each other.” Venom assured you.

“I can’t protect you like you protect me.” You said softly. “I’m just a human. What if something happens to me and you die because of it?”

“Nothing will happen to you, Y/N. I promise. I won’t let it.” Venom swore. You looked at her and gave her a sad smile.

“I won’t let anything happen to you either.” You said, but you didn’t promise it. You knew you couldn’t promise it.

“And you can be with Peter.” Venom insisted. “On Klyntar, we mate for life. And we think you’ve found your mate in Peter.”

“What does that mean?” You wondered.

“It means we’ve become attached to him and will never be happy with anyone else.” Venom said. You let out a shaky breath as that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You needed a reason to shut your feelings for Peter down.

“Like soulmates?” You asked.

“Exactly like soulmates.” Venom answered.

“Well what happens on Klyntar if someone is your soulmate but you’re not theirs?”

“Then we go into a cave and mourn until we die alone of heartbreak.” Venom said simply.

“That sounds about right.” You laughed sadly as you took a second to think.

“I’m gonna call that guy back.” You said suddenly.

“What guy?” She asked.

“They guy who asked me out at the coffee shop this morning.” You reminded her.

“The one with the stupid hair? Why would you call him?” Venom asked angrily.

“What was wrong with his hair?” You laughed.

“It was blonde. We like brunette.” Venom said with a devilish grin.

“His hair was fine.” You rolled your eyes. “And I’m gonna call him to say yes to the date.”

“Why would we do that when we like Peter?” Venom whined.

“Because if Peter doesn’t like us, I don’t want to die of heartbreak alone in a cave.” You admitted.

“He does love you.” Venom protested.

“We don’t know that.” You shook your head. “It’s just one date. I need to get back out there anyway. I haven’t gone on a date Andy and I broke up.”

“Fine.” Venom grumbled. “But this is a terrible idea and I’m going to complain the whole time and sing the Les Mis soundtrack in your head.” This was one of those moments where she felt more like your toddler than your symbiote.

You gave the guy a call before driving back to your apartment. As fate would have it, you ran into Peter in the hallway on your way to your room.

“Hey Y/n!” Peter greeted you. “You want to come over later and help me with spanish? I’ll amo you mucho.”

You wanted so badly to say yes but you had to stick to the plan to squash your feelings for Peter.

“Aw, I’m sorry Pete. I wish I could but I have a date tonight.” You frowned, instantly regretting it when you saw the look on his face.

Peter’s heart sank to the floor as he emotions went from feeling devastated to feeling white hot anger in a matter of seconds

“A date?” He sputtered. “With who?”

“Some boy I met at the coffee shop.” You said weakly, knowing you were hurting him.

“Oh.” He said dully.

“Some boy.” He thought angrily. “Some freaking dirty ass sissy coffee boy asked my girl out.”

Peter felt like hunting the man down and smacking the shit out of him. Or at the very least, webbing him to a wall leaving him there until he missed the date.

“What’s his name?” Peter asked suddenly, wanting to put a name to his new mortal enemy.

“Matt.” You nodded slowly.

“Freaking Matt.” Peter thought. “Freaking dirty ass bitch ass Matt. Was Matt Spider-Man? No. Could Matt treat you as well as I could? Probably. But did he like you as much? No. Did he have inside jokes with you? No. Could he make you laugh your beautiful laugh just by doing a Captain America impression? No. He wasn’t good enough for you. He couldn’t do the things I could do. He was trash. He was a trashy dirty ass rat boy.”

“Interesting.” Peter said, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“I’ll text you when it’s over and maybe I can help you then.” You offered. That sound okay, guapo?”

Peter nodded sadly, not even acknowledging that you called him handsome. Actually, he probably had no idea that you did. He was smart, but only in English.

“That’s fine.” He nodded glumly. “I’ll see you later.”

You watched Peter trudge into his apartment and felt a pain in your heart. He seemed so upset all the sudden. It couldn’t be from your date, could it? It’s not like you told him you got engaged or something. It was one little date. And it’s not like Peter even made a move. He had no reason to be upset. You brushed it off and went into your apartment to get ready.

Just as Venom predicted, the date went horribly wrong. You drove back to the apartment in silence afterwards, leaving Matt to clean himself off back at the restaurant.

“Why did that happen?” You asked her after a long drive in silence. You were mortified from the events of the night but you needed to know why they happened.

“Because he wasn’t your soulmate.” Venom said simply.

“We defiled that boy.”

“It happens.” Venom stated.

“It shouldn’t.” You said, shocked at how nonchalantly she was being.

“But it does.”

You rode the rest of the way in silence, shooting Peter a text before asleep on your couch. You woke up a few hours later in a cold sweat and in tears. You didn’t know it, but Peter was listening to your breathing from his apartment. He had picked up the small cries of his name in your sleep with his superhearing and stayed up to see if you were okay.

You weren’t, by the way. You had had a nightmare that shook you deeply and left you shaking. It was about Peter, but not in a good way. In this dream, he laid injured on the ground after a fight. You were separated from Venom and bleeding out near Peter. You couldn’t do anything to save him. You couldn’t scream for help. And worse, you couldn’t protect him. It caused you great agony to not be able to reach him.

Without giving it another thought, you got off your couch and made your way to the door. You needed to see Peter and tell him how you felt.

You didn’t care about your insecurities anymore. You didn’t care about all the things keeping you apart. You only cared about him, and that was enough. He needed to know that and you couldn’t wait another second.

You swung open your front door, only to find Peter Parker outside it in pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and a tight white t-shirt. His hand was raised, like he was about to knock.

“Hey.” you breathed. His hair was tousled and sticking up in random places. He looked heavenly.

“Hi.” He said shyly.

“I was just about to go to your door. I had a bad dream.” You told him. You were anxious to skip the semantics and cut right to the chase.

The chase being, “I love you and I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“Yeah, I heard. That’s why I’m here.” Peter explained. That’s not what he wanted to say. What he wanted to say was, “I’m always here if you need me. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. I love you. It’ll be okay.”

Peter looked at you funny for a moment, like he was seeing something beneath the surface.

“She looks so beautiful.” He thought. Makeup free, hair a little messy, and nothing but an oversized sweatshirt to cover you. Peter recognized the sweatshirt as his own, one you had swiped from his laundry basket because you had been freezing while watching Alien in his room. He felt so honored to know that you slept in it. Peter wondered how many times he could fall in love with you in a short span of time. In the past few seconds, he’d fallen about 15 times. Once for every breath you took. And you were breathing quite heavily.

“You heard?” You asked, wondering how he

had possible heard from his apartment.

“My hearing is excellent.” He said quickly. “Are you alright?”

“Please be alright.” He thought. “I’d stop anything that tried to hurt you. I’ll protect you from the storm. Don’t shut me out. Don’t turn me away. Let me love you.”

“Um…” You trailed off and looked behind you at your empty apartment. The darkness looked anything but inviting. You couldn’t go back in there just yet.

“No?” It came out as more of a question.

“No? Do you want to talk about it-“ Peter was cut off when you rushed into his arm and hugged him tightly. He seemed taken aback, seeing as you nearly knocked the wind out of him. But as soon as he found his footing, he wrapped his strong arms around you and held you close. You relaxed in Peters embrace and let out a sigh.

“I had a nightmare.” You croaked. “You died and I couldn’t save you.”

“I know. It’s okay. You’re awake now. I’m here.” Peter said soothingly.

“I’ve been here the whole time.” He thought. “I will never abandon you. You are safe in my arms. Nothing can hurt you now. I won’t let it.”

You pulled away a little and looked at his face, seeing how tired it was.

“Would you stay with me?” You asked timidly. You didn’t want him to go. Not now, not ever.

“Always.” Peter answered with a smile. “As if I could ever leave you.”

Your lips lit up in a smile as your eyes fell to his lips. They lingered there for too long, or maybe just long enough. Peter took the hint and slipped his hand behind your neck and began to pull you closer. As your lips were about to touch, your door slammed, causing you to jump out of each other’s embrace.

“Shit balls.” You said immediately, letting out an annoyed sigh.

“What?” Peter asked, giggling a little at your choice of profanity.

“I just locked myself out.” You realized as you jiggled through door handle. Peter laughed louder this time and put a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on. You’re sleeping over.” He said, leading you back to his apartment with his hand on the small of his back.

You entered Peters room for the millionth time, but it felt the first time. Sure, you’d become good friends in the time you’ve lived in the building, but bedrooms were intimate places. The context of you being in Peters bedroom after going to him for comfort changes how you saw the place. After all, bedrooms were windows into the soul. Oh wait, that’s eyes. Still, the room was different. You didn’t feel like you were entering it. You felt like you were returning.

You looked around with a content smile on your face. He still had his academic decathlon posters on his wall, along with a few Avengers posters. Peter was pretty neat, but he was still a teenage boy. Socks and sweaters were strewn across the room. You saw him kicking a pair of boxers under his desk out of the corner of you eye. His room was so cute. It was so…Peter. You noticed a first aid kit on his desk next to his chemistry textbook and wondered what on earth he could be using it for.

“I’ve always liked your room.” You complimented as you touched a decathlon trophy on his dresser.

“Oh thank God.” Peter sighed in relief. “I thought you’d take one look at my nerdy ambiance and run.”

“Star Wars bedsheets?” You asked when you noticed the Death Star poking out under his duvet. You definitely hadn’t seen those before and found them endearing. Peters ears reddened and he fixed his duvet to cover them up.

“Those aren’t mine.” He said quickly.

“Are they Mays? As in May the force be with you?” You played along and he gave you a defeated smile.

“That was the worst thing anyone has ever said. Ever.” Peter joked. You laughed and he gave you a shy smile.

“Fine. They’re my bedsheets. Star Wars is cool, okay?” Peter defended. You took a seat on his bed and shrugged.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me Peter. I just didn’t know you were a loser, is all.”You said simply. Peter sat down on the bed next to you and rolled his eyes.

“Very funny. You’re the funniest person I know.” He said sarcastically. You nudged him with your elbow and he and hit you with a Yoda printed pillow.

“Mm. Good with the force you are.” You commented. Peter groaned loudly and told you to shut up.

“Enough playing around. How was your date?” Peter asked as he turned to face you. You could hear the pain in his voice and regretted ever telling him about the date.

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged. “Terrible.”

You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easy. If Peter really did like you and want to be with you, he needed to say it. He couldn’t just grumble and wallow in self pity when you were with another boy. You wanted to test him to see if he’d ever actually admit his feelings, but a part of you was still scared there were no feelings to admit to.

“Really?” He said excitedly. He cleared his throat to cover it up and grunted. “I mean, really?” He asked calmly.

“Yeah it was awful. I definitely won’t be seeing him again.” You sighed sadly, but you weren’t actually sad. You were just putting on a show for Peter. Peter bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile from emerging.

“That’s terrible.” Peter lied. “What went wrong?”

His acting was equally as bad as your own. He had a shit eating grin on his face, pretending to be sad when he was clearly over the moon.

“It was going fine all night until the kiss.” You sighed dramatically, looking longingly out the window. You might as well have thrown yourself onto the balcony and cried out for Romeo. Peter, however, was buying every second of it.

“You guys kissed?” He asked, his voice heavy with disappointment. He looked miserable. All you wanted to do was throw your arms around his neck and tell him he was the only one for you. Instead, you kept your feelings to yourself and nodded slowly.

“Almost. He leaned in and…” instead of finishing your sentence, you just shrugged. You could tell Peter was on the edge of his seat so you dragged it as long as you could.

“And?” Peter practically begged. You let out another long, dramatic sigh as Peter took a slow sip of his water bottle.

“And I threw up on him.” You said simply. Peter spat out the water in his mouth and burst out laughing, doing his best to cover it up. You gave him a fake angry look but ended up laughing as well.

“What?” Peter laughed.

“He was such a tool.” You whined. “He talked down to me the entire night and then had the audacity to try and kiss me. I don’t know what happened but all the sudden he was leaning in and I was throwing up. He deserved it though. He treated me like was an idiot. I’m almost glad I threw up on him.”

Peters was overjoyed. He was about to say something when we heard a straggled cry of your name.

You and Peter rushed to his peephole and saw a familiar blonde haired boy standing in the hallway.

There he was, Matt, outside your apartment door with his phone on full volume playing “Hungry Eyes” from Dirty Dancing.

“What the actual hell?” You wondered out loud. “I better get rid of him.”

“Y/nnnnnn. I’m sorry I was a jerk.” Matt slurred. “Please talk to me. I told the doorman we were cousins. Then I told the elevator guy that I was your husband. You may need to move now. Y/nnnn.”

“You definitely can’t go out there.” Peter shook his head. “He could have a knife.”

“Or worse.” You whispered, making Peter looked at you fearfully. “He could have the same loser bedsheets you do.”

Peter scrunched his nose at you and picked up you swiftly to threw you onto the couch.

“Since when are you so strong?” You laughed in shock. Peter shrugged and held out a hand.

“Let’s go to bed.” He said. You raised an eyebrow and he quickly added, “In a non-sexual, platonic way.”

He was always so cautious of offending you or making you uncomfortable. You appreciated how much of a gentleman he was and knew Aunt May had implemented those qualities in him.

“You can take the bed.” He offered. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded and climbed into his bed, patting the the space next to you.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You told him. “Get in.”

Peter looked at you with wide eyes, looking very unsure of himself as he toyed with the hem of his shirt.

He was torn. He wanted to get into the bed, but he also knew you were vulnerable right now and he didn’t want to take advantage of you. He didn’t want to do anything you’d end up regretting in the morning.

“Get in, in a non-sexual, platonic way.” You added. Peter relaxed but stayed standing. You pretended to splash Peter and twirled your hand around the bedsheets as if they were water.

“Come on in Parker. The waters warm.” You said in a low voice.

“I am…repulsed.” Peter deadpanned. In reality, he was dying to get in the bed. He wasn’t gonna try anything, he just wanted to feel you close. He wanted to comfort you and take the pain of the night away. Finally, he got into the bed and pulled the covers up. He shut off his lamp and we fell into comfortable silence.

“Good night, Peter.” You whispered, turning your back to him and cuddling into his pillow.

“Night, Y/n.” He whispered back. You felt his eyes on the back of your neck still. He didn’t want to close them and fall asleep. He wanted to stay in this moment as long as he could.

You soon felt hesitant arms wrap around your waist. Peter was very unsure of himself and kept his hands loosely on your hips, barely touching. You turned your neck around and looked at him quizzically.

“What the hell are you doing?” You demanded. His hands flew off your waist and his eyes widened with fear. He looked so apologetic, you thought he might cry.

“Do you not know how to cuddle?” You asked before he could blurt out an apology. You grabbed his arms and pulled them tightly around your body. You held his hands in your own, flush against your chest. Peter felt really tense at first and a bit stiff, but he soon relaxed and nestled into your hair.

“You smell really good.” He muttered. You laughed softly against his body, prompting Peter to hold you even tighter.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Y/N.” He whispered. He said it so quietly, you figured he thought you had fallen asleep. “Sweet dreams.”

You woke up the next morning in Peter Parker’s arms. Subsequently, you wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of your life in Peter Parker’s arms. You were a mess of tangled limbs and hair but you found yourself firmly in his embrace, inhaling his cologne.

Peters eyes fluttered open suddenly and you were nose to nose.

“Hi.” You said softly, a playful smile resting on your lips. He was so pretty in the morning. He didn’t even have to try.

“Hey.” He chuckled. “This is new.”

“It is new. Is it okay?” You asked him, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

“Is waking up next to the actual sun okay?” He teased. “Uh yea, Y/n. It’s okay. You can sleep over anytime you like if it means more mornings like this.”

Of course he said that. He held all your strings and knew just how to tug them.

“Did you really not enjoy that date?” He whispered, but in his head thought, “Do you want to be with anyone else?”

You didn’t know why he was whispering, but the look in his eyes told you he was dead serious.

“Not in the slightest.” You answered honestly. What you wanted to say was, “Because it wasn’t with you.”, but you didn’t.

“Would you…would you want to go out with me sometime?” He asked shyly. “I promise I won’t throw up on you.”

He said the second part as if it was the only way you’d say yes to the date, which made you laugh.

“Peter Parker, I have waited exactly 64 days for you to ask me that question and you just had to ruin it by promising you won’t throw up on me?” You playfully scolded as Peters eyes lit up.

“Is that a yes?” He asked excitedly.

“It’s a yes.” You nodded, holding his nearest hand. “It’s always been a yes.”

“Can I-“ He began.

“Don’t ask.” You whispered. “Just do it.”

Peter leaned in slowly and you did the same. His lips had just ghosted yours when Aunt May knocked on the door. He bolted out of bed as you sat up.

“Breakfast is ready. Did you clean your room?” Aunt May called from the other side of the door.

“Yes.” Peter called back. You looked around. No he didn’t

“No you didn’t.” She said knowingly. She didn’t even have to see his room to know it wasn’t clean.

“I’ll clean it after.” He groaned.

“I’m coming in.” She said suddenly, making you and Peter look at each other in fear.

“Don’t! I’m naked.” He screamed.

“Fine. But it better be clean after breakfast. And put some clothes on. You should not be naked at 7 am.” Aunt May said. You heard her footsteps walking away and knew it was safe to speak. You got out of Peters bed as he got up to lock the door, his back still to you as he did it.

“Alright.” He sighed. “That should buy us some ti-“

The second he turned around, he was met with your lips on his. You had your hands on the sides of his face and your head tilted to the left. You felt Peters eyes flutter shut as his eyelashes tickled your cheeks. He was frozen at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You melted into him and he melted right back into you. The kiss was short and sweet, but absolutely perfect.

When you pulled away, Peter gave you the softest eyes ever. A grateful smile was on his lips.

“I am so over these interrupted moments.” You laughed softly as you shook your head. Peters eyes twinkled in agreement. The sun was coming through the window and made his brown eyes look like pots of honey. You could stare at them forever.

And then he kissed you again, with confidence this time. He wasn’t ready for the last one since you caught him off guard. You let your fingers tangle in the messy curls at the back of his neck, something you thought you’d only get to dream of doing. Peter groaned slightly into your mouth as you tugged on his hair, indicating that he liked it. He put his hand under your neck and slipped his toungue in your mouth. Who knew Peter Parker knew how to kiss? He tasted like morning breath, spearmint chapstick, and something you could only identify as being exclusively Peter. When you pulled apart, he looked up at the sky and sighed.

“If I wake up and this is all a dream I’m going to fight you.” He said menacingly.

“Did you just threaten God?” You laughed.

“For you? Anthing. I’ll fight anyone for your honor. Our Lord and Savior can catch these hands can square up.” He promised.

“You’ve gone to far.” You joked. “We need to break up.”

“Don’t even joke. I’ve waited too long for this.” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m only teasing. I’ve waited my whole life for you Parker. I’m never letting you go.” You told him. He burst out in a smile and kissed you swiftly, then promptly got down on one knee.

“Will you please be mine, darling? Officially?” He pleaded softly. There was so much hope in his eyes so you pretended to think about it.

“Sorry.” You shrugged. “I’m pretty busy with Matt.”

Peter stood up and gripped your hips, pulling you closer while you let out a small gasp.

“I never want to hear his name again. He had the privilege of taking my girl on a date and treated her poorly?” He raised an eyebrow. “He’s a deadman if I ever see him around here. Now, I need you to tell me you’re my girlfriend before my heart explodes. Tell me you’re mine. I won’t believe it until you say it. ”

You nodded yes as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips.

“Peter Parker, I always have, and always will be, yours.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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thechekhov · 4 years

Note

Hey there Chekhov. I just want to ask for some advice from you because you seem like a wise person. So I asked another creator if his AU series was done (as in not being continued, or cancelled like a tv show). The reason I asked that is because he hasn’t posted his comic in a while. But when I asked him, he thought I meant if he was finished with the next comic and thought I was being rude and impatient. I tried to clear it up with him but he still doesn’t believe me. Any advice for this in case it happens again.

Eeergh... This is a tough one, because I think it’s less about wisdom and more about just... understanding that sometimes, human communication is difficult.

You may have not meant much by it, but artists and authors are often stressed and extremely worn out, socially speaking, and tend to snap more easily because they assume someone is just trying to bully them into creating more content for free. (Because this happens.... a lot.)

(I’m... also guilty of being distrustful and sometimes also get quite vicious because of it.)

There’s two things at play here:

1) How much effort did you put into making sure your message did not sound demanding or rude?

and

2) How much effort did the artist put into assuming you had good intentions?

... I know I need to work on the second one, and I’m legitimately trying. But sometimes it gets hard.

Why does it get hard? Well..

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any creator on any social media platform usually has at LEAST 10 messages in their inbox that read something akin to the following:

Etc, ad infinitum.

Now, you might think ‘okay, so what? People want to read their comic, of course they would do this.’

Except that they’re not just expressing joy at reading the comic - they are doing the equivalent of tugging on the artist’s shirt at the grocery store and going “Mom, can we get candy? Mom. Mom. MOOOM. Hey, I want candy. Mom, buy me candy. Mommmm I hate you! You never buy me anything!! Buy me candy now!!”

Which, as you can imagine, gets... depressing.

How would YOU react if you received these messages daily?

Would you have a lot of patience left?

Artists are incredibly overworked. They do most of their work for free. They don’t get paid often - they are just trying to put free art out into the world. And what do they get?

They get treated like they’re customer service reps. People don’t take the time to make sure their messages even sound appreciative or like they’re talking to a human being. It’s usually just

“Give comic, now.” “Where comic?” “When comic done?”

So I suppose my question for you would be... what did YOUR message sound like?

How long did it take you to write it? Did you tell the artist you were appreciative of their free labor? Did you explain WHY you wanted to check up on them? Did you use humanizing words like “hey, I really like your work.” or “I noticed you were gone for a while” and “I was wondering if you still planned to work on this story, because I really enjoy it” or “Just checking in to see if you are planning to finish the series? I’m really looking forward to it!”

Or... did you just type in

“is the series done?”

and, without taking a second to think about how it would come across, simply hit enter on your keyboard?

Look, I get it. Thinking about how your words come across is HARD. And not all of us are good at it - in fact, most of us are pretty horrible as a baseline! We learn to communicate kindly by fostering that habit. I teach elementary school kids and let me tell you - most people learn how to be humane in their late teens at best.

But if you don’t put a lot of effort into how you communicate with people, if you don’t go the extra mile to at least throw in a few kind words, you can’t really expect them to put in an extra amount of effort to assume you mean well! They only know what they face every day - and that is an incredible amount of people who treat them like Content Creation Robots.

They can’t possibly know that you mean well and appreciate them unless you TELL them!

In other words - you reap what you sow.

I will say this - your comic creator probably regrets lashing out at you.

It’s likely that he was tired, that he felt downtrodden and disappointed in himself for not posting faster. It’s probable that he is hard on himself for not being able to work on his creation mor, and your words hit a nerve and made him feel like he was not doing enough. And his anger wasn’t so much about the ‘misunderstanding’ as it is about him being treated with too little kindness.

What I can recommend to both of you is - sometimes, this shit happens. And the only way to fix it is to take a deep breath and try to be kind to each other, even when it’s hard. It’s really the only way forward.

#chekhov answers #artists on tumblr #arting #content creation #tumblr culture #fanthropology #yaboijskoot

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bunnysuit-femboy · 3 years

Text

The Worst Wingman - Dust and a Goddess

(Chapter 1 / 3)

Jean x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: mentions of homophobia

Summary: Jean knew you better than anybody else, so why was he so good at picking the worst people on the planet for you to go on dates with. You were persistent to find a boyfriend this year and you thought Jean could help you find the perfect man, but apparently he loves to watch you suffer. If only you knew the perfect man for you was the one setting you up on all of these dates.

Notes: I posted this on my Ao3 first, but I thought I’d post it here too. So, please enjoy!

First Saturday

Another Saturday night meant another shitty date with another uninteresting and weird guy. You knew Jean hand-picked these dates that he sent you off with, but it seemed he didn’t know you or them at all. Every single date was just another bust, undeniably and irrefutably.

And, this date was just another on the already long list of bad dates.

“So,” Your date said with a smile, “You’re good friends with him, aren’t you?”

You nodded with the wine glass close to your lips. He had asked you the same question nearly fifteen times in the last fifteen minutes. It was as if he couldn’t believe it himself. As if he were surprised, or maybe even a little bit jealous.

“Yeah,” You said with a fake smile, “We’re in the same friend group. I met him freshman year, when I became close friends with Mikasa and she introduced us-”

“How is he?”

“Huh?”

The redhead smiled wide, “How is Eren? What’s he like as a friend?”

You raised your eyebrows and placed your glass back on the table, “Eren?”

The redhead nodded excitedly. He was nearly on the edge of his seat, leaning towards you like a child about to hear a war story from his grandfather. It was odd that the boy had gotten caught on the idea of Eren being friends with you when you had just explained how Jean was the one who set you up on the date.

“Eren is- um,” You looked around the small restaurant, trying to find inspiration for a way out of this conversation from the other diners, “He’s cool.”

The boy is physically upset about your discretion, “And?”

“And,” You involuntarily continued, “He’s- uh, he’s very nice. He-uh he helps me with my homework, and helps me study quite a bit.”

It was all a lie, but only partially. Sure, somebody in the friend group was really nice and helped you with homework and helped you study, but it wasn’t Eren. It was Armin who was the nice one, but you didn’t know Eren well enough not to switch the two names when talking with the boy in front of you.

“That’s awesome,” The redhead said with an admirational sigh, “I bet he’s super helpful. He’s definitely the type to not give up until you know everything, for sure.”

“Oh.” You grinned at your empty dinner plate. “For sure. He’s the best. He’s super dedicated, and he always makes the harder information easier for me to understand. He’ll word it in ways that he knows I’m more comfortable with.”

“I’ll have to join you two, sometime.”

You looked at the boy with furrowed eyebrows, “You want to join me and Eren while we study?”

Boy, is he going to be upset when he finds out Eren is actually an adorable blonde boy with big ocean eyes who’s not nearly as blatantly mean. Also, it’s a bit strange the redhead wants to go on a study date with you and somebody else. Isn’t he at this date for you? But, all he’s asked you about all night is Eren.

“Of course,” The boy said with a smile, “I would just love to see him again.”

You giggled lightly to yourself, “Do you want me to get his number for you?”

Though the comment was purely a joke, the boy didn’t flinch nor smile. He just stared at you with a look of defeat in his eyes and he almost looked angry. His eyes never left your face, his mind not finding an ounce of humor in your question.

His reaction caused your smile to quickly falter, “Do you actually have a crush on him?”

The redhead rose from his seat, “I have to use the bathroom.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Right now?”

“Yes,” The boy’s voice came out harsh, “Right now.”

“Oh, okay.” You watched as the boy walked off towards the bathroom. And, once he was out of earshot, you pulled your phone from your purse sitting on the back of the chair and phoned Jean.

The phone only rang once before the call was picked up. He spoke a half-assed greeting above the sound of yelling in the background. You knew he was with Connie and Sasha tonight and you knew they were playing video games from the noise coming from behind his voice.

“Don’t hey me,” You spat angrily through the phone, “This guy is insane, Jean, he’s fucking weird.”

Jean was now laughing, “How is he weird?”

“He keeps asking about Eren.” You took a quick peek at the male’s bathroom door. “He offered to go on a study date with me-”

“That’s nice of him.”

“-And Eren.”

“Oh,” Jean said, “That’s weird. Eren doesn’t even study with you, he’d have to be smarter than you to be of any help.”

“I may have lied to him.” You took a quick swig of wine from the glass and then turned back to the bathroom doors.

“Aw,” Jean said with a smirk, “Poor Floch.”

“Floch,” You said excitedly, nearly knocking the discarded fork from your plate, “That’s his name! I forgot it about two hours ago, but didn’t have the heart to ask him.”

Jean was uncontrollably laughing on the other side of the phone. It wasn’t like these types of calls were foriegn to him. You normally called Jean in the middle of a crisis, and most of your crises these days happened mid-date when the boy did something weird and left to go to the bathroom.

“You’re a horrible date,” Jean said between his giggles.

“It’s not a normal name.” You held the wine glass to your lips. “I wouldn’t have forgotten his name if it were Brian or Nick. It’s his mom’s fault I forgot his name.”

Jean smiled into the phone, “Now, you’re blaming his mom for your ignorance, how cruel.”

You couldn’t help but grin as well, “Also, I think he has a thing for Eren.”

“Really?” Jean takes a moment to remember something. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I met him through Eren because they were in the same chemistry class last semester. He seemed reluctant to go on the date with you until Eren told him he should, then he was all for it. I thought it was weird, but not weird enough to be concerning.”

“It’s not weird nor concerning,” You said sweetly, “He just has a crush and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, it’s endearing.”

“He’s actively homophobic.”

“What?” You peek at the bathrooms and notice nothing has changed. “You set me on a date with an active homophobe?”

Jean shrugged, “I didn’t think about it.”

You shook your head angrily, “After this date, I am coming straight to your apartment and I am giving you a piece of my mind, Jean Kirstein.”

“Oh no,” Jean said with a smile, “I’m really scared, she used my last name.”

“You should be really scared. I’m bringing my baseball bat and everything.”

You took another peek at the bathroom and then checked the timer on the call. Seven minutes and fourteen seconds was how long you had been on the phone with Jean and how long Floch had been in the bathroom. Sure, it could be reasonable, but you still got a weird feeling from the whole thing.

“‘You okay?” Jean asked endearingly once the silence between you two had settled.

“He’s coming back,” You lied, “I gotta’ go.”

“Okay, just-”

The call ended quickly with one press of your finger. You put your phone back in your purse and let the bag fall to the side of the chair. You looked around the beautiful restaurant and tapped your fingers impatiently against the clothed table.

You leaned to your side in order to get closer to the couple beside you. At the table sat two people: one with long brown hair and wide glasses dressed in a tux and the other with short dirty blonde hair also dressed in a tux.

“Hi,” You said to the brown haired person to your immediate right, “Could I ask a favor of either of you? It’ll only take a minute, I swear.”

The brown haired person smiled widely, “Of course!”

“My date, a redhead, went to the bathroom nearly twenty minutes ago, and I can’t go into the boy’s bathroom-”

“You want me to go?” The brown haired person’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I can go see if he’s still in there, or if he’s sick, or if he’s dead - God forbid, but how interesting, right?”

You nodded with a smile, “Yes, thank you, please. I’m sure he’s not dead, but I’m just worried.”

“Don’t worry until I come back with news.” The brown haired person stood up and left, heading towards the bathroom.

You watched the nice brown haired person go off towards the restrooms. You watched them weave around tables, even stopping now and then to peek over diners’ shoulders, looking at what they had decided to eat for the night. They were strange, but in an endearing way - something you weren’t entirely used to seeing on these dates.

“You know,” The blonde guy spoke up suddenly, snapping you back to reality, “They’ve done that a few times on our dates before, as well.”

“Hm?” You turned to the brown haired person’s date.

The blonde guy smiled, “My date, they get interested in something in the bathroom and don’t bother coming back out for half an hour. The first time is scary, but you’ll get used to their curious mind.”

You grinned weakly at the nice man, “Yeah, I have a feeling there won’t be anything to get used to because there won’t be another date.”

The blonde boy furrowed his eyebrows, “Oh?”

“He wasn’t the best date I’ve been on, nor the best person I’ve been on a date with.” You turned towards the bathroom in time to catch the blonde man’s date making their way back across the restaurant with a frown. “In fact, he’s the first date to ever crawl out of a bathroom window to get away from me.”

“I’m sure that’s not what happened,” The blonde man said with a worried glance at his date. You weren’t sure how you knew it, but you were entirely sure of the redhead’s escape.

“He’s gone, dear.” The brown haired person placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as they sat back in their seat. “The window was pried open, I assume he crawled out of it.”

You nodded with a fake smile, “Thank you, for checking. I can pay-”

You reached for your purse, but the brown haired person shook their head, “No, no. Don’t even try to pay me. In fact, let us pay for your meals, it’s the least we can do.”

You shook your head quickly, “No, I can pay for them, but thank you.”

“No, he left you high and dry and-”

“You’ve already done enough for me tonight.”

“-You don’t deserve to pay for a meal you didn’t even enjoy.”

While the brown haired person was distracting you with a back and forth battle of who would pay for what, the blonde man waved down a passing waiter. He mumbled something to the waiter, pointing at your table over his shoulder. The blonde man pushed a small plastic card into the waiter’s hand. The waiter nodded pityingly, running off quickly towards the hostess’s table at the entrance.

“No,” You said with another shake of your head, “You don’t have to pay for a taxi, I don’t need one-”

But, you did need one considering Floch was your ride here.

“No,” The brown haired person continued, “Let me pay for your wine. In fact, have our wine. It’s the least we can do.”

“No, I don’t need more wine-”

The waiter was back and the blonde man finally spoke up over the argument between you and his date. He held two slips of paper in his hand and looked at you both with a small smile.

“Hange,” He said to make his date stop debating with you, “It’s okay, she doesn’t need your insurance card. And, ma’am, don’t worry about the bill, it’s already been paid for, and you don’t owe me anything in return. I’ve been in your shoes before, and I wish somebody would have done this for me.”

“Sir,” You said quickly, “It’s really not that big of a deal-”

“Not anymore,” The blonde man said with a smile, “Next time you come to this restaurant, just bring somebody you trust. I promise, not everybody is as awful as that boy.”

You bit your lip to keep the newly created tears from falling. You couldn’t help the overload of emotions happening in your throat and eyes. You didn’t normally cry so easily in front of strangers, but these strangers were overly generous. And suddenly, you were remembering the last ten dates that all ended just as horribly. It seemed like nothing was working out in your favor anymore.

“Thank you,” You said with a large smile contradictory to the tears that now fell down your cheeks, “I-I don’t know where to find those not awful people, but I really hope I will someday.”

“Oh no!” Hange said as they quickly wrapped you in a tight hug. “Moblit, look, you broke her.”

Moblit giggled with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry I broke you, dear.”

You shook your head into Hange’s shoulder, accidentally wiping the tears on the shoulder of their black tux. You couldn’t express to Moblit how badly you wanted to find not awful people, and how badly you wanted a date that didn’t end horribly. It was just more complicated than that, and it seemed awful people were the only ones Jean could offer you dates with and the only ones he thought deserved dates with you. So, what did that say about how he viewed you as a person?

You spent a few minutes crying into Hange’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently about boys and school and your pot-smoking next door neighbors who are way too loud when they have sex. They listened to your tangent intently, nodding along, as if they could understand any of your words.

Once you had wiped the tears from your face and thanked the couple profusely some more, you made your way from the restaurant. You knew you could call a taxi to Jean’s apartment, but the weather was nice and his apartment wasn’t too far away. So, walking seemed like a convenient money-saving way of getting the whole date out of your mind.

You walked down the street of town, but once you got to campus, you slid the heels from your feet and into your hands. You walked across campus with your shoes balancing on your fingers like the morning after a horrible one-night stand.

Eventually you made it to Jean’s apartment building and found your way to his front door within a few minutes. You knocked on the wood with your heel and weren’t too surprised when the door opened almost immediately. Jean stood in the doorway, still shouting at the other two over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jean said once he finally turned his attention to you, “How was the-” You swung the heel swiftly into his stomach, earning a surprised grunt from the boy.

“Don’t mention this date ever again.” You said the threatening words with a glint of anger to your voice, but your face was pressed into a sweet smile.

Jean nodded slowly, “Will you at least tell us what happened?”

You sighed, “Later, I’ll tell you, but I know Connie will bully me for it.”

Jean nodded some more, “Later?”

“The least you can do is let me stay the night.” You raised your eyebrows at the boy. “Since you made me go on the worst date of my life with a homophobic jerk.”

“Okay,” Jean said with a grin, “But only because you’re practically begging for me.”

You swung the heel into his stomach a second time, but he grabbed it before it could give any damage. You both looked intently at each other, your eyes glaring annoyedly and his eyes admiring the sight in front of him. This was exactly what you expected from him, this is exactly how he acts after these dates. He’s always the one to pick up and put back the broken pieces once the doll breaks, even if he’s the reason the doll fell in the first place.

Once you walked into the apartment, you left your shoes and purse by the door, right beside Jean’s shoes. You waved a quick hello to Connie and Sasha - who were too distracted shooting zombies to see you - as you walked past them in the living room and found your way straight to Jean’s room. You knew the apartment like the back of your hand, you had been here a million times.

You walked across the small room to your drawer that Jean keeps all of your clothes in for when you stay. You pulled it open and picked out a pair of cheetah print pajama shorts and an old t-shirt from an now irrelevant ex boyfriend. You threw the clothes on his bed, getting ready to change just when the door suddenly opened.

You turned to the door with tired eyes and furrowed eyebrows as Jean joined you in the room. He leaned against the now closed door, physically keeping the others from joining as well. He crossed his arms against his chest, taking in the sight of him - you in your satin black dress you wore on nearly every date.

“So,” Jean said finally, “What happened?”

You sighed, “He crawled through a window.”

Jean’s eyebrows furrowed, “He crawled through a window?”

“Yes, when he went to the bathroom and I called you. He crawled through a window to get away from me.” You looked anywhere around the room but the boy. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey,” Jean moved from the door, coming across the room to you, “Nothing’s wrong with you. Something’s wrong with him.” Jean held you at arm’s length, his hands on your shoulders. “Not only did he leave you, but he has a crush on Eren of all people. I’ve seen birds at the park who are more attractive than he is.”

You grinned sadly, “I bet people don’t crawl through windows to get away from Eren on dates.”

Jean ran his hand down the side of your head, “Eren doesn’t give them the chance, I don’t think he’s ever been on a date.”

“But, people would go on one with him.” You finally looked up at the boy in front of you, trying to keep the tears from spilling the second time today. “He’s not undateable. I’m undateable. I’ve scared guys away every Saturday night for the last two months.”

“You’re not undateable,” Jean said sternly, “You just haven’t found the right one. And, you won’t find the right one if you don’t keep going on these dates. Every horrible date means you’re one more Saturday closer to your soulmate.”

“And, what if I don’t have a soulmate? What if I’m damned to die alone?”

“Then, I’ll die with you.” Jean brought you in for a tight hug, your face snuggling into his firm chest. Jean whispered his words, mostly to himself, “I’d give up 200 soulmates if it only meant I could die with you.”

You closed your eyes against the soft fabric of Jean’s shirt. It was hard to trust his words when there seemed to be so many contradicting factors. Maybe tonight was a total bust, but next Saturday was a new day. You could try again next Saturday, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that. And, every Saturday for the rest of your life until you found your soulmate, even if that seemed like a pointless mission.

You’d do it for both you and Jean, it was the least you could do.

First Sunday

You woke up in Jean’s bed with his body close to yours. It was a standard cuddling position for your friendship: face-to-face, his arms wrapped around your side, your arms cradled against your chest, and your legs intertwined. Despite the normalcy associated with the position, you still woke up with a dorky smile and butterflies floating around your stomach when you saw him sleeping in front of you.

Today was no exception.

You grinned ear to ear as you watched the peaceful rise and fall of Jean’s tanned chest under the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. You watched as his lips parted against the pressure of the pillow under his cheek, a small stream of spit rolling from the corner of his mouth and onto the fabric of the pillowcase below. Every Saturday night ended with tears and regrets, but every Sunday morning began with sweet dreams and a special sleepy boy.

You turned away from Jean, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. The only way to successfully grab the phone was to also pull yourself from Jean’s grasp and from between his legs. It was a horrible price to be paid, but it had to be paid nonetheless.

You checked your lock screen, reading over playful messages from your roommate asking about how good Floch was in bed - assuming you had stayed at his house since you hadn’t come home. And, a few confused messages from Eren asking you who Floch was, why he was texting him, and how he was connected to you.

You locked the phone and turned back to Jean. You were expecting the boy to still be napping peacefully, but he instead stared sleepily at you. Your face had been in a grimace from the mentions of your date last night, but Jean’s honey brown eyes quickly dissipated any negative feelings.

“Good morning,” You whispered, “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning,” Jean said as he shifted his head and wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth. He was hoping you hadn’t noticed the wetness and that you weren’t questioning the wiping motion he made at his cheek. “And I-”

You smiled, “From the drool spot on the pillowcase, I’ll have to assume you slept well.”

Jean’s cheeks turned rosy, you could see the physical embarrassment on his face. He wasn’t the type to accept humiliation so easily, he was always one to fight back. Just his humiliation isn’t enough, if he’s going down, he’s taking as many people he can take with him. So, you weren’t sure why you were surprised when he swiftly sat up, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to shove the wet spot into your face.

You yelped, rolled, and sprung from the bed only a second before the pillow could land on your cheek, right where it was heading. You were up on your feet quicker than you ever thought you could be, your body still feeling the aftereffects of sleep. You looked down at the boy in front of you, the pillow still tightly gripped in his hands and a mischievous smile smacked across his face.

“You little bastard,” You said with a shocked smile.

Jean smiled back, “I’m actually quite big.” The words were meant as a joke about his body’s size, but both of your dirty minds immediately jumped to the size of something else on his body. “In more ways than one.”

You shouted at the boy between the giggles escaping from your throat, “Jean! Seriously!”

Jean shrugged, laughing along at his own joke, “I’m sorry, I had to!”

“You didn’t have to do shit!” You made your way to the bedroom door. “I’m going home!”

“One bad joke and now you’re leaving.” Jean leaped from the bed, following you to the door. “At least let me make you breakfast first.”

You turned to him with an intrigued glint in your eyes, “Will you make me waffles?”

“Sure,” Jean said as he playfully shoved your shoulder, “I’ll make you waffles.”

“With chocolate chips?” He walked in front of you, leaving the room with you following behind him like a child.

“Yes, I can add chocolate chips.” Jean tried to hide the grin spreading across his cheeks. “Do you want bacon and sausage as well?”

“Shut up,” You said from behind his back, “You know that I don’t.”

His voice sounded sweet, “Yeah, I do know.”

You stood against the counter, only a foot away from where he stirred the waffle mix. You watched as he eyed the waffle box intently, then poured the four other ingredients into the bowl after the dry mix. He looked a bit confused as he moved the spoon around the bowl, as if he was deathly afraid of missing something but not wanting to give the impression that he’d be stupid enough to miss something.

You knew where the coffee was kept and how to work his coffee machine and while you waited for it to brew, you watched Jean with a weak smile across your face. He could feel your eyes on him. Jean tried to ignore the weight of your eyes, not wanting his cheeks to go red though his chest was already inflating from the action.

Jean spared a glance in your direction, only a few seconds before the coffee finished brewing with a loud splash. For those few seconds when both of your eyes were held on each other, time seemed to slow. You could read the admirational glint in his brown eyes and he could read the appreciative glint in your eyes. Before the moment could go much further, you turned away and grabbed the coffee pot and mugs.

You not only knew which coffee beans Jean preferred, but you also knew how he liked his coffee. You poured a little bit of his roommate’s creamer into his mug, and then the tiniest bit of sugar as well. After the coffee was finished, you handed him the mug with a quick smile.

Waffles eventually found themselves on plates and forks eventually found themselves in between fingers. You both ate breakfast against the kitchen counter, Jean leaning down farther than you had to. You moved your fork against the softness of the slightly underdone waffles - he didn’t know just how much batter was supposed to go into the waffle maker at once.

Jean suddenly spoke up by your side, “Are you free this Saturday?”

You turned to the boy, “I normally am. Who’s next?”

“I have a friend on the football team.” Jean ignored your initial grimace to the statement. “He’s nice and desperate, the way you like ‘em.”

You turned back to your waffle with a small pout, “Maybe I should give guys a break for a little.” Jean raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll just become a nun and write off men altogether.”

“You can’t do that!”

Your head snapped back to Jean, “I can’t?”

“No,” Jean said, “You can’t.”

“And, why can’t I?”

“You just can’t.”

A thick silence had settled in the room, the only sound being the scraping of forks against the porcelain plates. You wondered why Jean was against you becoming a nun. You assumed it was because he was the type to fight persistently, so possibly the idea of giving up on something indefinitely was foreign and upsetting to him. You knew he indirectly reflected onto other people, yourself included.

After a few more moments of silence, Jean started walking away. You watched him as he moved across the living room, heading straight towards his bedroom. Right before the boy could get to the door, he turned to you with a single raised eyebrow and a cocky grin.

“Hey,” Jean said from across the room, “Do you wanna go to the bathroom before I do?”

You looked around the kitchen with a confused look on your face, as if the apartment could give you any clue as to what he was implying with his words. You didn’t have to use the bathroom, nor did you ever insinuate within the last twenty minutes that you did.

You tilted your head curiously, “Why would I need to go to the bathroom before you?”

Jean smiled at the idea of his next words, already proud of himself, “Just to make sure I can’t crawl out through the window.”

Jean laughed as you pretended to throw your fork across the spacious apartment. He was proud of his joke, and you had to admit that you weren’t as upset as you should have been. Last night, the idea of your date crawling through a window in order to get away from you was the worst thing that had ever happened. But with Jean, it was just a funny memory.

Jean came back to the kitchen after a few moments, still giggling lightly about his joke he made nearly two whole minutes ago. You ignored his cockiness by trying to fight the smile forming on your face.

Jean leaned towards you, wrapping a muscled arm around your shoulders. Being pressed against his body in this way made you now realize how he smelled. He smelled of a rich cologne of rose and mahogany. You hadn’t noticed the cologne before he left for the bathroom, but it could have very well slipped past you.

Jean spoke from above you, “I’m glad you aren’t still upset about last night.”

“I never said that.” You looked up at the boy, his arm still around you. “But, I am starting to see the humor in the situation.”

“Good,” Jean said with a smile, “It’s not nearly as bad as that guy who asked if his mom could join you for the date.”

You cringed at the thought, “And, I said yes.”

“And, the one who asked for a vial of your blood.”

You shrugged at the taller boy, “At least he asked, there was the one guy who stole my hair scrunchie without asking first. I think he used it so he could clone me.”

“Yeah.” Jean quickly remembered another awful date. “And, the one who gave you a yarn doll of yourself as a first date gift.”

You smiled widely, “I’m nearly a hundred percent sure that it was actually a Voodoo doll. I’m glad I accepted it before I told him no to a second date.”

Jean grinned down at you, only an inch or two from your face. It was hard not to smile when looking at the boy. He was beautiful and reminded you of an ancient sun god. From his tanned skin, to his lively brown eyes, and his deeply inviting smile. It was hard to look at Jean and not feel your heart skip a beat, especially when you were so close to him.

“They’re all funny stories now,” Jean said, “So, that’s good.”

You moved deeper into his arm, “Funny stories that I don’t need.”

“But, funny stories nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled sarcastically, “Thanks to you.”

“Hey!” Jean was pulling you into a quick bear hug as you laughed against his chest. “I try to find the University’s best guys for you! They are truly the school’s finest.”

“Then, why do they all suck?”

He didn’t answer your question because he wasn’t sure he knew why. He didn’t know why he threw these horrible guys onto you, under the impression of them being good matches. But, in his defense, it was hard to find somebody of your quality.

You were a goddess amongst mortals and these men could never be enough for you. And, if these men were mortals compared to you, then Jean felt he wasn’t even a mortal. He was the dirt hiding in the crevices of somebody’s shoe, he was the dust somebody breathed in before they yawned. Jean felt he could never equal up to you, but maybe these other guys could get close. And, maybe - just maybe - if he helps you get a boyfriend, then he wouldn’t think about you being a goddess so much.

Next Chapter

#jean x reader #jean kirstein #eventual smut #wingman jean #aot #attack on titan #x reader #modern au #college au #f/m

58 notes · View notes

razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

TYRANTS | Chapter Eight - Angels Or Devils

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, tig, usual SOA shit

MASTERLIST

Irked, Chibs stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his cut with a prolonged fuck to accompany the squelch of glass against leather.

He couldn’t get a firm grip on anything this morning.

Jax was at large, Isla and Tig had rolled onto the lot together looking much, much too comfortable, and Gemma was chewing every goddamn soul’s ear off about her son.

To say that he wanted the day to be over—before it had even commenced—was the understatement of the fucking year.

“Where the hell is he?” Clay barked from the front of the garage, turning to eye Isla directly. “You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“If I knew where he was, I would’ve told you by now.” Her retort was just as curt, prompting Tig to tense in his spot beside her.

He twined his hand around her bicep in order to calm her, but it was no use.

“Well somebody must know where he is—“

“You tried callin’ Tara?” Chibs cut the president off, hoping he’d be able to take some of the heat off of his daughter—the one that seemed to get all of Clay’s Jax-fueled frustrations launched atop her these days.

He just glared at the Scot.

“I can swing by his place? Make sure he ain’t there?” Tig offered.

“He isn’t. Wendy would’ve said.”

“Alright,” the sergeant smacked his lips together. “We’re gonna have to go without him, then.”

Isla hummed, agreeing with Tig.

That forced a vexed snarl from Clay, and she wanted to throttle him for being so fucking haughty today.

“What? He has a point. If we wait around for him, then we’re gonna be late and the other Sons will get to the cemetery before us. Jax knows where we’re going, and what time this fucking funeral starts, so just trust that he’ll be there!”

Her outburst was completely uncharacteristic. It was brash and loud, and Clay realized that her emotions were running a hell of a lot higher today than what they usually would have, so he allowed it to pass.

He cut her some slack because that was what she needed. Isla needed to blow off some steam, to raise her voice and yell out her frustrations because she would’ve let them bubble over, otherwise.

Plus, unbeknownst to him, she had started to take the Mirtazapine that had been prescribed to her, and she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

It was odd. Everything about today, was just fucking odd.

“Kids right.” The rasped acknowledgment came from Happy this time, nodding in her direction with that signature stoic expression he was known to host. “Jax wouldn’t miss this.”

“Alright.” Clay waved a hand tersely before gesturing to the sea of Harley-Davidsons parked side-by-side. “You heard ‘em. Let’s go.”

Tig grabbed at her hand as she went to slip away—exactly like she did to him last night—and pulled her toward him.

The moment didn’t go unnoticed by Clay and her father as they mounted their bikes, sharing the same look that’d been meshed with confusion and concern.

“You good now?”

She nodded, using her pointer finger to twist the crucifix that was sat against her neck, feeling a foreign heat prickle against her cheeks because all eyes were on them.

After turning up together today, people had their suspicions, too.

And those suspicions were mostly held by Chibs and the pres, but it was partly unrest because they both knew what Tig had done—though, Chibs wasn’t officially privy to Clay pulling the strings.

He would be, though. In time, he would find out for himself.

“Gemma and Wendy are heading out in the SUV. Are you going too?” He squinted underneath the sun, pulling his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt.

“I am.” Isla smiled, squeezing Tig’s hand. “Ride safe.”

She stood straight—not having to shift onto her toes because her heels provided some more height—and pressed a dulcet kiss to his cheek.

“Please don’t get into another fight today.” She expressed sadly, lightly ghosting her fingertips over the bruise sitting uncomfortably against his cheekbone. “I don’t think I have it in me to take care of you again.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Her lips curled upward, expressing some sort of smile—though, what with the forthcoming event, she didn’t feel too good about it.

But she remained silent, after that.

Isla got into the car without saying a single word.

The lull was of course grim, but stillness was what the three women needed. It was good for them to sit in complete silence—the only sound coming from the din of the car engine and outside of the vehicle—because it allowed them space to think.

She needed to collect her thoughts this morning, especially after what she had learned last night. Isla didn’t want to think that Jax would have flipped on Tig like that, but it was Jax.

He was unpredictable.

Never once had she felt a sense of outrage that she wasn’t sure how to quell whenever thinking of her best friend, but she was beginning to understand just why Clay was so pissed at his rashness lately.

Even if he was acting on instinct—using his conscience to rule his decisions—Jax was still acting recklessly. His desire to do the morally sound thing outweighed the need that his club had for him to carry out the act that would result in the greater good.

And he was right to stop Tig from pulling the trigger on that girl, but Isla was wary of how he had decided to handle it.

“You didn’t call me last night.” Gemma whispered as the car pulled up to the cemetery gates. “You said that you’d call me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Genuinely, she told her. “When I got in I just went straight to bed, but then Tig turned up at my place and he needed my help, and then—“

“You let him stay.” She finished Isla’s sentence with a hum, providing her with an unusually somber glance. “If there’s anything going on between the two of you, then it’s okay—“

“There isn’t.” Isla shot her down, impatiently waiting for the all-clear to leave the vehicle. “He got hurt last night, needed patching up and didn’t wanna go to the clubhouse in case he saw Jax again, and so he came to me. And, because I’m nice, I let him stay the night.”

“Why wouldn’t he wanna see Jax?”

Wendy’s qualm came unexpectedly. She hadn’t thought that the blonde was listening to the little back and forth.

“Because he was the reason that Tig needed his face fixed.” She spat bitterly when Wendy just blinked at her, hoping to God that they’d be able to get outside soon.

Her irritation with the VP was palpable, and Gemma couldn’t help wondering whether Jax’s stunt had a part to play in why she was so galled when his name was brought up before they left the garage.

Regardless, Isla was getting along with it today. For the sake of Opie and his kids, she was putting her hostility aside and paying her respects to Donna the way that she had always been taught to.

“Woah, what a turn out.” Her admiration for the Sons grew with every single member—every Nomad—that she saw riding along the winding road.

Isla moved between Chibs and Tig, holding tightly onto her father’s hand as they walked toward Donna’s casket.

“Still no Jax.” Almost relieved, Tig noted. “Wonder if he’s gonna ride over with Tacoma.”

“Doubt it.” The Scot added. “He woulda followed us. Dunno where the fuck he’s gotten to.”

“He’ll be here.” She promised hopefully, breaking away from the two men—shaking Chibs off when he held on a little bit tighter, not wanting to let her go.

The black dress she’d thrown on was hardly funeral attire, but the tights hugging her legs underneath the cotton made it a bit better.

Tig watched her pad across the grass and toward Opie, trying to sniff back his own tears at the sight of her taking a long-stemmed blue flower, kissing the petals, and placing it atop the coffin.

It was horrible.

“I’m sorry, Ope.” Isla pressed a kiss to her fingers and ghosted it over the wood, feeling her eyes dampen. “Anything you need—anything at all that you can think of for yourself or your mom or the kids—I’m here. Always.”

He couldn’t quite find the words to thank her, but she knew that he was grateful. Opie didn’t have to say anything for Isla to recognize his appreciation for her, for his family, and for everybody that turned out today.

Jax wasn’t there, though. Not yet.

And, perhaps, Isla being at his side during a time of such harrowing distress was her way of trying to comfort him because his best friend was nowhere to be seen. But she would’ve done it for anybody.

She just wished that it wasn’t Opie.

“I love you…So much.” She whispered through a smile when more people began to filter in, backing away to sit beside Gemma and in front of Tig.

The cool metal of his rings were against her shoulder in an instant, anchoring her back to earth after floating much, much too high above the ground.

She was in a distorted haze, so to speak. Isla’s head wasn’t particularly in the right place today, and it could’ve been down to a multitude of things—but she wanted to simply pin it on her grief.

Chibs saw the way she gnawed into her bottom lip, the way she continually pulled Diane’s crucifix across the golden chain as means of comfort—or, maybe, it was just out of remorse.

He noticed that his daughter—his little girl—peered at Opie’s children sitting beside their grandmother as they said goodbye to the woman that brought them into the world.

He wondered if they understood the weight of it all. They were so young, so impressionable, so innocent, and he saw a lot of Isla in those two kids.

The dull throb of Isla’s heart almost slowed to a halt when the funeral commenced, and Jax was still completely out of sight. Juice held his cut while he stood beside Tara, feeling his chest tighten.

It was difficult to understand just why Jackson Teller didn’t show for such an important moment in Opie’s life.

“I can’t believe him.” Tig hissed out in a whisper, completely ruffled. Isla looked up at the man behind her, holding a dainty hand on top of his. “I can’t fucking believe him.”

He didn’t know what to say. Clay didn’t, either. As he stood beside his Sgt. At Arms and peered down at the disheveled blonde, Clay Morrow struggled to find the words to elucidate his disdain for the lack of action from his step-son.

Donna was family. Opie was family. Family was meant to be there for one another, not purposely ignoring such a pivotal event.

“He’ll be here.” Isla repeated her promise, melting into her space as Tig leant over to kiss the top of her head.

Her eyes glazed over instantaneously, coercing her to turn away before she broke down.

But she leaned backward into his embrace, and watched the ceremony commence.

And it only took a handful of moments for her mood to perk up—as much as it could have under the circumstances—but she was conceivably happier at the sight before her.

“I told you.” She mumbled. She refused to let up her grip on Tig, though, holding onto him firmer now.

It was comfortable. He was comfortable.

“What the fuck…”

Jax looked like hell. Still wearing last night’s clothes—still bloodied and bruised from his scuffle—he sauntered over the grass and made a beeline for Tara.

Isla’s throat hitched.

“Did you do that to him?” She mumbled in reference to the slit in his lip, craning her neck to eye the blue-eyed man.

“Yeah, probably.”

She just shook her head with a tiny smirk, shifting her focus back to the asshole that was taking his sweet fucking time.

It didn’t upset her as much as she thought that it would’ve, watching him go back to her like that. If anything, she was glad that they had managed to reconcile because she made him happy.

But, for a reason unbeknownst to herself, she felt bad for Wendy.

To watch the father of her newborn take his cut from a woman that’d only been back in his life for five minutes, to hold and kiss her in front of everyone, was something she shouldn’t have had to witness today.

They weren’t together, but she knew how that was bound to hurt—to sting and incapacitate her because it was all still so fucking raw.

Poor Wendy.

He took one of the flowers away from the sparse pile, holding it to his lips, and placed it atop Donna’s casket.

Jax glared over his shoulder, shooting the two guilt-ridden men a look that read fury. He made sure that Isla wasn’t looking at him when he did that, though.

He refused to look at her.

And he didn’t stay, either. He paid his respects for all of thirty seconds before stalking away, and leaving the most egregious of tastes on the tip of each tongue.

The funeral flew by, after that.

Before Isla knew it, she was dismounting Tig’s bike outside of T M—again—and stumbling over her heels when she couldn’t quite find her footing. She’d been in a world of her own for the last fifteen minutes.

“You want me to get you a beer?” She asked, handing him her helmet. “Or did you want some of that wine you like?”

He snorted at her taunt, taking it from her. “Beer—but none of that shit Bobby drinks.”

Isla chuckled, backing away from the bike and Tig.

“You want a drink, too?” She asked Clay when he strode over, hands in his pockets.

He nodded, waiting for her to slip out of sight before turning his attention to his Sergeant.

“What’s going on with you two?” Clay asked him accusingly, snatching Tig’s attention from the blonde who was ambling into the clubhouse.

He waved the pres off, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing, man. She’s just been helpin’ me out—“

“That’s what you’re calling it now, huh?”

“That’s what it is.” Tig shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. “Y’know what she’s like. She sees someone that needs patchin’ up, and she does it. That’s all.”

Unconvinced, Clay leaned closer to him—striving for the little moment to go unnoticed by those that shrouded the lot. Jax and Tara, for one.

“That’s Chibs’s kid. You be careful.”

“Ain’t nothing to be careful about, brother.” Tig ground his lips together, squinting upward as he rested against his bike. “We’re just friends.”

“You stayed the night with her.”

“Yeah—“

“Twice.”

“Clay—“

“In the same fucking bed!” He snapped, running a hand over his face.

His desire to protect the women in his life—to assert the dominance he had, or his authority—was remarkably overbearing at the best of times.

Isla and Gemma didn’t particularly need to be coddled the way that they’d always been at the hands of Clay Morrow and his club, but they were.

And the thought of his sleaziest, loathsome, savage brother getting closer and closer to that woman churned his stomach. Because he knew what Tig was capable of—what he did—and would be damned if anything were to happen to her at the hands of Tig fucking Trager.

Chibs would kill him, too.

“Nothing happened, nothing’s currently happening, and nothing will happen.” He guaranteed. “Clay, I swear.”

“Alright.” Dubious, the older man responded. “But, if there is, then you be careful. Jax is onto us, and it’s only a matter of time before Isla puts two and two together—‘cuz she ain’t stupid.”

Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

How about you shut the fuck up?

“I know she isn’t.” Almost irked that Clay would assume he thought that, he retorted. “But she’s got shit going on too, man, I don’t think she’s gonna be focusing on this right now so you don’t gotta worry.”

“Alright.” Clay repeated himself.

He didn’t think that his right-hand was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that until an issue arose.

What he did know, though, was that Tig Trager would’ve had some serious hell to pay if he had ignited something with Isla right now.

Or ever, really.

“Keep Jax away from her.” He told Clay, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “She’s pissed at him for what he did to me last night.”

“What’d he do?”

Tig pointed at the cuts on his cheek, grimacing. “She’s fucked off, and if they talk she’s probably gonna throw something at him.”

“Eh. Let her.” Clay waved him off, hastily shutting himself up when he heeded her heels clicking across the gravel toward them. “He needs to be humbled sometimes.”

The rivalry between the two had only intensified since Abel was born and Jax’s priorities shifted from the club.

His family came first. His biological family came first.

And maybe Clay didn’t understand the implications and responsibilities that came along with fatherhood because he’d never had that bestowed upon him, but Jax did.

He knew that he had to provide for his kid, for the one being that was solely dependent on him, and he would never compromise or jeopardize that.

Things weren’t going to be made easy for the man, however.

“Budweiser for you.” Isla smiled, handing a bottle to Tig. She passed one to Clay, holding onto it a little firmer as she offered it to him. “And one for you—but you need to take this, and go see your wife.”

“Why?” Hesitantly, he accepted the alcohol.

Isla shrugged. “She just wants to see you. Seems important.”

“Shit.” Clay hissed, taking a long swig before striding away.

She watched him stamp toward the clubhouse, heeding the change in his mood, and wondered why Gemma was so determined to talk to him at that specific moment.

It could’ve been anything with that woman, really. It could’ve been something so minor, completely insignificant, that Gemma had to get off her chest.

Or it could’ve been something along the lines of elucidating the bone-crushing lament that she held for both her husband and Tig.

Whatever it was, however, Clay wasn’t excited to face her.

“What’d he chew your ear off about?” Isla asked, struggling to open her beer. She sighed, suddenly remembering why she loved her screw-top bottles of wine so much.

“Pass it to me.” Tig took it from her, using his own bottle cap to pop hers off. He chuckled at her grimace, handing it back.

“Thanks.” She groaned, lifting it upward. “So…What did Clay want?”

Budweiser blanketed Tig’s tongue and lips as he pulled the drink away from his mouth, using the back of his hand to rub at the excess.

Quickly, he wondered whether lying to Isla—fabricating the truth and downplaying his superior’s concern—was in his best interest.

But she was perceptive. There was no doubt that she’d realize he was lying to her.

“He thinks that something is going on between us.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a pull.

“What?” A little nervous—on edge, perhaps—Tig asked her. “Did you already know that he felt that way?”

“No.” Instantly, she retorted. “I didn’t know about Clay, but Gemma feels the same. D’ya think they’ve talked?”

“Oh, definitely.” With a small glower, he told her.

They absolutely talked about the two, and that was what worried Tig.

There was nothing wrong with them colluding against the pair, as a rule. He wasn’t offended at the thought, he felt quite honored actually.

But it was the connotation that came alongside those conspiracies. The idea that Tig was only so friendly—so supportive and loving—toward Isla because he wanted one thing from her.

And, really, Tig hadn’t pondered that thought before. Well, not before last night, anyway.

For the first time—possibly ever—sex wasn’t on Tig’s agenda with Isla. Enticing her, breaking her heart, and sending her on her way was not something he wanted.

But Tig was renowned for that, wasn’t he? He was known for being a hapless bachelor. A man whose priorities were neither here nor there.

Everyone just expected that. They saw him with her, and came to that one conclusion.

Maybe Isla expected it a little bit, too. Because she’d known him long enough to understand the kind of man that he was—or had the propensity to be—and she could hardly lie and say that this version of Tig didn’t confuse her.

He’d always been the same with her, though. Perhaps that’d been the difference between every woman that entered and left his life, and Isla Telford.

He wasn’t interested in her. Like that.

“Does that bother you?” With an almost undetectable twinge of hurt, Isla asked.

As if it was a basic instinct, Tig shook his head. “Nah. They talk shit all the time. Stuff like that don’t bother me.”

She nodded, refusing to add anything else. Isla sipped her beer, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her fucking whole.

There wasn’t a single word in the English language that’d ascribe her feeling at that precise time, but ashamed was possibly the closest she could’ve gotten.

And, still, that was a little bit further off the mark than what she would’ve liked. Because she wasn’t entirely ashamed for reacting the way that she had, more so the way that she fucking felt.

Isla’s heart took a blow when Tig told her that.

For why, though? She wasn’t sure.

It might’ve been the nonchalant expression. The complete colorless response that stirred a foreign emotion within her—striking hard against her chest.

Or, it might’ve been what he had said. It was such a casual proclamation. Something that didn’t mean anything, but everything simultaneously.

She didn’t feel anything for Tig. She didn’t particularly want to feel anything for him, either, but that hurt. A lot.

“Same, to be honest.” She lied, forcing her lips upward in a smile. “Gemma is always on my case about this sorta thing. But I just let it go over my head.”

“Always?”

“Yup. Always.” Isla mentioned around the protruding lump in her throat. “If she’s not talking about me and you—like there is a me and you—she’s talking about me and Jax. And if it isn’t that, she’s bitching about Wendy, or Tara, or just anything she can think of.”

Like there is a me and you.

Tig sniffed a little, nodding. He didn’t want Isla to think that bothered him, but it did. A bit, anyway.

“She’s so overbearing, sometimes.” Genuinely slumped, she stated. Isla leaned against the railing beside Tig’s bike, finally looking at him. “Don’t tell her I said that?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled, taking another swig. “I’d never purposely get you into shit with your mother—“

“She’s not my mother.” Her eyes rolled. “She acts like it, and I love her like one, but she is not my mother.”

Tig knew. He knew all too well just how Isla felt about that, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he said that to her, today.

Gemma was the best woman she knew and the one that, strangely, brought her all of the comfort and prosperity that she’d craved.

But she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t close to being Diane, and maybe the comparison between the pair hurt a little. Because Gemma Teller-Morrow was nothing like Diane Telford—and the sooner everybody knew that, the sooner Isla could rest.

“I feel bad talking shit about her. All she’s done is help me.”

“And parent you.” He reminded her, tipping his bottle upward. “She parents all of us, but what I mean is she treats you like a kid sometimes. Jax, too.”

“Yeah. I know.” Peeved, she conceded. “But, what can I do? if I wanna keep her around—keep having her so close to me—then, I guess I’ve gotta make a few sacrifices. And, I mean, it’s not all bad.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. I’m glad that she’s the woman that took a shine to me. If Luann ended up being the one…”

Tig smirked, sizing her up. “You’d probably be doing porn right now.”

“Exactly.” Without shame—not even feeling slightly bashful at the glance she was receiving—she said. “I don’t think I’d hate doing porn, but I don’t think SAMCRO would be thrilled.”

“Absolutely not. Chibs would kill you, for one.”

“And Gemma.”

“Clay, too.” Tig added, withering at the thought.

“What about you?” A little too bold, she asked.

Though their relationship was of the lighthearted nature, Isla wasn’t certain that the habitual riposte was a thing as of late. His response would probably jar her, she thought.

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

She halted, blushing at his words. Her ears prickled with heat, too.

“It’d be hot.” He shrugged, putting his empty bottle against the ground. “I’m sure Juice would love it, too—“

“Oh, get fucked.” She snorted a laugh, throwing the red cap at his chest as he got to his feet. It bounced off the fabric of his shirt, coercing a chuckle from Tig.

“It was only one time.” He taunted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “That’s still one more time than most chicks ‘round here.”

“He wasn’t awful.” Isla shrugged. “He knew what he was doing, and I had fun. But, like, he hasn’t got any hair…”

“Hair?” Tig began to gesture downward, chuckling when she grabbed his hands to stop him.

“I don’t mean that. I mean hair on his head, Tig.” She calmed her laughter, letting go of him. “I like to tug on it, I guess.”

It felt somewhat illegal, obtaining this information from her.

He already knew that she was a sex fiend, that she liked it rough, and now that she had some kind of hair-pulling kink.

Tig’s chest tightened. So did his pants.

“Duly noted.” Like usual, he quipped. Tig motioned for Isla to head inside with him when he heeded things heating up between Jax and Tara.

She, as always, made a mental note to grill her friend later. Or, maybe, her friends. Because she and Tara were on that level, now, and she felt that things could’ve sailed smoothly between herself and the doctor.

Isla just hoped that she’d open up to her.

“Are you gonna talk to him?” He asked, reading her fucking mind. “I know that you two talk a lot.”

“Probably.” Her shrug was insouciant. “But I’ll leave it a while, I think. Leave the dust to settle over before I approach either one of them.”

Tig’s heart began to thrash. It battered viciously within the constraints of his chest, thumping at an unsteady rhythm the more Isla babbled on as they neared the clubhouse.

It was maiming him, having to keep this to himself.

He knew that concealing it—the weight of it all—was for the best. It’d guarantee peace and conformity within the club and Isla’s life, but it was also a crippling guilt that not even Tig was sure he’d be able to hold forever.

Clay was heartless, though. The nefarious leader hadn’t a single problem with lying through his fucking teeth, and Tig was more than aware that Clay would continue the charade if and when he decided that he could no longer.

He supposed he could thank him for that.

But, then again, he was also the reason that Tig Trager had found himself tangled within yet another web of lethal falsehoods. Thanking Clay was the very last thing that he wanted to do.

“Oh, shit.” Isla stated through partially gritted teeth. She gestured to her father and Happy’s scorned glares. “Why do I keep getting this fucking look from everyone?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.” He snorted another laugh, taking her hand and walking her further into the room after she stopped completely dead.

Really, Donna’s wake was as vibrant as it could’ve been and nobody—aside from Isla’s old man and the Tacoma Nomad—had their sights set on the Sergeant and Chibs’s daughter.

The atmosphere was strangely spirited, hearty and animated as everybody came together to celebrate the life of Opie’s wife…The way that they always had.

But Isla was still on tenterhooks. She loathed the thought of her dad disapproving of her, today, but she didn’t desire the castigation that would’ve come hand in hand with her need to talk to him.

“Tequila?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” She smiled at Tig, making a beeline for the bar when she saw Kip. He followed her.

“You’re turning down free alcohol?”

Isla scoffed. “It might be free, but the effects of it would cost me my fucking reputation here.”

Tig’s eyebrows raised. “How so? You don’t not drink, Isla.”

“I know.” Her lips pursed, watching Kip pop the caps off of six beers. “But I never drink tequila. It makes me…uh…it makes me feel a little hot—“

“Tequila turns you on, is what you’re saying.”

“Well, yeah.” A crimson blush bled over her cheeks, her nose, and even across her forehead as her entire face burned red. “It’s no big deal. Just something I discovered after getting black-out drunk when I’d barely turned twenty-one.”

If Tig wasn’t feeling aroused before, then he definitely was at her admission. He had to think of anything to throw his brain off of that mental image.

“I don’t tend to drink the strong stuff.”

“Unless it’s whiskey.”

She pointed with a smile, nodding her head. “That’s right—“

“Hey, what did you want?” Kip interrupted sheepishly, gesturing to the half-empty bottle she had between her fingertips. “Another Bud?”

“Yes, please.” Again, she smiled.

“Same for you?”

Tig nodded.

“Kip,” she began, “and you take something, too. You’ve dealt with these assholes for long enough, now. Take a break. I’ll man the bar if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that—Gemma’ll kill me—“

“With all due respect, fuck Gemma.” She heard Tig chuckle beside her, shrugging when the prospect glanced at the pair nervously. “She won’t say anything if I tell her that I’m the one that told you to take ten minutes away from the bar.”

“Yeah.” He backed her up, grinning. “She never gets mad at Isla.”

It was completely uncharacteristic of him. But she brought something out from the very chasms of Tig Trager’s cold, black heart, and he lauded that.

Not many people had managed to scrape beneath the surface that way, not even Colleen.

God.

Tig shook himself out of the daze he’d slipped into, watching Isla and Kip trade places as she stepped behind the bar, and he made a beeline for a stool.

He’d been standing for a while, now.

“Are you gonna join me behind here?” She asked, drawing Tig’s attention back to her. Isla held up another bottle for him, twinkling underneath the yellowed light above the liquor shelves.

She looked, almost, angelic.

“Sack—“ Tig grabbed at his arm when he tried to leave his seat, feeling the prospect go rigid under his grip.

Isla’s eyebrows bunched together.

“Take two beers for Hap and Chibs.” He released the grey shirt, grinning as he saw the man sweat—clearly anticipating something more than just doing a simple favor.

“Oh, sure.” Kip breathed a sigh of relief, taking the two bottles that Isla had slid toward him. “That all?”

“Yep.” She added, gesturing for him to get on his way and enjoy the break that he’d been appointed.

He headed toward the two men beside the pool table, handing them their beers and pointing toward Tig. He waved with a small smile—hoping to come off as genuine, rather than scheming.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Giving the two men a couple of beers to throw them off the scent—or, at least, to distract them from making a fuss—was just a ploy to defer attention from the two nestled amongst the alcohol.

And it seemed to work, too.

As Tig walked around the bar to join her on the other side, Isla popped a few bottle caps, mixed a few drinks, and talked to every person that stopped off in front of the oak, without being so much as glanced at by her father.

Gemma hadn’t noticed the change, either.

“You want anything?” She asked Tig, mindlessly pouring a glass of whiskey for one of the Tacoma guys. “Some tequila?”

Indifferently, he shrugged.

“Okay, well that was helpful.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, grabbing two shot glasses, “I’ll take one, if you do, too.”

“Tig.”

“Isla.” His tone was deriding, though she couldn’t help but smile.

She pushed the whiskey toward the unfamiliar Son, thanking him for showing his face today, and turned her attention back to Tig.

In the thirty seconds in which her focus had been diverted, he’d poured two shots, grabbed some salt, and two lime wedges from underneath the counter.

She swallowed thickly, hoping to god she’d be able to play off the effects of that liquor.

Because it was only the one, wasn’t it? She was only going to have one single shot of tequila and, surely, that wasn’t enough to intoxicate her…

Right?

“Aw, fuck.” She slurred, pushing the empty bottle aside. “I really—“ she hiccuped. “I really need to stop drinking.”

“Why?” Just as garbled, he responded.

“‘Cuz I feel like I’m gonna puke.” She snorted a laugh, pushing all of the limes strewn across the redwood into the bin. “And my breath stinks of tequila.”

He waved her off, looking at his chest as he wiped the alcohol from his leathers. “Tequila don’t smell that bad.”

Isla blushed, though she fished around her purse for some gum, regardless.

And her heart fucking plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she noticed the bottle of antidepressants in the smaller compartment, suddenly realizing that her excessive alcohol consumption tonight was for sure going to mess with her.

Shit.

“Water?” He asked, holding two empty glasses. He heeded the dread in her expression, how she looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost.

“Please.”

Tig handed her one of the glasses, slinging his free arm over her shoulder—mainly in an attempt to stabilize her—and padded over to the kitchen.

The clubhouse was a little more sparse, now. Jax and Tara sat alongside Juice, Chibs, and Happy, meanwhile Gemma and Clay were meters apart from one another.

But nobody seemed to notice the lack of manpower behind that bar, which was a wonderful thing. Because Isla feared that she might’ve collapsed had she not hydrated herself.

She feared that she might’ve said, or done, something that she might’ve regretted, too.

Tequila did make her feel “hot”, after all.

“God, I need this so bad.” She practically moaned, twisting the cold water tap, haphazardly holding her glass underneath it.

Isla didn’t even shut the water off, she just chugged that slightly lukewarm—strangely beautiful—liquid like her life depended on it.

“Fuck.” She gasped for air, putting her glass atop the draining board. “Oh my god, that was so fucking good.”

Tig watched in awe.

As droplets of water trickled from her lips, and chin, to her chest, Tig subtly groaned to himself. He stifled a reaction, however.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” She nodded.

Tig held her glass underneath the tap again, filling it half way. “You want some more?”

Isla took it from him, cocking her head a little when he didn’t let go of the glass. “What?”

“How’d that tequila make you feel?”

“What?” She repeated herself, forgetting about what she told him earlier. “Oh…”

“How’d it make you feel?” He pressed, releasing his grip though lifting his hand to brush his thumb underneath her glossy lips.

“Good.” Isla stumbled over her words, watching his eyes flick over her features. She gulped, though she put the glass straight back down. “Really, really good.”

Tig jolted, though relaxed when she let her hands rest against his shoulders. He hadn’t expected this today. Or ever, really.

“How good is really really good?” He asked, twisting a couple of ringed fingers through long, loose curls.

Her heart was no longer sinking to the pit of her stomach, but fluttering wildly within her palpitating chest.

“Pretty good.”

“Right.” He caught her bluff, nodding. “I could think of something that’d make you feel really, really, really good, y’know?”

“You think?” Isla leaned into him when a hand pressed into the small of her back, and the other holding onto the nape of her neck. She shivered. “Because I think you could.”

Confidently, he bobbed his head. “Oh, I could.”

She was a bundle of nerves, frankly. Tig was so nonchalant, so breezy, and she was just so fucking fraught.

But he didn’t seem to notice—or care—while he surveyed her face, grinding his lips together in anticipation. He lowered his head a little to meet her height, though she still stood on her toes.

“Make me feel really good, Tig.” She whispered, the citrusy scent of tequila permeating his senses, quickening the rate of his pulse.

Isla’s sweet, soft lips ghosted over his own as she exuded a satisfied sigh, loosening up at the feeling of their noses brushing over one another.

It was so gentle. She hasn’t expected a man of such stature, such hunger and animosity, to be capable of something so soothing.

An unmistakable burst of desire started to seep through her, humming against his lips as she opted to wrap both arms around his neck while he backed her up against the sink.

With the support against her lower back, Isla wound a leg around his waist as the kiss amplified and Tig began to grind his hips into her whilst simultaneously moaning.

She didn’t know how badly she needed this tonight.

Pink nails wound into his unruly curls, mindlessly nudging through the hair—pushing him to hasten. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, then. Lauding the flavor of tequila and cigarettes.

But Isla promptly froze at the sound of footsteps—heels, precisely—clicking across the tile.

“Tig, wait.” She jerked her head a little, urging him to stop. “I can hear Gemma—“

“You can see her, too.” The matriarch stated, rounding the corner and immediately coming into Isla’s line of sight.

Both Tig and the blonde shifted to look at her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

#tig trager #tig trager x oc #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x oc

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Text

the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic.

A wedding ring.

This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel.

“Colonel Rhodes-”

“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?”

“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.”

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.”

“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.”

He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time.

Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more.

Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice.

He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.

Jim reads too much into it.

And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey.

Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.”

And he doesn’t.

Tony never does.

He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all.

(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.)

He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted.

Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything.

And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.)

Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do.

Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise.

“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.”

They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times.

Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples.

“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony.

Tony almost yelps.

“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?”

“Are you gonna get them?”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.”

“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?”

“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?”

“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?”

Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s.

“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.”

“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?”

“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.”

Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long.

“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.”

“And I put up with that?”

“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.”

“Like what?”

“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.”

“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.”

“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin.

“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.”

“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs.

“I lost my memory!”

“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.”

Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like.

“I like...I like fruit salad?”

“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.”

“Seems suspicious.”

“You’ll have to try it again, then.”

Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment.

Tony also has very questionable taste in everything.

“Quinoa?”

“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?”

“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?”

“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.”

“There’s no way I did that.”

“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!”

He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture.

Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt.

He knows that apparently, he fell in love once.

So he needs answers.

Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about.

When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows.

“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.”

“Why him?”

Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch.

“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!”

“And you weren’t?”

“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.”

“Why did I...why did I bring him?”

“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?”

“Okay, so long as I get an answer.”

“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following.

He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events.

“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.”

“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-

He blinks.

That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory.

“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure.

“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.”

Mama looks across the room, smiling.

“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...”

He snorts as he slowly remembers that one.

“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!”

“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!”

“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!”

They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh.

“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.”

“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.”

Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does.

It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point.

His mom squeezes his hand, smiling.

“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?”

“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.”

“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?”

“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.”

“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.”

Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home.

Being missed is a weird concept to deal with.

He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk”

Well shit.

Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset.

Not a tad.

“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in.

Almost.

“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.”

“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says.

(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.)

“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?”

“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.”

“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...”

“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!”

“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!”

Tony stops.

“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?”

He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet.

“I remember that you were weird about your suit!”

Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles.

God, he looks gorgeous.

Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.

“So. What are we cooking?”

Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work.

He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water.

But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why.

It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal.

“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!”

“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically.

Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day.

His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together.

Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done.

Memories are coming back easier.

“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing.

“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!”

“It wasn’t that complicated!”

“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?”

“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.”

“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases.

“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.”

Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment.

“Rhodey? What is it?”

“I...”

Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows.

“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.”

“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.”

“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.”

There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes.

“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.”

Rhodey startles, looking at Tony.

“I...I remember. I remember!”

“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously.

(He can’t be let down. Not again.)

“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?”

Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug.

“I can’t believe you remember.”

“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.”

“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!”

“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.”

“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.”

It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower.

Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal.

The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings.

The class rings.

Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them.

“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him.

It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing.

He looks up at Tony, smiling.

“Show me the pictures, Tony.”

Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception.

“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?”

“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...”

“What does that mean?!”

"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.”

“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!”

“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?”

“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.”

“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?”

“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.”

Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his.

“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.”

“It wasn’t that weird!”

It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things:

1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.)

2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer.

3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies.

(He mostly forgave him for that one.)

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #part two!#rhodey has amnesia #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #also yes the use of 'jim' in the beginning and then transitioning to rhodey a bit is intentional #sorry if it is a bit confusing but i like how i formatted that one so that's what we're getting with this one #i hope you all like it!

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

Text

Ducktales Final Four!: The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker!

Hello You Happy People. SPIN IT! OHOHOHOHOHOHO LETS’ BEGIN IT!

After 10,000 years we’re finally at the motherducking Talespin episode! And only 8000 of those years were the last 14 months as Ducktales 2017 has been working toward this for a while with Cape Suzette being prominently mentioned in both the first episode and the season 1 finale, and Don Karnage being a regular part of the rouges gallery, voiced by the wonderous Jamie Camil. So this episode was less a matter of “If”, since Don’s presence meant Disney wasn’t really against it happening, and more a matter of “When and How.” The how, to a point was settled at the big NYCC panel for Ducktales that revealed Daisy and Goofy... as it also revealed aged up versions of Kit and Molly, meaning a proper tailspin episode was on the way. I could not have been more pumped. While I didn’t remember the cartoon well, i’d always loved Talespin since I was a kid and as an adult my curosity only grew. Still need to watch way more of it mind you, I really have slept on most of the Disney Plus Libarary and that’s dumb of me, but what i’ve seen is impressive. The story of an irresponsible bear forced to work with a buisnesswoman bear after she buys his seaplane, his loveable kid sidekick and said buisness bear’s daughter whose cute as a button but suprisingly tolerable for a little kid character. Opposing them were masterful buisnessman Shere Kahn, who sadly does not show up here and could be friend , foe or neutral depending on the episode, and Don Karnage, a kooky sky pirate who as mentioned is already in this series and was Balloo’s arch enemy. The series was colorful, creative, had a great premise and cast and in general was just awesome and out of the Disney Afternoon shows is honestly my faviorite, though Darkwing is getting close. I even recently finally got the Shere Kahn funko, which is starring into my soul as I type this review! Hurrah!

So I waited impatiently like I did for Daisy and Goofy, both also things I’d wanted in the series since the start. Thing was.. Goofy showed up in the second episode of the season, that was part of the premiere, and while the wait for Daisy was agonizing, she still showed up pretty early into the season at episode five. Gosalyn showed up at episode 12. This is episode 20.

I do get it: This season was built to be the last just in case.. and ended up being the last so good job there. There was a LOT to wrap up in one season and on top of that they had a double and TRIPLE length episode taking up 5 episodes of the season, AND two holiday episodes. So that gave them only 18 normal episodes they had to place very carefully. So likely, given that they had some episodes important to the finale that couldn’t wait for the last minute in “The First Adventure” and “The Battle for Castle McDuck!”, as I highly doubt pepper was given such a build up to not be important in the finale, still think she’s webby’s mom, we’ll see soon enough. And New Gods on the Block, while not as important was probably not swapped with this one because they wanted a lighter episode after three plot important episodes in a row, two of which are fairly intense and had lasting consequences and one of which, while a bit of a breather, was still indulging in the new FOWL status quo. This one ended up crammed into the last block.. because they likely really wanted to do this one, wanted it to tie into FOWL... and had nowhere else to put it, with Life and Crimes likely serving as one last break from FOWL, if it doesn’t end up tying into it, before the finale movie. Doesn’t make waiting forever for it any less grating, but hey it’s finally here. So how was it? Was it worth the hype? And how do the Wuzzles factor into this? Join me under the cut and spin it with me to find out and count down to 3!

So we open with an adult Kid Cloudkicker at work, voiced by Adam Pally!

If you haven’t heard of him, and one of my Patreons had not, he was on Happy Endings and the Mindy Project, and has a very distinct voice and is very funny, so it was a pleasant surprise to have him pop up here as Kit and given aforementioned roles were messes in some way shape or form, especially Max from happy endings whose essentially Oscar the Grouch, just as gay only not living in a trash can. Though if he had to he would.

Since he was a kid KIt’s picked up the old family business, and is now running hire for hire.. and has also picked up his Dad’s old enemies as Don Karnage chases after Kit, his second greatest nemesis, who freely mocks him. It’s a lovely sequence but shows Kit isn’t the best pilot, and his fancy flying, while beating Don, also opens both crates, freeing the livestock he’s carrying.. and the other cargo, a mysterious stone that was in a F.O.W.L. crate that merges the chicken with a goat, and scares kit, and he ends up causing his cargo to drop out of the plane. Cue titles.

Back with our heroes for this series, Della is recroding Dewey as he flies solo the first time!

That is so precious. Huey is along for the ride and is taking having his reckless brother with the attention span of a coked up ferret at the helm exactly how you’d expect.

Of course his helmet says safety boy and of course he has a helmet on over his hat. Awww. Dewey, while good at it, he’s a 12 year old flying a rather sizeable plane with no difficulty that’s pretty impressive.. he’s also Dewey so just flying a plane normally isn’t enough and he wants to Dewey it instead and do all the fancy stuff. He wants to be special as is usual for him, not realizing this is how you get to being good as his mom or Launchpad. And he’s 12 so that makes sense just on the basic level.. but it also makes sense on a comparison level: Dewey’s done a LOT of impressive stuff over the course of the series: rattling it off because why not, and this is just things he acomplished himself: he found the Lost Jewel of Atlantis (Getting it home was still a team effort but he is the one who identified it), is a golf pro better than his uncle whose played the game for centuries at this point, defeated Don Karnage in a sword fight with little to no sword training, was crucial in beating Magica during the Shadow War, travled through time, by accident or not, consulted on a major motion picture, defeated a Gandra, even if she was going easy on him, BLIND, and biggest of all defeated the World Serpent Jormunngandr, by himself, a GOD that’s fought Scrooge evenly for decades. AND FINISHED HIM WITH A PILEDRIVER. To reitirate this was ONLY the stuff he did himself. So I get why he’d think just flying a plane when his mom and best friend have done so much more with it is boring and that being a pilot when two people he looks up to are already one is just.. boring. I’ts not special or unique and given his family name is built on the two, I can see why he’d chafe under this.

Della for her part isn’t doing things wrong entirely, she wants him to start with the basics, the fact he can DO those basics at such a young age with minimal training shows he has a true knack for it, and it takes experince to pull off death defying stunts. The First Adventure backs this up as while Della was so talented as a kid she could land a plane herself.. that was all she did. And it’s still incredibly impressive a ten year old landed a seaplane with no real world training or hours in a full on flight simulator. The issue that’s never really adressed is while she’s mostly doing it right she dosen’t get that despite his talent, Dewey just dosen’t find this INTRESTING or get how impressive he is, and that dressing it up a bit migh’tve helped. It’s an understandable mistake though, teaching someone something in any context is hard. It’s one of many, MANY reasons like currently horribly hazzarodus conditions, long hours, having to buy their own suplies at times, that teachers are badly underpayed.

Before we get into why their headed to Cape Suzette at long last, there is one notiacble absence in this episode I can’t really ignore: Launchpad. While he has been absent in every episode since Let’s Get Dangerous, not counting “How Santa Stole Christmas!” as the two holiday episodes were made to fit in anywhere story wise and timeline and production wise take place before the rest of Season 3 , which takes place during Spring given both the March note on Boyd and Huey’s photos in Astro BOYD, and Forbidden Fountain taking place during spring break. At most it’s currently running into Summer. I put too much thought into this with someone i’ve lost contact with.

My point, I had one trust me, is that Launchpad has just been gone for the second half of the season . And up till now it wasn’t necesarily a bad thing: He was a major part of Let’s Get Dangerous and wasn’t really needed for any of the episodes so far: The Manor side of things in ImpossiBin was purposfully intense and while he would’ve had some thoughts on Beakly’s actions, it just worked better with him gone and the only other adult in the house at the moment busy doing other stuff for their protection till the climax. Split Sword was kid focused, New Gods didn’t really involve him at all, though I am sad he and Storkules never met as far as I can tell, The First Adventure was a flashback, Fight for CastleMcDuck was about the family unit more, and Beaks in the Shell is the only one so far I think he could’ve been included in at all and again shoving him in would’ve just cluttered things up. Like a lot of character ballance issues of the series, there’s a good enough reason.. this is just the one exception in the last batch I think would’ve been improved by having him. He’s Dewey’s best friend, he’s been there for him, he would’ve been a good counterpoint as a teacher and it could’ve been intersting having both he and della have constrasting styles but valuable things to teach and I would’ve loved to see him interact with Kit. It also just feels really weird to be down a pilot in the episode about the franchise about a pilot. \

The fact Dewey ends up crashing while landing after Huey applauds him on his safe normal landing, which ticks him off because he dosen’t want to be normal, hammers in it in a bit as he missed his buddy’s first crash. I get leaving him out as Kit is just as irresponsible and the episodes just as much about Kit if not more so as it is about Dewey, so I understand it but it dosne’t make it feel like any less of a lost opportunity.

As for why their in the cape at last, it’s unsuprsingly another missing mystery, the stone of what is which can combine two things, the stone seen in the intro. Kit loosing it turns out to be a good thing as it meant FOWL didn’t get it, and they can find it, and are in town to find him. They pass the hire for hire offices which have a ton of notices on the door, and Dewey is entranced by the idea of cloud kicking, aka sky surfing, aka that thing kit did in the original. We also get to see updated versions of Baloo, Kit and Molly. Sadly no Rebecca. Can’t win em all.

Our trio find Kit whose asleep, clearly having no customers and trying to pass it off like he does. It turns out he knows Della, as they went to flight school together, though she only vaugely remembers him at best. She does remember Molly though, wouldn’t be suprised if that’s another ex of hers either, and wonders what happen to her.. and not just because htere’s always room in Della’s harem. Kit dodges.. and it’s likely in large part because it’s clear to anyone looking despite his statments he’s kinda stalled as an adult. It’s very clear from his surroudings, him being a pilot for hire, and him eagerly taking Dewey on as a sidekick when Dewey shows intresting in Cloud Kicking, that he’s trying to be Baloo. This idea was, according to Frank, the brainchild of the episode’s director, and one of it’s writers and storyboarders, Tanner Johnson. Tanner pitched “What if Kit never outgrew his Baloo fanboying?”.

It’s an intresting idea: while it is sad we don’t get to see the old boy at any point and I do wonder where he is now and what he’s up to in his retirment, probably just flying about free as a bird would be my guess given how he never liked working to begin with, I applaud them for doing something unique with the Tailspin cast that fits into the themes of the season rather than just have them show up. By making it Kit instead of Baloo cargoing them, it gives us more of an arc to work with character wise as Kit has become so obessed with becoming his dad, he never stopped to consider if he was even good at it or enjoyed it.

Using Della is part of what makes this work as she too grew up with a larger than life mentor and adopted dad.. but unlike Kit, she grew up a bit and saw the flaws in her dad. His greed, his selfishness, his tendency to hog the glory, his ego.. she stopped putting him on a pedestal. She still loves him, still wants his respect and admiration to this day, but she gets he’s not perfect and not who she wants to be. Kit clearly never got this message. He never grew out of putting Baloo on a pedsteal and wanting ot literally be him instead of his own man. So he ignored the many flaws in how Baloo lived: Baloo started Talespin having lost his plane because he was so obessed with freedom and doing what he wanted, he didn’t bother actually paying on it and chafed under actually doing work half the time. He’s talented, fun to be around and a hell of pilot bar none, he honestly outclasses Della, but he was entirely irresponsible. Kit’s found himself in the same position Baloo was in: living alone, having not a lot going on, and on the verge of loosing his plane. Not only that he’s worse off because Baloo at least, while lazy, had enough talent. Kit.. isn’t a good pilot as we’ve seen and will see again, and clearly not only dosen’t have a knack for it, but is only doing it because Baloo did. He’s so obsessed with being who he THINKS baloo would want him to be, he never stopped to think that the actual Baloo would just want him to be happy and has probably told him this, or was probably too proud of what Kit was doing to realize what he was doing to his life.

But Della dosen’t have time to get him a therapist, they need to find that stone before FOWL, and Kit offers to take them.. if they hire him. Della scoffs at this and insults the Sea Duck

Yeah Della your fantastic.. but you do NOT insult the Sea Duck and your very, VERY lucky it’s not Baloo you were dealing with as he would’ve turned you down out of principal. The Sea Duck is fucking awesome, and a national treasure. Thankfully Kit instead points out the Sunchaser isn’t in a better place after Dewey Dewed what he dew, so they really don’t have a choice.

Della does draw the line at letting Kit fly as she eventually realizes he’s not good at this, mostly letting Crowby his crowbar do all the work, and finds he has a map to where he dropped the stone, so he dosen’t even have that leg to stand on and throws him out of his own cockpit before he gets them all killed. Okay that time on her side. Kit takes this time to try and train Dewey on cloudkicking... but despite being encaustic at the idea of it the reality leaves Dewford scared shitless.. and doubles up on bad things as Don Karnage and his crew are closing in on the island. FOWL hired them to get it for them, though why FOWL didn’t do so themselves I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong i’m happy to have Jamie back and it really wouldn’t feel right ot have a Tailspin ep without Don Karnage, I just find it odd Bradford would hire outside contractors for this given he has a full staff and not at least send Heron or Steelbeak along to supervise. Regardless, Don puts pleasure before buisness spotting Kit.. and fully commits after finding out Dewey is ALSO involved. I also find it hilarous DEWEY outranks Kit on Don Karnage’s enemy list. So naturally he goes after him, int he personal plane he used in the series which also showed up in the cold open, and with Dewey not having the skill to take Don on, Kit is forced ot step in. He also calls him “Little briches” which while another sign of how much he wants to be his own dad.. is still too awesome not to apricate. Don cuts the line but thanks to Kit’s fancy footwork, they make it out alive and wash up on an island. Della soon joins them, thanks kit for saving her kid then rightfully slaps him for putting him in danger in the first place. Dewey also has to stop her from punching him when he explains he had no idea the stone ended up on this island, which granted she is justified in but Dewey , of all people, rightly saw this means they don’t have to drag a unconcious bear around who probably hasn’t showered in a while. I mean the smell will be there either way but there’s less chance of accidnetlly inhaling too much while he’s conconcious. They also find out what the Stone’s been doing: combining the wildlife leading to rhino monkey hybrid trying to murder them. So at the last minute Frank also squeezed in another disney aftenroon show but one tha’ts not streaming and most don’t care about: the wuzzles, a bunch of hybrids of various animals... Frank couldn’t do much with that as is and just decided to rightfully play it for horror.

Our heroes find Don, whose found the stone.. and is simply throwing most of hi crew at it rather than doing anything productive, with them turning into just.. utterly horrifying combinations. Hands for heads and everything, bug legs, a non-anthro parrot head. it’s pretty tough to watch and I question why the episode did this as Don’s crew did not deserve this and this episode is mostly lightearted before and after this. A tailspin tribute episode episode should not pair well with the song no spill blood.. seroiusly you paid for all I do is win, and rightfully but you couldn’t get this?

youtube

Regardless the kids and manchild are told to stay put while the slightly more functional womanchild takes care of Don. Dewey and Kit naturally don’t, which is fair: what did della expect, the sugared up rabbit in a small duck’s body and the incompitent but charming manchild she’s insulted repedadtly to listen? Naturally they both beef it as Dewey can’t board and while Kit does get Don’s plane, he ends up crashing it instead of doing anything productive. I mean even Launchpad would’ve at least got back to the seaduck.. he would’ve crashed into it but still. Look when you make Launchpad look compietnet you really need to rethink your life. Della has bigger problems though as it turns out the thing they were on.. was a coocoon.. for a butterbear. Oh no. Thankfully this goes better than you’d expect as she’s able to ride the thing and it tangles up some rope, taking the stone of what was with it and Don takes off after it with what pirates he has left.

Our remaining heros return to the Sea Duck. Dewey and Kit plan to do the same thing again and expect diffrent results but Huey.. has some words for them.

He’s fed up with this and points out they need to swap jobs. Dewey CAN fly, and Kit really is good at cloudkicking, it’s in the name, and he needs to return to it. While Dewey balks again stating anyone can be a pilot.. Kit finally admits that’s not true and he’s just not good at it and Huey finally snaps them out o fthier neurosis, Kit a bit late but better late than never given the state of his life, and points out the episode’s aseop: YOU make something special just by doing what you like to do and are good at well. I’ts been hard making these reviews, but I feel i’m getting the hang at it and it’s what I was meant to do, I just had to find it. It’s not always easy to find your calling but when you got it, go for it instead of some version of you you think you should be. So we get pured distilled awesome for the climax. Besides Della again riding a bear that’s also a butterfly, Kit, also a bear I did not miss that gag, proceeds to finally spin it and begin again it as he tears through them with Crowby and easily deispatches the planes finally earning Della’s respect and finally back in his element, using his newfound size and strength combined with his still inherent acrobatics to easily take them out and land on Carnage’s plane and beat him.

So the day is saved: The stone lands on the plane and our heroes properly secure it. Della releases her bear fly but it’ll find it’s way home i’m sure... so majestic. Or it’ll eat all the world’s seagulls. Good news either way.

Back at the bay Kit packs up the stone safetly and gives them the bill. Which Della grumbles at but whiel he didn’t fly he did save their asses.. after endagenring them but still and does have a buisness to run. Plus he has to save his plane.

But it turns out someone’s already bought it. And you can probably guess who.

No not you sweetie.. though he is an investor for the person who DID buy it: Molly, whose taken being danger woman from a 4 year old’s play time to her career running an air stunt show. This is the other thing that cemented the whole aged up versions of these guys working for me: HIstory Repeating itself. Once again an enterprising young woman with a lot of ideas has bought the seaduck from it’s incompitent owner and hires the former owner to work for her. But things are warmer this time: Kit wasn’t happy doing what he was doing, and it’s clear unlike Rebecca, who just bought the first plane she could get and hired baloo because he was who she could afford, they became friends with time and patience if not more but that’s still vauge... Molly did this out of love. She knew Kit was struggling and probably has as many fond memories of the sea duck and baloo as he does and didn’t want someone else to get the old girl. Her air show seems to be going fine, she apparently has a full crew, fans and enough money to purchase another plane on a whim from the bank to expand the show.. she wanted her old plane back and her old brother back. And wheras again Rebecca offered Baloo the job because he wanted to keep his baby safe from some half assed pilot she could afford and she knew it and thus could manipulate him with that. Plus he worked cheap so there. Here Molly just admires her brothers skills and hires them on it and he’s frankly more comfortable being a sidekick than the main star anyway.

He TRIES to brush it off but gladly accepts. God another possible spinoff.. please make this Disney.. and if not at least Reboot tailspin I miss it. Still it’s a very satisfying ending. But what of Don Karnage? Well he’s lost everything as a result of this, unable to get back to his carrier, his crew mostly gone, and FOWL sure to be gunning for him. This is seemingly the end for him.. until he finds a chunk of the stone. “Or the start of an encore”. Wether this was a setup for a possible part of season 4, a possible spinoff or is going to come back in the finale.. we’re just going to have to wait and see won’t we?

Final Thoughts: I really liked this one. It’s not the best of the season: Kit’s arc is kinda telegraphed and Dewey’s arc while intresting isn’t focused on enough to really be that engaging. But the ideas at the core are solid and fit into the series well, the idea to age up our kid heroes from Talespin was really clever and paid off and as usual Adam Pally is a delight and as I said at the top was pitch perfect casting. Couldn’t figure out who played molly and the credits cut out on me, so let mek now if you do but yeah I enjoyed this one> It wasn’t the series at it’s best but given the last two are liable to get pretty intense it was a nice breezy break. And it got me wanting to watch Talespin again and there’s nothing bad about that.

NEXT WEEK: In our penultimate adventure, Ducktales reinacts that one episode of Batman the Animated Series where all of Batman’s foes put him on Trial, as Scrooge’s Rogues put him on trial with Doofus as prosecuter and Louie for the defense. Well at least it’s not Lionel Hutz.

This Week: Lots of Ducks! The lena retrospective continues as we take a detour for some comix, and we begin the Della arc as we go back to the start. It’s finally time to talk about Woo-Ooo!.

If any of this sounds appealing follow my blog for more. If you like these reviews head over to my patreon, patreon.com/popculturebuffet, and become a patreon. At the 5 dollar level you get a review a month and even a dollar helps get to my stretch goals. I’m up to 15 a month so 20 is next and that means a darkwing duck review every month! And if you really like Talespin like I do, 25 nets you a tailspin review a month and a review of the pilot. Ohohohohohohoo. See you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #talespin #the lost cargo of kit cloudkicker #della duck #dewey duck #kit cloudkicker #molly cunningham #danger woman #huey duck #don karnage #disney channel #the disney afternoon

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 15: Claire

Ao3

Claire’s teeth dug sharply into her lip. The three of them had gotten into their share of mischief over the years, ranging from harmless fun to being grounded for an entire month. But this was by far the worst thing they’d ever done.

She risked a peek out of the top of the bush, forcing herself to ignore the pointy branches digging into her skin. So far both the house and the street were quiet, but Claire didn’t want to risk getting closer when they still weren’t sure where Dr. Lake was.

“Anything yet?” Darci whispered.

“Not yet,” Claire said softly “But Dr. Lake is due back any minute so let’s stay put.

The leaves gave a slight rustle as Claire sank back down, nestling back in next to Mary and Darci.

To be fair this wasn’t Claire’s idea, the whole thing had been Mary’s plan from the start. After Darci had told them what she’d overheard her dad say on the phone, Mary had brought up the idea of doubling back after school and sneaking over to Jim’s house to watch things go down.

Sneak in and out with no one ever seeing them. Easy peasy...provided one of the many many many ways this plan could go horribly wrong didn’t happen.

So yeah, Claire had a bad feeling about this right from the start, but ended up letting Darci and Mary talk her into it anyway. In spite of the nagging little voice in the back of her head that kept saying this was going to blow up in their faces.

And when they got there and saw Jim’s bike outside and an unfamiliar car parked on the curb and their reaction had been to cut across someone's backyard and duck into the bushes alongside Jim’s house; it more or less confirmed that this was going to end badly.

“What do you think’s happening?” Darci whispered again.

“I don’t know, maybe--”

“Guys shut up!”

Claire whipped her head around, branch slapping against her cheek, ready to jump down Mary’s throat for snapping at them, only for her heart to shoot up into her throat. Dr. Lake’s car, with Dr. Lake behind the wheel, ambling into the cul de sac and pulling up into the driveway. The three of them stayed as still as possible, silently watching as she stepped out of the car and walked up to the house.

About five seconds after the door shut behind her Claire spoke up.

“We gotta see what’s going on in there,”

“Definitely,”

“Agreed,”

Darci pushed herself up onto her knees, as the tallest scouting was her responsibility “Over there,” she pointed to some hedges just outside the living room window.

Staying low to the ground, Claire began crawling towards their new vantage point, Mary and Darci right behind her. They were making good progress, right up until Claire bumped into an obstacle.

Oh fudgeknucles what now?

She stopped in her tracks, perched on her hands and knees, trying to prod whatever it was out of the way with her elbow.

Behind her Mary squirmed impatiently “Claire what’s the holdup?”

“I don’t know,” she continued to try and dislodge the unknown object “Something’s blocking me,”

Too soft to be a rock, but too firm to be a plant, so what was--

Suddenly the ‘object’ let out a grunt and flopped over on its side.

The three of them let out a chorus of startled gasps.

“Toby!?” Claire squeaked “What are you--”

“Either keep quiet or get your own hiding spot!”

She shut her mouth, more stunned than anything else.

Toby looked at them through narrowed eyes, they stared back just as warily. After a few seconds of tense silence he scooted over to the side, creating a space large enough for the three of them to shuffle into place under the window.

Pulse still pounding in her ears, Claire slowly raised her gaze and peeked through the glass. Jim and Dr. Lake were inside sitting on the couch, across from them was an unfamiliar woman dressed in slacks and a blouse. It looked like they were all just talking right now, with the mystery woman occasionally taking notes, but Jim and Dr. Lake both looked incredibly tense.

Seeing how there wasn’t too much action going on right now, Claire’s eyes flickered over from the window to her side “Toby,” she whispered from the corner of her mouth “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here!?”

“Practicing our underwater basket weaving,” Mary leaned across Claire to hiss at him “What does it look like we’re doing!?”

“It looks like you’re spying on Jim and Dr. Lake!”

“I could say the same about you!”

“Why are you even--”

“Guys quiet!” Darci hushed them as loud as she could without blowing their cover “Something’s happening,”

Four sets of eyes swiveled back up to the window. Someone new had entered the room, an older man in khakis and a button up shirt. He was holding up a large t-shirt, based on the way he was glancing back and forth between the shirt and Jim and Dr. Lake it looked like he was asking them something about it.

“That’s Chuck,” Darci whispered “He’s my dad’s partner,”

Chuck kept speaking for a few more seconds, then the woman on the couch said something and stood up. In response Chuck put down the shirt and they all got to their feet, turned, and headed towards the stairs.

As soon as the last person disappeared upstairs Claire let out a shaky breath. Looks like they were back to waiting.

“I’m here because I saw the car from across the street and came over to investigate,” Toby said in a low murmur, not even turning his head to speak “What I want to know is why you guys are here,”

Claire squirmed, her eyes were locked on the top of the stairs, but she could practically hear the suspicious frown etched into Toby’s face “Sorry Toby but right now we really need to focus on this, I promise we’ll explain everything later,”

She couldn’t see what his face looked like after hearing that, but after letting out a sigh he sat back and didn’t say anything else.

None of them said anything for a long time, all intensely focused on the window, waiting for something to happen. What Claire didn’t know.

If anything the dead quiet coming from the house made everything worse. At least with shouting and screaming they would know what was going on, but silence...that could mean a lot of things.

They all felt the tension, the only noises coming from them the occasional rattle of leaves and sticks when someone shifted around in the bush to try and avoid the worst of the poking branches. Waiting and waiting as their nerves wound tighter and tighter.

Finally, after the longest twenty minutes of Claire's life, everyone in the house came back down the stairs. The four of them letting out small, simultaneous sighs of relief.

Meanwhile everyone inside went into the kitchen, mystery woman opening drawers and cabinets still talking to Jim and Dr. Lake. At first everything looked normal, then Claire started to notice. The little flinches Jim made whenever mystery woman spoke to him. How Dr. Lake seemed to wince every time she answered a question.

Things were definitely heating up.

Then from out of nowhere Jim put his foot up on a chair and rolled up his pant leg, talking and gesturing towards his ankle. Both mystery woman and Chuck were looking at his leg intently.

Ok this was weird, Claire could understand CPS talking and going through people’s stuff, even checking the kids out if they were super bruised and beat up or something. But why the hell were they looking at Jim’s--

A lightbulb flicked on in her brain.

Last November. Jim had come back from a camping trip with a bandage around his ankle.

He told them it was from a fox bite.

Before her brain could fully process what this could mean, Jim put his foot down just as abruptly as he’d lifted it, turned, and headed up the stairs. Everyone one in the room watched him go but no one tried to stop him.

After Jim left Dr. Lake and mystery woman sat down at the table and kept talking. For a little while things looked more or less normal. But at this point Claire knew better. She kept her eyes on Dr. Lake, watching as the conversion went on. Watching as the corners of her mouth twisted more and more until it looked like she’d been chewing on a lemon. How her eyes crinkled at the edges, forcing her to blink more than usual.

It looked like Dr. Lake was about to cry.

Heat filled Claire’s cheeks even as she kept up her surveillance. Despite everything else that was going on it still felt weird to spy on someone who looked like they were about to burst into tears.

But why was she so upset? Claire could understand better if Dr. Lake got mad or defensive after talking to the CPS workers who were accusing her of being a bad mom, but why was she--

Suddenly mystery woman stood and tore a piece of paper out of her notebook, sliding it towards Dr. Lake. Who scribbled something on it before sliding it back. Mystery woman handed some more papers to her as they both spoke a little more, then she and Chuck headed towards the door.

“Follow them,” Darci spoke up in a voice that was barely audible “We need to hear what they’re talking about,”

Moving as fast as they could without making noise, the four of them hastily crawled through the bushes until they were right next to the car in the driveway, watching the two adults steadily approach.

Chuck spoke up first “So, what did you think?”

Claire held her breath.

“It’s too soon to say anything for sure,” mystery woman quickly tucked her notebook into her purse before getting out the car keys “But she definitely seems controlling, and I do not like how often their stories contradicted each other,”

Her legs were starting to cramp and her hands were scratched raw from branches and thorns, but Claire couldn’t care less. Her entire world had narrowed down to the two voices less than six feet away, leaning forward as much as she could without breaching the bush.

“I can’t imagine how much harder this would have been if we didn’t have the warrant,” Chuck added, slipping his hands into his pockets “Thank god that teacher added another report on top of Louis’s,”

Darci gasped. In a flash Mary clapped a hand over her mouth, snapping her head over and piercing the adults with a hawk-like gaze.

Fortunately the sound went unnoticed and they continued on to the car without missing a beat.

But what did he mean about a second report?

Darci’s dad had made a report after they’d talked to him, so where did a second one come from?

Chuck shook his head, stepping around and getting into the passenger’s seat “And did you see those scars? Animal bite my ass,”

A jagged lump of ice dropped in Claire’s ribcage.

No. Dr. Lake couldn’t have.

Jim might have been dodgy about the whole basement thing but there was no way he wouldn’t tell them if his mom was--

“I couldn’t agree more,” mystery woman put the key in and started the engine “Those marks were made with a scalpel, no buts about it,”

For a moment she forgot how to breath, lungs frozen, the chill spreading out from her chest across her whole body.

The sounds of the car pulling out and driving away seemed a million miles away.

Scalpel marks. Not animal bites.

Her stomach was rolling. She’d never believed people could puke from bad news alone until this moment.

Before today Claire thought that the worst thing happening to Jim was being locked in the basement but now--

Now she didn’t know what to think.

A gentle tug on the elbow brought her back to reality “My house, quick,” Toby hissed.

Following Toby’s lead, the four of them scurried around the cul de sac, taking the long way and keeping to the bushes to avoid being spotted. At the end they had to dart back out into plain sight while Toby fumbled with his door lock. Claire noticed Mary kept glancing behind them towards Jim’s house as he did. Finally Toby was able to get the door open, all of them rushing in. He shut the door behind him, letting out a whoosh of air as he sagged against it in relief. Claire, Mary, and Darci all letting out similar sighs.

At last. Safe.

“Toby pie?”

They all jumped like they’d stepped on live wires.

“Is that you?” his Nana’s voice continued to call out from the kitchen “Are your friends with you?”

Toby was perched against the door, fingers stiffened into claws and spine ramrod straight “Yeah, uh…. we all came over to work on our...history project,” he started gesturing wildly toward the stairs “Just need to all go upstairs where we can...talk, about our project,”

Claire could take a hint. She turned and jogged up the stairs, Darci and Mary hot on her heels.

“Do you kids want any refreshments?” Nana asked again.

“No thanks Mrs. D,” Mary shouted back as they booked it out of there.

“Well let me know if you change your minds dearies,”

They all hurried into Toby’s bedroom, where hopefully they could talk in private, Toby tailing them in and then gently shutting the door behind him.

For a moment they all just stood in silence, too wired and frazzled to even try for conversation.

It didn’t last long.

“What the actual fuck was all that!?” Mary shrieked.

Claire slumped against the wall, hands shaking “I think...I think there’s more going on than we first thought,”

“What I want to know is who filed that other report,” Darci gripped her elbows, hugging herself “He said it was a teacher, but which teacher was it and why did they do it?”

“It was Mr. Strickler,”

They all slowly turned towards Toby.

Toby met their gazes without flinching, his expression pinched and tense, but Claire could see traces of steel underneath it “And he did it because I told him,”

He plunked down on his bed, head drooping, the words all coming out in a rush “I know it was an extreme step-- and I totally took the nuclear option-- and this is going to screw a lot of things up for Jim and Dr. Lake, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing!”

Claire glanced over at Mary and Darci, the three of them sharing an uneasy look.

“What?” Toby glanced back and forth between them

“Toby….” Darci gently sat down next to him “We called CPS….also,”

He blinked “You what?”

“We went and talked to my dad about Jim...it’s like you said, we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, not with what was going on,”

Toby’s eyes got huge “The second report…”

“And it’s a damn good thing we did,” Mary screeched, startling the rest of them “Did you hear them-- Jim’s mom went nuts on him with a scalpel!”

Both Claire and Toby flinched while Darci’s face curdled into a deep wince, like they seriously needed reminded of that part.

But now they knew. This went way beyond locked doors and curfews.

Jim’s mom was hurting him.

Claire stepped over and put a hand on Mary’s shoulder, partly to calm Mary down and partly to steady herself “That’s why we gotta keep our cool and focus. There could still be a lot more stuff we don’t know about going on, so we need to be ready for--”

“There is more,” Toby’s voice was deathly quiet “A lot more, I don’t know everything but I know a lot,”

Everyone in the room went still.

“....what do you mean?” Darci said, voice barely above a whisper.

When he look up at them Toby’s expression was dark “Back when we were in Elementary school his mom fell asleep at the wheel while we were in the back seat, a semi truck nearly hit us,”

Mary’s mouth fell open, stunned into silence. Darci folded her arms against her stomach, face green. Claire didn’t react, she couldn’t even if she wanted to, pushed by everything that had happened to a place beyond shock.

“Jim does almost all of the chores at their house,” Toby kept going, voice a monotone “Has since he was in Elementary school. Back then Dr. Lake would never let anyone babysit him, not even Nana. When we were in fourth grade she said she got him a babysitter for work nights but I think she was leaving him home alone,”

Darci’s jaw worked up and down, struggling for words she couldn’t manage to find. Next to her Claire could see the blood draining from Mary’s face leaving her the color of wax.

And it wasn’t like she was much better, Claire could hear her heartbeat booming in her ears, skull light and head swimming. She was about half a second away from passing out.

“Every Halloween since I’ve known him his mom never let him trick or treat, not once. When we were in the mole scouts he got kicked out for missing too many meetings, he said it was because he got sick but it happened way too often for that to be true,”

His voice dropped even lower “They go on camping trips all the time, always to the middle of nowhere, and always just the two of them,”

The next part was so quiet Claire almost didn’t hear it, almost.

“They never take pictures of their trips. And once when we were in middle school Jim came back with his entire back covered in bruises, and the last time he came back with cuts on his ankle,”

Claire was shaking all over, her grip on Mary’s shoulder not enough to anchor her any more. She pried her fingers off one by one, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid falling down, and took a seat at the desk chair.

What else. What other horrible things were going on in Jim’s house that they’d had no idea about?

All those months Claire had spent crushing on him how could she have been completely blind to...to...

She didn’t know how much more Toby had to say, but if he kept going Claire was going to faint.

“Toby,” Claire spoke up in a breathless voice “Stop, please,”

He complied, netting his fingers together and hanging his head.

Silence weighed over them like a lead blanket, heavy and suffocating.

“Oh my god,” Darci practically whimpered “What do we even do?”

If the deafening quiet that followed her question was anything to go by, none of them knew the answer to that question.

All of a sudden the loud ringing of a phone went off, causing all of them to jump. Toby pulled out his offending device, motions jittery, only for his eyes to bug out once he spotted the screen “It’s Jim!”

Claire’s heart shot up into her throat for the second time today. Jim was calling, why? Had he figured out what they’d done?

Toby fumbled with his phone before setting it on his desk “I’m going to put it on speaker,” he glanced from side to side at them “No one say anything,”

Both Claire and Darci nodded, Mary making the zipping motion over her own lips while scurrying up even closer. No doubt wanting to hear every detail even without being able to contribute to the conversation.

With a slight but unmistakable quiver to his fingers, Toby tapped his phone screen twice “Hey Jimbo,” his cheerful tone a direct contrast to the anxious look on his face “How’s it hanging?”

“Toby…” Jim’s voice echoed out of the device “Can you just….talk about something?”

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know, I just--” his voice cracked and Claire could practically see him hunched over, holding himself in a desperate attempt to keep from breaking down “I...I just had the worst thing happen and I really want to just listen to your voice right now,”

“Oh….ok,” Toby reached over and picked up a rock sitting on the corner of the desk “I just got a new bismuth from Nana for my rock collection,”

“Uh huh,”

Taking that ‘Uh huh’ as a sign of approval, Toby kept going “She bought it from one of her friends in her bingo club. She doesn’t remember where her friend got it, but because it’s in crystal form it must have been made by someone. Bismuth crystals are grown a lot in labs, but if you know what you’re doing you can also grow it in your own kitchen....”

Half tuning out Toby’s rant, Claire kept her eyes locked on the phone, waiting for Jim’s voice to emerge from it again. Without even meaning to, she found herself leaning over slightly towards the silent device, Darci and Mary mirroring her actions. Quick, occasional glances at her watch told Claire that Toby’s bismuth ramble had been going for a little over ten minutes.

“...so it turns out bismuth does decay into thallium, but it’s half life is like twenty billion years, so I can see why they missed that,” Toby paused, the phone emanating nothing but silence “You still there Jimbo?”

“Yeah,” Jim’s voice rang out, causing everyone to instantly perk up “I’m here,”

“Are you...are you doing better now?”

“I…” Jim let out a gusty sigh, deeper than Claire thought him capable of “Yes, I’m doing better,”

Toby bit his lip, weighing over something in his mind “So...what happened? Anything I can help out with?”

The phone sat silently on the desk.

“Jim,” a tremor had entered Toby’s voice, uncertainty etching deep lines into his face “Did you hear me?”

Claire was bent so far towards the phone so much she was practically hanging out of her seat, Darci right there with her, and Mary standing hunched over with her face just inches away from the screen.

“Toby,” Jim’s voice was surprisingly hard, causing them all to jolt back “I need to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me,”

Oh.

Oh no.

The panicky look on Toby’s face matched Darci and Mary’s; and undoubtedly Claire’s to.

“Sure,” Toby’s expression was strained with the effort of keeping his voice light “What is it?”

“Toby, do you--” Jim’s voice cracked. “Did you…”

He trailed off, the phone staying silent for so long Claire wondered if he’d hung up.

Toby wrung his hands together “Yeah Jim? You still there?”

“Toby do you...do you…. do you want to have lunch at the diner tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Toby deflated, along with the rest of them.

That was surprisingly anticlimactic. Although Claire was about ninety nine percent sure that wasn’t what Jim had originally planned on asking.

“Ok sure, sounds great, I’ll run it by the girls,” his eyes flickered towards them “But I think that they’ll be down for that,”

Jim let out a husky sigh,

And they certainly had a lot bigger things to worry about right now, but did everyone’s voice sound this much deeper over the phone? Jim had practically gone from a tenor to a bass.

“Thanks Tobes, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Awesome, see you then, bye Jimbo,”

“Bye Toby,”

Toby tapped his phone again, shutting off Jim’s voice and filling the room with silence once again.

Finally Claire couldn’t stand it any longer “Ok, this is really bad, like a lot worse than any of us were thinking, but it sounds like Jim doesn’t know that we were the ones who told on him. And we need to keep it that way,”

“But Claire…” Darci said hesitantly “I really think we need to be honest about this. You remember how bad Jim freaked out when we tried to talk to the first time he. I really think it would be better if we told him that we called CPS ourselves right away. If he finds out later from other people…”

“You...you’re not wrong, and we should tell him eventually, but….” Claire let out a breath, bracing herself “But you heard what your dad said, we have to stay in contact with Jim in case the investigation doesn’t come up with anything, and I don’t want to risk Jim giving us all the glacial shoulder again,”

Her voice nearly broke as she forced the next words out “Especially if his mom….hurts him again,”

“Claire’s right,” Toby stood up “And there could still be even more stuff I don’t know about, we can’t risk Jim cutting us off again,”

By now Mary was so pale she practically looked anemic, but she still managed to find her voice “Yeah, we have to be there for him in case his mom does something….even worse,”

Claire couldn’t help but shudder a little at that.

Darci swallowed hard “You’re right, our first priority is staying in the loop with him. So we play dumb and don’t let Jim know we made the call, for now,”

All of them nodded along with her words in silent agreement

Claire didn’t feel great about keeping secrets like this, especially since it was four on one. But Jim freezing them out the way he did had been scary. Bottom line they couldn’t risk that happening again, even if that meant they had to lie to him.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #A Secret's Worth #fanfic #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #mary wang #darci scott #toby domzalski #Barbara Lake #jim lake jr #original character(s)

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yelenasdog · 4 years

Text

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝟏

♰ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔱

genre: fluff

summary: new school, new faces. or maybe not? part one to a series explaining the pictures of my college au moodboard “new faces”.

words: 2k

warnings: pining, cursing, kissing, lots of inaccuracies to the show, that’s all i can think of.

a/n: i haven’t done anything for cm in quite some time but i got this random poof of inspo so here take it LMAO roger fic coming really soon.

♀♀♀

It was their first kiss. First date, actually.

Emily was a senior at Georgetown, having just transferred from University of Pittsburgh for her last year. Both schools were an odd choice for the young woman, the former proving to be the wrong fit, as it turned out. It angered her mother that she had been transferring so close to graduation, and frankly Emily could care less, but for some reason, she felt her skin itch at any thought of staying at that horrid place just a semester longer.

She wasn’t quite sure as to why. Her questions might have been answered, though, her first day on the new campus.

The fall air was chilly and crisp, her nose running ever so slightly as she would pull her burgundy jacket tighter around herself in a desperate grab at warmth, it all to no avail. She kept trying, though, pulling the tie around her waist so tight that it felt as if she was in a corset.

(Not that she would know, she’d refused to ever get near one. The whole idea of them scared her.)

She watched the colorful leaves crunch under her boots, enjoying the sound and feeling a great deal, the texture reminding her fondly of moments from her youth, the few fond ones she had, anyway. She smiled softly, looking up to see the leaves swirl around a familiar looking blonde head of hair.

A few of the leaves got stuck in the hay colored (now) mess, and she only smiled at it, reaching up a gentle hand to pick them out. She grinned down at them and bit her pink lips, watching as they dropped to the cobblestone from her hand. She continued on with a pep in her step, and to put it lightly, Emily was infatuated.

She thought about the blue eyed beauty for the rest of the day, her elegance, her lips that somehow weren’t chapped in the horribly cold weather (which not that Emily knew yet, but was because of the cinnamon peppermint chapstick that the mystery girl kept in her right pocket), and her aura, so to say, as a whole. The voice in her head told her to simmer down, that it was unrealistic that someone as seemingly bright and sunny would even think about spending a flicker of precious time with someone like her. Emily should have been more confident, as she would learn, as mystery girl had been thinking of her, too.

Yes, Jennifer Jareau was thinking of the unknown girl with the wonderfully long eyelashes, and the shiny dark hair that was similar to the shade of black that graced the feather of the crows she would see down by the pond she passed on her morning runs. Her mind was otherwise occupied from all normal affairs, consumed by thoughts of her ripped and pale lips that the enticing other woman darted her tongue across mere seconds after the last time she had, every single time.

Jennifer had wished to tell the girl that licking her lips only dried them out more, only wanting to help relieve her of any possible pain, as that’s what Jennifer always did. That’s why she told herself she was thinking of the drop dead gorgeous girl who she had sworn she’d seen before, and she promised to herself she would find her and let her know.

And apparently, she would.

It wouldn’t be for a few hours, though, not until they both ended up at the top floor of the library, the quietest one where there was a silent rule that speaking was forebode. Emily internally cursed herself for that, feeling damned that fate would put her in a position of such pining, yearning. It was an ironic situation, though, as Emily would like to believe that she would have the confidence in herself enough to actually go up to the blonde and make conversation, maybe ask her for a study date? But, she wouldn’t. Not today.

Jennifer would, though. Jennifer would catch notice of the brunette lurking behind the single bookshelf in the upper level, as it was only really there for storage and the shelves were sparse. So with her heart beating and her palms sweaty, she went down the flights of stairs, her feet silent against the carpet. They would sound out again when she reached the tile flooring of the second level, and she screwed her eyes shut, hoping that somehow the girl followed her and that JJ would hear her footprints.

She didn’t care how ridiculous she looked, all bundled up and standing in the middle of a group of tables with her eyes closed, almost like she was trying to turn invisible, hiding in plain sight. Honestly, she very well may have been.

A few beats passed, and Jennifer gave up on her non existent spidey senses, deciding to try to actually rid her mind of raven girl, as she had decided to call her until she knew her real name, and study for her upcoming exam that she her until she knew her real name, and study for her upcoming exam that she somehow had, despite it only being the sophomores first day.

So she sat quietly as she read through her criminology textbook, humming some tune that her friend had introduced her to, something by a new indie group. Her humming came to a cease, though, when she heard a thud. She looked up, a small gasp falling from her glossed lips at who was sitting across from her.

She looked right back down to the tanned wood of the table, as soon as she saw warm brown eyes boring into her. Then, it was quiet, just the bustle of those around her. Pages flipping, pencils scratching, and small groans escaping from tired students as they went.

“Why’d you stop?”

Jennifer’s breath caught in her throat, her perfectly manicured hand freezing on the paragraph she was reading. Raven girl's voice had caught her off guard, deep and smooth, like honey.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” The blonde stuttered out, still having a hard time meeting her eyes.

“Your humming, I liked it, it was nice. Don’t tell me you stopped because of me!” She leaned forward on her arm, quirking a perfect eyebrow. They both laughed, and Emily felt she hadn’t ever in her life heard such a golden and melodic sound before.

“Sorry, sorry, you just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Emily. I just transferred here from-”

“University of Pittsburgh?”

A look of bewilderment came across Emily's stark features, along with a sly smile. “How’d you know,”

“Jennifer. My name’s Jennifer. I came here for my grad studies a while back.”

Emily chuckled again, falling back to her chair. “God, I swore you looked so familiar.” She said, watching as Jennifer laughed and shook her head. Jennifer closed her book, observing that Emily never had even opened hers. She placed it in her bag slinging it over her shoulder. She stood, Emily following suite.

“Small world, right, Emily?”

She nodded immediately, tightening her own grip on her satchel. The leather was cool on her calloused fingers,

“Care to chat with me about it over a coffee?”

And that’s how they ended up sitting in the quaint cafe just down the road, watching as the sun started to sink, beverages in hand. Jennifer had found out that Emily preferred her coffee black, while Emily had found out that Jennifer liked hers with 2 hazelnut creams and 4 sugars. The thought made both girls smile, finding that both drinks fit their personalities perfectly.

Growing impatient, Emily ran her tongue over her lips again, feeling the peeling skin, the taste bitter and the sores burning. She leaned closer to Jennifer, like she had earlier in the library. Jennifer could feel her breath fanning over her neck, and it gave her butterflies, just like the ones she can remember being so obsessed with in her youth.

“What do you say we get outta here, find somewhere to watch the sunset?”

Jennifer only nodded bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and standing, taking Emily's hand as it had been offered to her, following her wherever she may go.

Now, they were sitting on the concrete of the rooftop to the freshman dorms, Emily somehow managing to get through, claiming she had some friends who would be happy to let her up. Apparently, she wasn’t bluffing.

“Sunset’s gorgeous, huh?” Jennifer spoke, her hands feeling the rough material beneath her, the wind blowing against her face. Her hair floated around her like a halo, and though Emily had lost much faith, if she had to spot an angel, her money was on them looking just like the girl next to her. Her eyes never left Jennifer’s silhouette as she spoke, her focus captured.

“Yeah. Breathtaking.”

Jennifer turned to meet her gaze, both of them fully understanding what breathtaking, really, truly meant in that moment. It was the windswept hair, breathtaking, really, truly meant in that moment. It was the windswept hair, watery eyes, red noses. Bright smiles, hands basically itching to reach for the other.

“Does everyone call you Jennifer?”

“I mean, my mom calls me Jen?”

Emily shook her head, saying “No, that won’t work. How about a last name?”

“Jareau.”

She took a second, using this as an opportunity to stall, decide her next move.

“I’ve got it! How about JJ? Yeah?”

Jennifer or JJ, smiled again, looking to her hands. She loved it, God, why did she love it? She knew the answer to that, because Emily had given it to her, it was new, exciting. Just like her.

“It’s that, or J squared. Which one?” She tilted her head, and then both laughed and smiled, something they found they would be doing a lot of together.

“Yeah, you’re right. JJ is good, it’s good.” She whispered, lifting her head. She was met with Emily, who had some troubled look upon her face. She was conflicted, that much JJ could tell, her few profiling classes she’d had serving her well.

They were close, now, and JJ could finally see the folds and cracks of the other girls lips, wanting nothing more than to just lean in and kiss them, once and for all.

“Y’know, uh, licking your lips makes dryness even worse.”

Emily's mouth made an “o”, a smile coming soon after.

“Really? Well then you’ve got to spill, what on Earth do you do to keep yours so damn perfect?”

“I- Fuck.”

Not waiting a second more, JJ rushed forward, connected their lips in what felt so long awaited, though they had only formally known each other for a few hours. The contrast of their skin was so enticing, so addicting, they couldn’t help but smile, teeth clashing and breaths mixing. They only separated to catch their breaths, chests heaving.

“It’s chapstick. I never leave home without it.” JJ commented, said chapstick having left remnants on Emily's lips. She nodded, opening her eyes.

“Yeah, I got that. Peppermint and,” She quickly flicked her tongue again, recognition becoming prevalent in her features. “cinnamon?”

JJ’s smile widened, as it had never left her face, and she nodded slowly, pulling the tube out from her right pocket. She popped off the lid, shifting positions so that she was straddling Emily's lap, her hair dangling in her eyes.

“Is this okay?” She questioned, the chapstick still in her shaky hand. Emily nodded vigorously, her heart beating quite fast, her mind repeating all the possibilities that could go wrong like some sort of mantra.

“Yeah, this is more than okay.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. JJ did the same, putting on another round of the solution before leaning down and placing a long kiss on Emily's lips. She pulled away, running the tube over them again, “just for good measure” she had said.

When they finally had left the cold rooftop, hand in hand, the sky had turned into an indigo sheet, the stars in it shimmering as bright as ever.

“Em?” JJ had questioned, stopping in her tracks. Emily looked over, raising her brows and tilting her head, resembling a puppy.

“Hmm?”

“Can we do this again?”

The question hung in the air, and Emily savoured it, letting it sink in deeply, as deep as it could go. They started walking again, their heels echoing loudly against the wet stone.

“Yeah, JJ. I’d like that.”

♀♀♀

hmmmmmmm interesting ANYWAY i’ll make a pt two prolly idk peace ily go drink water and eat protein

edit: i just reread this this is so horrible what the FAWK im so sorry never let me write when im pulling an all nighter ever again

xx hj

#jemily #jj jareau #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily fic #jennifer jareau x emily prentiss #jj x emily #wlw fic #jj jareau fic #emily prentiss fic #idk what to tag this #cm #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #we will rock queue

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walled-flwr · 4 years

Text

NATIONAL CITY DREAMS

[15 years into a Supercorp future... Kara and Lena are married with two children, 14 year-old daughter Athena Danvers - Luthor, and 10-year-old son, Leo Danvers - Luthor. Kara is still National City's hero and is head of Cat Co., Lena runs L Corp and is the most successful woman on the hemisphere. The kids are growing up, but there are some challenges to raising a Supercorp family]

LENA

I'm running late again. Damn it! I type furiously on my pad, keeping a surreptitious eye on the digital clock. I can't miss dinner for the fourth time this week. I know Kara says she understands (and she is the most understanding wife a woman could have), but I don't want this to become a pattern. Athena just shrugs - she's too cool for words and emotions - and goes back to her computer. Leo - my sweet baby boy - I can feel his heart break every time I cancel.

Edge International has been dodgy, what else would I expect? My phone rings, once, twice. I try to ignore it and focus on work so I can close this chapter for today, but it's my personal line. It could be Kara checking in. I pause in my work and look at the Caller ID.

Headmaster Sheffield, St. Genevieve's Prep.

I frown. Why is the kids' principal calling me? Has something happened to Athena or Leo? Hurriedly, I hit answer and put the phone to my ear.

"Headmaster Sheffield," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "Is something wrong? Has anything happened to Athena and Leo?"

Sheffield clears his throat. When he speaks, it's measured and cool. "In a manner of speaking, Mrs. Danvers Luthor."

I wait impatient him for him to get to it.

"Athena and Leo have been in an altercation."

My eyes widen and I groan. Not this again, I think. Athena has been having problems at school, and sometimes, she lashes out. This is a first for Leo, however.

I clear my own throat. "Altercation? I'll need you to be more specific."

"She punched a girl in the face. Miss. Somers needed medical attention for her bloody nose."

"And you're sure that this was Athena's fault?" I ask, immediately defensive.

"Mrs. Danvers Luthor, there were witnesses. Athena threw the first punch. You'll need to come and collect them both. They've been suspended for the rest of the week."

"What was Leo's role in all of this?" I pinch my temple, bracing for the worst.

"Apparently, he attacked a student who was trying to intervene, as well as using despicable language. We don't tolerate that here at St. Genevieve's Prep."

"Of course." I get to my feet, and snatch my handbag. This isn't how I envisioned the day going, but my children need me.

"Your wife has already been notified. I'd like to have the two of you in here tomorrow morning for a P.T.A conference to discuss Athena and Leo's future at our establishment." And with that, he hangs up.

I'm pensive on the drive across town to Athena and Leo's school. My first instinct is to be angry, disappointed. Being a Luthor means Living under a microscope. Kara and I sat Athena and Leo down as soon as they were old enough to understand. Because you're a Luthor, everyone automatically expects the worse from you. Hell, their uncle and grandmother are supervillains! Luthor's have to be careful, methodical, and most of all, cool. Brawling is unbecoming of Luthors. In the midst of my annoyance, I hear Kara's voice. She's gentle and understanding, and loving. Kara doesn't expect perfection, but humanity. She'd be upset, understandably, but she'd also listen to our children.

I channel my wife's positive as I drive into St. Genevieve's Prep. I spot Athena and Leo sitting under the statue. Athena, my beautiful girl, with her golden hair and thoughtful brown eyes. She is currently cradling Leo's dark head in her lap, and looking distastefully to where a group of girls have gathered to whisper.

Poor babies, I smile. But they're my babies,and I have to protect them. Leo spots me first and runs to hug me tightly. He buries his face in me and I squeeze him back. I love how he's never ashamed to show his affection, and I dread the day when he's grown up.

"Darling," I kiss the top of his head, and he looks up at me with those hazel eyes. "What have you been up to, little rabble rouser?"

Leo says in earnest, "I was protecting, Athena, Mom. That's what we do, right? We protect each other."

I smile, and kiss his forehead. "Of course, Sweet boy. We protect each other. Go on, in the car." Leo obeys, and I face Athena who's looking unsure. She looks so much like Kara, the angelic trusting face, but she's like me in so many other ways. It's not easy being a Luthor in high school, I know that from personal experience.

Athena lifts her chin as she comes to my front. "If you're going to tell at me, Mom, just get it over with."

I sigh and shake my head. "It's easier to yell and blame than to talk about how we're feeling."

Athena frowns. "OK, you're sounding like Mom."

"Good or bad?"

"I don't know..." Athens tucks a lock of her blond hair behind her ear and shuffles her feet. "I wasn't planning on hitting her, Mom. Ally was just saying all of these horrible things, dumb tabloid lies about you and... I just got so..."

"Angry?" I finish and she nods. "You're a Luthor. I know all about that game." I pull her in for a hug,and kiss the top of her head. "My beautiful, brave super girl," I say, and hear her sniffle. "You do your best not to make waves, but I'll never be angry with you for standing up for yourself. Ok?" Athena pulls back to look at me. Her green eyes are damp and she smiles. "What do you say to some Big Belly Burger? And all the ice cream we can gorge ourselves on?" My daughter grins and nods, before walking to the car.

I smile, feeling easier. There'll have to be a stern talk later, but for now, I just want to enjoy my children. My phone rings, this time it's Kara.

"Crisis Averted, Mrs Danvers Luthor," I say as I pick up. I hear Kara's laugh in the other end. "I knew I could count on you. What was it?"

"Long story short, our kids were doing what Luthors do best."

"Raising Hell?"

"While defending each other," I add. "I'm taking them out for some burgers and ice cream. Can you get away for some time?"

Kara groans in distress. "I had an impromptu session at the DEO. I can't get away."

"It's OK, Darling," I say, looking back at the car. Athena and Leo are joking around, and I smile. "I haven't had alone time with Athena and Leo in a while. I'll seize the opportunity."

"You're a great mom, Lena."

"I take inspiration from you," I smile. "I'm sorry I've been AWOL, Kara. You save the world, run Cat. Co and still make it in time for dinner and bath, I'm in awe of you."

"Kryptonian DNA."

"I love you, Kara."

"Not as much as I love you," she says, her voice lowering.

"Not possible," I murmur. "But, I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate and cherish you. What do you say to a weekend in Helsinki? Just the two of us?"

"Lena," Kara gasps, and I feel her brain working overtime. "But ..."

"Elizabeth hasn't seen Athena and Leo in months. I'm sure the kids will love some Midvale time. And what good is both of us being the heads of multinational corporations if we can't take some very much needed boss time off?"

"Lena, you're amazing. Yes."

"That's all I needed to hear," I grin. "I promise--"

I'm interrupted by the sound of a car horn. Leo is in the driver's seat looking very impatient.

"You owe two hungry kids some Big Belly Burger," Kara teases me. "Better get to it."

"See you at home?"

"Sure. I love you, Mrs Danvers Luthor."

"I love you, Mrs Danvers Luthor."

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fluffymcu · 4 years

Text

Letting Loose

Part TEN

This series is TICKLE related. Outfits that are linked here are purely for picturing the clothes, you don’t have to look like the model.

Series Summary: You’re the little sister of the one and only Captain America. You’re also the youngest girl on the team, so that automatically makes you the avengers’ little princess. And they spoil you as such. They have become your amazing family and you don’t know where you’d be without them. This series will show random adventures and fluffy events in the daily life of the reader and her family, along with an unexpected turn later on as you read.

A/N: I’m so exited to have gotten to the big twist! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even though it doesn’t have any tickle scenes in this one just because I didn’t really feel it fit right with this part since it’s kinda serious.

Warnings: Drama?

Word Count: 2,335

Previous Next

----

“I don’t understand, how is that possible?” You ask her, the team equally as confused. You had let her in, motioning for her to take a seat. She did so with a sigh and had a look of mild annoyance.

“To put it simply, I was made out of a one night stand. My mom was Cassandra Murray.” She started, Tony instantly recognizing that name and gulping at the small pang of sadness hitting his chest. “She got diagnosed with cancer when I was 12. I didn’t have any other family because my mom and her parents had a falling out years ago for being too abusive. Of course, she didn’t want me staying with my abusive grandparents ever, or ending up in foster care, so she made me promise that when she died, I would go straight to find my father.”

“I don’t understand, why didn’t your mother tell me she was pregnant or that I had a daughter?” Tony asked, his brows furrowed in deep confusion. Ruby Anne only shrugged and looked away.

“She never said. She just... kept it a secret until I was old enough to know who you were and she finally told me you were my father.” The room feel into a deep silence before Steve decided to speak up.

“Well, thank you for keeping your promise coming to us. You’ll stay here in the compound until you’re of legal age and after that you can decide where you want be. But we’d be happy to have you here for as long as you want.” Steve nodded at her, giving her a sympathetic smile before deciding to give them some space. “Oh, and I’m so sorry about your mom. May she rest in peace.” The rest of the team agreed and gave her their apologies before you followed the team out of the living room, leaving Tony and Ruby to talk.

The room fell silent again, Ruby Anne avoiding Tony’s gaze. He took a deep breath. “Would you like me to... show you to your room?” He asked. She nodded without a word and followed him upstairs, taking her bag with her.

----

“Holy crap, this is insane!” You exclaimed. All of you were currently in the basement processing the news. The team agreed and ran their fingers through their hair and rubbed their hands on their faces. You were still also very confused as to why she was looking at you weirdly. You had nothing to do with her, why was she giving you weird looks? You knew everybody knew who you were, and that you lived with the team but that wouldn’t really seem like a valid excuse to take it out on you. But then again, we all grieve in different ways??

“Yup, and we’ve seen some weird crap over the years.” Clint chuckled humorlessly, taking a seat on one of the cushions. “Poor Tony, this is gonna hit him hard.” Your stomach tied itself in a knot at the thought of Tony being so distraught. Tony deserved only happiness and the fact that he might be experiencing something other than that made you frown.

“But, he’s Tony. He can handle anything, right?” You asked, doubt and worry dripping from your words. When you didn’t receive a verbal answer, instead just unsure looks, you sighed, making it your mission to help Tony as much as he needed with this situation.

---

“Okay! This is you.” Tony sighed, giving her a small smile as she walked in, putting her bag by the bed and looking around, showing no expression. “Umm, listen, so I know you’re going through a tough time right now, your mother just... passed and I just wanna say I’m so sorry. And I mean that for everything. For-” He gets cut off by Ruby Anne looking at him straight in the eye for the first time since she got here.

“I don’t need your pity right now. I’m fine. Thanks for the room, I’m good for now.” She says dryly, turning her back to him.

He wants to say he’s surprised at her behavior but how could he? He hadn’t been there for her, and her mother just died, and now she has to come live with a bunch of strangers all of a sudden. So no, he wasn’t surprised at her distant behavior, but he could only hope she would warm up soon so he could make up for all of that lost time. He nodded quietly, grabbing the knob to her door. “Well, if you need anything, anything at all, just let know.” And with that, he left, shutting the door behind him. Ruby sighs, and sits down on the big chair next to her nightstand and stares around the room. It’s nothing like her room at home. Everything in here looked expensive, but it didn’t surprise her. It was the Avengers compound after all.

-----

You and the team were surrounding the kitchen island trying to have a normal conversation after all of this, but failing miserably. Moments later Tony joins them at the island and sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. You frown and feel bad for him, walking over to give him a hug. He returns it, a sad expression on his face.

“I know it’s only the first day but it still hurts to see her hate me.” He mumbled.

Nat tilted her head and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “She doesn’t hate you Tony, she’s just stressed. Like you said, this is the first day and a lot of things are changing for her and it may be too much for her right now. Plus she’s going through grief right now, so just give her time. She’ll come around.” She smiled, the rest of the team nodding in agreement. Tony sighed, not really believing it but nodding nonetheless. Now he just has to explain to Pepper why there’s another 15 year girl living in the compound when she comes back from her business trip.

----

It’s been 2 weeks, things have settled down a bit, the news finally settling in. The talk between Pepper and Tony going much better than expected, Pepper being very understanding and supportive. It made Tony feel at least a little better about the situation now that he had the support of his wife. Ruby Anne is still very distant, but he tells himself to be patient and give her time and space. She’ll warm up. He thought. She’ll warm up.

You and Peter trudged down the stairs, ready for school, waving everyone goodbye before running out to the car. Ruby was already there, sitting in the front seat next to Happy since you and Peter always sat in the back.

You thanked Happy, the 3 of you getting out of the car and walking inside. When Peter left to go to his class, you took advantage of this small time alone to try and talk to her, and maybe convince her to spend a little time with Tony.

“Hey, so maybe you wanna spend a little time with tony after school? I know he’s been eager to get to know you better and be a father to you?” You smile, trying to get her excited about spending some quality time with her dad. She turned to look at you with dulled eyes.

“He’s never been a father to me.” She ground out, walking in front of you. You stay there for a few seconds in mild shock but quickly recover, shaking off the stress and catching up to her.

“Ok... but,,, he didn’t know you had- you know, he didn’t know you existed then. But he does now! And he wants to apologize for everything and fix it!” You shrug cheerfully. She glanced at you once more before shaking her head and walking faster.

“No thanks.” She spat. You stand there and sigh, watching her advance and roll your eyes tiredly.

The whole school day you were thinking of plans to get Ruby Anne out of her shell. Right now, you would have liked it better if she could start warming up to Tony but apparently that wasn’t gonna happen just yet. So your next move was trying to get her to warm up to the rest of the team. Or at least for now, you and Peter.

———

You had gotten home later that day because traffic was horrible today so by the time you, Peter and Ruby got home, dinner was ready and they were waiting for you at the table.

“I’m not eating tonight.” Ruby mumbles, going straight to her room and closing the door. You raise your eyebrows a bit in mild awkwardness as you and Peter make your way to the table. Tony sighs, almost inaudible but you heard it. Pepper pats Tony’s back and reassured him. “Don’t worry, she’ll come around.”

“I wonder when that’ll be.” He chuckled dryly and you all begin to eat, trying to change the subject to a happier matter. You hate to see Tony so upset like this. And although you understood what Ruby was going through right now, the fact that his own daughter was the cause of him feeling like this didn’t sit right with you. You were getting impatient for him.

——-

3 weeks have passed, and Ruby has taken no steps toward getting to know anyone on the team. She would literally spend the whole day in her room if she wasn’t in school.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you all had gotten back from school and you and peter were watching a movie with Bucky and Wanda in the small movie theatre in the basement. Tony went to check up on Ruby, as he did everyday, hoping today would be the day where they take a positive step towards healing.

Ruby sighed when she heard the knock on her door and she rolled her eyes, letting out a mumbled “come in.” and facing away from the door. Tony stepped in, offering a smile even though she couldn’t see it. “Hey.” He started, not surprised when she didn’t respond.

“I uhh, just wanted to-“ He paused, not wanting to be turned down immediately again, deciding to delay the subject a bit. “Uhh y/n and Peter are down in the basement. They’re watching a movie with Barnes and Wanda. You didn’t wanna join them?” He asks.

She shakes her head silently, acting annoyed and shifting in her position. Tony bites his lip for a moment before trying once again to talk to her. “I also cane to say that I’m really sorry for not being there for you. If I had known-“ He sighs deeply as he gets cut off like he does every time he brings it up, looking down at the floor as she talks. But this time, she snaps at him.

“Look! I didn’t want to come here! The only reason I came in the first place was because I promised my mom I would. I didn’t want to come here!! I begged her not to make come here, but she made me promise because she didn’t want me ending up in an orphanage or foster care. That’s it! My mom was there for me!! You weren’t.” She spat, turning back around and giving him her back. Tony stood there, shocked. It was the longest conversation they’ve had together in the 2 months she’s been here, and it was to snap at him.

“I-I know, I didn’t know she had a daughter. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I promise, if I had known, I would never-“ he paused, chocking up a little as the guilt overtakes him. “I would have been there for you.”

She rolled her eyes and looking down at the floor, her brows knitted together. “I don’t need a father.” She seethed. “I spent all the important years of my life without one. It can stay that way.” She mumbled. Tony stayed there in silence, processing her words, and slowly nodding.

“Ok.” He sighs, leaving the room and closing the door, making his way down the halls. Ruby feels a bit of guilt for a split second before anger overcoming it and he grunts, taking a seat on the chair and moping.

———

After the movie, you go to check on Tony and after looking everywhere else, you go check down in his lab and you find him there, working on a suit. As you come in and walk closer to him, you notice how distraught he looks and your heart hurts as you walk faster over to him and rest your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Tony looks up at you, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and looks down to his work. “She uhh,,, doesn’t want me around her; at all. Says she’s lived all the important years of her life without me, so she can keep it that way.” He mumbled. You furrow your eyebrows at the fact that she would actually say that to her father. “Maybe I should just let her be. When she’s a legal adult, she’ll be allowed to leave the compound and she won’t have to see me again.” Your body jerks up a bit at the sound of Tony being close to giving up and you shake your head.

“No, don’t give up, Tony! She’s your daughter. She’s gonna be a challenge... I mean, she is your daughter after all,” you smile lightly, hoping to liven up the mood. Tony chuckles once and shrugs.

“Yeah, but... if she doesn’t want this, why should I force her.” He draws his lips in a fine line.

“Because she’s your daughter. And you have to show her that you’ll be there for her now, and that you won’t give up on her. Make her know she’s worth it to you. It’s gonna be hard, but, you can do it! You’re Iron man.” You smirk, nudging him a bit. He smirks up at you and hugs you tightly.

“My little munchkin.” He cooes, pulling apart from the hug to look at you again. “You sure you’re not gonna be jealous now since you’re gonna have to share my attention between you, Peter, and Ruby Anne?” He teased, pinching your hip causing you to giggle.

“No. She deserves all your attention right now.” You grin, patting Tony’s head affectionately. He smiled and nods, promising himself that he won’t give up.

———-

So since this chapter was a bit serious, there wasn’t really any tickle scenes, but chapter 11 will have lots of fluff so that will be out this Friday! I also have a short Steve x reader imagine that I will post next week :)

#ticklish!reader #tickle fight #avengers tickle #marvel tickle #tickle fluff #avengers #marvel #marvel mcu #peter parker #peter x reader #peter parker x reader

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blazehedgehog · 4 years

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Do you ever think of yourself as being on the ASD? Up until the past few years (I'm 25 now), I never considered the possibility but as I delved deeper I identified with a lot of common behaviors (obsession, preferring isolation, social issues/anxiety, pickiness) and explained why I found it so difficult to assimilate in high school.

I’ve occasionally wondered, but there are a lot of things that kind of go against the grain of that kind of diagnosis. The few symptoms I exhibit of ASD also overlap with something that’s far more likely, and that’s that I probably have ADHD.

I had two or three teachers growing up try to convince my Mom that I had ADHD and that I needed to be medicated for it. My Mom refused to believe them, because back in the early 90′s, the traditional definition of ADHD included hyperactivity, and I was not a classically hyperactive kid. The image of ADD kids back then was being unable to sit still, unable to stop acting out. ADD kids were loud and grabby and uncontrollable, which I definitely was not.

We understand a lot more about the condition now and even though you should never self-diagnose, I’m 99% sure I have ADHD. My inability to focus on one singular hobby (hi, I’m an artist, game developer, sound engineer, youtuber, streamer, and writer), my extremely selective and poor memory, my inability to switch tracks and get motivated on something else after my mind is already set, my utter impatience for certain things, etc.

My isolation and social issues can be explained simply by my depression more than ASD, I think. I’ve talked about this before but I fell apart in high school. Things happened to me in middle school; I had bullies that acted like my friends, they did some deeply horrible things to me, and it completely destroyed my ability to trust anyone for decades. To some degree, it still persists to this very day. It just... wrecked me, in a way that’s hard to describe, and harder to even comprehend. I stopped showering. I stopped brushing my teeth. I just gave up on taking care of myself. I’ve blocked most of the memories out because of trauma coping mechanisms; I only know some of these things because other people have told me they happened. It really was that bad.

I had a really bad stretch of like, five years, from around 13 years old to 17 or 18, maybe even 19. I did eventually get away from those bullies in high school, but the combination of self-loathing they left me with combined with my ADHD and the mounting anxiety problems I was developing meant I coasted through an entire semester of algebra class absorbing absolutely nothing and I got a failing grade. Friends (new ones) dared me to skip one class with them for fun, and I figured “Well I’m doing bad in algebra anyway, so yeah, I’ll skip with you and go to the bowling alley.”

And that started the snowball. I became unmoored from the routine of school, which can be a big problem when you have ADHD. Skipping algebra every now and then became always skipping algebra. Then I started skipping gym too, because getting undressed in front of the other kids in the locker room was an introvert nightmare. Skipping two classes turned in to skipping three. Then four. Then all classes. Who cares, right? I couldn’t muster up the interest, especially when I realized I had no idea what the current lesson plan was anymore.

My girlfriend dumped me. The school waited until the start of my senior year to pull me aside and inform me that it was impossible for me to graduate under any circumstances (the first and only sign of disapproval they had shown me in three and a half years). My internet friends were yelling at me. I lost touch with my real-life friends. I had massive, gigantic, reality-ending panic attacks that left me too paralyzed to leave my room even to go to the bathroom. I teetered on the edge of having a nervous breakdown. I lost over 100lbs, leaving me nothing more than skin and bones. The mountain of stress I was feeling was taking a toll on my health.

I shut down. Closed myself off to the outside world. Ryan did not exist anymore. And for something like a decade, that’s how I lived. My only human contact was with immediate family (when they could drag me out in to the sunlight against my will) and with a core group of shrinking internet friends. The few that did not lose respect for me, anyway.

That does things to you. The parts of your brain that knew how to socialize atrophy and you forget how to hold a conversation. When I was still going to school, my cousin and I told each other we should become therapists, because we were excellent at listening to people and being mediators. We could fix anyone’s problems. Now, those skills died inside of me. I went from being able to make anyone feel better to constantly sticking my foot in my mouth. Being a nuisance, even when I wasn’t trying to be. I lost all sense of what was appropriate to say, or how to convey my feelings. Or convey anything outside of a keyboard, really. I made a lot of people angry and upset totally by accident, or pushed them away without realizing what I was even doing.

And all of these bad habits fed in to each other like an endless loop. It was a slippery slope that steeply went down, and down, and down. The more isolated I became, the more I wanted to isolate even more. The shame and embarrassment for who I was becoming kept getting stronger. I was caught in a spiral.

I was getting close enough that I could see where the bottom of the barrel was. I call myself introverted, but I’m also the guy who, completely of his own volition, downloaded the Shoutcast Server software in September of 2000 and hosted an all-night live internet radio broadcast. Alone. I was livestreaming myself playing video games for the internet four years before Twitch.tv was even invented. Whenever it came time to read aloud in class, I was always one of the best, clearest students, never needing to sound out words or pause for anything. Nowadays I'd never say I was anything but an introvert, but deep down there’s also been a voice inside of me dying to get out, and at some point I woke up and realized I could be better. I just need less fear and more confidence.

The person you see writing this blog today is the result of finally starting to become aware of what I was doing to myself, and forcibly dragging myself back out in to the world, inch by inch. I don’t think it’s going very well, but at least I’m still making an effort. I fell apart in to many small pieces, and they’re taking a long time to reassemble. I finally graduated high school about five years ago. (I re-read that post a few months ago and started crying.) As you may pick up on from the differences between that post and this one, I’m still learning a lot about myself and what’s wrong with me. The picture is always becoming clearer by the day.

But knowing the problem means you can find the solution, right? That’s what you’re doing, too. It’s a slow process, but I continue the fight to heal the damage I’ve done to myself.

Anyway, sorry for getting so randomly heavy and spilling my guts out like this. I appreciate people looking out for me like this. And who knows, maybe I am on the spectrum after all. Just because I have my own theories doesn't mean they're necessarily right.

#questions #heavy #personal #Anonymous #public therapy

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himbo-buckley · 4 years

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what are your thoughts on what maddie says about her and buck's parents, that they were "good people, bad parents"? bc idk if it's just me but I can't get my head around that lmao, I can't understand how they can still be good people if they're bad parents, the two just can't go together for me, so another perspective would be interesting!

Hello friend 🥰

Oh, that is quite a question, isn’t it? Damn I just got out of work but you’re making me think deep thoughts here…

I think that is actually a question were we cannot find a unifying answer to - because like you said for you being a good person and a bad parent aren’t compatible, but for me they are. And I think we’d first have to define what everyone thinks constituents a good person and what constitutes bad parents!

For me a good example of that is Shannon Diaz who, in my opinion, is a good person. She means well and she tries hard but she is quite frankly an awful mother. Yes, she was put in horrible situation after horrible situation and she broke on that - which is something human and cannot be begrudged - but she left her child for several years and while she did try to reconnect and she was learning, she wouldn’t haven contacted Eddie on her own. She came back because the opportunity arose not because she tried to get back to them. (She could have become a good mother but she never got the chance.)

In the same vain I think Bobby pulled a lot of shit back in Minnesota but he still seemed to be a loving and kind father - so my question to you, friend, would be: do you consider Bobby a good person (the Bobby prior to Season 1 mostly)? Despite being the type of person who went to work drunk and / or high and by this endangering others and himself? Because I don’t think so yet the show frames him as a good person despite his downfalls (and I am not saying being an addict makes someone a bad person but I am saying knowingly endangering others does) - and if you think someone cannot be a good person but a bad parent, can someone who is a bad person also not be a good person?

See, one thing I learned working with children is that some people just aren’t made to be parents, and I am not talking about my time with child services, i am talking as a kindergarten teacher. Some people are very nice and they try hard but damn, parenting does not come natural to them and I worry how this will develop in the future. Like one of my mom’s is severely depressed and she might have Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy which doesn’t make her a bad person - but a bad parent at times.

And now, this is were I make you regret asking me specifically about this topic (or maybe not, who knows what your interests are) because I do have a bit of an expertise in what constitutes good / bad parenting and I will talk about it at random whether I am asked or not (and hopefully my language won’t fail me as most of my theoretical knowledge is in german, so please excuse any mistakes in technical terminology because I have to find the english equivalents and you know all those untranslatable german words? Yeah. Someone finally figure out how to translate the difference between Erziehung and Bildung please because both cannot be education and also it doesn’t really fit either):

So let’s get into it, shall we?

What makes good parents?

First up: parental relationship and parenting capabilities: several years ago the german department of family, seniors, women and youth (BmFSFJ) released a paper on what skills parents need to become good parents. There a four main skills (and I hope I translated everything correctly):

child-corresponding skills (ability to respond to the individual needs and features of the child, be it in terms of recognising potential or setting boundaries or sth else)

context-corresponding skills (ability to recognise developmental opportunities but also hinderances for the child and acting accordingly)

self-corresponding skills (being able to reflect their own behaviour as well as being willing to learn new things; also ability to regulate one’s emotions)

action-corresponding skills (trust in ones own ability and effectiveness; being consistent, both in their own actions as well as in response to others actions)

You might have heard of Kurt Levin or Diana Baumrind or someone else doing research into parenting styles. Generally there are four main ones, which, if we use Baumrind, differentiate on the aspects of control and demand

(here is a graph from wikipedia on this)

(I consider this fairly self explanatory but I will get into it in a bit a little more, soooo)

Now of course parenting isn’t just about the parents and what they do - children also have needs (and yes there is a lot of overlap but I am doing this right, okay?)

To quote my government again (because the paper was actually quite good, okay?) children want autonomy (a chance to do things themselves), expertise (a chance to develop their own skills) and relatedness (that one was very hard to translate but this came the closest; the idea is children strive for social connections, a sense of trust in themselves and reliability)

Also Urs Fuhrer defined 5 basic needs children have which are:

feeling of shelteredness and reliable love (I won’t explain this further except: google Harry Harlow and try not to cry like I do every time I am reminded of this monster of a man)

physical security and intactness (self explanatory, right?)

individual and developmentally suitable experiences (yes, children need to be socialised but it needs to be based on the individual child and how it learns best and all that)

boundaries and structure (CHILDREN WANT BOUNDARIES!!!! ALWAYS!!! CHILDREN WANT YOU TO TELL THEM YES OR NO, they need adults to help them navigate the world! Part of feeling secure is having someone who will tell you no and don’t do this; boundaries protect from danger, they represent support and orientation, they protect someone’s dignity (both the child’s and the parent’s), they give something to chafe against on our way to adulthood (because listen, Erikson wasn’t wrong, a lot of development happens in adversity, we find out who we are in contrast to other people)

a secure attachment (most people have heard about Bowlby and his theory of attachment, right? There are several types, though we are born with certain abilities for attachment and then learn how to attach from our parents, we model relationships on this, attachment determines our feeling of security and our thrive for exploration as children)

And I’ll leave the theoretical at this and go on to talk about the Buckley’s now, okay?

(and try to figure out if any of this has an actual point, uuups)

As for the specific situation of Mr and Mrs Buckley, let’s first see what we know of them, okay? (It’s barely anything) (half of it is assumed)

they are both alive

they are (probably) still married

they warned Maddie about Doug (meaning they somewhat cared)

they weren’t physically abusive and most likely also not emotionally

they probably live on the east coast in Pennsylvania

Buck may still be in contact with them

Maddie considers them good people but bad parents

they accepted losing contact with at least one of their children

Maddie doesn’t want them to know about Doug

That’s it!

Now, I personally think they might be very conservative, possibly unsupportive of their children. They might have had plans for their children’s life Maddie and Buck didn’t agree with, they might have been the types to not listen to their children, maybe they worked a lot. Probably fairly impatient, possibly disinterested in their children. Not good at the parenting capabilities.

Based on their children’s issues I’d say authoritarian or neglectful parenting style (though not abusive because it would be a redcon of Maddie’s background), meaning most definitely unresponsive though I cannot make up my mind whether they were demanding or undemanding, as both these styles - even when not so bad they are abusive and / or endangering to the child - make insecure, dependent and unhappy adults (like the children turn into those once they grow up), which does kinda fit with Buck specifically, right?

Though tbh I don’t think the Buckley parents were that horrible. I know fandom has taken the idea and run with it, mainly because after three seasons we know virtually nothing about them aside from some throwaway lines and all the issues we see in their children.

Now, why do I say this?

One, Maddie is a fairly capable adult despite everything that happened to her and even being as resilient as she is, she still has too few issues for how horrible fandom thinks the Buckley parents are

Two, while Buck has a lot of issues, being cocky and having problems with intimacy and being a bit directionless and still needing a parental figure in your mid-20s doesn’t seem that uncommon to me? Like the only really deep issue I’d say he has (that have to be caused by something deeper) are his abandonment issues (and connected to that intimacy). And it’s been implied they are caused by Maddie leaving to go to College which does paint the picture that he doesn’t have a good relationship with his parents but honestly, that sometimes happens, right?

(Also, and this is where my professional background comes in, I don’t like how everyone jumps to the worst possible conclusions about them, simply because I feel it sends the idea that only if the worst things happened to you, you have certain issues which is wrong. Sometimes small things will trigger something way larger in us and that should not be invalidated.)

And okay, I am getting off topic again (but again, my profession lies here) but what I am trying to say is this:

I do think Mr and Mrs Buckley were bad at parenting because they demanded too much but gave too little (emotionally) and I don’t think Buck is really in contact with them but I also don’t think that makes them necessarily bad people. (just bad parents)

I think Maddie and Buck weren’t as close back when they were children as they are now (at least not after Maddie moved to College) because the Buck we know would not accept a sister he is very close to simply no longer having contact with him for three years without trying to figure out why.

I do think they can’t have been that bad mainly because of how good Maddie and Buck are. Listen, I believe in resilience and already being born with a certain personality and traits which shapes how our environment reacts to us, but which is also influenced and changed by our environment ! (Nature vs. nurture, ya’ll) Now I know I said we find and develop ourselves in adversity but not just. We also need someone to foster and support and reward certain traits or we lose them and this is especially true for being kind and heroic!

Buck especially has shown way to little anger or capability for violence for how the fandom likes to write his parents, which considering his general character and also the way he looks - just doesn’t work! (Because generally especially boys raised in abusive families emulate this behaviour and Buck just - doesn’t! Which considering how “fuck toxic masculinity” Buck is most of the time doesn’t make sense because being tall and buff would make the opposite easier for him and would make it the better strategy for survival, so this would be the behaviour he would have learned)

(unless our writers say fuck being realistic and fuck psychology)

His parents had to have done something right, because Maddie will have left for College by the time he was 12 / 13 probably and we know they consider this her abandoning him meaning they probably weren’t really in contact then and while the first years of your life ARE VERY important for who you become later (urgh, yes, I’ll admit it, Sigmund Freud, the most overrated theorist did get SOME things right) they aren’t everything and you develop for longer and also a young girl like Maddie would have been would have not been self-reliant and stable enough to raise her literal baby brother in a way that made him resilient enough to become the person Buck has become despite her leaving him twice

Not to mention: considering the person we know Maddie is - if their parents really were that horrible she wouldn’t have left Buck with them, she would have taken him with her!

ANYWAYS!

Okay, tbh, I have no idea if any of that answered your question, but I did spend nearly two hours on it so enjoy?

I really don’t have a good answer to your question because we really don’t know enough and what we know doesn’t fully gel with each other and urgh, I don’t know friend despite this being the one thing I actually have some knowledge on!

I’m not even sure any of this makes sense and I am so sorry about that! I was trying, friend, but sadly an answer eludes me

Guess I should have just ended after saying: we cannot find a unifying answer to this because we each have individual definitions of good and bad in regards to people?

(Now, for everyone who read all of this? I love you and thank you and sorry! Please have a great day while I go cry in the shower now because I this ask drained me and also Harry Harlow)

EDIT: I wrote attachment issues when I wanted to say abandonment issues, shit!

#omg someone messaged me am I cool yet #buck meta #maddie meta #buckley meta #911 meta #meta #I honestly think there is a bit more evidence in canon to support Eddie having abusive parents than Buck #911 #911 fox #evan buckley #maddie kendall #the buckley siblings #this ask messed me up a bit because I feel like I should know these answers but I don't #this is what I am supposed to be good at why do I not know this?#textpost #I am so sorry Anon I really tried #my meta

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cherryrogers · 5 years

Text

addictive

(this is chapter one of my series bittersweet , but can be read as a one shot !!)

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: making out, vague mentions of death, mostly fluff.

synopsis: While waiting for your brother to finish training at the boxing club, you unexpectedly find yourself intrigued by a blue-eyed boxer with an irresistible charm. However, there’s one issue - he’s your brother’s best friend.

a/n: this is a oneshot, but i was thinking about making it a series if people like it?? let me know in the replies or via ask,,, please enjoy :) — also i understand that the reader being steve’s sister implies that she is white, but i don’t want anyone to read this and feel like they can’t put themselves in the readers place. so to clarify; reader isn’t biologically related to steve, but they still think of each other as full siblings. ok, thank you !!

Glistening skin. Tensed, strong arms, bare for your eyes to linger on due to the undershirt that clung to his toned torso. Brows furrowed in concentration, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. Sweaty hair falling over his forehead, unable to be pushed back because of the bright red boxing gloves that enveloped his hands.

You didn’t know who he was, but boy, did you want to find out.

Snapping out of the stare you had on the man, you picked up your phone and let out an impatient sigh upon seeing the time.

6:42pm.

You’d texted your brother three times, asking if he was at all finished in the gym. There hadn’t been a reply, so you assumed that the answer was no. It was meant to be six thirty, the time that you were leaving the club. By the looks of it, that wasn’t happening. Pressing your back against the wall, you looked back up to observe the boxer, whose hard hits on the punching bag were still causing echoes throughout the almost empty room.

Continuously for the past forty minutes, you’d been shuffling uncomfortably in your seat on the wooden bench, situated in the training room that was rarely used by anyone at the club. Notebooks and completed reports were sprawled across the right side of the bench next to you, while your laptop sat alone on the left. While waiting for Steve to finish up training was a good way of forcing yourself to do college work, it eventually got rather boring.

Well, that was until a certain unknown boxer entered the room.

He didn’t realise your presence at first as he approached the punching bag hanging from the centre of the relatively small space, tightening the gloves on his hands quickly before beginning his training. After a short while, he caught you in the corner of his eye, occasionally flicking your gaze up to watch him move for a couple of seconds, before bringing your attention back to the paper in your lap and letting your pen dance across the sheet again.

Though he wasn’t exactly sure what you were doing there - a pretty girl sitting alone in the cold, dull room with a pile of work next to her - he was quite interested in finding out. There wasn’t an awkward silence in the room between the two of you; you were just a couple of strangers, enjoying the quiet.

Perhaps this guy knew Steve, and why he was taking so damn long to finish up. You thought, sitting up straight, eyeing the boxer.

Once you saw his punches start to slow down, you decided to call out to him. “Hey.”

The single word bounced off the walls, your voice unknowingly being music to the boxer’s ears. If you weren’t going to be the first one to speak, he would’ve eventually said something. He couldn’t just not talk to the girl that was secretly watching him box, right?

As he controlled his breathing, the boxer pulled off his large gloves, letting them fall to the ground before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes landed on you, looking at you directly for the first time in the twenty minutes you’d been together in the room. “Hey.”

“My brother, he trains here most days. Steve Rogers, you know him?”

That made the boxer let out a raspy laugh. He walked slowly towards the bench you were perched on, stopping a few feet away from the right of you to pick up the water bottle he’d left there when he first came in. After taking a quick sip, he responded.

“Do I know him? The guy’s a pain in my neck.”

You glared playfully at him. “I may be his younger sister, but I won’t hesitate to slap you if you bad mouth him in front of me.”

He tilted his head in amusement at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Would I run less of a risk of you laying a hand on me if I told you my name?”

“That depends - what is it?”

“James Barnes.”

The name rang a bell. In fact, it rang a very loud bell.

“James Barnes as in... Bucky Barnes?”

“That’s me.”

You’d heard his name many times coming out of your brother’s mouth - Bucky this, Bucky that.

Originally, Steve wasn’t interested in boxing. Your mom used to try and encourage him to do sports in high school, but back then, the boy loved art. You’d find him in his room most of the time sitting at his desk in the corner, hunched over a drawing he’d been working on. It was endearing to you, really. Steve grew up to be quite a muscular guy, despite never taking part in sports as a kid. Yet, he was so delicate with his art, always gently pressing the point of a pencil onto his paper, never rushing any of his work.

That was before your mom passed away.

After that, Steve went through a really hard time. Of course, you were feeling the same, but Steve... had a lot of pent up frustration. He tried to keep doing art, desperately trying to drown out the weight of the loss, but it always just led to snapped pencils and crumpled pieces of work. Watching your brother slowly fall apart, while barely being able to keep yourself together? It was difficult, for sure. At that point, you suggested trying boxing. You did some research, finding out that boxing was an effective way of releasing emotions and allowing your negative feelings to be expressed healthily.

And he didn’t object to it. Steve was willing to try anything, anything to help him not feel so horrible all the time. So, he joined the local boxing club. That’s when he started becoming himself again, and that’s where he met Bucky. From what you’d heard from your brother, Bucky was of his best friends. Not that he was that close to anyone other than you, but this guy? He was different. You were glad he’d finally found a friend he felt so comfortable with. The boy had spent so long trying to take care of you that he never took a good amount of time to look after himself.

The man in front of you helped bring your brother back, and because of that, you had already taken a strong liking to him. You wouldn’t let him know that, however. Not yet.

“Wow, it’s nice to finally meet my brother’s boyfriend.” You teased. “The guy never shuts up about you.”

Bucky shook his head, twisting the cap back on the water bottle. Honestly? He had really nice hands—

“I could say the same for you. I mean, I love my sister and all, but Steve really thinks the world of you.”

The statement made heat rush to your cheeks. Steve was four years older than you, which meant he felt like he had the right to treat you like a kid. After your mom died, it sort of hit him how quickly things can change and fall to pieces, and he soon felt like he had to protect the only family he had left - you. As a teenager, it was a lot more frustrating. Steve used to feel like he had to watch your every move, question every guy you were ever involved with, make sure you weren’t out too late on the weekends. And since he started boxing, he’d gotten a lot more buff, meaning he could easily intimidate any guy that you brought back home. It lead to a lot of arguments, but as you got older, you realised he only cared so much because he loved you.

While he was still protective now, he knew that you were an adult that was fully capable of making your own decisions. It was mostly aggravating as a sixteen year old, but as an adult, it sort of melted your heart. Not a lot of people had brothers that would give them the universe if they could, so you whole-heartedly appreciated Steve, even in his big-brother mode.

“You think so?”

“Mhm.” He hummed. “Never mentioned how gorgeous you are, though. Must’ve missed that out.”

Now, you weren’t expecting your brother’s best friend to flirt with you upon just meeting you. Were you exactly objecting to it, though? Well...

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, biting back a smile. “Funny, he never told me how much of a charmer you are.”

No, you weren’t objecting. Wait, why weren’t you objecting? This wasn’t... right. But then again, in all honesty... you’d never seen such a beauty of a man.

His lips curled into a smile, and for a couple of moments, you both rested your gazes on each other. He was still glowing from the intensity of his workout, one hand resting on his hip while the other clasped around his plastic bottle. Shorts stopping a few inches about his knees, leaving a little up to the imagination. You could stay like this for the rest of the night, taking in his appearance. Your brother really failed to mention that Bucky Barnes was a full-course meal.

“(Y/N), is it?” He spoke up, his voice quieter than before.

The smile you were attempting to hide managed to creep onto your lips. “That’s me.” You imitated his phrase from before.

Bucky’s eyes glanced up to the clock on the wall, which read 6:49pm.

“Wait here, gorgeous. I’ll be back in five.”

The pet name caused fireworks to erupt in your stomach, and you hoped to god that your cheeks weren’t as flushed as you imagined them to be. Normally, guys couldn’t have you flustered so easily. But James Barnes? The man already had you weak at the knees. All you could respond with was a nod, watching as he winked and headed towards the door of the room leading to the showers.

At that moment, you were glad Steve was taking his time at the gym. If he could see you now, biting your lip and eyeing up his best friend, you could guess that he wouldn’t be too happy. But he didn’t have to know, did he?

While you waited for Bucky to return, you placed all of your college work back into your bag and enclosed your laptop in its case. Your mind couldn’t help but drift back to the man, who was currently showering in the room next to you. The thought alone caused goosebumps to rise on your skin - what a sight that would be.

Within five minutes, like he said, Bucky had made his way back into the room. His brown locks were still damp from the water, but he now wore a white t-shirt and dark denim jeans. The pants hugged his thighs, accentuating how toned they were. A duffle bag was thrown over his shoulder, and he eyed you up and down as he approached you again.

“So, you’re waiting for Steve?” He asked.

“Yeah, he’s my ride home. Tell me, does he always take his precious time in that gym?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Uh huh, he doesn’t like to leave until every muscle in his body is practically burning. But, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

You quirked your brow questioningly. “Why’s that?”

He shrugged innocently. “Means we have some time to kill.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Hopefully, he was feeling the same amount of sexual chemistry as you were, otherwise, this was a little awkward.

This was the only time you’d ever waited for Steve at the club, and you probably wouldn’t have any reason to again for a while - you’ll most likely never see Bucky again after this, right? It couldn’t hurt to have a bit of fun.

“You know, I think I left my shampoo in the showers.” He exhaled, holding back a smile as he extended a hand out to you. “Come with me to get it, and we’ll find somethin’ to do until Steve’s finished?”

Grabbing his hand, you pulled yourself up from the bench, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt with an evident smirk on your lips. “Alright - lead the way, James.”

* * *

You weren’t exactly sure what you expected to happen when Bucky took you into the locker room, but when you closed the door behind you and looked up at him with lust-filled eyes, you weren’t complaining that he eventually had you backed against the tiled wall, his chest only inches from yours.

Both of his hands were on placed in either side of your head against the tiles, not wanting to touch your body without you giving him the okay.

“You know, when I imagined meeting Steve’s little sister for the first time, this wasn’t how I pictured it.”

“What, you didn’t imagine pinning her against the wall of the locker room?” You grinned, trailing your right hand up and down his chest lightly.

Bucky chuckled, slowly bring his right hand to your face, running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth against your skin. “Well, when I decided I wanted to talk to the pretty girl who was watching me train, I didn’t think that girl was gonna be (Y/N) Rogers.”

“So, do you do this with all the girls you find roaming the gym by themselves?”

Shaking his head, he dipped so that his lips hovered next to the skin on your neck, his breath fanning over you causing your heart rate to pick up.

“No, I don’t. You’re the only one that’s caught my eye, babydoll; honest.”

“Steve won’t find out about this, right?” You almost felt bad about what you were about to do. Not that you were going to sleep with your brother’s best friend in a locker room, that wasn’t the plan, but even just making out with the guy caused a pang of guilt in your chest.

“Find out about what?” Bucky asked sarcastically. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Yet.” You emphasised, making him let out a breathy laugh. “I honestly don’t know who he’d try to kill first; me or you.”

The man lifted his gaze to meet yours. “I won’t tell if your won’t, Rogers.”

When you didn’t respond, he lowered his lips back to where they were previously.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Bucky mumbled, waiting for you to nod - which you did gladly - before placing his lips on your neck, soft kisses being trailed from the crook of your neck to the skin just under your ear.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, encouraging him to keep going, which he happily did. A quiet whimper escaped your lips as he nibbled on the delicate skin, surely leaving a mark which you’d definitely be coating in concealer the next day.

Carefully along your jaw, on the corner of your mouth, he left lingering kisses until his lips were only a few centimetres from yours. Bucky didn’t move for some time, scanning his eyes over your curled lashes, then the curve of your nose, the indentations of your cheekbones, your gloss-tinted lips that looked even more kissable as the light vaguely reflected off them.

Steve Rogers’ sister was nothing like he thought she’d be, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He had to admit, you were beautiful. No wonder Steve had never brought you to the club before - perhaps he knew you’d capture Bucky’s attention faster than the boxer could throw a punch.

It was so wrong. Looking at his best friend’s sister and wanting to touch you all over, hear you moan his name. He’d only met you ten minutes prior, but he didn’t think of you as just another girl he wanted to make out with. You had the same lovable charm about you as Steve that made it easy to be attracted to you, along with a purity that unknowingly to you, made him want you more.

He didn’t have to think twice as he crashed his lips onto yours, moving his other hand from wall to hook under your thigh, caressing the exposed skin as you pushed your body closer to his, running your tongue over his bottom lip.

You’d made out with other guys before, usually while you were tipsy at college parties, and even back in high school when you used to make out with them on your doorstep until Steve inevitably chased them away before they could step foot in your house.

But this, with Bucky, it wasn’t the same. He was a little older, not as sloppy, seemed to know what he was doing - how to make you feel good. His hands weren’t grabbing at you like a sex-obsessed frat boy, but savouring the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. The gentle yet passionate way in which he touched you was so much more pleasurable than the rushed, rough makeouts you’d experienced one too many times.

Pulling away slightly, Bucky smirked at your swollen lips, still tasting your cherry lipgloss on his tongue. His hand ran up and down your side, craving to feel the skin that was hidden by your thin shirt. “If we don’t stop now, I’m gonna end up ripping this blouse clean off you.”

You smiled, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Somehow, I don’t think that my brother would be impressed by that - he should be done soon.”

“Hm, maybe next time, then.” He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling cheekily.

“Next time?” You raised your brows. “How’d you figure there’s gonna be a next time?”

“You telling me you don’t wanna do that again, gorgeous?”

Sighing, you tried your utmost to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You definitely wanted to do that again. One hundred percent. However, for obvious reasons, you were hesitant to tell him that.

Bucky took a step back, allowing you to push yourself off the wall and readjust your clothing. After doing so, you let your eyes fall to the floor, the adrenaline from the makeout session you’d just had fading away. Noticing your nerves, Bucky reached out and placed a finger under your chin, tilting it up so he could meet your gaze.

“Steve won’t find out about this, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I just feel kinda bad,” You admitted. “I don’t like hiding things from him.”

Bucky was silent for a few moments, before his hand dropped from your face to your hand, wrapping it with his as he led you out of the locker room, back into the training room.

“Wait...” He suddenly said, holding up his finger, indicating for you to hold on while he paced back into the locker room. Fifteen seconds later, Bucky reappeared in the doorway of the room, a bottle of shampoo now in his right hand. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So, the ‘leaving your shampoo in the shower’ story wasn’t just a ploy to get me into the locker room?”

Bucky shrugged, flipping the bottle in his hand. “I actually did need to go back and get it, but I also definitely had the intention of pinning you against the wall while we were in there.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you made your way back over to the bench that only fifteen minutes ago, you were admiring the unnamed boxer from. How time flies.

After tucking your laptop case back into your bag, you threw it over your shoulder and turned to face Bucky, who also looked ready to head off.

He looked as if he was about to say something, but the opening of the training room door behind the two of you caused your head to snap in the direction of it. Your brother emerged in the doorway, surprise written on his face as his eyes glanced between his sister and his best friend. You were worried that he could just tell that something happened between the two of you, but the smile on his lips proved that wasn’t true.

“(Y/N), I’ve been lookin’ around for you. You didn’t tell me you were gonna wait in here.” Steve approached you, tugging his own duffle bag tighter on his shoulder.

Plastering an innocent smile on your face, you replied as nonchalantly as possible. “Yeah, I’ve just been finishing off some assignments, and I met the guy that you never shut up about.”

Bucky chuckled as you gestured towards him, Steve stepping closer to him to pat his shoulder. “Well, I hope the guy didn’t spend any time distracting you. Bucky has a match on Friday - he has to do all the training he can before the big day.”

“Really?” You quirked your brow, suppressing a scoff as you turned to look at Bucky, who was desperately attempting to stop a smirk from creeping onto his lips. You wondered if making out in the locker room with a girl was part of his pre-match regime... “Well, good luck on Friday, James.”

Steve let out a laugh. “God, I can’t remember the last time I heard someone call you James. You can call him Bucky, (Y/N).”

“Right, sorry.” You nodded your head towards him, correcting yourself. “Good luck on Friday, Bucky.”

“Thanks, not that I’ll need it, though.” He smiled smugly, casting Steve to hit him with the back of his hand on his chest.

“Alright, punk, don’t get ahead of yourself.” The blond rolled his eyes, before taking a step back and motioning towards the door. “Well, we should probably get goin’, (Y/N). See you tomorrow, Buck?”

“I’ll be here, training for the match I’m gonna win.”

“You trying to show off in front of my sister?” Steve joked, and your eyes widened slightly. It was just a joke, calm down.

Bucky grinned back. “Just stating a fact, Steve.”

With the shake of his head, Steve headed out of the door. You sent the boxer behind you a knowing smile, before beginning to follow your brother out. However, a hand around your wrist prevented you from doing so.

“You can keep calling me James, you know. I don’t mind.” Bucky assured you as you spun around to face him. Usually, he preferred being called by his childhood nickname - but there was something endearing about the way you said his name, something that he wanted to hear more often. “You can call me anything you want, really, as long as I can eventually call you mine.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that fell from your lips at his words. “If you think making out with you once is gonna have me falling at your feet from now on, you might wanna get off your high horse, James.”

“I don’t mean right now, but I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” His eyes told you that he was being genuine.

“I don’t either, but-”

“Come to the match on Friday.” Bucky suddenly interrupted you, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. “If you’re not doing anything already, come watch me fight.”

You furrowed your brows hesitantly. “You don’t think Steve will get suspicious?”

“It’s only a match, (Y/N). He won’t suspect anything. Plus, he usually brings Peggy to these things - he’ll be focused on her the whole time.”

“So he won’t notice you dragging me to the locker room to make out again?”

Bucky scoffed, pulling you closer to him. “Actually, I was thinking I could take you out after I win. Contrary to what just happened in the locker room, I’m really quite the gentlemen.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But that’s only if you win, so I would get too excited yet.”

“Not if I win, gorgeous; when I win.”

“Alright,” You smirked, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket. You didn’t check it, however, knowing it would only be Steve telling you to hurry up. “If you’re sure that you’re gonna win, then I guess it’s a date.”

“Great, I’ll look forward to it.” A satisfied expression formed on his face.

Without thinking, you reached forward and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, letting your lips linger before pulling away. You would’ve went for his lips, but you thought you’d save that for Friday, when he won. “I hope I won’t be getting all dolled up for nothing, James.”

His cheeks tinted slightly pink at the affectionate action, causing his infectious smile to only grow wider. “You won’t be, I promise. Six thirty sharp, babydoll. I’ll look for you in the crowd.”

“I’ll be there.” You winked, finally turning around and making your way out of the room, and eventually out of the building.

The realisation of what you’d agreed to hit you in the form of an icy wind as you stepped outside of the club. In the past thirty minutes, you’d made out with your brother’s best friend, agreed to go on a date with him, and hid both of those things from the person that you trust the most.

You weren’t sure where things were going to end up with Bucky. If the makeout was just a one off, and the date didn’t make you fall for him, then whatever, right? You’d never have to tell Steve about it, and you could move on from the whole thing.

However, kissing Bucky for the first time? Not something you were going to forget any time soon. You already missed his touch, his lips molding with yours... you could only imagine how amazing things would been if you hadn’t stopped there. Christ, what if you were already falling for him? His charm made it pretty hard not to, but that wasn’t you. You never fell for guys so easily, especially after thirty minutes of meeting them, so why was Bucky having this effect on you? Every part of him seemed to be addictive; his smile, his touch, his eyes, his everything. After exiting out of the training room, exiting out of his presence, you were only left wanting more.

As you climbed into the passenger seat of the car, Steve sent you a grin before pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to ramble about the gym session he had. And as much as you wanted to listen, your focus was simply unable to remain on him.

Truthfully, you just couldn’t get his best friend off your mind.

#bucky barnes #bucky #boxer!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #boxer!bucky x reader

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smartguyreviewed · 4 years

Text

2x4 - Dateline

Original air date: Oct 1, 1997

Anyone who was holding their breath for me to get back to this, thank you. Been going through a lot like most people right now but I had to remember this blog is a good distraction because I get to write about one of my favorite shows growing up. Anyways, enjoy. :)

Let’s talk about cock-blocking or to be more gender inclusive...actually, I can’t think of a term similar that utilizes both a male and female part. Anyhoo, let’s talk about it.

I’ve done it (unintentionally). You’ve done it. We’ve all had it done to us as well. Like the night you finally got a chance to be alone with your dipshit crush and your annoying friend tried to insert herself until she finally realized what was going on and left you two alone so you could have your first kiss ever at age 19.

TJ is an extreme cock blocker. He will break your shit up and then pout because he’s still just a kid. Normally, TJ only wants to punish Marcus by enacting this cruel tactic but in this episode, he shifts gears to the person who is both a mother and father to him: Daddy Flody.

We begin this episode at a supermarket. Tj is checking out cereals and Floyd is checking out dat ass.

TJ catches Floyd staring and in his precocious little way, starts asking him questions about women. It kind of reminds me of Frank from Milk Money. which is a horrible movie that I adore and you should watch it because despite a little kid befriending a prostitute, it’s still a decent 90s coming-of-age tale. And Alex DeLarge is in it.

After TJ makes his dad sweat further by asking what body type gets his penis erect, TJ comes to the conclusion that Floyd is lonely and could probably benefit from some female companionship.

Cut to TJ on an unrealistically chatty PC barking at TJ to fill in the boxes for Floyd. I don’t know about you, but if my computer kept talking to me, I’d throw it out of the fucking window. I am so glad websites that talk at you are obsolete. Apparently, this computer is also sentient because TJ pauses for just a moment too long when Marcus comes in and this impatient computer bitch asks for the rest of the info in a more demanding tone.

But because TJ was distracted, he inputs his own height instead of his dad’s and the computer announces that she’s transferring him to their little people’s section. Hey, they gotta find love too!

Marcus is skeptical of why TJ is trying to set Floyd up. Just then, Yvette walks in and asks who is using her eyeliner to write down phone messages, which I totally expect a straight man to do. After fessing up, Marcus asks Yvette to dissuade TJ from setting up his dad. Yvette then uses her soon-to-be psychology degree on Marcus and reasons that he might be a little salty because he doesn’t want another woman to replace his mom. But no, Marcus is a teenage boy and completely lacking depth until certain episodes call for it. Instead, he says he just wants the car on weekend evenings so he can try to bang his latest girl of the week. Of course, he could just be deflecting to avoid a heavy conversation but I’m gonna go with the former because Marcus is the horniest boy on the show.

Yvette decides to help TJ since Floyd has few dating options. Her plan is to beef up his personal ad by making him younger and a fan of soul food and Maya Angelou. Marcus is still not with the shits and says that nobody wants to date an “old guy with three kids.” Completely forgetting about the fact that his dad is an attractive man, this happens instead:

TJ and the gang are now making final cuts on the 130 prospects Floyd had. I mean, that’s great and all but I’m sure at least half of those women were catfishes. Then again, in the 90s, maybe there was more legitimacy since there wasn’t enough technology to hide behind? I dunno. But Floyd definitely has some options.

While deliberating who will receive the clock from Floyd, Marcus makes what would be considered a transphobic comment questing if some of them really are women and how he doesn’t want Floyd to end up like Eddie Murphy. Mo, on the other hand is questing if this is even legal. Mo is a teenage boy and is probably likening it to what Tinder now is: a place to meet horny individuals.

Yvette thinks the ladies are good picks but then begins nitpicking their flaws, among one of them being that one of the ladies has breast implants. Because women who get surgeries to help boost their self esteem apparently don’t deserve love? Yvette is such a hypocrite as we’ll see in the future. Mo then begins taking the rejected pics because he loves older women, especially ones with perceived low self esteem. Just then, Floyd comes in the room and the gang has to cover up their dirty work. Floyd makes a bad joke and then dips out.

They eventually settle on a light-skinned natural woman named Jamie. They agree to meet at the grocery store, sot hat’s where we end up. Marcus is acting like he’s never seen pretty girls outside of school and leaves to spit game at women who just wanna be left alone so they can buy their frozen pizza and wine in peace.

Jamie sees who she thinks is her suitor and immediately is pissed because she, you know, thought she’d be meeting Floyd and not a little boy. Yvette comes over to smooth things over and convinces Jamie to meet Floyd. Well, TJ’s cute face convinced her after she was understandably freaked out. They go to meet Floyd.

Jamie shows up and explains what happened and that she was pre-screened to make sure she wasn’t a guy. Floyd actually even gives her an up and down look before she says she passed! Pretty sure this also wouldn’t go over well today. Jamie and Floyd, however, hit it off and leave to go on a date. When they get back, Yvette and TJ are spying on the new couple to see how it went. Floyd was actually bigging up TJ and talking about how smart he is to Jamie when they got in. Aww. Floyd is proud of his son for hooking him up. Yvette is noticeably annoyed at how he gets all of the credit, but I mean, it was his idea. Yvette just helped him out.

Upon completion of this totally selfless act to get his father some love, TJ is happy at first. Yay TJ! You’re on the right track to becoming a thoughtful human be--

Sike! TJ immediately regrets this decision once he realizes that his father having a personal life means that he won’t see him as much. TJ has a basketball game coming up that Floyd won’t be able to attend now. Yvette offers to take him but it’s not the same because Yvette is a girl and girls aren’t fun. And just like that, TJ the petty, cock-blocking asshole comes back.

The next day, TJ and Floyd are playing basketball when Jamie comes home. Floyd invites her to play but TJ is all like “bitch, wait your turn” and then Floyd puts her on TJ’s team. She then bribes TJ with the food she’s about to cook for them. He agrees but then Jamie and Floyd start flirting because duh. TJ leaves in a jealous fit, upset that this woman he hooked his father up with has the gall to want to spend time with him. He simulates what he wants to do to her body on a bag of Funions.

I have to say though, how long was the frame of this episode? Days? Weeks? Jamie has essentially become their stepmom. She’s even giving Marcus advice on how to treat a girl like a human being instead of a meat popsicle with titties. Yvette and Marcus then leave, allowing Jamie and Floyd their Blockbuster and Chill time with The Preacher’s Wife.

But TJ is a boner detector because as soon as Jamie and Floyd are about to mash faces, TJ whimpers for his pa because he doesn’t feel good. We think Floyd banished him to his room but then TJ comes over and pushes the two would-be lovers apart so he can ruin their night. Jamie eventually decides to leave, even though it’s clear she was holding out in case she could get a piece of Floyd but TJ completely squashed that possibility. Floyd actually whines when Jamie says she’s leaving. Aww. Floyd is lonely. Does TJ care? Of course not.

TJ sounds perfectly fine when he says he’s sorry he ruined the night. Father and son decide to just watch the movie together instead.

The next day at school, Marcus is spitting his game at the girl he went on a date with. Turns out, treating women like actual people has been working well for him! He’s even going on a second date. Yvette comes by to let TJ know that she’s picking him up again. TJ is, of course, pissed because Jamie had come over to the house the night before, albeit dick-less. Yvette has to explain to TJ that when you date someone, the goal is to see them frequently and that he’s the reason their last date sucked. She then shatters Marcus’s dreams by letting him know that Floyd is taking his car on his date. Guess Marcus is gonna have to make out on the bus.

TJ’s lips are all puckered because he’s losing his father to another woman. He’s so distressed that he actually picks a fight with a senior. Mo steps in and literally drags TJ home. No, seriously. He carried TJ like a bag of groceries all the way to the Henderson house during school. Then he transformed into a therapist to get to the root of TJ’s outburst. This is during school hours. Mo skipped school to bring TJ home and give Floyd advice. Mo is amazing.

TJ is playing basketball with himself when Floyd comes in and then he spills that he’s sick of Jamie. Floyd reminds TJ that he’s the one who set them up and I guess TJ didn’t know things would actually change. Now would have been a good time to mention if he feels some way about another woman besides Yvette playing a maternal figure in the wake of his mother’s never explained death. But Floyd does a good job as usual and says this is temporary because when TJ is a teenager, he won’t want anything to do with Floyd. TJ finally stops being a prick and Floyd offers to be careful about how he schedules his time and then continues the basketball game he let Jamie interrupt previously. Aww Floyd. Too bad TJ is probably going to hold onto this for a while because he was giving his dad a lot of shit in the end credits. This isn’t even the last time he does this to Floyd and we never see Jamie again, so I guess it’s safe to assume that TJ killed Jamie.

Things I noticed:

- Can we just take a moment to appreciate how hot Floyd is? How could Marcus ever think his dad wouldn’t be able to attract women?

- This brilliant cover for the gang if Floyd came in during the date deliberation:

- Marcus doesn’t want Floyd to go out on dates because he wants the car to himself on the weekends. He says if Floyd starts going out, he’s making out in the back of the bus. Yvette then says, “No, thanks to Rosa Parks, you can make out anywhere on the bus.” Brilliant retort. I really hand it to the writers of this show.

#smart guy #floyd henderson #tahj mowry #marcus henderson #jason weaver #essence atkins #Yvette Henderson #disney #mo tibbs #omar gooding #TJ henderson

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