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sincerelyjxyy · 8 months

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Gold Rush - Ten

Invisible String - Gold Rush

Chapter Ten - Moments Littered In Between

Song Of The Chapter - Somebody to You by BANNERS

✧ i was happy three days ago. today I'm depressed. what happened? nothing. an inner crutch slipped. some poorly suppressed memory rose to the surface. — mihail sebastian, for two thousand years ✧

Summary: The pogues’ plan of stealing the drone is set in motion, and JJ is determined to bring Josie's mood back to standard protentional.

Warning: Bit of negative body images and eating disordered language

Word Count: 9.4k

Gold Rush Masterlist

JOSIE SPRAWLED HERSELF ACROSS THE BENCH OF THE TWNKIE AS SHE POURED HER FEELINGS INTO HER JOURNAL. She found her mood slightly lifted as she put her honest thoughts into physical form, but not nearly enough to make her feel normal. The pain of her morning lingered with a brick-like ache that weighed heavily on her bones.

Her heart rate slowly calmed, having skyrocketed from her urgency to avoid being caught. And as the group discussed what the next step of the plan was, she grew entertained by Pope's pouting.

He sat with his arms crossed and an exasperated glare, insistent that what they'd planned was a horrible idea. Josie's feet laid across his, which he'd propped up on the back seat, and she shook them teasingly.

JJ sat on the floor of the Twinkie, slightly biting his tongue in absolute focus as he prepped a joint. Josie peeked at him from the corner of her eye, and she couldn't hide the smile that grazed her face at the sheer concentration that painted his expression.

"Pope, we're not stealing the drone. We're...borrowing it," John B assured from behind the boy. Josie shrugged, agreeing that their brunette friend had a point.

It was eighty-million dollars each, after all. They could afford to execute a little grab-and-go.

"Humans are the only animals that can't tell fantasy from reality," Pope quoted. Josie's brows furrowed as she tried to surmise where he might've heard it from. It seemed vaguely familiar.

"Wait, did you come up with that?" John B questioned, and Josie snorted in amusement.

"No, Albert Berstein came up with that, but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing," Pope smartly critiqued.

John B was silent for a moment. "Oh," he muttered.

Josie clicked her fingers conclusively, pointing at Pope in an aha fashion as she sat up in her seat. "Psychologist! That's why I didn't know who the hell you were quoting." She leaned back and buzzed with pride at her deduction. Albert Berstein had been the author of a book her mom had hounded her to read a while back.

Something about comparing people to vampires—Josie never did read it.

Pope shot her an amused glance, brow cocked, and she smugly nodded her head back at him. He then turned back to address John B in the driver's seat. "So, which is it?" He held out his hands to mimic a scale. "Fantasy or reality?"

"Why're you so weird, Pope?" JJ nonchalantly responded.

Josie leaned down with her right arm to slightly slap the blond's calf, but nevertheless still chuckled at his inquiry. She scrunched her face in subsequent agreement; to be fair, Pope's peculiar nature was just part of his charm.

"It's fantasy, but possible reality," Kie offered with a slight shrug as she glanced at Josie.

During the time she'd spent mulling through her thoughts, Josie concocted the idea that maybe the answer to calming her spiraling thoughts was to find an opportune distraction. And this seemed perfect. What better thing to grab onto than John B's treasure hunt?

"Oh, come on, guys!" Josie placed her journal down at the end of the bench, turning to sit upright in her seat. She glanced around at the attention she'd gathered and laid her hands flat on her lap. "My entire life, everyone has said the exact same thing about Avery's treasure and Libertalia. That it's a fantasy—a figment of my own imagination running wild. But I know that it's real."

She shared a look with John B, who returned it with an appreciative smile over his shoulder. Josie gave him an encouraging nod, indicating that she was ready to believe in it if he did. She admired the willingness her friend so valiantly showed and found herself drawn to it. She knew all too well what it felt like to chase a dream of gold.

"Reality," John B easily declared, sharing a determined look with both girls. Josie grinned, pleased with his response, and moved to lay back across the bench. She lightly kicked at Pope's feet, before placing her own back over them.

"Virtual reality," JJ added, joint hanging out of his mouth as he clicked his lighter to life. But, his action was interrupted as Pope reached down to snatch the joint from him. He flicked it away onto Josie's lap, and she picked it up to teasingly wiggle it at JJ.

"Keep the signal clear," Pope chastised.

JJ dramatically slammed the lighter shut with his palm, and Josie giggled as she twirled the joint in her fingers. The blond looked up at her with a pout, begging her to give the item back in support of him. But she simply shrugged and leaned to squeeze his leg in faux sympathy.

"Don't worry, Sunny. I'll keep it safe." Josie reached down to place the joint in the front pocket of her bag. She giggled when JJ loudly groaned and swung his head back against Kiara's seat in defeat.

Soon after their discussion, they arrived back at the docks. Prior to them leaving for the club, John B had hooked the Pogue up to Kiara's SUV. And, coincidentally, it happened to be the exact situation they'd needed to use for their plan.

As they pulled off to wherever the SUV had been left, Josie made haste in packing her belongings. She slung her bag over her shoulder and leaned forward to tap Pope's leg. "Good luck, love you guys."

Pope jokingly swatted at her hand as JJ opened the sliding door, unmoving from his spot on the floor. He let her step over him and clamber through, laughing as she stumbled a bit climbing out.

She huffed, turning to lean in and lay a dramatically loud kiss to the top of his hat. "Behave."

"Me? Best behavior," JJ bid dismissively, and Josie let out a sarcastic laugh. She pushed at his head, causing him to theatrically fall to his side, and gave one last smile goodbye to Pope.

She shut the van door and followed Kiara as they made their way around the front of the van. John B leaned out of his window as they passed, giving them a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't worry. You guys got this."

The girls shared a look of humor. "It's not us I'm worried about." Kie emphasized her claim by pointing toward the boys arguing in the back as she walked backward to her car. Josie patted John B's arm in solidarity.

"Got it." He offered a thumbs up.

As Josie turned away, the call of her name stalled her. She turned to face her best friend, and it was clear that he had more he wanted to say to her. She waited expectantly, raising her brow, for him to speak.

"You sure you're alright? You've been...off today. Y'know you don't have to do this."

She smiled appreciatively at the sentiment and offered him a shrug. "Just one of those days, JB. But what's important right now is helping you. I got this." She threw her thumb behind her toward Kie's car. "Besides, I'll have that one looking out for me."

John B stared at her, unconvinced, but she sent him a smile of promise. "Seriously, I'm good. Love you. Be careful!" Josie waved, before she turned to jog to Kiara's passenger door.

Opening the door, she sat her bag down on the floorboard and climbed in. Kiara's curious stare burned into her as she settled, but Josie convincingly shook her head to explain that the conversation was nothing of concern. Without saying more, Kie turned the car on and pulled ahead, the Twinkie trailing them from afar.

Josie sighed and peeked back at the van following them, before she settled in her seat again and faced Kie. "So, remind me one more time?"

Kiara nodded through a chuckle, adjusting her grip on the wheel. "Okay, so there's gonna be a guard, right? He's probably gonna be the slimy type." Josie nodded in acknowledgement, fully aware of the type of men that frequented the salvage yard. "So, when two young girls show up about a flat tire, of course he'll have no choice but to help us. That's when the boys will sneak in."

Josie narrowed her eyes in uncertainty, doubtfully tilting her head at John B's plan. Sure, the boys had quite the knack for stealing things, but what they were doing was a big task. Despite these concerns, Kie shrugged in response, and Josie settled back into her seat.

After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Kie spoke back up. "Do you really believe that the gold's on the ship?"

Josie sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. She leaned back against the door, mulling over her words before she let them spill into existence. Her lips lifted in a pout as she got lost in her thoughts.

Did she believe that the gold was there? Or was it only for an ulterior motive that she expressed her belief in her friend?

"I think I want the gold to be there, I guess. Because it would mean a lot to John B..." Josie paused, debating whether or not to speak her next words. "But also, I think I, like, selfishly want it to be there too."

"Why do you say that?" Kie glanced at her friend, confused.

Josie sighed, favoring to look down and stare as she picked the skin around her nails. "I don't know; different reasons, I guess. Part of me wants this whole thing to be real so that I won't have to face the reality of real-world problems. Y'know, like health insurance and bills and taxes—stuff like that. We spend our whole lives basically raising ourselves to slaughter. I mean, sure, me and you? We're lucky. We come from money. But do you think our parents are gonna financially support us when they find out what we wanna do with our lives? I know damn well mine won't." Josie breathed out a sardonic laugh.

"But, let's say the gold isn't there. Even so, doing all of this treasure hunting business will allot me enough distraction from my otherwise draining mental state. The last thing I need to do is focus on the possibility of my addict-of-a-father creeping around Kildare, threatening to pop into my life at any given moment. Not to mention the suffocating chokehold my mother has decided to maintain."

"Honestly, I just hope that, for everyone's sake, the gold is there."

"Wow..." Kie trailed off, sighing as she contemplated the right way to address Josie's heavy statements. "Jo..."

Josie cut her off, too deep in her own head. "And then I think another part of me believes that if we find this gold, it'll solidify the idea that Avery's treasure is a possibility. Like, existence by proxy or something." Josie's forehead scrunched as she held her hands out in front of her. "Almost as if seeing hidden treasure will prove to me that it's all more than just a concept."

Kiara was grateful for the turn of conversation that she could grasp. "Are you having doubts?"

"Never," Josie swiftly answered as she vigorously shook her head. "It's just that; maybe if we find the Royal Merchant treasure..." Josie trailed off, shaking the rest of her thoughts from sticking to her brain.

Maybe her father would be impressed and proud enough to want to repair their relationship.

That was too much for Josie to consider.

These weren't even things she'd pondered mere minutes ago in the van. She'd only assumed her acceptance of John B's plan was an attempt to control the overwhelming anxieties that spun in her head. That she just supported him because she knew that it would've been reciprocated the other way around.

But, as her thoughts raced and her brain considered every possible feeling she'd ever had, her hidden desires and wants slowly uncovered themselves to her.

There was zero doubt that one of her deepest hopes was to finally earn the love and acceptance of her father, no matter how estranged they were. Anyone who knew, even a bit, of her past could make that observation simply by having a conversation with her pertaining to her childhood.

The only thing she and her father had ever connected over was her love for exploration and treasure—a passion passed down by the very same man she yearned for. After all, she'd been named after Joseph Cooper, who was a pirate that her father admired for his decision to avoid capture by exploding his ship's cabin. It was unsurprising that, because of their shared passion, Josie then assumed that the acquisition of eighty million dollars from a sunken ship would be enough to draw her father back into her life.

The little girl inside her chest banged on the cage Josie had locked her in, and she begged to be loved by her father. Older Josie closed her eyes and tried her hardest to swallow the longing words of that girl that threatened to spew out of her mouth.

"If we find the treasure...what?" Kie urged Josie.

The older girl shook her head again and pressed her lips together as she opened her eyes. "Nothing. Never mind." She straightened in her seat once the salvage yard was in her sights, and Kie slowly pulled up to the gate.

Kiara looked like she wanted to argue Josie's disregard, but the redhead had climbed out of the car before she could get any words out.

Josie walked around to the driver's side as Kie exited the car. She surveyed the parking lot for the signs of any approaching teenage boys, eyes searching for familiar tufts of golden hair.

"Jo."

Her attention was pulled by her companion, who leaned down at the end of the Pogue to release the air from the boat's back tire. Josie questioningly glanced at her, and Kiara paused her sabotage to motion for Josie to remove her hoodie.

Josie's eyes widened, an incredible feeling of unease and embarrassment washing over here. "What? Why?"

"Because he's probably disgusting, and we need to use that to our advantage." She stood from the tire, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Just take it off."

"But-" Josie's rebuttal was halted by the sternly pointed look Kiara shot her, and she huffed. She walked back to open the driver's side back door, grabbing the bottom of her hoodie and tugging it over her head. She peevishly tossed it onto her seat at the front, before slamming the door shut.

She adjusted the tank top, which barely covered the sight of her bra. Her insecurities rang clear in her ears, spitting out the words about her linebacker shoulders and chubby biceps that were carved into every part of her brain. She crossed her arms over her chest and self-consciously rubbed at the place on her arm that her mother had criticized earlier that day.

As Kiara turned to lead them toward the gate, Josie's gaze wandered to scrutinizingly scan herself in the reflection of the car.

She cringed, immediately regretting the decision to look, as she started to take note of everything she found wrong. Her ponytail was a mess from the repetitive lift and removal of her hood, her tank top did nothing to cover most of her skin, her face was beet-red from the heat, and she hated the way her shorts looked paired with the aforementioned tank top.

Before she could judgmentally glare at herself anymore, Kiara hissed out her name again.

Josie went to follow her and promptly ignored the concerned look her friend sent her. She could only hope that Kiara hadn't witnessed much of her self-loathing; she dreaded being asked about it. Instead, she tried to focus on putting their plan into motion.

"Hello?" Kiara called, waving up to the security box that sat just behind the gate. "Excuse me?"

The security guard leaned up in his seat to peer out the window, and Josie plastered on a fake, distressed smile. She waved when he made eye contact, and the girls approached the gate and waited for him to address them.

He exited his station on the other side of the gate. "Can I help you, girls?"

Josie put on her best sweet voice, hand placed on her side as she leaned on one hip and slightly popped it out. She raised her other hand, as if to guard her eyes from the sun. "Hi! Um, our boat actually caught a flat on our way home." Josie pointed back at her friend's car and batted her lashes. "And when I called my dad, he said that you guys had been so nice to help him before—with his tire. We were hoping you could do the same for us?"

From the corner of her eye, Josie could see Kiara politely nod in agreement.

The guard looked around the salvage yard suspiciously, his gaze raking up and down both girls before moving to the SUV behind them. He nodded and gave a flirty smile. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

"Great, thanks so much!" Josie turned to Kie, silently gagging once he was out of sight.

Kie smirked humoredly. "It's too easy."

"Well..." Josie shook her hand in an iffy motion, differing in her opinion on the ease of deception.

She placed her hands on her hips as they watched the guard open the rolling gate. Both girls plastered on fake smiles again as the man crossed the gate and motioned for them to lead the way.

☆

"How's it going with Kiara?" JJ asked as he peeked over their hiding spot to look at his favorite redhead. He silently applauded her efforts, along with Kie's, to woo over the security guard.

"It's, uh, not awkward, weird, or anything," John B sarcastically offered. "Yeah."

JJ snorted in amusement. "Honestly, I did not think you were gonna actually listen to me."

"What?"

"I was one hundred percent sure she was into you, bro," JJ defended himself. He glanced back at Josie, who he'd suddenly noticed was sans her hoodie. He coughed to cover his noise of surprise, eyes lingering over the exposed fabric of her navy bra. "Pope would agree."

The eldest boy shrugged, slightly tilting his head back and forth. "Ehh..."

"So, like...Kie, she, like, definitely gave you the Heisman?"

John B nodded confidently. "Oh, no question. Yup." He smirked. "Like you and Jose level Heisman."

JJ scoffed, shuffling as he tried to shrug off his offense at John B's accurate statement. "She didn't give me the Heisman."

"Yeah, she did," Pope cut in as he continued to watch for the girls' signal.

JJ leaned behind John B to smack the back of Pope's head and glare at him. "Did not. She can't give me the Heisman when there's no mackin' involved, genius. JB lipped Kie." JJ turned his attention back to John B, who cringed at the reminder. "That's why she canned you."

"Maybe she's just into somebody else," Pope nonchalantly offered. The other two turned to look at him curiously, and questioningly, but he avoided their stares.

☆

Kiara took the head of the trio and walked them down the driver's side to the back end of the boat. "It's just this back one right here." Kie raised her arm to lean on the boat, and Josie stood close behind on her left side. "I mean, it must've been a slow leak or something."

Once Josie was convinced his focus wouldn't wander, she subtly waved her right hand behind Kiara's back—the signal for the boys to move. Wherever they were hiding, she could only hope that they could actually spot the signal, considering she hadn't seen them.

After a few waves, she moved her hand to pretend she was picking something off Kie's shirt.

"Probably just been sitting in the yard too long?" The guard offered, and Kiara verbally agreed through a nod. Josie tried to subtly scan around for any sign of a familiar head of blond hair, before she shot a smile at the guard to keep away any suspicion.

She brought her finger to her mouth, playing casual as she bit down on her index nail. Her heart clambered in her chest as she considered the fact that they were relying on the boys to get in and out efficiently. Two words that never complemented each other well.

She did not want to be on the receiving end of any anger from the guard if he found them out.

Her gaze drifted toward the front gate, behind the guard, just in time to see three bodies squeeze their way through as it closed. She immediately averted her eyes in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to them.

"Yeah, I got this." The man nodded assuredly, smiling at the girls as he motioned down at the tire. They both returned the smile as Kie thanked him. Once he kneeled down to get to work, the duo shared an anxious look. Josie motioned her head toward the gate and nodded, confirming that all they had to do was wait for the boys to get the drone and get out.

Josie continued to chew on her nail, and her leg began to bounce as her eyes darted from the man to the gate and back again. She kicked around some of the gravel with her foot, trying to appear unbothered, when a noise of amusement drew her attention.

Her gaze darted to the man, who glanced up at her. "Got it?" Josie asked, hoping that she conveyed some sense of nonchalance as she politely smiled down at him.

"Anxious?"

Josie paused her leg and gaped at him, wide-eyed. "Uh, n-no. No..." Josie drawled, dismissively waving her hand. "No, I'm just a fidgety gal. Can never sit still."

The guy let out a chuckle and nodded, leaning back down to continue pumping air into the tire. Kiara subtly hit Josie's shoulder with her hand and disdainfully tilted her head. Clearly, one of them had not bought Josie's award-winning performance.

Josie shrugged, crossing her arms, and brought her nail back to her mouth. She actively refrained from bouncing her leg, limiting herself to one anxious tick. Kiara moved to lean against one of the vehicles parked beside them, and Josie made herself comfortable against the boat.

After a few minutes, Josie couldn't help but feel a bit optimistic. Maybe they were actually going to get away with their plan. There hadn't been any signs of failure from the boys yet, and no signs were good signs.

That was, until the distant sounds of barking came from somewhere among the property. Josie's head whipped up, and she silently cursed at the boys. Kiara vigorously shook her head at Josie, a command to keep their act up, and the redhead's gaze moved to the man just as he looked up at them.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Kie asked in faux-confusion. In any other circumstance, Josie would've cackled at Kie gaslighting a man. But she braced herself as the man stood from his crouched position.

"Oh, Tebow's got somethin'."

"It's probably just a raccoon, maybe. Y'know?" Kiara quickly offered.

Josie nodded as she rose from her leaned position against the boat. "Yeah, there's been an infestation of them lately. Probably just ran up a tree to escape your dog," Josie tried to casually reassure.

Kie nodded, raising her hand toward Josie in agreement. "Nothin' to worry about."

"Yeah." The man agreed, bending back down beside the tire. Josie had to thank him; either he was incredibly gullible or extremely oblivious.

Josie's eyes moved upward to meet Kiara, who pointedly stared at her as she motioned her head behind the boat. Josie furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head in confusion, earning an eye roll from Kiara.

"Oh, shit, Jo. Didn't you tell your dad you'd call him once we got here?"

Josie's face contorted in perplexity, forehead creasing as she tilted her head. Kiara raised her brows as she wordlessly commanded the girl to follow along. What the hell was Kiara even saying?

"Yeah..." Josie slowly agreed, still quite puzzled, as Kiara motioned toward the car. She took a few moments to mull over Kiara's insinuation and rack her brain, when a lightbulb went off. Her brows raised in realization once she'd remembered her earlier claim about the tire, and she nodded.

"Yes, and I left my phone in the car. The one right there." She awkwardly pointed at the SUV. "So, we should go get that—my phone, that is—and call my dad."

Kiara impatiently observed Josie's attempt to sound convincing. And when the redhead promptly turned to race around the boat, Kiara followed, hot on her best friend's heels, as they left the man unattended.

As soon as they were around the vessel, Kiara removed her hairclip and crouched down by the boat's other back tire. She used it to push into the pressure valve and release the air, while Josie continued her path toward the car. She figured that the sound of her footsteps would cover the sound of Kie's pausing.

She turned to walk backwards, so that she could keep an eye on her friend. Her gaze widened when she saw the man rounding the back of the boat. Hurriedly, she darted forward to the girl and hissed out her name, but it was too late. Once he'd stopped to glance between them, her movements paused.

"What are you doing?" He, quite bewilderedly, asked the girl by the tire. Josie cringed, knowing that there was no way they could get any further with their plan.

But Kie maintained her composure. "This one looks a little low, too."

Finally choosing to heed his guard dog's barking, the guard shoved past Josie and sprinted back toward the yard. Kiara pleaded for him to stop, but he'd already pressed the button to open the gate by the time either girl had the chance to concoct another excuse.

"Shit!" Kie claimed, and Josie impetuously pushed at her shoulder to turn her around.

"Go, go! Get in the car!"

The both of them raced toward the doors—Josie getting in a bit before Kiara as the brunette raced around the boat. As Kie climbed in and started the car, Josie looked at her in bewilderment. "This one looks a little low, too?"

"Oh, whatever, says the fidgety gal," Kie snapped back.

Josie scanned the lot once again for any sign of the boys. "Should we wait? Do you think they're good?"

"I know we won't be if that guy comes back," Kie stated matter-of-factly. Josie sighed and nodded in agreement, still casting her eyes across the property. Kie quickly drove the car out of the lot and back onto the road, while Josie pulled her hoodie back over her torso.

She sighed, both in relief and anxiety, and leaned back into the seat. "I swear to God; if they get caught, I'm gonna kill all three of them."

Kie humoredly rolled her eyes and threw a sarcastic smile in Josie's direction. "As if you'd harm a hair on JJ's filthy blond head."

Josie scoffed and sat up, coming to her own defense. "Please! I literally smack him all the time. I'd have the capacity to kill him if I was angry enough."

Kie dubiously hummed, not sparing a glance at her friend, as she nodded. And, for a reason unbeknownst even to herself, Josie felt offended. She smacked her lips and crossed her arms, huffing as she slouched back in her seat. She ignored Kie's amused smile and pressed her tongue to the side of her cheek in annoyance.

Josie wasn't sure why Kiara's statement bothered her, but it certainly did. Why did she assume JJ would be the one she couldn't kill? Was it because they were the closest? Josie knew she joked about favoritism a lot when it came to JJ; maybe there was some truth to it.

It was a no-brainer that JJ was not only her favorite pogue, but also just her overall favorite person. There was no doubt he had the rest of the pogues beaten out for that spot, and everyone knew it. It just stung a little bit when it was so bluntly pointed out to her, and the negative connotation behind Kiara's words wasn't lost on Josie.

She could detect the slight bitterness in her friend's tone, despite her words being hidden behind humor, and it made her sad. She wanted her friends to know that she would do absolutely anything for all of her best friends. The last thing she would ever want was for them to doubt that.

The two of them stayed silent the rest of the drive back to Chateau. The only noise that accompanied them was the sound of the wind blowing through the open windows. Josie's eyes never diverted from their passing surroundings, and she tried to bury the tickle of emotion in her throat.

Once Kiara pulled the car to a stop in John B's driveway, Josie exited and completely disregarded her friend.

Kiara huffed, exhaling from her nose, as she jumped out and marched around the front of the vehicle. "Okay. What gives?"

Josie crossed her arms and leaned back against the SUV, staring down the driveway for a sign of the Twinkie approaching. Kie smacked her lips, obviously not in the mood to let another one of Josie's avoidant maneuvers slide. She slightly shoved her friend's shoulder to gain her attention.

Josie rudely swatted at the girl's hand with a seriously annoyed expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, Jo. It was a joke. Stop being so snubby."

"I'm sorry. Just a bad day." She shrugged off her friend's stern confusion, shuffling in her spot as she stared out into the darkness. She purposely avoided meeting Kie's gaze, stubbornly refusing to admit just how ridiculous her pouting was.

She just needed to sleep off her bad vibes. She just wanted to go home and snooze into her pillow.

Her irritation was stupid; Josie realized that. All Kiara had pointed out was what everyone already knew. But she couldn't help the strain in her throat, which was a direct reaction from her best friend so flatly pointing out that JJ would always garner special treatment.

To be honest, she felt a little called out. Maybe a bit too seen.

Josie rubbed her nose with her sleeve. "Can we please drop it? I promise, I'm just being a sensitive baby right now."

"Stop." Kiara quickly cut her off, shaking her head and grabbing Josie's biceps. Josie finally looked at her friend, who shot her a light-hearted glare. "Don't talk shit about my best friend like that."

Josie rolled her eyes and looked away, tongue pressed against her teeth as she fought the smile that threatened to grow. She tried to find a distraction, but Kiara gently shook her arms to draw her attention back. "Seriously, though. I get that you'll talk to me whenever you're ready, okay? Just don't be a bitch about it."

Josie questioningly raised her bows, and Kie shrugged. "I told you not to talk about my best friend like that. I said nothing about me."

Josie scoffed good-naturedly through an eye roll, lightly kicking the side of her friend's leg with her foot. She opened her mouth to teasingly retort back, when they were blinded by the headlights of the Twinkie.

She shielded her eyes with her hand as John B creeped up toward them. They made their way toward the van, and Josie leaned on the open passenger window. "So, what's the verdict?"

John B smirked at them, and JJ leaned between the front seats from his spot in the back. "Four hundred milli, here we come!"

The girls shared a laugh of disbelief, shaking their heads, as the boys shared a high five. Kiara gently nudged Josie aside and leaned into the open window beside her, glancing around at all of the pogues.

"I say we celebrate. Anybody hungry?"

"Hell yeah!" The boys shared cheers and victorious whoops. JJ frantically opened the back door of the van and reached out for Josie. She cackled as her best friend dragged her into the van, obviously energized at the mention of free food. Kiara was left to climb into the passenger seat.

JJ made himself comfortable next to Josie on the bench seat, and she reached over to share a celebratory pogue-shake with Pope. After, she turned back to her best friend, who'd thrown his left arm over the back of the seat as he impishly ran his hand over the top of her head, her ponytail practically ruined.

He then grabbed her opposite shoulder, shaking her excitedly, and she struggled to push him off as she merrily laughed at his antics. She complained that his hands were disgusting, and she groaned about him getting gunk in her air. But there was no real seriousness in her tone, and she grinned as she pinched his side playfully.

She subsequently failed to notice the bittersweet smile sent back at her from the front of the van.

For the rest of the drive to the Wreck, JJ took it upon himself to recount the entire experience of what they'd actually accomplished.

She'd smacked him in scolding when he told her about the dog and how he'd stupidly lured it toward him for a distraction. She bit her tongue when he mentioned how he'd used his dad as an excuse to get away. And, she cheered out toward John B when JJ told her about how he'd broken the lock with a pipe. A shared laughter rang through the Twinkie as John B waved his hand and pretended to bow.

Halfway through the drive, having mellowed, JJ decided to instead mess with Josie at any chance he could get. From gently pulling at the ends of her ponytail until she smacked him, to playing really short rounds of I-Spy because she somehow always guessed it on the first try.

By the time they'd arrived at the Wreck, the adrenaline from their escape had dwindled significantly.

"Stealing drones makes you hungry," Kie sighed out. Josie laughed as she let out a noise of agreement.

Pope slid the back door open, waving his hand toward the duo, and Josie let JJ go first. She amusedly watched him take his time to hop out of the van. "What I would do to a beer and shrimp and grits right now."

"It would not be pretty," Pope commented. He clambered out of the van in front of Josie, who climbed out last. She leaned back in to grab her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. Stretching her arms out above her head, her joints clicked as she wiggled her fingers and groaned.

JJ smiled down at her, before he shut the door and threw his arm back around her shoulder. But, just as quickly as it was around her, Josie shrugged off the contact.

His hand had fallen a little too close to her sleeved bicep and, by proxy, her armpit, and she still felt off about drawing any attention to that part of her body. She purposely ignored the sad, confused look he gave her.

Instead, she marched through the door to join Kiara in greeting her dad.

"Hey, Boss-Man." Josie waved as Kie hugged her dad, and the man smiled back at her. Josie was incredibly lucky to have her best friend's parents as bosses. They were incredibly lenient about schedules, and they almost never made her work when she had no desire to.

Guess it helped to have known your bosses for a large portion of your life.

"Hey, kid. Long day?"

Josie sighed and leaned back against the counter. She dramatically rolled her eyes and threw her head back. "The longest. How was business?"

"Well, like I just told Kiara, not great," he said, honestly, as he shook his head.

Kiara pursed her lips as she continued to hug her dad, and she shared a brief look with Josie. "Guess now is not the best time to ask for free food for me and my friends?" She pulled back to flash him an innocent smile and grabbed Josie's elbow to pull her in for backup.

Josie flashed him her best smile, pleading to feed the boys that wandered around the dining area like raccoons searching for food. He sighed and leaned on the counter with an unimpressed stare. "Look at them. They're greedy pelicans.""

The girls turned to glance at the boys, who were basically standing over the table of some customers. They all looked like they were mere seconds away from snatching the plates from the table. If she hadn't known them, Josie could've sworn that they hadn't eaten in months.

"I thought I told you to stop hanging around these guys." He raised his eyebrows at Josie. "And I know your mama told you to stop."

"Well, everybody at the Kook Academy hates us, Dad," Kiara bitterly retorted. She glanced over at Josie, who nodded in solidarity.

The Grey girl had some kook acquaintances who she was friendly with—it came with the territory. But, for the most part, she'd signed away any friendships with kooks the moment she'd decided to befriend the mischievous eight-year-old she'd sat beside in the third grade.

"'Cause you never gave 'em a chance."

"I did give them a chance," Kie countered. Josie pursed her lips and averted her eyes from the conversation, feeling a sudden awkwardness being in the middle of the debacle. "They got stuck up on me. I mean, they care more about shoes than surfing. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Mr. Carrera sighed in defeat, knowing he couldn't fight his daughter's stance.

Josie softly smiled when Kie wrapped her arm around Josie's back and flanked back at the guys. "These are my friends."

The boys noticed the three of them staring, and they all gave their own little versions of awkward waves. JJ sent Josie a look of inquiry, but she just shook her head and smiled.

Mike scoffed out a chuckle and sighed. "Well, I-I got-" He sighed, and the relent in his tone caused Josie to look up at him enthusiastically. "I gotta throw it out. Might as well. Take it."

Josie fist-bumped the air in celebration and let out a little cheer as Kie jumped to hug and thank her dad. Josie leaned in to give him a grateful side-hug, laughing when he patted her head.

Kie turned to the boys, smile dropping to maintain her chill façade. "Sit down," she commanded flatly, and they all groaned in relief at the confirmation.

All three of them raced to crowd around the table the girls approached. JJ rushed to sit next to Josie, pulling her chair out just before she could, and plopped down on the one next to it. Josie chuckled and sat down as she shoved his shoulder, turning to full laughter when he caught the hand and gently bit down on her index finger.

Her eyes scanned the table, smile quickly fading when, like a cold shower, the discussion she'd shared with her mother that morning washed over her. It'd completely left her mind—the fact that she was expected to heavily diet those next few days. She'd been too busy wanting to celebrate their victory.

It quickly registered that she'd have to avoid eating while also trying to hide it from her friends. She could already feel the incoming panic gnawing at her belly.

JJ could immediately sense the change in Josie's behavior. He lowered her hand, the one already in his grasp, to sit on his lap as he slightly leaned toward her. "What? What's up?"

"Huh?" She looked over at his furrowed features, and she held back from reaching out to smooth the crinkle of his forehead. "No, it's, uh, it's nothing." She pulled her hand from his, physically shaking the question and his touch off as she glanced over at her other friends.

Kiara and Pope were in a heated discussion, and John B was excitedly watching it as he cheered on whatever side he thought was winning.

"Jose..." JJ playfully drawled the nickname as he faux-scolded her. He leaned in to jestingly push his forehead into her cheek. Against her best interest, a giggle slipped past her lips. She shoved his head back, groaning when he resisted against her palm.

"Promise, Jay, I'm just being stupid." She let go of his head and politely smiled when Mike set down some plates at the center of the table, but she refrained from reaching for anything.

The blond to her left lifted from his seat to snatch a plate of shrimp and grits toward him. Once he realized Josie hadn't picked anything, he, like it was second nature, casually grabbed a plate of hushpuppies and crab pot-pie and placed it in front of her.

Her favorite.

"Don't promise if it's not true, Jo." He sat back down in his seat, almost immediately digging into his food. "And don't say you're stupid again, unless you wanna throw hands." He faced her and lifted his arms in a boxing stance, pretending to punch her shoulder.

Josie rolled her eyes and smacked his hands, subtly pushing her plate away. She, instead, reached for the water Kie had so kindly poured for her when she'd walked around with drinks. As she sipped it, she tried to ignore the way her stomach growled at the smell of her favorite meal.

She opted to dig into the bag that she'd hung on the back of her chair. She rummaged through the main pocket, before pulling out a packet of gum. She popped a piece into her mouth and took another sip of water.

Hopefully, the strong taste of peppermint could curb the grumble of her stomach.

"Can I have one?" JJ spoke through a mouthful of food, nodding at the pate of hushpuppies. Josie snickered and pushed the plate toward him.

"You can have 'em all."

The boy's eyes widened as she shook his head, shocked by the words that left his best friend's lips. He swallowed the food he'd shoved into his mouth and stared at Josie as if she'd just told him she hated surfing. "You're not gonna eat any of 'em? The same girl who ate fifty-five of them suckers, and then threw up to eat another twenty, isn't gonna eat any?"

Josie cringed at the memory, her stomach queasy at the mere thought. "I'm just not hungry, Jay." She swirled the straw in her water cup, watching the ice as it tapped against the paper sides.

JJ continued to shovel food into his mouth, but the redhead barely strayed from his eyesight. "Butsd yourfg dibnht ebem ert oh dah boarft."

Josie chuckled and scrunched up her nose at his attempt to speak through a mouthful of food, smacking his shoulder lightly. She grinned, amused, and shook her head. "I got none of that."

He dramatically swallowed, reaching out for the soda cup Kie had given him to wash it down. He then turned to fully focus on Josie. "You didn't even eat on the boat. Which means you're goin' on about ten hours of no grub." He reached out to jokingly squeeze her stomach, and Josie instantly slapped his arm away. She gave him a stern, scolding look, but he rolled his eyes as if she were being ridiculous.

"Now, I may not be as smart as you and Mr. Vanderhorst over there..." JJ's voice rose enough for Pope to hear from the seat he'd moved to, which was behind them up at the counter. The older pogue retaliated by throwing down a hushpuppy at JJ, which he successfully ducked from. "But I know that you need to eat more than one bowl of cereal a day, maybe two."

Josie struggled to find a response to her best friend's unusually serious statement. There hadn't been much thought given to how she was going to explain to everyone that she wasn't supposed to be eating. She just hoped no one would be preceptive enough to question her when she said that she wasn't hungry. After all, it's not like she was a terrible liar.

Before she had a chance to reply to JJ, a fry came flying at him.

John B's obnoxious laugh rang throughout the Wreck, and JJ grinned as he turned his eyes over to the humored brunette. He was obviously growing bored with the lack of attention given to him. He threw another fry at JJ, who leaned back that time to catch it in his mouth. He missed, but he cheesily smiled as the fry plopped onto his lap.

Their conversation was seemingly tabled, as the group continued to chow down on the free food without conversation about Josie's lack of participation. She was even able to pull her Polaroid out of her bag and snap some pictures of her friends messing around.

She got a disgusting picture of JJ cheesing through a mouthful of grits, and she captured the exact moment a plate of ketchup-covered fries tipped over into John B's lap. Everything was perfect, and her discussion with JJ slowly slipped from her mind.

That was until Kiara began to try and convince John B to dance with her. While the two of them were distracted, JJ turned to Josie with a semi-serious expression. "Alright, Grey, spill. You've been acting wack all day."

Josie exhaled through her nose, staring into the deep blue eyes that would always deliver a familiar sense of comfort to her soul. He stared at her as if it really bothered him to not know what was wrong with her—like it was eating at him. JJ was a lot of things, and among those, he was too stubborn to just let something like Josie's discomfort go unnoticed.

Josie dug around in her head for the correct way to phrase what she was feeling—experiencing—without fully saying what she knew was wrong with her. How was she supposed to tell her friend that she was uncomfortable with the way she looked because of her mother? How does one explain that every bad thought they've ever had about themselves originated from the same person who created them?

If there was anyone Josie knew who understood that feeling, it was JJ.

"If I ask you something, swear you'll be honest with me?"

"Brutally," JJ immediately answered through a grin.

Josie nodded in relief and turned to face him in her seat. Her knees brushed the side of his thigh as she moved them to rest in between their chairs. She exhaled, rubbing her newly sweaty palms on her jean shorts. "Do you-" She paused, closing her eyes as she recoiled from her own question.

"Do you think I'm...pleasant-looking?"

"Pleasant-looking?" JJ chuckled, brows furrowed as he repeated her statement like he didn't understand what she was inquiring.

Josie huffed, wishing he'd just answer the question without asking his own. "Attractive, JJ. Do you think I'm, like, objectively attractive?" Her eyes stayed shut, unwilling to face whatever expression he'd held. But the sudden sound of choking and coughing caused them to shoot back open.

The sound went as quickly as it came—not enough to draw attention to him. But it was enough for Josie to feel like she needed to reach out and pat his back. As her hand rubbed vertical motions, her face scrunched, and she avoided directly looking at him.

She felt completely embarrassed by his reaction.

"Where the hell did that come from?" JJ shook his head, bewildered, and gulped down his soda.

Josie retracted her hand from his spine. "JJ, please, just answer the question."

"W-Well, I, uhm, I-" His stuttering made Josie dread his answer even more. JJ was not easily flustered.

Still, she persisted. "You can be honest with me."

JJ paused, thoughtfully, and turned to fully stare at her, knees touching as he slightly scooted his chair back to make room. He could finally make out the catastrophic waves of dread that filled her eyes and painted her expression. His shoulders shrank as he took in the severity of her question.

He grabbed both of her shoulders and playfully narrowed his eyes, slouching to match her line of vision. "Jose, of course, you're a freaking smokeshow. You're, like, insanely hot and pleasant-looking." He wiggled his eyebrows to tease her prior wording, before he let go of her and turned back in his seat.

"Jay," Josie groaned out as she pushed his shoulder, realizing she wasn't going to receive a serious answer.

He grabbed her hand through his own laugh, squeezing it to get her to look back at him. "Jo, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Jo." He smiled, tugging at her hand a bit. "No, actually, though; don't ever doubt that shit. You're easily one of the best-looking people I've ever seen."

Josie smiled appreciatively at him, placing her right elbow on the table and resting her chin on her knuckles, and felt the clench that perpetually surrounded her chest let up a little. His words made her feel supported, particularly in her need to remind herself that she was beautiful. No matter how she looked.

Her gaze lingered as he held it with his own. All sorts of alarm bells rang out in her brain. Reminders of a certain handsome, six-foot-one kook flashed across her vision. She couldn't help but consider how inappropriate this entire conversation might seem to someone like her boyfriend.

Josie could feel the energy between herself and her best friend shift like gears in a clock tower. For some strange reason, a faint bubbling feeling grew at the bottom of her stomach, while her heart rate picked up exponentially.

She stared into the blues of JJ's eyes—a color much like the ocean he'd found a home in throughout their childhood. But, while he had found his home in the actual water, she had always preferred seeking comfort in the color of his eyes.

She was certain she'd never seen anything so blue.

Their hands laid flat on his lap, her left one clasped in both of his with her palm facing out, while the right one still held her head. The soft skin of his thumb brushed against her palm, gentle caresses moving back and forth as if almost subconsciously. In the exact places where their hands met, Josie could feel the heat of his soul combining with the heat of her own. Like two flames merging together to make one enormously vibrant fire.

If she didn't know any better, she'd almost say that the distance between them had steadily closed the more they talked. Similar to how two magnets were drawn to each other, no matter the circumstance. Two ends of something that are always meant to meet and create their own middle.

It was overwhelming—the puffs of breath that brushed the strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. They were too much for her to bear. She feared she might willingly suffocate in them if it meant staying in her best friend's proximity.

The palms of her hands grew sweaty once again, and she made the decision to pull her hand away from the blond. Her head lifted from her hand, and she felt the built-up energy between them slowly melt. But it didn't completely disappear.

Never completely.

She internally tried to calm her racing heartbeat, not-so-subtly rubbing her hands off on her thighs. She ignored the furrowed look JJ gave her, and she covered up her labored breaths with a couple of coughs that she tried to play off.

She glanced around at her friends, hoping and praying that none of them had also witnessed the intense energy shared between the two best friends. She continued to ignore the unwavering stare of her companion, opting to look up and smile at her dancing best friends.

She peeked over her shoulder to spot Pope, only to find him watching the brunette duo with saddened eyes. Josie could see through his expression just how heavy his heart lay in his chest, and her own clenched at the thought. He looked like a kicked puppy—like someone had just torn his heart in half right in front of him.

Her eyes widened in realization, flicking back and forth between the dancing duo and the frowning boy. She'd seen that look before.

She'd seen it when Rafe Cameron found out that she'd started dating the new kid, every time Cory caught a glimpse of a photo the girls had with their dad, or that one time in the fifth grade when JJ found out that Josie had picked John B to be her first-mate instead of him.

She'd seen it in her own eyes earlier that morning, after she'd seen the beauty of Sarah Cameron twirling in her dress.

Jealousy. Bitter and green.

A variety of emotions flooded Josie's veins at the realization that Pope was jealous of what she could only assume was Kiara dancing with John B. What other reason would he have to have looked so longingly and so hurt by the innocent act of enjoyment? He had to have been harboring a crush on one of the two.

She felt bitter that some of them were still finding a desire in themselves to cross that line. She felt fearful at the idea of what those feelings could do to Pope's relationship with them. She felt annoyed that they had to repeat this process right after what'd happened when John B kissed Kiara.

But, surprisingly, the most evident emotion Josie felt was sorrow.

Pain weighed heavily in her chest as she thought about how awful Pope must feel. Not only because he probably felt embarrassed for harboring feelings for one of them, but because he also had to watch his crush get kissed by one of his best friends. Then he had to watch that same crush flirtingly dance with that same best friend.

She couldn't bear for him to wear a look of melancholy any longer. "C'mon, P."

Josie stood from her seat, squeezing past behind JJ to step up toward the counter, and held out her hand. Pope squinted at her in confusion, shaking his head to show that he had no clue what she was asking of him. She grinned and wiggled her outstretched fingers at him, humming in finality. Once he realized what she was requesting, his expression dropped even further than before. He stared at her, unimpressed.

But, naturally, it didn't deter the redhead as she rolled her eyes at him. "Pope..." She drawled out his name. "Come on! In the wise words of a young poet, 'dance with me. The earth is spinning, and we can't just stand on it!'" She grabbed both of his hands and pulled up off his seat toward the middle of the restaurant.

"Who the hell said that?"

"No clue; I read it somewhere online once. The sentiment still stands, though!" She grinned and lifted his hand to twirl him under her arm, and she obnoxiously laughed as he obliged. He then did the same to her, frivolously pulling her into him, and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

They began to over-dramatically waltz around in a tiny circle, movements coltish, as Pope occasionally spun Josie under their hands or into his chest. He theatrically dipped her, before allowing her to do the same to him as they shared a gleeful laugh.

They were no way in time with the music, but Josie didn't care. All she cared about was the wide smile she'd been able to bring forth on Pope's face. She silently hoped the distraction offered him at least some respite from the heavy weight of his suffering heart.

In fact, she was so focused on distracting Pope that she unknowingly disregarded the bitter gazes that settled on the pair. And just like that, jealousy broke free of its hold on Pope and chokingly grasped onto two others, filling their throats with calamitous longing.

⋄ ⋟⋆ june 21, 2020

i love home. i love the place where i learned to love so deeply that, sometimes, it pains me. but there are days, moments littered in between the rise and fall of the sun, that I wish I was one of those people who moves thousands of miles away and never looks back. someone who has adventures untangled from their past and where they come from. but I could never keep myself from looking back. I'll always look back. I find I am forever diligently defined by every person or place I've ever loved. I love, I love, I love. so why can't I love myself the way I love life?

- josephine grey ⋄ ⋟⋆

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emzywemzymemzyvonkenzy · 2 years

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THE VICTORIOUS? (Part 1)

The screams finally started to fade as the knight continued to walk, back turned and sword clenched. ‘That’s one more to cross of the list’ she thought smugly to herself. It wasn’t always so easy for her to carry out this task: she started with merciful kills, quick, peaceful kills. They didn’t last long. As time passed their resentment grew. It grew big. She would find all the kings’ men, no matter where they hid.

People cheered in joy at the sight of the knight. ‘What a hero’ they would tell their children. Life was good and prosperous. The knight had successfully completed another task for the king and she couldn’t wait to inform him.

“My lord the scout was successful, we know the whereabouts of Villain and we’ll be able to rush his castle by the end of this week”

“Very good. If that’s all then you may be on your way.” He waved his hand towards the door and waited “Well? Is that all or not, why are you still stood here?”

“Um well I thought I should bring something up.” The knight started to fidget, it was getting awfully hot in her armour “Are we sure that Villain is actually… a villain?” It was suffocating now and the silence was filling the room like a plague ‘why wasn’t the king answering?’

“Of course! How dare you question me and me decisions!” The king stood and started to walk towards the knight. “Do you think I’m some sort of IDIOT?” The king was now looming over her.

“N-no my lord I’m sorry I-“ she was cut off by the sound of the door opening. Both the king and the knight turned to face the door, it was the queen. “I’d watch yourself” he whispered as he patted the knight on the shoulders.

“Why aren’t my troops storming the villain’s castle? If this is isn’t done by the end of the week then who knows what they’ll do next” the king threw his dish across the floor.

“The raid I-it was called of b-by you sir” the poor messenger was shaking before the king and could hardly stand.

“Why am I surrounded by complete MORONS!! Someone will be punished for this.”

The knight couldn’t help but to think back on her decisions. Her regrets. ‘Maybe if I had done things differently then my loved ones would- No that king is far too corrupt, this all would’ve happened one way or another. It was just a matter of time’ they cleaned their sword, arose from their bed and set off. The kings men all started to go into hiding, the once beloved knight became notorious in just a few days. Word spread fast about who the knight was targeting and it didn’t take them long to scatter like mice: hiding away in their little holes. The knight knew how to wriggle the little mice out with cheese so their long list quickly shortened -they made sure to save the king till last.

“You will be slain down for aiding the king with his villainous tasks!” She was tired and didn’t want to make this one a long and painful death.

“Y-yo-you used to work for the king didn’t you? So s-surely you too are an evil being who a-aided the king.” The knight stopped in their tracks and thought for a moment then dug her hands into her pocket.

“Ah good I didn’t leave it behind.” They pulled out some tape and placed it over their mouth“How many people do you think said the exact same thing in the hopes that I’ll spare their life because suddenly I realise that I’m just like them. I’m NOTHING like you d’you understand? If I was an evil being who aided the king then would I be here right now, trying to stop him?”

‘That’s one more to cross of the list’ she thought ‘only a few more to go before I finally make him suffer, he’ll be praying for the mercy of death. No such mercy shall be given to a man like him’.

#knights rule #writing #silly little story #I’m so dark and mysterious #better than revision #revenge

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids.

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint?

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower.

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes.

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer.

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest.

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

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merakiaes · 3 years

Text

Captain Jealous - William Lennox

Pairing: William Lennox x reader

Requested: By @neemonroe

Prompts: #20, #41, #42 from the smut-list.

Warnings/notes: Takes place before Transformers. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes. Might be a little bit OOC but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog and comment, it would make my day <3

Wordcount: 3806

Summary: Flirting with Will only seems to result in annoyance, but when you finally turn your attention elsewhere, he’s not very pleased.

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that, when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”.

You lived by those words every day of your life, not once backing down from a fight, always standing up for what was right, as well as holding your own and never giving up on getting the things you wanted.

To most, you were one of the strongest and most admirable women they’d ever gotten the pleasure of meeting, but to others… well, let’s just say that you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

You were absolutely relentless when you put your mind to something and one of the many people who had fallen victim to that stubbornness was William Lennox.

Having enrolled in the army around the same time and being equally as good at what you did both back in training and in the field, the two of you had always respected each other and rather than being competitive, tried your best to lift each other up.

If one of you took control of a situation and started shouting out orders, the other didn’t question it, not even when Will eventually passed you in ranks. Because your minds worked in the exact same ways and so it didn’t really matter who gave the orders since the orders would be the same in the end, anyway, no matter whose lips they passed.

But you did differ in the way that Will much preferred to keep his personal life separated from his professional life, while you had a habit of letting them merge together, which inevitably resulted in you bringing the obvious attraction you felt for him with you out on the field.

Will was one of the people who thought you had taken your mother’s advice a bit too literally. That was what he told you on a daily basis as a response to your endless flirting, at least. But you knew better; you knew that he, at least to some extent, reciprocated your attractions, thanks to the few moments you had shared back in training.

“It was all fun and games back then”. He liked to say in that stern, military voice he had picked up the second he was promoted to Captain. “But this is the real deal. This is serious, and this, this thing you’re doing, is unprofessional.”

Ever the workaholic soldier, he was, at this point basically having dedicated his entire life to the job with no time to spare for fun. But no matter how hard he tried denying it, you knew that the two of you shared something, and so did every other member of your squad.

The only ones who seemed completely clueless to this were the newbies and as you gradually lost hope that your stubborn captain would ever admit and give in to his feelings, you found it to be a breath of fresh air to be able to spend time with people who weren’t constantly making suggestive remarks and fueling the attraction from your side.

One, in particular, caught your eye; tall, dark and handsome. He had yet to gain more muscle than the bare minimum and was, admittedly, kind of lanky. He was one year younger than you which was way too young seeing as you’d otherwise not even go for guys the same age as you, but he had banter and shared your flirty, dirty, cheeky sense of humor which, most definitely, made up for what he lacked in life-experience.

Will had smugly watched all of the newbies try to make a move on you only to be shot down quicker than your enemies, but then the last of the soldiers had swept up by your side, put a long, lean arm over your shoulders, and hit you with the cheesiest pick-up line he had ever heard.

“How you doing, mama? You must be a parking ticket, ‘cuz you got fiiine written all over you.”

While Epps, Fig and the rest of the team broke out into laughter at the man’s poor technique, Will’s face transformed from smug to stone-cold murderer.

Why? Because he knew that you didn’t want a man to tell you the stars reflected in your eyes or that you took their breath away with your beauty.

What you wanted was someone who could make you laugh, and when you threw your head back and joined in on the seemingly endless laughing fit, he was overtaken by a feeling so strong that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

And you noticed the change of demeanor immediately. The long, hard stares were only the tip of the iceberg, as was the way he would move closer to you and find a way to touch you as much as he possibly could without making it inappropriate or suspicious.

The most extreme part of his change in behavior was how hard and strict he suddenly became with the rookie, who had quickly earned himself the reputation of your very own lapdog.

He got scolded even for the most insignificant of mistakes, always got put on parade as the “example” in exercises in which he was usually thrown to the ground by Will himself and totally and completely humiliated.

Of course, those moments were just poor thinking on Will’s part seeing as you, besides being incredibly flirty and witty, also happened to be one of the most caring members of the team.

Not only did he have to watch you laugh until your stomach hurt at the rookie’s bad jokes, but he also had to watch you comfort and reassure him after his one-on-one’s with the Captain.

And still, Will couldn’t stop himself from making the same mistake again and again, the consequences every time being that he was stuck watching you fuss over the younger soldier, because no matter how much it vexed him, he knew that you knew why he was acting the way he was.

It was all a game to you and he played along because he wanted to keep showing you that he was the better option. Unluckily for the rookie, though, Will’s method of showing dominance was through physical contact.

You knew what Will was doing, how he was trying to punish the rookie, mildly and legally, of course, while simultaneously trying to show you that he was displeased with what was going on; that he wanted it to stop.

To a start, you only showed interest in the rookie to fuck with Will, but you quickly realized that he was actually a fun guy to hang around.

You enjoyed spending time with him. Not a second with him went without laughter and it was nice to be able to have fun like that for a change, and soon enough, you’d more or less forgotten about the silent war between the two of you.

You probably knew that it wasn’t a real interest, judging by the way you didn’t even care enough to remember his name, but it was fun to have another banter-buddy.

You’d had an identical friendship with Epps since the start, but two people could only keep the creativity up for so long; after a while, you just couldn’t come up with witty remarks and sarcastic jokes, anymore.

Up until then, Will had still kept his disapproval about the whole thing lowkey, because as long as you were only doing what you were doing to make him jealous, you were still interested.

But when you started making moves on the rookie with genuine interest, without looking over at Will while doing it, it was no longer a game.

While already on the topic of games, you were completely useless when it came to cards. It didn’t matter what game you played; you’d always end up as the loser. And although you enjoyed the banter that followed the teasing of your poor card-playing abilities, your patience wasn’t endless.

“Alright, I’m calling it.” You chuckled after losing the fifth game of the evening, dropping your thick deck of cards onto the table in front of you.

“Really? But it was going so good for you.” Epps wasted no time in firing back with feign-surprise, to which all you did was deliver a sharp slap to his head.

The table broke out into laughter. “You had that coming.” Fig shook his head, successfully starting a metaphorical war.

You chuckled at their antics and pushed back your chair, getting to your feet and stretching your arms above your head.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You said, and wasted no time in starting to collect your things.

The rookie’s attention was instantly piqued, and so was Will’s, who had been playing in silence nearly the entire time you’d been there.

“You know, I need to shower, too.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. “So, I should probably join you. You know, save water. Provide some extra heat.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raised a playful eyebrow and chuckled. “Tempting offer, but I’ll have to take a raincheck on that. Glad to know I have options, though. Maybe next time.”

Without waiting for his reply, you snatched your jacket from a nearby stool and playfully flicked his forehead, before turning around and walking away, completely oblivious of the pairs of eyes that kept watching you from the table you had just left.

You went about your shower routine like you always did; get undressed, wash hair, wash body, turn off the water in-between washes, get dried and get dressed again. Sharing the water with so many people could be hard, so you couldn’t really take the long, thoughtful showers you did when at home.

You were out again as quickly as you had gotten in and took your time getting lotioned and dressed, getting as much self-care into your night as you possibly could when at a military base.

“What are you doing with the new kid?”

You should’ve been significantly more aware of your surroundings as a soldier but in your defense, everyone dropped their guard to some extent when in a safe environment, so the scream that came out of your mouth at the sudden sound of a voice was completely justified.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore as you jumped around, hastily reaching for your damp towel to cover your bare chest.

Coming face to face with a furious-looking Will, you glared. “Knock much?”

He didn’t look amused in the slightest, crossing his arms over his chest. “Knock, knock. Answer my question.”

Your mouth snapped shut at the dominance behind his voice and your eyes instinctively flickered to his biceps, veins and muscle more defined than ever in the way he had positioned his arms.

You were, however, proud to say that you were quick to come back to your senses, your eyes snapping back to meet his.

“Do you, maybe, oh, I don’t know, want to turn around?” You asked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

If you wanted him to turn around to gain privacy for yourself or simply because you couldn’t stop glancing at his bulging biceps, you didn’t know, but no matter the reason behind your wish, he didn’t move an inch.

“Answer the question.” Was all that he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“Do you like him?” His questions kept shooting out as quickly as bullets and, again, you couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes.

“He’s fun to be around.” You said simply, giving him a slightly annoyed glare before turning around and dropping the towel to continue getting dressed.

Will didn’t even try to cover the fact that he was checking you out, eyes shamelessly traveling your form and taking his sweet time to remember all the details his eyes could reach.

It wasn’t like this was the first time one of you saw the other only partly clothed – you know, it was kind of inevitable for all of you to catch a glimpse of each other’s birthday suits once every blue moon - so once the shock of his sudden appearance had melted off, the nervousness followed.

“But do you like-like him?”

At the sound of that question in particular, you couldn’t help but snort.

“What is this? Third grade?” You threw him an amused look over your shoulder. “Say that I do like-like him, do you think I should ask Epps if he can give him a note asking him to check yes or no on whether or not he’d like to be my boyfriend?” You gave him a sarcastic pout.

At this point, Will was completely fed up with your inability to take anything seriously and spun you around by your arm.

Luckily, you had just finished hooking your bra behind your back, said bra thankfully covering your chest from his view.

“Can you not make a joke about everything?” He asked, your wrist firmly held in his hand. “You have to realize how bad this looks to our superiors. First me, and now him. You can’t go around flirting with everyone. It makes you look unprofessional and uncommitted and that, in turn, makes it look like I can’t do my job.”

“Is that really what’s got your big-soldier-boy panties in a twist, though?” You narrowed your eyes challengingly, and slowly fought your wrist out of his grip to, instead, grab a hold of his hand.

Further proving your point, he did nothing to protest, the glare remaining in his eyes, but the rest of his face being overtaken by exasperation.

“I just don’t get it.” He said. “You spend all this time pushing my buttons, being completely insufferable with your never-ending flirting, and now you’re suddenly interested in someone else?”

“I think the real question here is why you’re suddenly interested when I’ve spent so much time trying to get your attention to no avail and now, what? You suddenly want me because I might be interested in someone else?” You raised an eyebrow, and couldn’t deny the flash of heat going through your body when he lowly growled.

“I’ve never not wanted you.” He objected. “And you’re not interested in the rookie.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you.”

“So what you’re saying is, basically, that you can’t be with me, but I also can’t be interested in anyone else.”

“We both know that relationships in this work are highly frowned upon and-“

“Highly frowned upon, but not forbidden. You’ve still had the option to choose, and you actively chose not to act on it. Just making that clear.”

“I haven’t acted on it because it’s wrong.”

“If it’s so wrong…” You started, a sharp shiver going down your spine as your bare back hit the cold, wet tiles. “Then why did you just corner me in the shower?”

During that short minute of back-and-forth arguing, he had done just that, the two of you now standing chest against chest in the darkest corner of the room.

Your face was pulled into a determined glare, as was his, and the tension and intensity behind your shared stare was enough to have all of the previously discussed issues forgotten in less than a microsecond.

The proximity between you in combination with the fact that you were at an obvious disadvantage in height and size made you feel both hot and cold at the same time. You felt like prey under his stare. You found yourself liking it all the while you were hating the feeling of being so powerless, and your inner conflict only added to the tension.

“You have no idea how much willpower it’s taken me to keep resisting you, to keep turning you down.” He spoke slowly, and lowly. “Each of my thoughts about you are improper and you put all of those thoughts into my head every day, pulling my strings, pushing my buttons, just walking around being… you.”

In one smooth motion, he intertwined his fingers with yours, and your eyes automatically flickered down to watch your now joined-together digits; rough and calloused meeting even rougher and more calloused.

“I like you. I care about you. More than I should.” He continued, prompting you to look back up with an eyebrow raised.

“And?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, exasperated and impatient. “Do you want me to say that I want to be with you? Because I do. I. Want. To. Be. With. You.”

You snickered at his over-dramatic emphasizing, finding it nothing short of amusing that he’d been protesting and telling you how wrong it was only seconds before, and now he was more or less proclaiming his love for you. That, more than anything, just showed how stubborn he was.

“Took you long enough.” You mused, leaning your head back into the wall and smirking, all while looking him straight in the eye. “It’s just too bad that I’ve grown so fond of the rookie. You know, he’s quite-“

Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by Will’s lips crashing into yours, roughly and urgently. In the process, you were pushed even further into the wall behind you, and as the sudden force threw you off balance, you instinctively reacted by moving your arms up to his neck to hold yourself in place.

In return, his hands moved to each side of your waist, big, warm hands squeezing down on the flesh that had long ago turned cold from being bare in the nippy air for so long.

You had always imagined what it would feel like to be touched by him like this, but not even your wildest imagination could compare to the intensity of the tingles that spread through your stomach and chest.

Your hands slowly sneaked up the back of his neck, your body reacting automatically, but just as you were about to tousle your fingers in his hair, the moment ended when he pulled away.

Both of you were left panting in silence, the only sounds available for your ears to hear being your ragged breaths and the rhythmic dripping of the shower beside you.

“Wow, Captain.” You were the first one to speak. “I knew you were hot for me, but try to keep it in your pants. That was hardly professional.”

Just like that, your sarcastic persona returned as if it had never left in the first place, your eyes opening after having been closed up until then and meeting his with a playful grin.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I’m pretty sure you threw professional straight out the window the first time we met.” He pointed out and much to your dismay, stepped back. “Are you going to stop encouraging the rookie, now?”

Getting straight to the point, okay.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged casually, bringing your hand up to your face to inspect your nails and peeking up at him through your lashes with a devilish smirk. “Jealousy looks kinda good on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” He exclaimed quickly, and you immediately raised an eyebrow as a way to say ‘really?’

“I’m not jealous.” He repeated, this time in a lower, calmer tone. “It’s just, you’re mine.”

Those two words alone were enough to make you inwardly groan, like one would when eating that first scoop of ice cream after not having been able to eat any in a week. Or a day.

But in a brave attempt to not make a fool of yourself, you remained in your teasing element, raising your eyebrows and hitting him back with a feign-uncaring: “Is that so?”

To that, he stepped closer to you once again, brought his hands up to cradle your cheeks, and playfully glared.

“Stop flirting with the rookie.” He repeated.

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“I’m asking politely.” He lied.

“Hmmm….” You hummed, pretending to think only for a moment, before flashing him a shit-eating grin. “No. I’m having way too much fun watching you squirm.”

Still leaning against the wall, you carefully pushed yourself up, pushed your chest against his and watched in success as his eyes flickered down.

Taking your sweet time, you brought your hands up to his chest with agonizingly slow movements and leaned your head up to his.

His breath shook as you brushed your lips over his and whispered against them lowly.

“You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Will pushed his head forward with obvious intentions, but before he could press his lips against yours, you slid out of the tight corner, resulting in him having to catch himself on the wall left behind.

With a proud smile, you walked over to the bench by which you had previously been working on getting dressed and snatched your shirt where it laid.

“You’ll drive me crazy before all this is over, you know that?” Will spoke from behind you, which only made your smile widen.

Quickly pulling on your shirt and collecting the rest of your things, you turned around and walked back up to him where he still stood in the shower.

“That’s always been the plan.” You replied simply, placing a quick peck to the corner of his mouth before once again turning around and walking away, this time leaving him completely alone in the room.

He had to take a few moments to collect himself and regain his composure, and by the time he walked back out, you were nowhere in sight.

With only you on his mind, he headed back to the table where the rest of the team were still playing cards, and sat down in the chair he had occupied before leaving.

“So, now that it’s just us here, I could use some advice on-“ The rookie wasted no time, but didn’t get to finish.

“You couldn’t handle her even if she came with instructions, kid.” Will interrupted without even looking at him, reading his mind without struggle since the person of his interest was one they had in common.

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”.

To some, this was an admirable quality while, to others, you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

When it came to Will? Well, he just had nothing bad to say about you. You might’ve gotten on his nerves ninety-nine percent of the time, and been completely and utterly insufferable, but God did he love it.

Taglist: let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Will Lennox fics!

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Remember us - part 3

Here we are with part 3.

This was a tough chapter to write.

Please do not hate Rowan, he is confused and scared and what is happening to him is scary.

-------

A slow tune played in the distance of the big garden.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand and walked away from the big crowd and near the bank of the lake where it was just the two of them.

“Did you drag me here to kill me?”

Rowan in response kissed her and Aelin could not read his expression. His arms went around her frame and pulled her closer for a slow dance on the spot.

His hand brushed her back and let her scent envelope him.

“Lys and Aedion look happy.” He whispered to her, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms. A presence he would never tire of.

“It was about time.” Aelin said kissing his chest.

“It’s our turn to be that happy, what do you think?” Rowan went down on one knee and gently grabbed her hand pulling it to his chest “Fireheart, I love you. You are my best friend, my soulmate and I want to walk the path of life at your side. I want to grow old with you and still watch silly movies on the sofa. Aelin Galathynius, will you do me the honour of marrying me and let me call you my wife?”

The smile on Aelin’s face became radiant “Yes,” a kiss on his lips “yes, buzzard, I will marry you.”

Rowan woke up panting hard. The memory had been very vivid and clear in his head. The colours, the smells, he felt as if he had been there. Aelin had told him about that memory, about the day he had proposed to her at a friend’s wedding.

The memory had felt so real and his hands were now shaking.

It had been a week since that conversation. Aelin had started visiting him on her way to work and sometimes during her breaks as well. They had been chatting and she had been telling more about their lives and answered all the questions he had. The topic he hadn’t had yet the courage to cover was the one about her being pregnant. He felt bad for snooping on the phone but that was his anyway and Aelin had given it to him with that exact intention. For him to read and discover more about who he had been and hopefully unlock more moments.

He was busy with his thoughts that he did nor notice a male nurse popping into his room.

“Time to go.”

The doctor had told him that now that he was awake it was time to finally start his rehab and to try have him walking again quite quickly.

The nurse helped him to shift onto the wheelchair and pushed him out.

“Can someone tell Aelin where I am gone? Sometimes she comes and visit on her break.”

“I am sure nurse Ytger will tell your wife that you went for physio.”

He had started to enjoy and wait eagerly for her visits. He wanted to tell her abut the flash of the day he proposed.

They finally arrived at the gym and a man was waiting for him “Hello Rowan and welcome to hell.” Said the man in front of him “You’ll probably will want to kill me after every session but I assure you I will make you walk again. I always do.” The man said quite smugly “my name is Dorian, by the way.”

For a half an hour Dorian massaged and warmed up and loosened his right leg. Every time he bent his knee Rowan was ready to cry. Until the man got him back on the wheelchair and they reached some parallel bars “now, we try walking.”

Rowan looked at him in disbelief. He could not be serious.

“Come on, hold on to the bars with your hands and pull yourself upright.”

He followed the directions and pulled himself up.

“Good. Now try to move a step.”

Rowan tried but almost fell on his face if it wasn’t that Dorian grabbed him “don’t put weight on the injured leg yet.”

He was about to try again when he spotted Aelin in her blue scrubs entering the gym. Dorian saw her as well “are you going to look good in front of your wife?”

Aelin joined him “Hi devil.” She greeted Dorian.

“Hi my darling. Your hubby and I just started.”

“Just go easy on him. I just got him back.” And Rowan saw Aelin give him a warm smile. He needed to tell her about his dream. He wanted to revive that day with her, to know how she felt. She had looked happy in the memory. Rowan was also curious to know why she called him buzzard.

For another good hour he did all Dorian told him and by the end of the first session he did manage to walk once the length on the walking bars. Aelin had given him the most stunning smile.

They were now back in his room and she was helping him climb back in bed.

“You must be exhausted. Dorian’s sessions are tough, but the man does miracles.”

“My leg hurts…” he said fully leaning back in bed in a seated position.

“I should let you rest.” Aelin made a move to leave but he stopped her, grabbing her hand for a fleeting moment “stay, please.”

Aelin nodded and sat back down on the chair. He noticed her hand gently move to her stomach in a protective gesture.

“I had a dream.” He told her and saw his wife turn her head to him “it was the day I proposed. You had a green dress and we were at Lys and Aedion’s wedding.” He continued and saw her face break and try to hold back the tears “you called me buzzard.”

Aelin started sobbing. It was just one memory. It was not their entire life but it was something. She nodded eagerly and restrained herself from the desire to kiss him. She missed the contact with him.

“It’s my nickname for you. You hover, like a bird of prey. I have been calling you like that since the beginnings.”

He smiled and decided to tackle the more pressing question he had for her, his heart started racing. He had found out from the phone and not from her. He took a deep breath “I know…” he whispered and she looked up at him with curiosity “I was going through the text messages we exchanged and I found the one where you sent me a picture of our baby.”

Aelin gasped “I didn’t tell you because it would have been too much and you already have enough to deal with.” She was trying to protect him. She had been dying to tell him but for a moment she had put her desires aside and thought about him, how he would react at the news.

“How far along are you?”

“12 weeks. I am just at the end of my first trimester.” And he saw her lift her scrub and could see the slight hint of a bump “peanut, this is dad. Dad, this is peanut.”

Rowan sighed heavily “what if…” how could he explain his fears to her without crushing her? “What if the person I become is not the husband you remember? I don’t know when I will get my memories back. And when I do? Will it still be me or a brand new person with some jumbled up memories? What if you realise you can’t live with a version of me that is just a bad copy of the original?” He was terrified at the idea.

“To whatever end.” She whispered “that’s the promise we shared on our wedding day. We will go through life together no matter what. Together.” Aelin sniffled loudly “we already went through a lot in seven years of marriage. Two miscarriages that shook us to the core. But we survived. Our marriage survived.” She took his hand feeling the need to a contact with him to dispel the fears in her heart “we will survive this as well.” She was now sobbing and Rowan had no idea how to console her. He had grabbed her hand briefly but still did not feel comfortable enough for contact with her.

“Sorry, it’s the hormones.”

“Aelin, you should move on. Find someone—” but Aelin did not let him finish “Rowan Whitethorn, please tell me you have not just suggested me to leave you.” She stood and shouted at him furious that he could even think about something so outrageous.

“I am not leaving you for another man. You are my husband.” She felt anger rising at the idea he might suggest such thing. It broke her heart that he would give up like that.

“What if I don’t want to be your husband? Have you thought about me? I am trapped in a life I don’t recognise.” His tone matched hers and at his words Aelin felt her heart break. She took a step away from him.

“You come here and tell me all those thing about our life. Am I supposed to accept them without question and jump back in my old life?”

She did not answer him. Aelin just ran out of the room, heavy tears streaming down her cheeks. And when nausea hit she ran for the toilets and emptied her stomach.

She sat on the floor for a time that felt endless until she got paged and had to force herself to go back to work.

***

Rowan closed his eyes and he collapsed back on the pillow. His soul ached at the words he had said to Aelin. Why did he tell her something he did not believe himself? He was confused and utterly overwhelmed. He had so many questions and he had reacted in the worst possible way. But he was scared of not being able to be enough for her, to transform into a copy she might not like. They had kids to think about too. What if he was going to destroy a family? They deserved better than him.

Waking up and not remembering anything of his life had been terrifying. But that woman, his wife, was willing to take him back no matter what. She was ready to show him a way to find himself again.

He took his mobile and texted her as soon as he figured out how to do it I am sorry for what I said. I am really scared.

Rowan placed the phone on the nightstand and lay down. He felt exhausted and when he closed his eyes, sleep caught him in his arms.

***

Rowan was standing in front of a crowd. He was in what looked like a ballroom inside and old building. The guests were all dressed up nicely and so was he. At his side there was a blonde man grinning happily.

As soon as the music started he turned his head and saw two dark-haired women entering the venue and slowly proceed along the aisle in his direction. His gazed drifted away from them as soon as he spotted Aelin at the entrance. She was dressed in the most amazing light blue dress and she looked stunning. He felt like the luckiest man alive. Aelin had chosen him.

She stopped in front of him and he mouthed the words I love you to her. The officiant proceeded with the ceremony until it was time to exchange their vows and he went first.

“Aelin, my heart, once we set our hate aside you became my best friend and then my soulmate and soon I will be able to call you my wife as well. I am ready to face this new adventure together and stay at your side, no matter what. To whatever end, fireheart.”

By the time he finished she was in tears and it took her a moment to compose herself.

“Rowan, my buzzard, life can be unpredictable and cruel, but as long as I have you at my side I know I can survive anything. You are my rock. I am looking forward to our new adventure together. I love you, to whatever end.”

Rowan kissed her not even waiting for the right moment.

“Rowan Whitethorn, do you take Aelin Galathynius as you wife. Promise to respect her and cherish the time you will have together? To love her for better for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”

“I do.” Said Rowan never averting his green eyes from her.

“Aelin Galathynius, do you take Rowan Whitethorn as your husband and promise to walk the path of life at his side. To love him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”

“I do.” Tears of joy streamed down her face.

A moment later the scent of flowers had gone and Rowan awoke abruptly and the smell of disinfectant hit him.

He had been dreaming again. Their wedding apparently. They had been so happy and he could not remove from his mind Aelin’s stunning smile.

Frantically he grabbed his phone and sadness hit him when he noticed there was no answer from Aelin.

What had he done?

***

That night when Aelin got back home she looked for comfort in her mother’s arms first. She had told her all that happened at the hospital and Rowan’s words. Evalin had let her cry until she was spent.

When bed time came she went for her bedroom and found her bed already occupied by her two terrors. She changed in her pyjama and climbed in bed. Gently she pulled Freyja to her chest and inhaled deeply her scent. As if on instinct, just like his father, Thomas adjusted and moved to her snuggling closer. A pair of green eyes set on her “go back to sleep my love.” She kissed his blonde hair.

“I miss dad.” He said moving even closer and Aelin wrapped her arms around her two children “I miss him too, Tom.”

“When is he coming back?”

“Soon.” She brushed his hair “now sleep, okay?”

“I love you, mum.”

Aelin barely stopped the tears “I love you too.”

She closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

74 notes · View notes

nbrook29 · 3 years

Text

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind.

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander.

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun.

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up.

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked.

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps.

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek.

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous.

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him.

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel.

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway.

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice.

Robbe.

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?”

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn.

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button.

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

#wtfock #my fics #i think i prefer writing sobbe in canon #i kinda struggle with the AU versions of them #😫

94 notes · View notes

miracleonice87 · 3 years

Note

38 with Mat

from the Winter/Christmas Writing Prompts list

38. “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.” 🎄

quick note: this one is prob a bit longer than the others will be. I just L O V E writing Sydney and Marty as secondary characters in Mat stories.

quick warnings: swearing, alcohol, super snowy powdery Christmas fluff

and, just for fun, song pairing: mistletoe by Justin Bieber (obviously)

_____

There really was no place like home.

After moving away to Los Angeles to attend USC for both undergrad and grad studies, you were finally back in New York. You hadn’t been able to resist the pull — it was almost as if, from all the way across the continent, you could feel the Atlantic tide receding and pulling you home along with it. For better or for worse, you belonged to the Empire State.

Sydney, your lifelong best friend and a New Yorker herself, was beyond ecstatic, as she had recently gotten engaged to her longtime boyfriend Matt, a hockey player, and named you her maid of honor. Planning a wedding — not to mention showers and bachelorette festivities — would be far easier, and far more fun, with you in the same zip code. Since moving back six weeks ago, you’d spent about ninety percent of your time with Sydney by your side, making up for lost time with the woman who had long been your other half.

So sweet, right? There was just one problem. Sydney wouldn’t stop trying to set you up with guys. She was insistent that you’d been single for too long — you’d broken up with your college sweetheart by the end of your senior year — and she made it her mission for you to find love again. And she, on her own, was bad enough — she’d already hooked you up with so many friends of friends that you’d lost count, and none had been interesting enough for a second date — but her fiancé conspiring right along with her made resisting them that much more difficult.

This particular night, she had lured you to the home she shared with Matt under the guise of having dinner with her family, when in reality, she was throwing a Christmas dinner party for Matt’s closest friends on the team. All of whom had — and brought — significant others. Except for one. What a coincidence.

Also coincidentally, his name was Mat, too, or so you were told — you didn’t quite believe Syd’s Matt when he told you that upon introducing the two of you.

“Mat with one ’t,’” he announced, one arm slung around Mat’s shoulders. The handsome, dark-haired man swallowed thickly and gave you his best polite smile — it was in that moment that you realized beyond a shadow of a doubt this was yet another set up.

Matt made a lame excuse about needing to check on Sydney in the kitchen and snuck away after some brief pleasantries, but not before blatantly nudging your much-smaller frame toward New Mat. You gave Matt a menacing glare before recovering, standing a safe distance away from New Mat, leaning against the wooden beam behind you to keep you steady.

“So, Mat with one ’t,’ how long have you played with the ever-obnoxious Matty?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Mat laughed easily. Damn, he had a nice laugh — the kind that made his pretty eyes crinkle at the corners. Nice hair. Nice teeth — perfect fucking teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be a hockey player? Wait, what was he saying? Something about Seattle, and the draft, and… now you were lost. You nodded slowly with a forced smile as you tried your hardest to focus on what he was saying. He was just so goddamn pretty.

Thankfully, Sydney’s call from the kitchen saved you from the embarrassment of not having heard a word this poor boy had spoken.

“Dinner’s ready! I’m really type A, as you all know, so I made little placecards for everyone at the table,” she announced to the group of ten, hands clasped before her as Matt snaked an arm around her from behind and smiled proudly.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Mat mused. “Shall we?”

You threw him a grin and nodded, turning your back to him and making your way to the dining room.

On your way, you paused in front of your dear friend just long enough to grumble, “Assigned seats? Really, Syd?”

She clapped enthusiastically and smacked your ass as you passed her. “Yep! See you in there, champ!” she exclaimed as you heard frantic whispers exchanged between Mat and Matt. You couldn’t hold back your snicker, and as you glanced over your shoulder, Mat gave you a strained smile. You shook your head bemusedly and turned to the table to find that, to no one’s surprise, you and Mat were indeed to be seated side by side at one end of the table. You cleared your throat and nodded toward the cards bearing your names.

“Subtle, no?” you joked, causing Mat to blush pink. He choked out, “Ah, yeah. You gotta love them.” Then, he pulled out your chair and motioned for you to take a seat, which, as luck would have it, Sydney and Matt caught just in time because they were bringing in the food on serving dishes at that very moment. Their eyes sparkled and Sydney looked like she may self-destruct out of sheer joy as you sat down and thanked Mat. You gave her an icy look and she visibly retreated, holding herself back from making a complete scene.

“Okay, dig in!” she said instead as she sat down across from you.

Dinner was incredible, as usual — while your talents lacked in the cooking area, Sydney had always been an outstanding chef. Even more, you enjoyed the conversation, which was mostly inclusive of everyone at the table, save for the occasional chirp Mat secretly muttered in your ear about Matt or Anders, making you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle as Sydney looked on smugly. Meanwhile, whenever you and Sydney would say the exact same thing at the same moment or finish the other’s sentence, Mat would look to Marty, who would only raise his eyebrows and nod, confirming Mat’s suspicion that these two were always this in sync. Mat found it endearing. He adored Syd — if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed to come here tonight when she told him, “There’s someone I want you to meet…” — and already, he saw countless similarities in the two of you.

After he’d helped you clear the plates and load the dishwasher for your hosts, you and Mat settled onto a couch in the farthest corner of the living room, near the Christmas tree, while the others gathered in the center of the space, loudly entertaining themselves. As you curled your feet underneath yourself, you didn’t miss how Sydney reached for a nearby remote and slowly flickered on the fireplace right beside you and Mat. Yet again, you shot her a killer look that she pretended not to see as Mat smiled, amused at how flustered you were by Sydney trying to further set the mood.

“So how long have you known Syd?” he asked as he took another swig from his beer bottle, attempting to get you back on track. “Has to be a while. I swear I’ve never seen two friends who were more alike.”

You tucked some hair behind your ear and let out a breathy chuckle. With anyone else, you were ever prepared to skirt that question and quickly move on to another subject. But with Mat, it was nice knowing you really didn’t have to.

“Yeah, my whole life, actually,” you answered, a smile on your face at the thought. Your eyes flickered up to his as you added, “My dad played for the Jets... with Boomer while he was there.”

Mat’s brows quirked noticeably, but not in the familiar way that made you feel like he was about to ask you to FaceTime your dad or get an autograph from him. Because he was a professional athlete himself — which was ironic because you’d sworn up and down your whole life that, because of the lifestyle you saw your dad and his teammates, not to mention their families, lead, you’d never fall for anyone who played sports for a living. Even when Sydney insisted with a shrug after settling down with Matt, “It’s not that bad.”

“No way,” Mat said with a casual laugh. “That’s awesome. What position did he play?”

“Uh, receiver,” you replied. “So he and Boomer were tight. Our moms hit it off right off the bat and have been best friends since. Since then, we’ve always vacationed together, ended up living in the same neighborhood after they both retired. I’m three years younger than Syd and I was basically like her shadow. Still am, I guess,” you added with a smile.

Mat nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as you told the familiar tale. “I think that’s awesome though,” he spoke. “You guys could be sisters I feel like. You act just like her. Plus Marty says you’re the only friend of hers who’s kicked him out of bed so you could sleep with her.”

You threw a hand to your chest and your head back laughing at that, and Mat’s heart soared at being able to elicit such a reaction from you himself. You pointed a gold-polished index finger at him and admitted, “He tells no lies on that one.”

Just then, you caught Mat’s unabashed gaze, which had shifted from well-mannered and nonchalant into something deeper, something... affectionate. You swallowed, casting a downward glance at your lap, and swirled the ice cubes in your otherwise empty highball glass.

“I need a refill,” you said with a nervous giggle. “You want anything?”

Mat looked all too pleased with himself at your offer, and he nodded. “Sure, yeah, another beer would be great. Thank you,” he said. You smiled and nodded as you turned away and headed for the kitchen.

Ever the subtle one, once again, Sydney, who had been shamelessly watching the two of you from her perch in Matt’s lap across the room, stumbled over Jax’s paw as she bolted to the kitchen island where you now stood. You blinked at her wildly and said, “May I help you, Sydney Irene? You nearly wounded your poor dog.”

“So,” Sydney sang, ignoring your question completely as she leaned back against the kitchen counter, propping her palms on the edge and looking much more smooth than she had just a moment ago. She waggled her eyebrows at you before continuing. “Whadd’ya think? He’s cute, right?”

You scoffed. “Sydney—“ you began in a warning tone as you reached for the rum, but were interrupted before you could speak another word.

“If you hate him, it was Matt’s idea,” she deadpanned, then allowed a mischievous grin to stretch along her painted red lips as she cocked her head. “But if you like him, it was mine.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured yourself another rum ginger, ignoring the flush you could feel creeping up your chest and neck under Sydney’s scrutiny.

“You’re blushing! You do like him!” Syd squealed as she poked at your side, thankfully making an attempt to stay quiet as the guys, Mat included, carried on noisy shenanigans in the family room before you.

“Sydney, stop! I just met him,” you tried to argue, turning away from her. It was Sydney’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Like that matters. I fell for Matt like—“ she snapped her fingers for dramatic effect, “—that. And look at us now.”

You pursed your lips to the side. You couldn’t exactly argue that. With no quick comeback coming to mind, you stirred your drink, took three generous gulps — as Sydney watched, wide-eyed — and licked your lips before sighing at her.

“Well, fine,” you grumbled as you opened the fridge and grabbed a fresh beer for Mat. “Let’s not keep the boy waiting then.” You sashayed away from your friend who, spinning away from you, quickly squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers before turning back and following behind you.

Mat thanked you profusely for the drink as you returned to him. Now he sat among his teammates, and Sydney sat back in Matt’s lap as you took the seat beside Mat on the opposite couch. You noticed how he immediately leaned back and comfortably stretched his arm across the cushion behind you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t inch a little closer then. It briefly occurred to you that you were drawn to him in the very same way you’d been drawn back home not long ago.

He felt like home. Already.

And soon, after a few hours more of merrymaking, Mat never leaving your side, the other couples had all headed for home. You four who remained had played several rounds of euchre and sang and danced to half a dozen Christmas carols before you realized how late it was. Knowing you’d had too much rum and wouldn’t be fit to drive, you’d already established that you’d stay in Sydney’s guest room — or maybe kick Matt out of the master. Regardless, you were staying put. But Mat, reluctantly, was leaving — the boys had practice in the morning.

“I guess I should go,” Mat sighed after a long round of goodbyes. Matt and Sydney gave him one last hug and retreated to the far side of the spacious room, aiming, of course, to leave the two of you to your own goodbye.

You nodded. “I guess you should,” you said, caught off guard by the twinge of sadness in your tone. “I’ll walk you out.” Mat smiled and turned toward the front door, and your heart truly may have skipped an actual beat when he glanced back at you and reached his hand out for you to grab. You did so, biting down on your smiling bottom lip as you followed him down the hall into the entryway, acutely aware that, if Sydney and Matt were indeed watching — of which you had no doubt — they could still clearly see you.

But when Mat pulled on his shoes and stood up straight again, stepping slowly, so slowly, closer to you, all you could think about was how hard your heart was thumping against your ribcage. You looked up at him in anticipation, and he smoothed his hands down the sleeves of your sweater softly.

“I had a really, really nice time tonight, you know,” Mat spoke. You had to remind yourself to breathe as the sincerity of his voice flooded your senses and his warm, honey-flecked eyes pierced through you. “Tonight was honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You beamed — how could you not? “Yeah?” you asked incredulously. Mat nodded.

“Yeah. In fact,” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if maybe, uh, you’d want to go to dinner with me sometime. Like maybe this Sunday night, after we play?”

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, yet had no control.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “Yes. Of course. I’d love that.”

Mat blew out a long breath and chuckled nervously. “Thank God,” he added as you both dissolved into a fit of giggles. You stepped closer to him and smelled his clean, woodsy cologne, inadvertently breathing it in. Mat came nearer, too, and tentatively reached his hands around to your lower back. “It’s a date then,” he spoke, his voice lower now, gravelly. You swallowed — hard — and gave a nod.

“It’s a date,” you echoed.

You simply stood in one another’s presence for a few long moments, smiling giddily at each other, before Mat sighed once more and glanced toward the door.

“I really don’t wanna go, but I—“

“No! Syd, just leave them be,” Matt suddenly whispered sharply to his fiancé — who seemed to have literally leapt up from the couch — though there was no point in whispering at all because you still heard him loud and clear. Jumping up behind Sydney, Matt easily wrapped her in his arms and clapped his hand over her mouth just as she started to speak.

After wrestling for control of Matt’s hand, she finally pulled it away just long enough to call out, “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss already!”

With one final “shush!”, Matt covered her mouth once more, though his entire body was wracking with silent laughter.

“Goodnight, kids!” Matt said tersely as he all but manhandled Sydney down the opposite hallway into their bedroom, the two of them erupting with laughter the second they closed the door.

You rolled your jaw and looked above you and Mat to find that, yes, indeed, there hung a very Sydney-like crystal ornament adorned with glittery mistletoe, suspended from the archway.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you muttered, resting your head against Mat’s chest as you both laughed anxiously.

But a moment later, Mat’s voice rumbled in his chest. “Hey...” he spoke. You took that as your invitation to look up at him, and when you did, you found him gazing at you even more tenderly than he had before.

“I mean, since there’s mistletoe and all.. would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked. His hand found your cheek and you grasped his fingers in your own.

“Well,” you began, leaning further into him. “Only since there’s mistletoe.”

Mat breathed a chuckle and whispered, “Okay, good,” before his lips found yours in a toe-curling, snow-melting, heart-growing, hell of a Christmas movie kiss that you both found yourselves smiling into by the end.

“Wow,” was somehow all you could whisper when you finally pulled away for air.

“Yeah,” Mat agreed simply. “Wow.”

“It worked!” You heard the muffled squeal from behind Sydney’s closed door.

You rolled your eyes once again, hating Sydney in that moment, as Mat snickered and leaned in for another kiss.

Little did you know that a few years later, your dear, meddling Sydney would stand up at your side in front of a ballroom filled with your and Mat’s family and dearest friends and proudly tell the story of that cold late-December night when your love story with Mat began.

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ur-jinji · 3 years

Note

Heyo!! You’re incredibly talented and I was wondering if I could request a Sokka x Reader using the fluff prompts number 32 and/or 23? Anyway thank you so much and I’m glad I’m not the only one who also loves Varrick

a/n: AHH THIS IS SO CUTE OMG and thank you 🥺🥺 also us varrick stans are superior hehe

fluff prompts

23: “don’t get me wrong. i like the kissing. i’m all for the kissing. more kissing, i say.”

32: “your lap is my new favorite seat.”

good old fashioned lover boy

sokka x f!reader

college aged & modern au

summary: y/n was a firm disbeliever in love, but sokka helps in changing her mind

warning: mention of a cheating & toxic relationships

masterlist

Y/N never believed much in love.

She was never lucky when it came to relationships. Her first boyfriend cheated, and her second was manipulative and toxic, but she could see through that bullshit. She escaped those relationships with a few mental scrapes and bruises, but the experience matured and hardened her. Y/N decided she didn’t really want to try to find love anymore. If it came, it came, but either way, she was content. Her main goal was to just focus on looking out for herself. But, that ephinany didn’t last forever.

Enter... Sokka.

Sokka was Y/N’s goofy friend who never failed to put a smile on her face. He was always making attempts to hang out, in which she’d decline. He even went out of his way to beg his other friends not to show up the movies so he could be alone with her. It was no secret that Sokka was highly attracted to you. He made moves. Constantly. It started with flirty texts, telling Y/N how good she looked that day. He once even made the cringey “without me? ;)” text message when she said she was going to take a shower. The texts quickly turned into in-person flirting. He would call her “pretty” or “a snack” almost every time he saw her. He would also tease her, saying rather suggestive comments, have lingering touches, or try to play footsies under the table on nights out with their shared friends.

Unknowingly to her friends, but Y/N always bit back. It wasn’t always obvious, but she found herself being just as playful and suggestive. She wouldn’t lie, she was very flattered. She enjoyed the attention he gave her and the reactions he would give when she played along. She loved seeing him try harder when she gave him that signature look when he called her pretty. Y/N would even go as far as to admitting she found Sokka attractive. But, she always told herself to not let that attraction and excitement form into anything else. But little did she know, Sokka’s behavior was all out of love, not just the excitement of the chase. That kid was completely whipped. All he wanted was Y/N. He loved when she teased him back. He loved when she whacked his shoulder, trying to a hide playful smirk that would show she enjoyed it, but failing horribly. He loved when she would keep a blank face in front of her friends, attempting to hide that she was playing footsies back with him under the table. (There was an awkward conversation or two when she accidentally started touching someone else’s foot). Sokka loved it all.

Sokka’s heart nearly imploded the first time Y/N kissed him. She had been drunk, but when they woke up in the same bed together, she wasn’t repulsed and/or regretful like he was afraid she would be. But, he was disappointed when she gathered her belongings and secretly made a walk of shame back to her dorm and never brought it up again. The same exact situation happened two more times after that. The second time, Sokka realized that Y/N would always wait until they were alone. And that every time, she was drunk. It was like that was the only time she could be somewhat vulnerable and let her guard down. And he was right.

Y/N found it hard to publicly show any form of affection towards Sokka. She wanted to lie to herself, but she couldn’t. So, she lied to those around her. It was known by her friends that she despised relationships. But, she was really confused about her feelings, and wanted to always keep that guard up as much as she possibly could. What wasn’t well known by her friends was the fact that her walls would come down when she drank. Sokka was the only one who had any idea, and that was because he knew from personal experience.

Sokka was able to chip at Y/N’s wall when she agreed to hang out alone in his dorm not long after the final drunken hook up. They watched a movie and ended up practically spooning, but when his roommate returned to the dorm, Y/N didn’t waste any time to scramble away and put some distance between Sokka before the roommate would see. It’s not that she was embarrassed of Sokka. She was embarrassed of breaking the promise she made to herself.

Y/N found herself at Sokka’s dorm yet again a few days after that incident. He had brushed it off, putting the pieces together on own as to why she didn’t want anyone knowing. She sat down on the edge of his bed. Sokka was seated at his desk chair towards the end of his bed. There was an awkward silence that drove him crazy. He noticed her bouncing her leg, and her eyes nervously shifting around the room. He sighed dramatically and stood up, making his way over to the girl. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up.

“Sokka! Stop! Put me down!” Y/N squealed in surprise. She thrashed around in his grasp. He moved over to the desk chair and sat down, sitting her on his lap, his arms remaining around her waist. Almost immediately, she stopped thrashing and calmed down, seeming rather content. Y/N turned her head to look at Sokka.

“You’re so annoying,” She said, breaking a smile. She swatted gently at his shoulder, earning a smile from him.

“You like it,” He teased her, giving her waist a squeeze.

“You’re despicable!” Y/N shouted before giggling.

“You like it,” Sokka repeated.

“You’re right,” She admitted softly, breathing out a laugh and shrugging nonchalantly.

“We’ve just had a breakthrough. You admitted to liking something about me!” He exclaimed.

“You ruined it,” She told him before gently swatting his shoulder again.

“Disappointment,” He replied, jokingly looking sad.

“Stop. What do you want me to say?” Y/N questioned, throwing her hands up. Sokka nodded smugly.

“Something you’d never admit. Like, that my lap is the best lap. My lap is your new favorite seat,” He said, smirking. “We both know it’s true.”

“Again, you’re so annoying!”

“Mhm, just what I thought.”

“Fine. Your lap is my new favorite seat,” Y/N responded, secretly meaning it. “I guess it’s a little comfy.”

“Hah! I knew it,” Sokka declared, giving her yet another squeeze. “You’re fun to squeeze.”

“You’re fun to hit,” She replied before softly hitting his shoulder and giggling.

“Well, you’re just fun to be around,” He said, closing his eyes and giving you a thin smile that read ‘Yeah. I said it. What’re you gonna do about it.’

“You’re okay, I guess,” She admitted, meaning a lot more than she said.

“Hah! Another breakthrough!” He shouted before giving ANOTHER squeeze, this one tighter than the rest.

“Oh, hush,” Y/N said, then leaning in and planting her lips on his to silence him. Sokka responded very needidly, craving it. His arms unwrapped around her waist, and his hands replaced them. Their lips started to move a little faster, but Y/N pulled away with a smug look.

“Betcha weren’t expecting that,” She said before pecking his lips again quickly.

Sokka was at a loss for words. He was surprised his heart hadn’t leapt right out of his chest. Not only was this kiss amazing, but she DID shock him. This was the first kiss they shared sober. The wall she had built had been successfully dented.

“Jeez, if it’s that bad, you just say so,” Y/N said, closing his slightly gaped mouth by pressing a finger under his chin. “Guess that’ll have to be the last from me.”

Sokka cleared his throat.

“I’m just shocked you were the one to kiss me. Especially while sober,” Sokka explained.

Y/N shrugged. “Again, if it was that bad, just say so!”

“No! Don’t get me wrong. I like the kissing. I’m all for the kissing. More kissing, I say,” He started, leaning in and kissing the girl again for a moment. “I just don’t know what changed?”

“I don’t know, Sokka. I just trust you, I guess,” She informed, shrugging again.

“Y/N, I’m crazy about you,” He suddenly blurted out quickly. He wanted to facepalm himself for saying that out loud. This wasn’t going to be good. He knew it. The silence was deafening. Y/N was now the one at a loss for words.

“Please say something,” Sokka eventually muttered anxiously. She paused.

“I don’t know... I-I like you, too,” Y/N admitted just above a whisper, eyes darting around as if to make sure they were alone.

Sokka swore his heart stopped for a second. Was this really happening? Was the girl he’d been so infatuated with since the moment he met her really saying she liked him back? The girl who said she didn’t believe in love? The girl who said on more than one occasion that she’d be more than happy to be single for the rest of her life?

“Now you please saying something!” Y/N hollered, whacking his shoulder. Sokka had no words. No words could express how long he’d been wanting to hear those words come out of mouth. Hell, a text message would’ve been good enough for him! A passenger pigeon! Anything!

He placed lips on Y/N’s, kissing her passionately. She responded back to the kiss quickly with just as much passion, and even deepened it. Sokka moved his hands down to her hips. They stayed there like that for a while, taking in the moment that meant the world to both of them. Y/N had secretly been wanting this like Sokka had. They eventually separated, both breathing deeply.

“Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?” Sokka asked nervously. “Like, a real one. I take you to a movie and then we go out to eat and hold hands and stuff?”

“Yes, Sokka. Eventually. Give me some time to take all this in, okay?” Y/N responded, pecking his cheek gently. “I surprised myself here today, too, y’know.”

Sokka quickly nodded, grinning. He’ll take that.

“Another breakthrough!”

taglist: @missmorosis

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perennial;tom holland|eight.

chapter eight: forget-me-not

↳ flower meaning: memories, a connection that endures all challenges and measure of time.

chapter summary: of Rome and other memories

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty, fluffy, Chris Evans, mentions of sex, flashbacks in italics, this will hurt.

word count: 8.5k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles seven: in which people remember a certain date is coming

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Surprise bitches! Tags aren’t working so yeah. Sorry for posting late. I have been incredibly busy and I took a break from everything, so yeah, tell me what you think, please reblog, and leave a comment. Feedback is appreacitated.

THANK YOU TO @laurieteddy FOR THE FEEDBACK I LOVE YOU EMMA!!!!

It felt like a lifetime ago now, and she desperately was trying to get over it. The last time she’d fallen in love. She’d only fallen twice, if she was honest, but she missed that feeling. That initial feeling of splendour and the butterflies in your stomach as it hits you, the whole: there’s no going back now.

Of course, with Tom she was in a deeper feeling now, it was weird. As if now she would have to go back to where she had paused. Did she like that?

She loved it, of course, erasing all the stress and issues they had to talk about, she loved looking into his eyes and feeling like the whole world around her didn’t matter.

She couldn’t shut her mind all morning after he’d left. The fact that it had gone too fast and it didn’t matter and how she wanted to continue it. But how the adrenaline and lust had taken over her, making her forget she was hurt, and then her mind saying that she wasn’t supposed to be because it was her who wrote the damn script and didn’t tell him. She was the one who was wrong in this situation. Or…

It's weird, of course. But she wanted to feel that way again. The moment when she realized she was in love. Or fall back in love with him because it seemed that wherever they were doing wasn’t… love. Like of course they loved each other but it felt more like a kind of homework they’d have to follow. It was the kind of love that she feared of having, the kind of love that leads to doom.

It was funny, the actual moment she had realized it, she was in love with him. Yes, she knew she was in love, she acknowledged she had feelings for him, that is, she knew she loved him and she knew she’d blush when he was around and find little ways to bother him just to have his attention. But it wasn’t the same.

She remembered the exact moment she knew she was deeply in love with him. No going back now. Maybe it wasn’t the time she realized she was in love, maybe that had come earlier but it was the moment she realized she’d love him until her last breath. The fact that she knew she’d never ever get over him. Back in Rome.

Y/N always tried to avoid talking about Rome. It hurt too much to think they could’ve had it all back then. It hurt too much to think about the events after Rome, that is, that pink skirt whom y/n actually knew now by the name of Hally Aimee. Hally Aimee who was friends with Emma, and who y/n had always avoided. Hally Aimee, pink skirt.

But it didn’t matter now, not for whatever her mind was going to.

Before the meeting, y/n had been quiet. She didn’t get why she couldn’t listen to anything, so she didn’t have to worry about anything, but her mind kept going back to Tom and how the feelings they were fighting for barely made sense. And why she was scared of what they had now.

While discussing the script, her mind went back to Rome. And it hadn’t gone there in a while, because she usually thought about Hally Aimee and her pink skirt.

She went back to Rome, to when Harry had informed y/n Tom was in Rome, and y/n had said she’d avoid him at all costs. There was barely any possibility of seeing each other. However, on his very first night, he had called her up:

“Hello, y/n,” Tom sounded excited and y/n was sure he was about to mock her.

“Thomas,” she answered with less excitement as she currently had her storyboard scattered all around her room, several empty mugs of coffee and tea hiding in every corner.

“I’m in Rome,” he stated, as if waiting for y/n to gasp or be a little surprised.

She wasn’t. “What did this poor city do to deserve you?”

“Oh come on,” he chuckled.

“That’s why they were rushing us to go home, they knew the plague had arrived,” she stated with a smirk and smugly enough for him to notice.

“You’re such an idiot,” he answered.

“What do you want?” She asked to her biggest enemy.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked shyly.

“I was working on some homework but honestly I’m not able to focus,” she admitted.

“I was going to propose something,” he trailed off.

“No,” she answered simply.

“You didn’t even hear what I wanted to say,” he pointed out.

She coughed. “Do I want to?”

“Let’s get you out,” he said. “Someone told me about this club you’ll like.”

She hesitated. “But—Who says I want to go out with you?”

“And I don’t want to go out with you either y/n, we can avoid any talking.”

She didn’t want to go out with him. She hated him. He was his enemy. She didn’t have to.

“Fine,” she agreed. Because she needed a break, well deserved one. And he had kept his promise, they barely had talked. They’d danced, sang along with some other people, but not talked.

However, between drunken laughs, and in search of drunken food, they ended up in a corner pizza shop, open all night.

Neither of them spoke Italian, however y/n had learned a few words to get her by, but she was tipsy, so she barely knew what she had ordered for them.

“What did you even get us?” Tom questioned

“Yes,” she giggled, as she leaned against him.

“Easy,” he chuckled, helping her get steady. “What did you order? I literally heard like ten thousand words.”

“Yes?”

“Yes?” He laughed.

“I don’t know what I ordered.”

“You’re so dumb,” he laughed, he was drunk too.

She chuckled. “In my defense your stupidity is contagious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is it now?”

“Very.”

They dined a pizza that probably had been the best meal they had ever had, that is until the street hot dogs in New York. Y/N wondered if Tom had swept that memory of them like she had. For her Rome… simply didn’t exist. So horrible how they had cursed cities by just being there. Rome, New York, London, would Los Angeles join them?

“What is up with you and Harry?” Tom asked.

Y/n looked up, conflicted. “My best friend Harry? Your brother Harry?”

“No, Harry Styles.”

“Oh—Well we—“

“Yes, Harry my brother, dumbass,” Tom laughed.

She chuckled. “Ah.”

“Wait, you had an answer for Harry Styles?” Tom questioned.

“Yeah,” she chuckled.

“No, wait—but Harry?” Tom brought back the conversation. “My brother.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know. Before she’d left she was sure she had feelings for Harry and she was sure she’d gotten over Tom. Then—it just… she was confused.

“Y/N?”

“I—don’t know where your question is coming from,” she said. “He’s my best friend, is that what you’re asking?”

She knew where the question had come from. But she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Thought she was very confused, he hadn’t been an asshole once in his life, he was…nice.

Rome though, seemed like a memory of the two of them being alone at night, laughing, always laughing and… holding hands eventually. Walking through the endless streets full of art and history, always at night, under the moonlight, seeing each other through different eyes. Having no one to judge them if they weren’t going after each other’s throats.

Telling stories, sharing secrets. Tom and y/n. When they were alone.

There had been multiple occasions when y/n had expected him to kiss her, he had leaned over just once but then he had set apart, not even brushing her lips. However, y/n guessed now, Rome had brought them what they had now, the whispering, the subtle jokes and the constant eye contact. Always so mesmerized by those pair of chocolate eyes that had her completely foolishly infatuated. Not ever caring about the other ones in the room.

Y/N knew she had been in love with him for a while, she’d known it since right after one time when she was 14, right when he was about to leave to film. Something very stupid had happened. So natural, something had made him laugh, and he had thrown his stupid head back and made both him and y/n to fall of their chairs, instead of being angry, they’d turned to each other and kept laughing, synchronizing their laughs, like asong.

That’s when y/n had first known it, she was deeply in love with him. So stupidly simple. But...then in Rome, it was like she’d finally awaken every feeling towards him. And she remembered that night after being out and after him helping her study, how they’d both ended up so tired, but laughing again. Maybe it had been his laugh, and the way it merged with hers, or maybe it had been the conversation that hadn’t let the butterflies go away.

In Rome, he’d shown her that he wasn’t that bad as he always seemed to be. Sharing morning coffees, holding hands. Both of them sitting in that restaurant on the chairs that didn’t quite sit well on the pavement. Him telling jokes, brushing her hand. Exploring the city that had so much to offer to them.

Hours and hours of fun. Laughing, synchronizing their laugh. And she remembered that one very night, when Tom had looked at her as if he’d go blind the very next day. They had walked near an outside theatre, y/n remembered hearing people clapping, but the sound fainted, she could only hear Tom’s laughs.

She remembered wearing a dress, one she’d given to him in the box. It was a different dress from what she usually liked to wear, a satin pink dress. It felt like a fairytale. As if they were searching for their destiny, or maybe it was the city and that was playing with their feelings. The moon cascading with the lights and reflecting against the shiny and wet pavement, /n was shaking as she could still listen to her clattering heels. They had seen a couple making out against a wall, and they’d just ignored it. Tom had been joking all night, making sure her cheeks hurt from smiling that much. It was very real.

They’d walked through a bridge, and y/n remembered how incredibly cliché it had seemed. A guy in the middle of the bridge serenading the night, as if adding the perfect music to Tom and y/n who barely tried to acknowledge how perfect the night seemed.

“It’s a beautiful night,” y/n had pointed out.

“Quite lovely,” he agreed. “It’s quite romantic, innit?”

She chuckled. “Two bad we are the ones enjoying it.”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, it’s a shame that it’s a pair of mortal enemies enjoying this evening.”

“That other couple behind,” y/n said. “They were enjoying it.”

He shrugged. “I’m enjoying it, too.”

She didn’t know what to answer to that, but she knew now that if she’d thought she was over him, she definitely wasn’t now.

Tom was walking slightly ahead of her.

“I genuinely think I’ll end up marrying Chris Evans,” y/n said, only half joking, continuing their previous conversation.

“What?” He chuckled, turning around but continuing his pace. “He’s not your type,” Tom pointed out.

“He’s everybody’s type, shut up,” she chuckled. “But he’s my soulmate.”

Tom nudged her. “Is he now?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

“Hm, I’ve never heard you speak about that kind of stuff,” he admitted as he took her hand in his and played with her fingers.

She watched him curiously. “What stuff?”

“Love and that kind of crap,” he said.

“And that kind of crap,” she mocked.

“Yes,” he stretched out his arm, y/n walked her fingers through it.

“I mean I just said Chris Evans is my soulmate,” she laughed.

“Yeah but I’ve never heard you use that word, you don’t talk that kind of crap,” he grinned.

“Well I do think about that kind of crap from time to time,” she admitted.

He frowned. “You don’t seem type to.”

“Really? I’m super romantic,” she giggled.

It was ironic, even.

“You’re not,” Tom pointed out. So ironic, how they were playing with each other’s hands, the night tailor-made for romance.

“I am. But not your type of romance,” she grinned as she looked at him.

He frowned with a snicker. “My type of romance?” He asked, finally walking by her side.

“You’re too… predictable and basic,” she snapped.

He widened his eyes. “I’m not.”

A woman had approached them, selling roses, she spoke in italian to Tom and he said he didn’t understand but agreed to buy a rose from her. He handed it to y/n without thinking too much about it.

“You’re the type of guy who shows up with roses,” she pointed out.

“You don’t like roses?” He frowned, looking at the flower he’d just given to her.

“I—do, I like this one,” she grinned. “I just think they’re sold out,” she explained. “Like...everyone uses them, and for me, romance is all about the moment.”

He scoffed. “The moment.”

“Yeah, the moment, you know like—those kind of movie moments?”

“Like what?”

Like that one, with both of them opening up their feelings, hands almost touching but not quite. Feeling the vibrations in each’s heart every time each one laughed.

“Dunno,” she said instead, not wanting to compromise the moment. “I don’t want the typical romance, you know?” She continued. “How they’re all too— caught up in the routine, texting every five minutes, giving each other gifts every anniversary, and how the guy always give her a necklace that you know it’s not special, like—”

“But it is special,” he said.

“If it’s got a meaning, but you know, people usually go by the book.”

“I don’t get it, why don’t you like it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I’m just… I want something very personal because… Yeah, the superficial love,” she explained .”The one everyone is so encapsulated by, you know? The date nights at fancy restaurants, and- You know how it goes, she goes out to the big city, she finds a guy who takes her out to those kind of dates, where they have nice date nights and then he ends up on one knee because it’s time and he gives her roses, and they go so typical, and they have a child and then the marriage just starts falling apart, and she ignores he’s cheating on her with I dunno, someone at work and they have sex once every two months, and he sends her roses the very next day, and she ends up so frustrated,” she continued. “that she joins one of those spinning classes, and on each Christmas he gives her jewelry and they keep pretending it’s fine but… It really isn’t, you know? They fell into a routine because they never let themselves live the moments and followed the book to be a trophy wife or…And then he ends up wondering when his life went by and she wishes she’d followed that guy she was actually in love with and they never go happy again.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“How do you know all that stuff?” He wondered.

“Well, you know me, I wanna be a screenwriter and to write about people you have to… know people,” she told him.

“A screenwriter,” he grinned.

“I’ve always dreamed too much,” she admitted quietly, now pulling her hands to herself, as she played with her own fingers. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he turned around and then reached for her hand. “You have dreams then?”

“Everyone does, but guess mine… it’s having my big shot, of getting somewhere,” she sighed heavily.

He grinned. “What’s your dream script?”

She grinned, embarrassed, as she avoided his gaze. “No—“ she giggled quietly. “I don't—“

He pushed her. “Tell me,” he pleaded with a beam.

“It’s—“she couldn’t stop chuckling, so nervously. “It’s weird okay?I’ve always wanted to write a script about a dancer.”

“A dancer? You don’t dance,” he pointed out.

“No I don’t but—“she gulped.

He pushed her hair out of the way. “But?”

“You know I really liked Dirty Dancing or Flashdance and those kind of movies—“

“80’s movies right that's your thing,” he recalled.

“Yeah, and I—I always wanted to write something like that, I mean I know it wouldn’t be as epic—“she laughed.

“Why not?”

“Dunno but I’ve always had the idea of writing something like that,” she shrugged. “But also something very personal you know, and something that has this dear moment in your heart you yearn for.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“Will that script have romance?” He asked.

She chuckled. “Why do you ask that?”

“You hate writing romance, I know that for a fact,” he pointed out.

“Dunno, maybe,” she laughed. “I hate writing romance, yes but… maybe it should, a moment that feels romantic, even if it’s not…” She paused. “Not between a couple, you know?”

“What is romance to you, then?”

“Moments, I told you,” she grinned. “Moments… it's about a feeling that you never want to let go off.”

He chuckled. “You’re weird.”

“Romace for me is when two people long for each other, right?” She stopped walkingTom kept his way, turning around watching her. “Like they can live without each other but they don’t want to, because it makes sense, and romance is… Dunno enjoying good and bad and knowing someone’s worst side and yet… you still love them because you know the good things outshine the bad ones and they make them who they are… Romance is knowing the other person, you know? Like hey— I remembered this is your favorite band or—Dunno.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes beamed as she spoke. “You want a rom com then,” he mocked.

She rolled her eyes. “No, because they’re so typical too.”

“And you think Chris Evans could give you that?” He smirked.

She laughed. “Of course.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He wondered.

“I talked about it with Harry once, I’m not sure,” she admitted, as she leaned against a wall, Tom frowned.

“Why not?”

“Two souls that are destined to be together? Sounds—weird,” she chuckled.

“Does it now?” He smirked. “Not even Chris?”

“Do you believe in them?”

“I—well, not really, but I do believe in ‘the one’ you know?” He admitted.

She chuckled. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“No, because the one… someone who is destined for you? What if you don’t love them back?”

Tom frowned. “You would because—”

“I.. No, wait--I get that, but someone who is perfect for you let’s say and yet you love someone else.” She took a deep breath.

He tilted his head. “Then that person isn’t the one.”

“But it has to mean something you know?”

He clicked his tongue. “Maybe,” he cleared his throat.

“What is romance to you?” She asked him.

“Compromising, and-- not caring about it, like, willingly give your life and soul for them, and make them happy and just… Romance for me is two people fighting against all odds, and willing to do so,” he smiled slightly. “Dunno, maybe I’m scared too, you know, of that thing you said, of ending up with someone whom I don’t love and then look back and see I could’ve had it all,” he explained. “And be a sad husband, or whatever.”

“You’re scared of that?”

“I’m afraid of being too late,” he admitted. “Or never admitting my feelings to myself,” he nodded.

“Your feelings.”

“Yeah, I tend to… Be a little reserved when it comes to relationships, I feel like if I give too much, I’ll end up hurt,” Tom shrugged. “I’m afraid the person I love will end up loving someone else because they’re better for them.”

“Why would they be?”

Tom didn’t answer, but instead asked her something else. “You’ve ever been in love?”

“I—yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

She bit her lip. “Once.”

“Twice,” he admitted.

She’d fallen in love twice now. And she wanted so desperately to fall back in love with Tom… She still was but she felt their relationship had been so broken that mending the broken parts wouldn’t be enough. They’d have to mend them and start over.

She wanted to forget Rome, it was too good to be true. She Hadn't revisited that conversation in a while, maybe that’s why it bothered her, it made her sad. It wasn’t that big of a deal of a conversation, probably. But twice.

Tom had fallen in love twice and y/n just once by that time. Now—Timmy. But she knew damn well that was not the reason as to why she was so scared. Why had her mind gone back to Rome?

“Teddy was the first one to dance with her?” Tom repeated his question.

Y/N looked up out of her trance. “Hm?”

Tom gulped. “Let’s take a break, shall we?” He said before quickly heading out of the room.

Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was coming. Harry sighed, as y/n followed after Tom, she saw him standing in front of a vending machine cursing as it was not working, he sighed as he proceeded to change his order and get a water bottle instead.

Y/N approached him and he walked the other way.

“Can you please not freak out?” She asked, following after him..

“I’m not freaking out,” he stated before gulping down the entirety of the water bottle.

“Yes you are, you’re pulling a Tom,” she pointed out.

Tom stopped at that remark and turned his head slightly.”Pulling a—what? excuse me?”

“A Tom,” she rushed over. “Just like you have for the past 20 years, you leave and ignore everyone when you don’t want to face your problems and oh, you throw tantrums.”

“I’m not doing that,” he said before storming off, heading to a balcony. “I’ve never done that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do, always the same,” she complained as she joined him.

“And what’s pulling a y/n? Going to Timmy? Leaving to another country when you realize you have feelings? You’ve done that, twice” he pointed out.”Both of those statements,” he barked with anger.

“Tom.”

“I thought we wouldn’t talk about our issues while being on set,” he hissed turning around breathing in the fresh air the outside was offering him.

She scoffed. “Yet you’re here freaking out and we’re on a break so I think we’re good.”

“I’m not freaking out,” he snapped.

“You’re upset,” she commented. “you’re sweating and you just downed that water bottle.”

“I’m thirsty,” he said before throwing it into a bin. He leaned against the railing, staring at the buildings, resting his arms on it.

She sighed. “Why does it bother you so much? Did you really expect that you were my first?” She walked over to him, leaning backwards.

He avoided her gaze. “ I figured I wasn’t.”

“Then?”

“Why—why fucking Tim?” He blurted out.

“Why does it matter?” She snapped, and then ran a hand through her hair. “I was in love with him, it happened, whatever,” she shrugged. “It’s no big deal, you’re sounding really toxic right now.”

“It’s not about me being your first, alright? It’s the fact it was bloody him out of fucking everyone—“he tattled.

��Why does Tim bother you that much?” She questioned, crossing her arms as Tom had walked away from the railing, hands on his head.

“Because he was a rebound!” He complained. “and you ended up falling in love with him.”

“He was not a rebound,” she retorted.

“Yes, he was, and he fucking—“He breathed in, and brought his hands to his face trying to calm himself down. “He is there when I fuck up! Always!”

“No—“

“ y/n fucking first thing you always do is go back to him!”

She clenched her jaw. “That’s not true.”

He scoffed. “It’s not? That night after the wine, the whole Tom Cruise thing,” he approached her and then exhaled. “what did you do the very next day?” He babbled. “You went out for breakfast with him!”

“Tom, I didn’t do it because of you,” she retorted. “I already had plans with him—“

“And then you kissed him that day y/n!” He interrupted.

“And as long as I remember I went and searched for you after it,” she reminded him. “And he kissed me I didn’t—“

“First time we bloody slept together, what did you do the next day?” He continued. “You were talking about getting back together with him,” he was speaking so quickly. “and then you saw him!”

“Well, I didn’t know where the hell we were going, and I was supposed to talk to him that day anyway!” She explained.

“You wanted to go back to him!”

“Well, I was still in love with him!” She snapped but then closed her eyes to calm down. “I was in love with him,” she whispered. “My breakup with him wasn’t because I didn’t love him—“She continued. Because it wasn’t.

Her breakup with Tim had never been because she’d stopped loving him, but because she knew she didn’t love him enough and Tim had given her time to think about it. How do even you continue a relationship with a turned down proposal? Tim wasnt even expecting an answer and then he’d told her: I just need to know you love me’. And y/n did—and though sleeping with Tom had awakened a lot of things. She remembered that on that precise moment… she knew she didn’t want to feel used. She wanted to feel love and that’s why she wanted to back to Tim.

“and it doesn’t have anything to do with us, alright?” She added. “But it’s in my past, yes I wanted to go back together with him at that point—“

“And to this point?” He questioned.

She covered her face, and turned around. “Tom I can’t bloody believe you—“

“Why did you want to get back together with him?”

“Because, yes, I’m gonna be honest with you,” she turned to him. “I didn’t want to break up with him, but I also didn’t want to marry him—“

“You kept the bloody ring.”

“Yes, I did, because I was confused, don’t you get it? I said no to a proposal because I bloody had feelings for you,” she reminded him, as she pointed at him. “I couldn’t say yes to a proposal because I was so fucking in love with you!” She snapped, and then lowered her voice. “Still am…” she sighed. “and I thought we already had had this conversation.”

Tom clenched his jaw and walked away. “Well, I’m bringing it back.”

“Now?” She shook her head.

“Well I wasn’t going to but now we’re here,” he said arrogantly.

“I can’t believe this is what you want to talk about,” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You just said you were in love with him when we hooked up the first time—“

“Hooked up,” she chuckled. “That’s what we did! Besides...You treated it like a bloody one night stand!”

“Maybe it should’ve been,” Tom barked.

Y/N felt a stab right through her chest, so upset. She licked her lips and then took a heavy breath. “Oh, alright I see how this is, okay,” she nodded sadly as she was about to get back inside.

Tom cursed under his breath, and then rushed to stop her. “No, y/n I didn’t--I just can’t stand him,” he confessed. “because he just showed up in your life and you simply loved him.”

“You—“she squinted. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

He scowled.

“Tom you’re—You’re literally the only one who can—show up and—“She gulped. “For him? It took him months and months and—“

“You—you gave in.”

“What the hell did you expect me to do?” She questioned.

He bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

“May I remind you what happened? I…”

“God y/n I know, but right after it happened—“

“Right after it happened I spent months crying, Tom,” she recalled. “I didn’t go out, all the sunshine was gone, and then he showed up in my life and—And what in this bloody hell did you expect me to do? Fight for you? Run to your arms after you broke my heart?”

He hesitated. “Well, yes, look at me right now, I ran back to you when you hurt me—“

She couldn’t even believe what he was saying.”But this—Tom was after a relationship, you know I loved you—you told me—I don’t know what to tell you with this, I apologized, I told you I loved you, you know I do, meanwhile back then you just broke my heart and then blamed me for it—“

“And you ran after Tim,” he said

“No, I did not,” she chided. “I told you, it was months after. He made me fall in love with him.”

“And is he trying that now?”

She shook her head. “What?”

“I—you ran back to him just now.”

“I didn’t come here to LA to be with him.”

He chuckled dryly. “Yes you did.”

“I did not, you—My script was the reason.”

Tom clenched his jaw. But his look was softer.

“why do you hate him that much?” She asked.

Tom shrugged. “Because.”

“Because?” She repeated, she really couldn’t believe it. “Tom, oh my god—And all this? Are you actually angry that he was my bloody first? Do you realize how sexist and stupid you sound?”

He squinted and scrunched his nose. “It’s not--Look, y/n it’s not that I wanted it to be me, okay? I don’t care who you’ve slept with, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“No, it’s not.”

“But you have to understand that every single thing you lived with him could’ve been me if I just hadn’t fucked up.”

She didn’t answer.

“He had everything I could’ve had.”

The words resonated in his mind over and over. He did have a reason to hate Tim. Because when Tom had made up his mind and when he thought he didn’t care anymore, he’d bought the fourth yellow flowers, never delivered.

Before everything, Tom had made up his mind, never told anybody. Her remembered driving around, feeling like he could barely breathe, going round and round around her block until he finally decided to go for it. He hadn’t rehearsed what he would say, but he had given it a thought or two. Who was he kidding? He’d probably rehearsed a thousand speeches in his head.

Because they were supposed to hate each other.

What was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t meant it? That he loved her? Because she was so annoying. They hated each other for a reason. She was like a cold coffee that’s been sitting in from the day before, and she was always on the loose, always giving him a cold stare. So bitter. How would he tell her?

‘I don’t like you one bit but I’m in love with you so deeply and I just want you to tell me how to love you.’

They were so different. He liked tea, she liked coffee. She liked the night, and the moon and he liked the sun.

Yet he loved her, and he regretted every damn second he’d broken her heart. Though it was mostly because of Harry it was because he’d been scared of his own feelings, how despite their differences, he had felt a certain connection.

He had shuffled his feet outside his car, shaking as he held the flowers. So nervous. What was he going to say?

That he had lost his mind for breaking her heart? That he’d been in love with her since that stupid first kiss? How she stole each heartbeat and how every kiss they’d had had killed him? How in Rome he had fallen in love when they’d gone to that restaurant, under the bright sun, as she covered herself with that silly hat she’d bought. Hiding her smile under the shadow, as her laughed echoed its way to his heart.

He had walked up to her place, it was around Christmas time. It was cold and it was snowing, he had put on his best coat and he’d just gotten a haircut. He’d chosen a lotion he knew she’d probably like. He was shaking. And he’d taken the stairs, not the elevator. Stairs to give him time to think.

It had taken him so long to make that decision and he didn’t even know if she would take his apologies, or if she’d even open the door. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t but he really hoped she did.

But Tom knew that the least he could do. Maybe offer a new start. They’d have a Christmas party at her parent’s place. He thought it would be good to show up with flowers, talk to her and—kiss her? Could he kiss her?

Would it be everything he ever dreamed of?

He rang the bell, that’s the first thing he could do.

“Hello—?” That was not y/n’s voice. A curly haired guy had opened the door, to Tom’s displeasure.

He remembered him, from James’ birthday just a few weeks before. The cheekbones guy, guy who had made y/n smile. Y/n’s probable rebound.

Was it really a rebound if they hadn’t dated? What exactly had gone down in Rome that neither of them could speak about it?

“Is—y/n here?” Tom asked quickly.

“Yeah, she’s getting ready,” The guy answered.

“You’re Timothee right?” Tom asked. “We met at James’ party.”

“Yeah, you’re Tom,” Tim chuckled. “Do—you want to come in?”

“Uh—are you guys going anywhere? I thought—Y/N was coming to the Christmas dinner party,” Tom gulped.

“Oh, yeah, she’s bringing me over, she invited me,” he nodded. “Seems a bit too soon to meet the family but—“Tim chuckled, “honestly I don’t mind. I just hope they like me.”

Tom frowned. “Meet—the family?” Tom cackled. “But please, we all bring friends.”

“You see,” Tim chuckled. “I’m being introduced as the boyfriend so I’m a bit nervous.”

“The—come again? The boyfriend?”

“Yes, boyfriend,” Timothee grinned. “

Tom felt his heart shatter, and he wasn’t sure but probably even Timothee had heard it. The unequivocal sound of his heart breaking.

“Oh,” that’s what Tom could manage to say as he took a deep breath. “Good luck, she’s quite the character.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“She’s like cold tasteless coffee on a beautiful morning, or rain pouring down on your wedding day,” Tom said without really meaning to but trying to hide his emotions.

Tim frowned slightly as he stared him up and down. “Are those for her? Want me to give them to her?” Tim offered with a bit of poison, as he looked at the flowers.

“No, these aren’t for her—I’m—I—“Tom hid the flowers. “Please, as if I would give any flowers to y/n, no,” he shook his head. “She’s—She's my enemy, you see, we don’t get along,” he explained. “Not one bit, we can’t be in the same room for five minutes… No, I was just driving by and I thought she’d like a ride.”

“Oh,” Tim nodded suspiciously. “Funny thing, to offer a ride to someone you hate.”

“Yeah, well it’s Christmas, I get my nice side, but I assume she doesn’t need a ride now, so I’m gonna—leave. See you there.”

And Tom remembered throwing away the flowers on the first bin he saw.

It still echoed.

How he had been too late. How Tim had taken away the chance for him. Because of course he blamed it on Tim because he didn’t want to accept the fact that it had all been on Tom.

And he thought about it: it’s just a rebound, just a rebound, but then he saw it wasn’t. How her eyes did brighten up. How that rebound lasted two years and ended with a declined proposal.

And now, she was there living with Tim and Tom feared he’d miss out his chances again. Had he not showed up for the script would y/n eventually end up dating Timothee?

That’s what bothered Tom. He’d never been the jealous kind but when it came to y/n with Timothee specifically, he would go mad. So incredibly jealous and enraged and angry. Yes, Tom saw Tim as a threat. A threat with pretty eyes that could easily enthrace y/n.

“Funny he must think the same of you,” y/n said, crossing her arms.

“It’s not—“He gulped and looked down. “He was right after Rome.”

“That’s not on him, Tom,” she reminded him. “It’s on—“

“On me, yes, but what—you fell in love with a rebound y/n.”

“I’m not one to have a rebound Tom, I’m not you,” she hissed before finally leaving the balcony.

He didn’t know what she meant by that sentence. Though, he would be lying by saying that. He did know it. Tom was someone who always wanted a relationship. He regretted it.

Though the only true rebound he had had was with Cherry. But y/n didn’t have to know that.

He followed after her.

“Hey, no wait—“he stopped her mid hallway.

She frowned. “What now?”

He looked around and saw the door behind her, he opened it to show a janitor closet. Well, anything could work, really.

He walked in and dragged her in.

“Tom, no—no,” she rolled her eyes as Tom found the light switch and turned the lights on before closing the door.“How romantic,” y/n hissed sarcastically.

Tom watched her. “Look, I’m sorry, I—I just can’t help being jealous okay?”

“What even for?” She questioned. “You’re an idiot for being jealous.”

“But am I really?”

“Yes,” she took his hands. “I—If you seriously—“

“He bothers me.I don’t want him around you, and it sounds so—“

“Possessive and selfish and immature and stupid,” y/n finished his sentence.

Tom forced a chuckle. “Yes all that.”

“But how can you not see that I’m crazy for you?” She questioned him making Tom blush. “How Can you not see it?”

“I—Well,” he didn’t know what to answer to that.

If he were honest, it was quite difficult to believe it for him. Not really. But he felt insecure, especially because last time it had been a hoax and it had felt so real. But then again it wasn’t a hoax. It was unbelievably hard to understand what he felt.

Especially because he knew his feelings were not in vain and that he wanted to ask about the flowers in her wall. He somehow knew that y/n… well he thought at least, that y/n had slept with Tim.

Maybe it was the way she’d kissed him and how it had felt so different, she kissed differently, if it made any sense.

“you’re an idiot,” she pointed out.

“I’m an idiot for you,” he said without thinking.

She chuckled. “How romantic,” she repeated the same words she had said before, meaning this time probably, or a little bit less angry.

Tom took a deep breath. He felt—wrong. He had slept with her cousin. He was wrong too. But it meant nothing. Cherry had been an accident. An accident that—Well, had happened and he regretted. He hadn’t told her one but about his relationship with y/n. What could he tell her? If y/n hadn’t told her then Tom shouldn’t have, though now seeing it he probably should have.

But the mistake was made already. And it had felt

However if she had slept with Tim, it would mean something. The guy was bloody in love with her. Or was he not?

Had Tim finally moved on? He probably hadn’t. Even if y/n had once said she was easy to forget, Tom knew that was a lie. He should know, he’d loved her his whole life now. Y/N was an expert on making anyone turn to look at her, and making everyone remember her, and her kiss always tempted him.

So no, talking it from a personal experience, he knew Tim hadn’t moved on. Tom knew, for a fact that though Louis had regretted breaking up with y/n three days after their breakup. James had told Tom that Louis had showed up to her house to try and get her back. Y/N hadn’t agreed to it, though. A very powerful breakup, James told Tom, y/n had apparently yelled at him and gave him back every sweatshirt and t-shirt, so it meant it was over.

“Look I’m about to kiss you,” Tom warned her.

She blinked in confusion. “And you’re announcing it. You usually don’t care and just do it.”

“Yes because I’m telling you what I’m kissing you for… some reasons.”

“Oh, do tell,” she chuckled.

“Alright, one because I don’t want you to think I like arguing, I hate it,” he pointed out.

She frowned, slightly and then snickered. “That’s strange, we spent our whole lives arguing.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I love bothering you but not when it comes to us,” he admitted. “Not really.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go on.”

“Two, I’m kissing you to prove to you that even if he tries, he won’t be able to kiss you the way I do, never,” he stated.

She rolled her eyes for a second time and groaned. “Uh huh.”

“And three,” he took a deep breath. “Because I know the cast is coming here today and I know you want to shoot your shot so I’m just going to--”

She looked away. “Yeah, you can’t really stop me from that.”

“Hm, let’s see,” he said before leaning over to kiss her, he turned off the lights She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, quickly cupping his face.

Tom didn’t really understand how they could go from that argument to kissing on a janitor’s closet. He couldn’t complain, though.

He tried to deepen the kiss, she didn’t complain, she only wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands went to her waist.

Maybe they were too angry, the kiss wasn’t sweet, it felt forced but sensual, as if they were too desperate to prove something to each other. Quick and rough, but deepening.

The door was opened.

“Oh my god,” Josh said. “I’m sorry—I sorry—-Sorry, sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized and closed the door.

Y/N and Tom quickly separated, eyes widened.

“No! No! No!” Tom said as Josh had probably already left.

Y/N couldn’t stop blushing. She was so embarrassed.

“Great now they’ll think I’m sleeping with you,” She groaned.

Tom blinked. “I..”

“I meant, in a ‘she’s sleeping with her boss to get what she wants’ kind of thing,” she rolled her eyes, and then burst out laughing. “Oh god.”

He joined in, laughing too.

“We’re in trouble.”

“What were you doing in a closet?” Emma questioned y/n as soon as they’d gotten back. Emma had some coffee stains in her blouse so y/n went with her to the bathroom. Emma tried to clean it off

“Nothing—who told you?” Y/N asked as she was trying to get herself presentable. “Oh my god.”

“Josh told me!” Emma said. “He rushed in and said ‘oh my god y/n was in the closet, and I thought he meant you were gay and then-- No, that’s not the point, what the hell were you doing in the janitor’s closet?”

“I was—looking out for cleaning supplies?” Y/N lied.

“Y/n?” Emma questioned.

“What? Who told you—”

“I told you!” Emma said. “Josh told me! Harry asked for you! Harry and I were talking and he accidentally spilled his coffee and Josh went in and said he’d get a mop and look out for you and Tom because the cast is here, and also…”

“Why did Harry spill his coffee?” Y/N asked, trying to defuse the tensions.

“Because you left me alone with him, that’s why.”

“What—? Did he say anything? Did you talk?”

“No, but he… asked me if I wanted to go for a cup of coffee later,” Emma sounded sad.

“Well that’s good right?”

Emma glared at y/n. “Come on asking to go out for coffee is just... Terrible, it means trouble.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, maybe he will tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore,” Emma pointed out, stressed the coffee stain wouldn’t take off.

“He does,” y/n pointed out watchint her.

“What if he doesn’t?” Emma grunted as she kept trying to clean it off with the dry towel.

“It’s coffee,” y/n said, meaning to the blouse.

“Its coffee, my point, it always means trouble—” She turned to her. “Wait why are you so flushed, seriously what were you doing in a closet?” She asked again. “And were was Tom— and what took you—”She opened her eyes and gasped, as she let the dry towl fall to the floor. “Oh my god y/n were you having sex?”

“What? No!” She blushed.

“Y/N!” Emma smirked.

“No! We were arguing over the whole Tim thing, thanks by the way, I didn’t—”

“He didn’t know that Tim was your first?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t—I didn’t tell him,” y/n got shy.

“No, well of course it’s none of his business,” Emma agreed.

“We were arguing over that, okay?” She sighed. “Which okay, he’s got a point, about Tim but...then I was about to come back and we—He stopped me to continue the argument in the closet but-”

“But? No. Never mind, but then you were going to have sex, angry sex was it?” Emma laughed.

“I—Emma!”

“Were you going to?”

Y/N coughed.

“Y/N!”

“Look!” She blushed. “We were making out but I probably would’ve if Josh hadn’t found us.”

Emma chirped. “Y/N oh my god, who are you?”

“What?”

“Like two days ago you referred to sex like love making and now you were about to have angry sex in a closet?” Emma couldn’t belive what she was hearing, and she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Shut up!”

“Look, whatever, Oh my god, and please take off that stupid horny face, we’re meeting the cast.”

Y/N nudged Emma. “I’m not horny!”

“Well take the ‘I’m stupid’ face off, Jesus y/n what happened to you?” Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s been only a few days and Tom stupidified you.”

“He—”

“He does,” Emma said before y/n could complain. “And I’m happy because he gets even more stupid for you but y/n this is your dream, the script I mean, we’ll go and meet the cast and--”

“Yes--”

“So I need you to get yourself together.”

Harry and Tom were not too far from there, Harry was shaking. Apparently he’d gotten so nervous when asking Emma out that he’d spilled coffee on her. It had been hard enough having to talk to her. He’d started asking her if she’d slept well, and Emma hadn’t answered, she was nervous. He then asked her about LA, and she said it was fine. He asked how she was doing and she didn’t really want to answer. It was so awkward. Emma told him she really didn’t want to talk about any personal issues when they were on set, because it simply wasn’t professional. So he asked her if she was excited about the cast, Harry knew that Emma had a crush on Jordan Fisher and so she started gushing about that.

It went normal, that is until Harry’s hand decided to simply stop working and spill the coffee.

“I asked Emma if she wanted to go out for coffee and then-”

Tom frowned. “Coffee? Harry that’s the worst thing you could—”

“What? She likes coffee?”

“And Y/N likes chocolates and I don’t take her to a vending machine!” Tom pointed out. “And I don’t smear coffee on her clothes.”

“Well I uh—”

“You’re an idiot,” Tom rolled his eyes.

Harry clenched his jaw. “Whatever. Thanks, speaking of idiots, did you know Sam is coming?”

Tom didn’t know that. “Sam? What for?”

“It’s y/n’s birthday next week,” Harry said, matter of fact-ly.

“Right—Which reminds me... I should be planning her something right? I really need to outdo whatever Tim did last year, and if I’m the… Not the boyfriend, not sure what I am but-”

“Tom you’re losing focus.”

“Oh right, Sam, Sam is coming?” Tom came back to his senses.

“James is coming and he invited him,” Harry said, as both of them walked out of the room where they’d held the meeting, now heading to the place where they’d meet the cast. “And by the way James isn't as happy with all of this.”

“What?” Tom frowned.

“Sam told me he doesn’t want you around y/n,” Harry warned him.

Tom stopped. James had initially, kind of adored the idea of y/n and Tom dating. Of course he’d shown the protective brother side, but he’d been the first one to support Tom.

“Why not?” Tom was upset.

“You’re really asking that?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Dunno, it’s weird, thought James was too busy dating to care about y/n and me,” Tom poisoned, knowing exactly that James’ current relationship was getting serious and that he had avoided talking to Tom. Tom thought that initially it was because of the dates, but now he started to believe James had actively avoided him because he disliked him.

“He’s always been so protective of her,” Harry reminded him.

“Yes and I got it alright? He already gave me the talk of how if I was gonna try anything it better be serious and I am going serious, look, things went wrong but I want something serious. I am serious when it comes to y/n.”

“Are you?” Harry stopped him.

“I am all serious when it comes to her, willing to make all her dreams come true,” Tom said, truthfully.

Harry clenched his jaw. “You can fool her with all that shit but you know James won’t swallow any of your bullshit,”

“It’s not bullshit.” Because it wasn’t. He already was on his way to make her dreams come true. Her dancer script, the one she’d told him from Rome. The one he wasn’t supposed to remember because he had been supposed to forget everything concerning that city.

“But whatever—I also have some bad news,” Harry said.

“Bad news? Those were good news?” Tom mocked.

“Cherry is coming back to LA,” Harry warned him.

Tom shrugged. “Good for her.”

Harry frowned. “Tom.”

“What?”

“Y/N already knows you slept with her.”

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miracle-sham · 3 years

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Long for Who You Could Have Been.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 4, Day 19: Mistakes} |

———

| They might be monster hunters and that might mean their lives are fraught with chaos and danger. But there were moments in between the contracts and courts, fragile and wavering like the dying embers of a flame; where pasts, and hopes, and dreams were shared in the refuge of the campfire. |

| Word Count: 1,764. |

———

| A/N: So this is my second to last Jasonette July fic but the last to actually be posted in July since the other fic (Prompt: Loss) is taking longer than expected to write, whoops! Anyway here's a shorter Witcher au that's mostly fluff with a tinge of sadness here and there. Definitely feels weird to be using/needing so few tags for the first time in a long while! Lastly, thanks to my friend Saf whose reactions to the snippets I send her, absolutely fuel my will to write! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

The fire crackled gently, flames flickering in soft almost hypnotising patterns. The light and warmth were all that was keeping the chilling coastal mist at bay, from reaching their little makeshift camp.

Crescent moon and stars twinkled above, shining their silvery light down to mix with the ghostly mist below.

It was almost haunting, in the precious silence, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of waves against the cliff rocks not too far away. And the low hum of the local nocturnal bugs and other such creatures; the flap of bat wings, the cry of an owl, the flutter of moths and beetles, the scuttling of hedgehogs, mice, and foxes. The air was still, not even the faintest sea breeze and yet the fret rolled and crept and seeped into every nook and cranny outside of the protective glow of the campfire.

Jason sat on one side of the fire, on his bedroll and worked on cleaning his silver and steel swords with a rag, not quite humming as he quietly mouthed the words to a jaunty little tavern song, the Fishmonger's Daughter.

On the opposite side of the campfire, on her own bedroll, Marinette had a cloak splayed out across her knee with a needle and thread in hand. Tongue sticking out slightly, in concentration, carefully she darned away at the numerous little holes that had formed from walking through the thorny bush filled forest that their current contract had led them into entering.

With a huff, Jason threw the cleaning rag at the saddlebag on the ground beside him. He sheathed his swords and pulled out his favoured weapon, the crossbow with steel and silver-tipped bolts. Immediately he began checking the bolts for any potential damage and ensuring the shooting mechanism on the crossbow hadn't jammed.

“Something on your mind, Blue Jay?” Marinette asked, glancing up from her needlework for a moment.

He tipped his head back and sighed. “I've been thinking…”

“That's new.” She responded, mirth glinting obviously in her eyes and the bubble of laughter in her tone.

Jason gasped in faux offence, mindfully dropping his crossbow and scrambling for the cleaning rag just to throw it at her face.

Before it could hit her, Marinette plucked it out of the air with two fingers. She hummed mock-thoughtfully. “Your aim's off.”

“You take that back! My aim is impeccable. Alfred said so!” He argued back.

She snorted. “Alfred is biased because he's your grandfather figure. And I'll take it back next time we get through an entire contract without you missing a single shot.” To punctuate her point, she tossed the rag back at him.

He half-dived for it, grabbing it with both hands and with it safely in his grasp, placed the rag inside the saddlebag beside him. Throwing his arms up in mock-exasperation, Jason scowled playfully at her. “C'mon! That's not fair, you've never gone an entire contract without messing up or missing with your magic either!”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed with a nod of her head and a smirk on her lips, “but I've never claimed to be perfect at magic!”

Her words caused him to falter slightly. “Right,” he swallowed a breath of air thickly, “That reminds me of what I was going to say before we got distracted.”

She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows and putting on a softer tone. “What is it? As much as we joke, I'd never actually judge you for missing shots or anything else, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know… I just.” He huffed in frustration. Hesitantly, he held her gaze with his own but not a second later, winced and shifted his to stare down at the flickering embers of the campfire pit. Avoiding eye contact with her. He clenched his fists. “D'you ever, I don't know, feel like this was all… a mistake?”

Scrunching up her face in confusion, she squinted at Jason. “What do you mean? As-as in taking the contract?”

“No! Well, yes but no. I mean…” He waved an arm, gesturing vaguely around them, “just everything. Becoming a Witcher. Or I guess in your case, a Sorceress. Do you regret it?”

When she didn't immediately respond, Jason huffed again, hunching his shoulders up and practically bristling like a particularly grumpy and grizzling moggy. “Look, never mind. Stupid question.”

“It's not stupid!” Marinette retorted, “I just… wasn't expecting a question like that at this moment.”

He stared at her expectantly. “Well?”

Tipping her head back slightly, she fiddled with the needle still in one hand and sighed. “I suppose I do, I know I shouldn't… but I miss the easy days. Like before I knew what I was capable of. Before I knew what horrors the world could bring. Back when my only worries were getting stitches right and not messing up when dealing with expensive materials. Or maybe having to worry if the Alderman's daughter was going to harass me at some point during the day.”

Marinette tilted her head forwards again, a frown gracing her lips, and shrugged. “What brings this up?”

There's not an immediate response, as Jason casts his gaze away from the fire—towards where the sea could be heard but not seen. His fingers twitched midair, almost as though plucking the strings of an instrument. “I never wanted to be a Witcher. I was a Child Surprise, dunno who was the one that offered the Law of Surprise though.”

“Ah, I sorta get that. I'm also a Child Surprise, didn't get to choose to be a Sorcerer either.” As she spoke, she nodded in solidarity.

Jason jolted, gaze immediately snapping up to stare at her, completely taken aback. “Wait seriously? You're a Child Surprise too? How'd that happen?”

“Well, my parents' bakery was attacked and Félix, y'know my mentor, saved them. He invoked the Law of Surprise, expecting to get bread or some other baked goods.” She snorted, “he was awfully surprised to end up getting me instead. And when I accidentally cast my first ever spell trying to escape the Alderman's daughter, I ended up teleporting to Félix.”

“So, wait Félix fucking invoked the Law of Surprise to get food? And got you instead. Holy fucking shit that's hilarious!” He wheezed, doubling over in raucous laughter.

Huffing, she cast a spell, causing a vine to sprout up out of the ground beside him and slap him on the knee. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!”

“Ouch! Hey, no fair!” Jason mock scowled, choking back any further laughter. Quickly, in retaliation, he cast a weak Aard.

The telekinetic wave knocked into Marinette, pushing her onto her back from the weakened force.

“Wha—! Oh, so the vine isn't fair but throwing me to the ground is!” She griped, crossing her arms (carefully as to not prick herself on the needle) but made no attempt to get up.

Half-shrugging and grinning smugly, he replied, “you started it!”

She made an exaggerated groaning noise in response before slowly shifting her position to push herself back up into sitting cross-legged. “Well, now you know how I became a Sorcerer. How'd being a Child Surprise tie into you ending up a Witcher, if you don't me asking?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged with both shoulders this time, “I tried to steal the infamous Bat of Gotham's horse, he asked me my name. Reluctantly and after some bribery of hot food, I told him. Didn't think to give a fake one, at the time. He made a face, invoked the Law of Surprise owed to him and dragged me back to the Bat Witcher school.”

“Huh,” Marinette responded, “so if you hadn't… what would you have done with your life?”

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? This is me we're talking about. I'd have gone to Bard College, obviously. I'd have written poems and shit. And books, I'd have written books.”

Scrunching up her face once more, Marinette glanced down at the needle in her hand. “We're by the coast.”

“What?” He asked incredulously, giving her a bemused and questioning look. “What does that have to do with poetry and books?”

In a rush of words, she rambled, “we could take a holiday. I could find out about the spell to disguise your eyes… and uh hair too. That way no one will know you're a Witcher. And we can go to the bard college-town that's down the coast from where we are. We can scavenge together enough gold for you to attend, and you can write your poetry and books.”

Jason stared at her in shock, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Softly, as though anything louder than a whisper would cause the offer to shatter like his childhood dreams once had. “Oh, oh, could you really?”

As warmly as the fire between them, Marinette smiled, “of course! I'd have to ask Félix first of course. But he fell in love with Bridgette and she was a Witcher and he came up with a spell to disguise her whenever they weren't doing contracts or courtly politics. So I don't see why he wouldn't show me how to do it!”

Shakily, he wiped his eyes and smiled back. “Fuck, I'd love that!”

“Okay then! I'll contact Félix on the xenovox tomorrow.” As she spoke, a yawn slipped past her lips. “I think I'm gonna head to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning!”

“Good night, Marinette. I'm gonna stretch my legs real quick first.” He answered, hefting himself up and stretching his arms. “Sleep well, though.”

“Be careful!” Marinette yawned again and packed away her needlework for the night. She then wriggled into her bedroll. “And I'll try, g'night!”

“Night,” he whispered once more.

Quietly, so as to not disturb her, Jason slipped away from camp. Following the direction of the fret, he made his way down the safest cliff path he could find in the dark until his boots hit the sand. Step by step, he walked across the beach until the sea spray spattered against his clothes. He's close enough that the waves gently lapped at the toes of his boots.

Clutching one hand to his chest, just over where his heart was, Jason sighed and gazed longingly at the mist-shrouded sea.

“I never thought I'd get to continue my dreams after becoming a Witcher.” He whispered to the wind. “And now I can, thanks to her.”

He sighs again, heart warmed. And silently in the quietude of the beach at night, he cries alone. For his heart is too full with the kindness of another to contain the feelings any longer.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC xMLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 4 #Jasonette July Day 19 #Jasonette July Mistakes #Long for Who You Could Have Been #LfWYCHB #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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ananicoleta · 3 years

Text

I’ll Always Be Here

Summary: Penelope makes a last second decision that she does not want to be in Space Jam 2 without Pepe, and she quickly goes home to comfort him.

Hello, everyone! I’m back with a new fic about Space Jam 2, this time focusing on Pepe and Penelope. This fic was inspired from and ask, submitted by anonymus on @thebrownssociety 's account. They said they didn't want to write it, however, so I did instead (with their permission of course).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Warner Bros.

Enjoy!

“Ms. Le Pew, filming starts in ten!” The voice of a staff member reached Penelope’s ears, muffled by the door of her changing room.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” She called back. Then, there was the sound of footsteps walking away, meaning that she was all alone again.

Penelope sighed and looked at the scrip in her hands. She had tried memorizing the lines all morning, but with no result. Her brain just couldn’t process the text, the words danced in front of her eyes and the letters all became hieroglyphs with no meaning. No matter how much she tried to concentrate, her mind always drifted away, far from the Warner Bros. lot, far from the film set and the film itself, traveling all the way back to her home, where she knew there was her husband, alone.

It was so unfair.

Pepe didn’t deserve all the hate and backlash he had gotten. Her beloved had done nothing wrong ever! All those people that claimed Pepe was encouraging a deviant behaviour had no idea what they were talking about. They didn’t know him, so why were they speaking like that?! Her Pepe, was the kindest, most romantic and gentle soul she had ever met. He would never hurt a fly, let alone do those kind of things.

But people didn’t seem to understand. No matter how many times Pepe and the other Looney Tunes tried to clarify this misunderstanding, how many times they told people those were just cartoons and they were just actors, how many times she tried to explain she had not been assaulted, their narrow minds just couldn’t comprehend it. In the end, the descision to remove Pepe from the movie and from the future Looney Tunes productions was made and, despite all the protests, no one had been able to do anything.

Those news had terribly depressed Pepe. Every single one of them knew how much the skunk liked acting and how fond he was of cartoons, so naturally, the whole situation was like a punch in the gut. He isolated himself from the rest of the world, which deeply worried both her and the rest of their family. At least Speedy, who knew better than any of them what it felt like to go through all that, had tried to cheer him up and comfort him, and to some extent, he succeded. Everytime Speedy talked to Pepe, he always felt better afterwards and acted a bit more like his usual self.

Still, concern always seemed to pull on Penelope’s heart strings, now more than ever, considering Pepe was all by himself at home, feeling lonely and depressed that he couldn’t be with them and do what he loved. And oh, how she wanted him to be near her right now! She wanted to hold his hand, as they walked on the film set, she wanted to hear him whisper romantic things in her ear, and then scold him because “it’s nor the time nor the place!”, but both of them knowing she liked it a lot. She wanted him to make her laugh and smile and fill her stomach with butterflies. She wanted...

Suddenly, she noticed a wet spot on her page and wondered what could that be. Then she noticed another. And another. Bringing her hand towards her face she realized that her fur was wet. She was crying.

Tossing the script aside, she buried her face in her hands and cried, and cried, and cried, letting all of her frustration out.

Knock, knock

Penelope jumped. “Who is it?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Le Pew, but filming is starting now.”

“Yeah, s-sure, I’ll be out immediately.” She said, trying not to sound disstressed.

She got up and checked her reflection, making sure there were no clues that she had cried, then exited her trailer and marched towards the set, desperately whishing that Pepe was by her side.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Ms. Le Pew, are you even listening?”

That sentence snapped Penelope out of her thoughts. She quickly realized that no, she had not been listening. Instead, she kept galncing at the empty spot, where Pepe should have been...

“I am sorry, Mr. Lee.” She apologised. “Please, continue.”

So, the man went on about how he wanted that specific scene acted and all that blah, blah, blah that Penelope, again, did not, could not, listen too. What was Pepe doing right then, as her and the others were filming? Was he feeling lonely or had he found something entertaining to do? At least that was what he had promised her that morning. I promise you, ma cherie, I will be fine.

Those were his exact words. But the question was, did he mean them? Or they were just pretty lies, meant to chase away all her worries? Knowing how much Pepe loved her, she wouldn’t put it past him to hide his sadness just so she could have a good time...

Finally, Mr. Lee finished his rant and they were ready to film.

It should have excited Penelope. Ever since the first Space Jam released, she had dreamed of filming a sequel. Back then it seemed so exciting and fun to relive all that. Now, however, it was different. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't want to film at all.

“Okay, people, places!”

Just then, a thought blossomed in her mind. What if...? But no, she couldn’t do that. People were counting on her. She couldn’t possibly... Or could she? Truth was she didn’t play a big part and did not have that many lines, so it wouldn’t really be a problem if she left... would it?

She looked around frantically. She had very little time to make a decision and she needed to make it right then!

“Ready! Actio-”

“Wait!” The word had left her mouth before she could even stop them.

Everyone looked at her.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Le Pew?” Lee asked, confused.

“Yes, it is.” Penelope said. “I do not want to be in this movie anymore.”

For a moment, silence engulfed the set. Then, the director’s voice rang clear, stuttering and, as Penelope had expected, trying to convince her against it.

“Ms. Le Pew, p-please, reconsider- I mean, you can’t- you can’t possibly-”

“Oh, I can. And I have.” She said confidently, ready to leave.

But Mr. Lee was not finished. Getting up, he marched right after her.

“Ms. Le Pew, why? Why do you want to leave production? Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, there is. My husband is not here and I don’t want to do this without him. Good day Mr. Lee.” And with that, she turned around and left, leaving behind a shocked director and a bunch of rather happy Looney Tunes.

“Guys, can’t you do something?” Mr. Lee said to the rest of the cast. “Convince her to come back?”

“For Warner’s sake, leave her alone, Doc.” Bugs said casually, munching on his carrot. “Even if we tried to convince her to retoin she’d refuse. Besides, we don’t wanna.” The other looneys nodded in agreement. “Now how ‘bout we get back ta filmin’?” The rabbit smiled (a bit) smugly at the director.

Mr. Lee sighed, realizing he had lost the battle, and yelled at everyone to get to their places again.

Meanwhile, Peneople was already out in the parking lot, unlocking her car, desperate to get to her beloved. As she drove back to Toon Town, not for one second did she regret her decision.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Pepe sat in his armchair, quietly reading.

It had been a long day. A long, boring day. His wife and friends had left in the morning to film Space Jam 2 and he had been alone ever since.

First, he tried taking a walk through Toon Town. Usually, a breath of fresh air, hearing the birds sing, the perfume of flowers and even the sight of other toons, going about their day, cheered Pepe up. It was so normal, so simple, yet he enjoyed it, and it reminded him to be grateful and take pleasure in the smallest things in life.

That day, however, it was different. The cent of flowers didn't smell as good as it did, the song of birds faded into obscurity, mixing with other sound and becoming insignificant, and the mere image of toons hurryig to work, filled him with depression. It reminded him he had no job anymore, no purpouse...

So he had returned home, picked his favorite romance book, Gone With The Wind, and sat down to read. But even that wasn't able to cheer him up.

He had truly lied to Penelope that morning. He was far from being fine. But, what else was he supposed to say? That he was sad and needed her there? How could he?! Penny had wanted to film that movie for so long. He couldn't take that away from her.

Just then, he heard the front door open and shot his head up in alarm. For a split second he thought someone had broken into his house (maybe some backround character thief that would be stupid enough to try to rob a house by walking through the fromt door?)

But, all his fears were cast aside and replaced with confusion when he saw his beautiful wife standing in front of him.

"Penny? What are you doing here?"

"I quit the movie." She said in an unaffected tone.

Pepe jumped on his feet. "Tu as fait quoi?!”

"I already told you. I don't want to film Space Jam 2 anymore." Her voice was, again, emotionless, showing absolutely no regret.

Walking towards her, he cupped her face in his hands. "But why?"

Pepe wasn't stupid. He had a hunch why she would do it. Yet, still he wanted to make doubly sure.

"Because I don't want to be in it, if you are not in it."

There it was.

Pepe sighed and caressed her face. "Ma cherie, don't let me spoil your fun-"

"But you're not! You never spoiled anything for me! Those bastards did when they kicked you out!"

"But you were so excited, Penny. You wanted this, so don't let me get in the way. Please, go back."

"But I don't want to!" Her voice now was hoarse and her eyes were filling with tears. "True, I was excited in the begining, but that changed when you were out. I don't want to do it without you, so don't ever feel guilty or say you are getting in the way. You are never getting in the way. It was my choice to leave, and I regret nothing, got it?" She was basically clinging to him now, gazing into his hazel orbs.

Looking into those beautiful eyes of hers and, seeing her passion, love and sincierity, filled Pepe with a strong emotion. Lifting her chin up a bit, he kissed his wife deeply. Penelope reciprocated this gesture, warping her arms tightly around his neck.

They stayed like that for a while, completely lost in their bliss. When they finally broke apart a few inches, Pepe had tears rolling down on his cheeks.

"Thank you for being here, my angel. Je t'aime beaucoup."

Penelope smiled. "I’ll alway be here, love. Et je t'aime aussi."

THE END

Translations: Ma cheire = my dear

Tu as fait quoi?! = You did what?!

Je t'aime = I love you

Beaucoup = very much

Et = and

Aussi = as well

Thank you everyone for reading!

#looney tunes #pepe le pew #penelope pussycat #bugs bunny #fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #cute #space jam 2 #ask #@thebrownssociety

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

La vie en rose Pt.5

Pietro Maximoff x reader

A/N- so close to the ending I’m excited!!!

Warning-Violence, Angst, talks of death.

Episode- part of 1x09

———-

“You know what you might be giving up right?”

There had been three different times where you had heard that exact same question. Each time, each answer was the same; “yes.”, each time the answer was always filled with optimism that the outcome would be positive. That your father wouldn’t get caught; that the world, the government, your friends and colleagues would understand why you didn’t sign the accords and ended up doing what you did; that no one would end up dying.

But none of those times ever ended in what you hoped.

Now it was the fourth time you were hearing that same question, albeit you were asking yourself that question instead of hearing it from someone else, and this time you knew the outcome.

That’s what scared you, because there was no way for this to turn around, no. If you accepted this, if you gave in, then you’d once again lose something. You’d lose him. Again. You’d once again sacrifice something even if it meant your own agony.

So that’s where the answer could change to, “yes, and I won’t do it.”

But that’s still up for debate.

——

Before you could say anything in regards to what happened with him and you before, you bring something else up first. “We have to warn Wanda about Agnes.”

Pietro however, didn’t want to push things aside. He was as straightforward as ever. “I died, didn’t I?”

You pull away from the embrace and look at him with a stunned stare that lets him continue.

“I followed you and I managed to catch what that nosy neighbor was showing you. I saw what happened to me.” Pietro continues to grab your hands and pull them closer to him, using his other free hand to cup your cheek. “I understand why you did what you did, why you’re doing it now. You just wanted to be happy, I’m sorry I kept trying to ruin that.”

You exhale slowly and shake your head. “You didn’t ruin anything. You never have. But please forgive me for hiding the truth, I should have told you.”

Pietro strokes your cheek and offers you an assuring comment. “Don’t worry about it. Please don’t worry about it anymore, I understand. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, cupping his hands and smiling faintly as you add a quiet, “I love you.”

Pietro smiles and replies just as sweetly, “I love you too.” His smile falters and he adds what you knew was coming, “but having all these people trapped here isn’t right.”

You drop your gaze and lose your smile, whilst you nodded in agreement, “I know, I promise I’ll try to let them go, but if I do, it means….” you pause and can’t even find yourself to say those words, to say what you dreaded, instead you skip past it and finish your comment. “....I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”

Pietro let’s out a lighthearted huff of air and smiles brighter. “Who says you have to lose me forever, hmm? I told you that you were stuck with me. Just as we crossed paths the first time, and this second time, we’re meant to do it again.”

Finally you lift your gaze to meet his, feeling the corner of your lips tug slightly as you nod in agreement, even if you still didn’t know if you wanted to sacrifice your happiness. It was the right thing, yes, but if you did it, you’d lose Pietro again. Once again you’d be doing the good for other people.

“Come on,” Pietro urged, breaking you from your stupor and making you focus on him again. “Let’s go warn Wanda about her neighbor.” Pietro pulls away and begins to lead the way as he continues to talk. “Which by the way, I’ve always thought was weird. I always had my suspicions.”

“Oh really?” You scoff and hop off the front porch.

“Yes, because I’m smart and attentive.”

“Mhmm, okay.” You agree even if you wanted to keep pestering him, not making it far from your own home before the woman you had been talking about just landed before you.

“You thought I was just going to let you go off so easily?” Agnes furrowed her brows and mustered a feigned laugh. “No. I can't have you both ruining my plans.”

You fall by Pietro's side and bask your hands with the yellow hues of your power, a smirk tugs on your lips and without warning you flick your fingers forward and hurl a powerful energy blast that throws her back to a yard a few feet away. Your powers disappear from your hand as Pietro grabbed them with the intention to take you with him to Wandas house, but before he could try, the sight of Agnes standing up with a wicked grin on her face, and the yellow hues from your power somehow turning purple as they merged with her own power caught your attention, and left you both stunned and speechless.

“You didn’t stick until the end,” Agnes interjected smugly, “you missed my favorite trick.” A smirk grew on her lips and before you could react she used her own powers to throw both Pietro and you back inside your house, casting some spell on the both of you that dazed your minds, had you seeing something else, another life as if you were living it now, or viewing it like a movie, but only it was inside your own minds.

It was peaceful even if your mind was controlled, everything was so vivid, you could feel a comforting warmth, and an endless happiness. There seemed to be a purple hue that outlined everything, but it was something barely noticeable especially compared to the life that was currently playing inside your own mind.

It was a life that you had always talked about with Pietro, one where you were free, you weren’t bound to rules, to hiding or giving up something for the happiness of others, or the life of others, you were on your own, making your own choices. You weren’t in the perimeters of this dome, you were far from here. Everything felt right living that life, even if you knew it was some type of trick, even if it was just out of arm's reach, just a step away it felt right. It felt like you were trapped behind a two way mirror, if you pressed hard enough you’d go through it and be living it.

But you weren’t living it. You recognized that, that life you were watching might be tempting, but it was just that, a temptation. You knew you needed to get out of this high, even if it was addicting you just needed to snap out of it.

It was hard to do, but you did manage to break away from that weird haze—“shoot,” you mutter under your breath, blinking repeatedly to clear your vision and finally see everything that surrounded you, to see Pietro frozen and trapped in that same haze that had trapped you. You walked over to him and used your powers to literally snap him out of it; watching Pietro repeat what you had done and look at you seconds later with a perplexed gaze.

“That was….” he muttered as he rubbed his head, “weirdly vivid.”

“Mhm,” you nod, “but as pleasant as it was we need to get to Wanda.”

“Right,” Pietro agreed, “grab my hand.”

You do so without hesitation and in a matter of seconds you were zoomed out of your house and brought outside of Wandas house, noticing in that instant the damage around the neighborhood.

“Shoot,” you curse, “are we too late? How long were we under?”

Pietros eyes wander the neighborhood and bounce from spot to spot, taking in the damage that displayed outside as if some sort of freak fight had happened. When he looked back at you he let out a deep sigh and nodded, “yeah, we are late, it seems we have a fight ahead of ourselves. Great.” He pulled out his hand again to offer it to you, and before you could take it two quick footsteps run out to meet you before they shouted out in distress.

“Uncle Pietro, aunt y/n! Our mom needs help! It’s Agnes!”

You stepped up and saw the fear in their eyes and couldn’t help but feel bad for being too late. All you could do now was assure them as best as you could. “It’s okay, boys, we’re here to help now. We’re going to help your mom. Where is she?”

“In the middle of town!” Billy revealed.

“Okay,” you nod before you look back to Pietro to share a knowing look, making him take your hand and prepare to take you away, but stopping as the boys interjected.

“We’re going with you!”

“No,” Pietro protested, “it won’t be safe, stay here and wait for us to return, I promise I’ll keep your mom safe. She’s my sister after all.”

“But we can help, we have our own powers! We can fight!” Tommy argued, “please!”

“We can do this better together.” Billy added, causing Pietro and you to share another look.

“Fine,” Pietro gave in as he looked back at them. “Fine.”

You rub your temple and sigh out, “so young and yet so wise.”

Pietro grabs your hand and shoots Tommy a smug smirk, “but try to keep up little man.”

Said boy returned his smirk and replied with the same smugness in his tone. “Try not to slow me down old man.”

Pietro chuckles and without waiting a moment longer you were off again. Albeit instead of coming to a clean stop, Pietro came to a sudden skidding stop just a few feet away where you spotted Wanda; the twins did the same and that’s where you noticed the people running past you and trying to leave the dome that was ripping apart, that's where you noticed Wanda struggling to open the walls.

At the sight you felt your heart skip a beat, your stomach knot tightly together, and your eyes widen in horror; a cold chilling breeze flew past you that caused chills to slither down your spine, you felt your body move forward even if your mind was cloudy with a mix of confusing emotions. You felt as if you were casted under another haze, only this time you had casted it and you couldn’t snap away, it was filled with dangerous intentions instead of the happy ones that had infiltrated your mind moments ago.

The only reason you managed to snap away was because Agneses voice broke through your clouded mind. “Stop her. Look what she’s doing.”

Your eyes slid up to her and before you could try anything the screams of the twins pulled your full attention to notice them seeming to be breaking apart like puzzles. When you looked beside them, you noticed it was happening to Pietro too.

“Pietro!” You spun around on your heels and began running towards him to help him, feeling your heart thump increasingly faster inside your chest, feeling fear seep through every part of you. He tried to reach you but by each passing second more and more of him was disappearing.

“Now, do you see?” Agnes asks Wanda from the roof she was on. “You tied your family to this twisted world and now one can’t exist without the other. Save Westview or save your family.”

It was an easy choice, yet both carried a heavy burden. You both knew what was the best choice, yet it seemed that neither of you wanted to make it. You wouldn’t. You weren’t ready to give him up yet. You couldn't accept losing him and living under that dark cloud that casted over you before this town and after his death—it appeared that Wanda didn’t want that for herself either because she pulled her hands downs and with a pained scream she stopped tearing apart the dome, letting the red bubble that surrounded her disappear and letting herself fall to the ground. Finally bringing everyone back and lifting a heavy weight over your heart as you reached Pietro’s side.

“Are you okay?”

Pietro nods and lets you help him up, proceeding to pull you to him to press a kiss on the top of your head before he verbally answers too. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s go help our family.”

You offer him a quick nod and let him go to run towards Wanda, Vision and the twins. Only as you did, Pietro pulls you to a stop as suddenly Agnes chants something in Latin and begins to use her powers against Wanda. Shooting out a purple stream towards her and her family, ultimately getting stopped as Wanda managed to put a red bubble around her that she strained to keep up as Agnes began to take that same power.

Without hesitation you shoot Agnes with the same amount of power, causing her to stumble to the side but move her attention away from Wanda and instead begin to take your power. A malicious and satisfied smile spread on her lips and she just opened her arms to welcome what you shot at her, throwing her hand out to begin to fight back, making you feel sweat beads on your forehead as you strained to keep her from beating you.

“Y/N!” Pietro called out, reacting quickly by using his super speed to pull you away and stop what you were doing. “You know what she can do, stop, she’ll only make it worse.”

“I know,” you pant, noticing a hand of yours begins to turn black. “Shit.”

Pietro grabs it and looks down at it with concern. “Be careful, think smarter. You’re more powerful than she is, you can beat her if you just think of something. If Wanda and you do.”

You lift your eyes to meet his gaze, smiling slightly before you moved to Wanda and her family. “Are you all okay?”

Wanda nodded and asked the same thing. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes,” Pietro assured her, “just a little banged up, but we’ll be okay.”

“How sweet.” Agnes exclaimed overhead as she flew past all of you, and whilst some other vision...a white one, joined the group too—before the military also crashed this lovely party.

Not like it bothered any of you. Instead you all huddle around, shift to a fighting stance to face them all with determined faces.

“Listen boys,” Vision directed to his kids, “your mother and I never really prepared you for this,”

“But you were born for it,” Wanda finished for Vision.

“Let’s do this,” Pietro added confidently, with a cocky grin on his features.

You mirror his smile and add, “together.”

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justsomeoneunordinary · 3 years

Text

An “Assassin”

Day 2 of @winteriron-week: Assassin & Recovery

T, 2.3k, Crack, Humor, Sam Wilson Is a Little Shit and We Love Him for It, Background Sam/Nat, Team as Family, Bucky Is an Idiot in Love | AO3

(Day 1 / Day 3 / Day 4)

—

Muzzy is not a word Bucky thought he’d describe how he feels like with ever since he got injected with that bastardized version of the Super Soldier Serum. And yet it’s exactly how he’s doing after waking up and being blinded by the brightness all around him. A groan leaves his lips as he closes his eyes again.

Fucking hospitals and their stupid bright lights.

There’s a snort to his left, followed by a “Finally, you’re awake.”

Bucky slowly turns his head and blinks up at Sam who’s seated at the visitor’s chair, a grin plastered on his face, all shiny glinting teeth and tooth gap. The sole sight of the mischief in those black eyes is enough for his memories to come back.

And boy, do those hit harder than a truck on the highway.

“Oh man, that was hilarious.” Sam’s grin widens even more at that and Bucky can feel his cheeks heat up. “Can’t wait to tell the rest of the team what happened. I even got a video of it!”

Oh, hell no. Sam is already taking his phone out but before he can click on the video, Bucky shoots him an angry look and growls, “Don’t you even dare.”

He tries to get up in a sitting position, so he can throw a pillow for emphasis but with each movement the room spins even more and he loses orientation anew. Faintly, he feels a pain in each of his joints, but his head is too dizzy to register it properly. God, the last time he had been like this was in 1937 when he got high in the queer bar down the street of Steve’s and his apartment with that tiny guy from the neighborhood who knew to give one hell of a blowjob.

“Sure. I already quiver in fear,” comes the deadpan reply.

What an ass. Not for the first time does he wish to kill Sam. Just a little bit. As a treat.

So, he pulls his winner card: “You tell anyone what happened and I tell Nat where you hid that strap-on of hers she’s been missing so much.”

Sam’s grin immediately falls at that, changing to an expression of pure outrage. “You son of a bitch.”

Hah, checkmate. Bucky still can’t feel any of his face muscles, so he doesn’t know if they’re doing the right thing, but he imagines he’s grinning smugly right now.

“Have you even seen that strap-on? That thing is deluxe! You wouldn’t want that up your ass either!”

No, Bucky had not seen it, and he’d like to leave it that way too, thank you very much. But knowing Natasha, he can only imagine what it must look like. She tells him much more about their sex life than he’d ever want to know. And he still doesn’t know why she tells him these things of all people, instead of Clint or Wanda or hell, even Tony (Tony would absolutely participate in any sex talk there is (Bucky wouldn’t say no to sex talk when Tony is involved in it)), but he suspects it’s her own way of hobby torture.

Sam wrinkles his nose while he gets up, flips him the bird and says, “Fine, you win.” Then he walks to the door and Bucky squints at him, because there’s no way it would be that easy, Sam would definitely want to have the last word—

“Good luck explaining to Tony what happened, because he’s waiting outside already,” Sam tells him while opening the door, winking at Bucky and leaving the room, his snickering still lingering in the halls outside.

… Fuck.

Okay, he’s got like… ten seconds before Tony comes in, he can easily just climb out of the window and up to the roof. He just needs to get out of the bed which shouldn’t be a problem, broken bones or not, because he’s a high-profile assassin and—

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Busted.

“Trying to disappear before you can see me?”

Tony blinks at him and Bucky blinks right back, because seriously, what the fuck Barnes? He didn’t mean to say that, it just… slipped out.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a good idea. You might have enhanced healing, but you broke nonetheless more bones than you have in your body, I don’t think getting out of that bed any soon could end well for you. And it would be such a shame too. After all, I brought you a get well soon balloon.”

And sure enough, there it is. A red balloon. With a ‘get well soon’ inscription in golden letters. Bucky feels quite touched by this gesture. Tony thought of him. He brought him a balloon. In Iron Man colors even. That has to mean something, right?

As Tony comes closer, Bucky seizes the opportunity to appreciate the way Tony’s suit hugs his figure perfectly in all the right places. If Tony were his, he’d unwrap him out of it as if he was a present. He’d trace the material with his fingers, take slowly each layer off and soak in every inch of newly revealed skin.

“Hey, I know I look irresistible, but there’s no need to drool, Buckaroo.”

Damnit. Bucky would like to order a shot in the head right about now, please and thank you. He tries to wipe the drool off, but neither hand does what he wants, so he settles for living in shame forever.

“So,” Tony sits down at the same chair Sam had been just a minute ago, “can you tell me what put you, a Super Soldier, in such a state?”

This is exactly the question Bucky had been afraid of. See, Bucky has a tiny little bit of a… problem.

It started only three weeks after he had moved into the Avengers Tower on a completely ordinary and uneventful morning. Bucky had sat himself down at the kitchen bar, as always on the second last chair on the left side, which was the exact right angle for him to get a look at Tony’s perfect round bubble butt when he would come and bend over the counter to get himself coffee, so his pants would stretch over that wonderful butt and Bucky would have an eyeful of perfection without being creepy about it, because he was “just sitting there” and “looking normally straight ahead”.

On that particular morning however, had Tony loudly cursed after opening his coffee can, and whirled around to glare at each Avenger with a look that promised murder and bloodshed. “Which one of you used the last bit of my coffee and then didn’t even tell J.A.R.V.I.S. to order more of it?”

The answer to that was obvious. No one else would’ve done something risky like that but Clinton “I have a death wish” Barton. Which wasn’t something they would tell Tony, because no one on this team was a snitch.

Well, and then Tony’s eyes landed on Bucky and it took only three seconds of having Tony’s full attention, that he blurted without a second thought, “Clint was it,” and even pointed with the finger towards him. That earned him a gasp and spluttering and an utterly disappointed “How could you? I thought we were sniper buddies!”

After that there was a pattern. One Nat didn’t take long to notice and confront him about it.

“You can’t lie.”

“What? Of course I can lie.” Which was true. You can’t be a high-ranking assassin and go on undercover missions without being able to lie—you’d die on the spot.

“Fine, I correct myself: you can’t lie at Tony.”

Which Bucky denied vehemently and then didn’t talk to Nat for a month.

Fact is though, which it always is when it comes to Natasha Romanoff, that she was right. For some even to him inexplicable reason, Bucky is simply unable to not tell Tony the truth when he just looks at him. And it’s absolutely ridiculous, because Bucky should be able to. He is the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA. Instructor of the Black Widows in the Red Room. A weapon—a ruthless killer responsible for numerous assassinations. Tony’s big brown eyes, shining golden in the hospital’s light, framed by those surreal long eyelashes, which makes him the most beautiful person in the entire world, should not be a reason for—

“Sam bet that I wouldn’t manage to roller skate and I had to prove him otherwise.”

… Damnit. Bucky doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is redder than a tomato. The memory of it alone fills his entire being with embarrassment and Tony knowing what happened makes this situation definitely not a single bit better. He still can’t believe it happened in first place. Bucky is a well-trained Super Soldier! A pair of ugly shoes with some tiny wheels on it should not have been his downfall, for fucks sake!

Tony tilts his head at that, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait a moment. What exactly happened then? Did you just… fall?”

Bucky gulps and focuses on Tony’s tie pattern instead of answering. There are little Hulks on it. He likes it, it’s very Tony.

“In my defense; there was a staircase,” he murmurs at last, still not looking up. The Hulks on the tie wear purple pants. He’s pretty sure Bruce would like that tie too, he’s got a dorky humor like that, even though he’d never admit it.

A few seconds of complete quiet pass, and when Bucky finally does look up, he can see Tony’s corner of his mouth twitch, until he apparently gives in to his urge and throws his head back, laughing so hard that tears of laughter start forming and running down his cheeks.

Bucky wishes for an instant divorce. Sure, this might be the most beautiful sound he has ever heard in his life, but he still wants a divorce.

Not that they’re married or something—or at least not in real life. Bucky did dream of it once, though. It was a spring wedding. Nat and Pepper were their “best men”, because neither wanted Steve and Rhodey to hold a speech. The decorations were in Arc Reactor blue. It was very beautiful, people even cried.

“You are something else, Bucky Barnes,” Tony shakes his head, the humor still audible in his voice, and a look in his eyes, that could almost be described as fond.

Bucky takes the divorce-wish back.

“Now see,” Tony begins as he gets up and slowly gets closer to Bucky’s bed, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are.” He sits down at the edge of the bed an sends him one of those brilliant smiles, that make Bucky’s head all dizzy and his heart sing with want. “Those looks you always give me are unmistakable.”

Tony takes that weird looking pudding from the nightstand and starts opening it up. “And all this time,” he continues, “I waited for you to finally make a move.” At that he rams the spoon with the pudding right into Bucky’s mouth without any prior warning.

Bucky almost chokes and it’s only thanks to his control over his reflexes that he ends up swallowing the pudding, instead of spitting it out. He coughs a few times and looks up at Tony in shock and disbelief. If this is how Tony takes care of injured people, Bucky doesn’t have any interest to ever do a nurse role play with him.

Tony gasps in indignation. “Are you telling me you would not want to see me in a nurse costume?”

This time Bucky does choke. On nothing but his own spit.

He imagines Tony in one of those tight short dresses, his legs all exposed, wearing heels as well as rich red lipstick and—and stops before his blood can rush anywhere south.

“Yeah, thought so,” Tony smirks and proceeds to slam another spoonful of pudding into Bucky’s mouth. At this point Bucky doesn’t know if his face is red from embarrassment, horniness or almost chocking, but red it sure is.

“Where was I again? Ah right, so I waited for you to make a move, but had to face reality, that you’re just too chicken to do anything about your crush on me. Which is kind of ironic, because aren’t you supposed to be a feared assassin or something?”

Bucky’s brain officially short-circuits at that, because Tony did… what?

“Yes, yes, I figured out your little secret, keep up with the class, I don’t like repeating myself. So anyway, this is me—” another spoon makes its way down his throat— “asking you for a date, because you apparently weren’t going to.” And Tony smiles at him so brightly, Bucky is sure he could lighten an entire country.

Bucky holds his breath and waits to wake up, because this can’t be real, this must be a dream. But when after a while nothing happens, but Tony’s smile slowly falling apart and making room for an unsure expression, he asks, “A date?”

“Yup.”

“With me?”

“Preferably, yes.”

“Okay,” he croaks, so he doesn’t do something dumb like start crying from happiness for example or jump at Tony who’d crush under his weight.

“Okay?”

Bucky clears his throat. “Yes, okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay.” And back is that smile finally Bucky would like to kiss one day.

“Now that that is settled,” Tony digs into the pudding again (fucking hell, is that still not empty?), “how about a deal while I take care of you, since we have to wait until you have healed anyway before we can go anywhere: you tell me where Wilson has hidden Nat’s deluxe strap-on and I tell the rest of the team that you got your injuries from a heroic fight protecting civilians against a criminal. Hm, what do you think?” The glinting mischief in Tony’s eyes when he winks at Bucky is unmistakable.

Bucky thinks that this is the best day of his life.

#may writes #winteriron #buckytony #starkbucks #tony stark #bucky barnes #WI WEEK 2020 #WinterIron Week

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deja-you · 3 years

Text

angel wings + wedding rings

part four | angels in the early morning

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: both of you say things that you don’t really regret.

word count: 3.4k

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When his eyes were shut, Lafayette could only feel guilt.

He felt guilty for everything. For convincing you to marry him when you were both so clearly drunk. Then for trapping you in this marriage even though he had nothing to offer you. For keeping the apartment so cold. And for making you stay up late worrying where he was. Now, he felt guilty for not telling you no when you asked for meaningless sex; he knew it wasn’t meaningless to him.

The kind of guilt that embedded itself into your soul and swallowed you from the inside out. An ocean of guilt that he was now drowning in, the icy water filling his lungs and preventing him from calling out for help. The guilt was a siren, a warning of impending doom, a disaster about to make landfall and destroy everything in its path.

But then he opened his eyes and saw you.

Staring right back at him, the corners of your lips turned up at the corners and bright eyes staring back into his. Lafayette’s heart began to beat again-- when had it stopped beating? Your smile was infectious, and he couldn’t stop a smile from forming on his face as well. He hoped you couldn’t see right through his smile, to the heart hammering in his chest.

“You’re beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking,” he said after awhile, his eyes following the slope of your nose and traced your jawline.

You laughed through your nose. “You don’t have to keep flirting with me, love. I already had sex with you. Three times.”

His grin widened and he slowly nodded in agreement. “Three times.”

“I have to say, I’ve heard the rumors, but I didn’t think they were true.” You let your head fall back onto the pillow, sighing softly and allowing for your eyes to close shut.

“What do the rumors say about me?” Lafayette asked curiously, propping himself up on his elbow.

You opened one eye to see him grinning smugly at you, and you scoffed softly. “Oh, no. Your ego’s already big enough as it is.”

“I’m curious. Come on, mon ange, tell me.”

You only shook your head. “I’m sure you have girls tell you how good you are in bed all the time.” You paused, your eyes snapping open as a thought occurred to you. “Maybe you should be on the complimenting side of the post-sex conversation.”

“You want me to talk about how good you are in bed?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Coming from you, it’s a big deal.” You shrugged, then pinned him with an expectant stare.

Lafayette considered you for a moment, and found no words to be acceptable. It wasn’t that there was a lack of things he could compliment you on; that wasn’t the problem. There were so many things he wanted to say. Words filled with affection and love, but mostly truth. He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell you how much he adored you without letting it all slip out.

Especially since you were so insistent last night that this was purely about the sex, no emotions involved. No strings attached, you had said. Lafayette hated himself for agreeing, but he knew he would agree again in a heartbeat. He would do anything if he got to be the one to draw those lyrical moans from your lips, if he was the one who got to make you feel that good.

“Well?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Lafayette reminded himself to breathe, and offered you an indifferent smile. “I guess you were alright.”

“Just alright?” You scoffed, sitting up in bed, and pulling the sheet to your chest. “We both know I was more than alright.”

He grinned, and wanted to tell you that yes, you were much better than alright, but Lafayette knew he wouldn’t stop himself there. He turned away from you, grabbing a pair of sweats and pulling them on.

“I’m going to make breakfast, feel free to use my shower. The water pressure’s much better than the guest bathroom’s.” He stood up from the bed, giving you a nice view of his toned back, and the early morning light from the window outlined him in an almost heavenly way.

Your eyes followed his figure as he exited the room, and you sighed softly, letting your head fall back against the soft pillows. It was so easy to wake up next to him. In his bed. In his house. It was just easy.

After taking a moment to stretch, you forced yourself to climb out of bed and pad into his bathroom. You started the shower, and once the water got hot, you got in and let the water wash you clean. You had time to really think now. To think about this whole arrangement. To think about last night. To think about how much you wanted to feel his lips on yours again. To think about how much nicer his shower was than the guest bathroom’s was.

You figured you had taken long enough in the shower at this point. California experienced frequent droughts, it wouldn’t be environmentally conscious to stay in the shower any longer. You shut off the water, and wrapped yourself in one of the fluffy white towels Lafayette kept in his bathroom. Had he really been hoarding the quality towels and soaps in his bathroom? You made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

Barefoot and concealed only in a towel, you walked out into the kitchen where the fragrant smell of coffee wafted through the air. Lafayette heard you enter the room, and he turned to face you. You could’ve sworn the relaxed smile he wore grew ever so subtlety when he saw you. Or maybe you had just hoped it had.

“Made you coffee. To your exact specifications.” He slid the hot mug over to you.

Your heart began to beat a little faster at the thought of caffeine and potentially at the thought that of Lafayette memorizing how you like your coffee. “What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing husband like you, sweetheart?”

He snorted softly. “You got drunk in Vegas.”

“I suppose drunken mistakes have their benefits.” You took a sip of the coffee and let it warm you from the inside out.

“Careful, mon ange, you keep calling me a mistake and you might hurt my feelings.” His tone was teasing, but he was careful to look away from your gaze and turn back to the breakfast he was working on.

“Now I could ask more questions about your upcoming film, but I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room. Your secret marriage to Victoria Secret’s angel, Y/n L/n.”

The conversation you were currently having with Alex and John paused at the mention of your name on the TV screen.

Lafayette was on Ben Franklin’s talk show, and John had convinced you and Alex to come over to catch up and watch the interview. John and Alex were dying to ask you about your marriage, since they really hadn’t been told much more than what was printed in the tabloids, but Ben had beaten them to the question in his interview.

You watched Lafayette put on a practiced smile. A smile viewers would just assume was a result of the mention of his wife, but you knew Lafayette better than that. He was mentally preparing the rehearsed story the two of you had crafted together.

“Well, Ben, what do you want to know about Y/n and I?” Lafayette asked.

The eccentric host’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward on his desk. “Everything. For starters, when did you two start dating? And how could you keep this secret from dear old me?”

Lafayette chuckled. “We met through our mutual friend, Hercules Mulligan, and... and I was just awestruck from the moment I met her. I had the biggest crush on her, and one day I finally got the guts to ask her out.”

You pursed your lips as you watched the interview. Was it at all possible that Lafayette had liked you? You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining what would’ve happened if he had asked you out, but then you reminded yourself that he was a professional actor. He didn’t mean any of it. It was just a cover. And that didn’t bother you.

“Somehow I convinced a literal angel to go out with me, and for some reason she’s stuck around. What’s it been? A month and a half? We had a small ceremony, neither of us wanted anything big.” Lafayette laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. “I still can’t believe that she’s my reality.”

The audience and Ben aww’d at his statement, and the irony of his statement tugged at your heart. This fake marriage was fucked up, you both knew it, and you found yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Y/n must be one special girl to make the Gilbert de Lafayette settle down. You have quite the reputation y’know,” Ben said suggestively.

“That’s all in the past. Y/n’s my present and my future.” Lafayette looked away from Ben for a moment, his eyes lingering on the ring on his finger. “This last month and a half being married to her has been the best month and a half of my life. I just... I love her.”

Another round of awws from the audience, and this time Alex and John joined the audience, glancing at you for a reaction. You gave them what you hoped looked like a contented smile, but inside you were a twisted knot of shock and anxiety.

Lafayette had just said he loved you on national television. There was really no going back now; surprisingly, that’s not what you were focused on. He had said it with such sincerity that even you were convinced he meant it. You forced the warm, overflowing sensation back into your gut and reminded yourself it was all an act. A very compelling act that manipulated your emotions with ease, but an act nonetheless.

Ben and Lafayette thankfully moved onto another topic, and John turned down the volume on the TV. Alex and John turned to face you, ready to begin their own investigation.

“You have to know, we’re both very upset that we weren’t invited to the wedding,” Alex began. “We’re supposed to be friends, Y/n!”

“It was pretty spontaneous.” Understatement of the year. “We really didn’t invite anyone. Not even family.”

“You didn’t even tell us. I read about your wedding in a magazine. We didn’t even know you were dating,” John said.

You shrugged. “You heard Lafayette. We kept it quiet, but had been dating for awhile.”

“If we’re being honest,” Alex said, “I think I knew you two were dating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty obvious in the way you guys would stare at each other all the time.”

“We didn’t... We didn’t stare at each other all the time.”

John nodded in agreement. “No, no. Alex’s right. It was right in front of us the whole time. You guys always spent so much time together. I should’ve suspected something was going on.”

“I always knew you liked him, Y/n,” Alex said, “but you’re really in love with him? You never thought to tell us?”

“We’re married. Of course I love him.” And God, did you wish you were lying.

“I brought you lunch.”

You examined the box in Lafayette’s hand, smiling a little when you recognized the logo from your favorite restaurant. You grabbed his arm and pulled him out of earshot from the group of models who were watching the two of you and whispering to each other.

“Y’know you don’t have to bring me lunch, we’re not really married,” you said quietly when you were sure no one could hear you.

Lafayette only shrugged and thrusted the box of food into your hands. “I know. Just think of it as a way for me to say thank you.”

“I think you’ve thanked me enough. I’ve got a new Rolls-Royce, don’t I?” You grinned.

“She’s all yours, mon ange.”

You were smiling up at Lafayette, and he responded with a dazzling smile of his own. To any onlookers, it was a sweet moment between two newlyweds in the Honeymoon stage. And it sure felt like it. You remembered where you were and quickly looked away from him.

“I wish I could eat lunch with you, but I have to get back to work,” you said.

He nodded. “Of course. Tuesdays are busy for you. But Wednesday is your day off. Get lunch with me tomorrow.”

Sure, you’d had plenty of breakfasts and dinners with him, and a few lunches just for public appearances, but this felt different. It was the soft way he asked; the slight shaking of his voice that told you he was nervous. The way his eyes were a wider, more hopeful and tender.

“Lunch? Tomorrow?” You asked slowly.

Lafayette swallowed thickly. “Yes. Lunch tomorrow.”

You paused. “Like a date?”

“Like a date.”

Maybe all the planets had aligned perfectly in outer space just to make sure you made a decision you promised yourself months earlier that you wouldn’t. A decision you knew was stupid and could end poorly. But between the tugging in your gut and the nervous smile on Lafayette’s face, any coherent thought was drowned out in a pink haze.

“Okay. Let’s go on a date,” you said.

Any doubt about whether you had made a bad decision flew out the window when you saw Lafayette’s shoulders relax and his smile take over his face. That smile could light up the darkest room. He bounced excitedly back and forth on his feet.

“Great! I’ll make reservations.” He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his excitement, shaking your head a little. “We’re married and we’ve already slept together, but this is what gets you excited?”

“Maybe it’s because I just really like lunch,” he said. Maybe it’s just because this is actually real, he thought.

“You’re ridiculous. I really need to get back to work now before Hercules comes and yells at you for distracting me,” you told him.

He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Have a good day, mon ange.”

The first date was perfect.

It wasn’t anything special. Lafayette took you to a quiet restaurant just outside of L.A. He didn’t buy flowers or have anything spectacular planned, it was just a casual lunch. You ordered your food, talked about your day, ate, paid the bill, and left. That was it. And it was perfect.

The problem was that once you said yes to a date once, you couldn’t say no. And in Lafayette’s opinion, the second date was more significant.

Lafayette tried to calm himself when he asked you again. When he was around you, he couldn’t help but feel panicked. Not panicked in the scared or terrified kind of ways, but panicked in the way he didn’t know how to stop or slow down. He was a car going full speed down the highway with no breaks and no intentions to stop.

But you weren’t the same. He knew you had to bend your morals and ideals to even say yes to a first date. He would slow down for you. Or, at the very least, he would hide his panic.

“Do you want to go out?”

Out like a date? you’d wanted to ask. Or maybe just out like ‘you’ve been in my apartment for too long and I’m afraid there’s going to be a permanent you shaped indent in my couch.’ You glanced up at him, first noticing the easy smirk he wore. Then you saw the slight panic in his eyes and you nodded to yourself. Yes, he means like a date.

“Yes.” You would’ve thought that one little word was a drug the way Lafayette’s face lit up at the mere sound of it.

If Lafayette was still trying to contain his panic, he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. He took your hand in his and grabbed the keys to his car with the other. In a second you were situated in the passenger seat of his car and Lafayette was pulling out into the road.

“Where are we going?” You asked him while he helped you connect to the car’s sound system.

“I... I hadn’t thought of that yet,” he admitted, and you laughed. “Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t ask me, this was your idea. I don’t want to make a decision.”

“Okay, okay. Then we’ll just drive until we find somewhere we want to stop.”

The word ‘we’ felt so natural on his tongue. Like it was his mother language. You were his wife, his partner. Even if you just saw it as a temporary thing, and even if Lafayette knew it could only be a temporary thing, every now and then he liked to pretend that this was all real.

Neither you nor Lafayette would remember every detail from that night. The two of you were intoxicated, not by alcohol or any other form of inebriation, but by something stronger and more languid. Memories came back in poetic proses, broken glass on the sidewalk that looked like glittering stars, camera flashes that documented a fake marriage and real smiles, and desperate displays of affection that only delayed catastrophe.

You don’t think anything Lafayette ‘plans’ to do that night is intentional. In fact, you don’t know if anything he’s done in his entire life has been intentional. Sometimes that worries you, but right now you can’t help but love the spontaneous man that pulls you out onto the Santa Monica beach.

It’s already getting dark, and you’re certain that if you take your shoes off now to meander around the beach, you’ll never find them again. And you like these shoes. But Lafayette insists you run around barefoot with him. You mutter something about “I don’t know why I do these things for you.” You know the answer. You’re careful to make sure that because I love you doesn’t slip out.

“Lafayette, I swear if I lose these shoes, I’m getting a divorce,” you say as your bare feet sink into the cool sand.

He scoffs. “Well I wouldn’t want your shoes to be ruined by ocean water.”

“Why would they be...” your eyes meet his, then move to the waves lapping at the beach, then back to Lafayette. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You’re not given the opportunity to say no again, because his hands snake behind your knees and the next thing you know, you’re thrown over his shoulder and he’s racing toward the water. You yell a few times for him to stop, but it’s drowned out by your own laughter.

Lafayette is waist deep in the water, your feet, calves, and knees sink into the water, but you grab fist fulls of his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep the rest of your body warm and dry. Your actions are made in vain, because he takes a deep breath then pulls the both of you under the waves. He lets go of you after you’ve been completely submerged and you quickly resurface.

“I’m going to kill you,” you say as you gasp for air.

He laughs, and it’s so warm and full you forgive his previous transgressions for just a moment. “You might want to take out a larger life insurance policy before you do that.”

Lafayette wades over to you, his hands falling to your waist. They fit there perfectly, like your body was made for his hands to hold. He pulls you into his warmth.

“I don’t know what possessed you to drag me into this freezing water at night,” you groan, burying your face in his chest.

You can feel the soft vibrations of his laughter. “We’ve got warm, fluffy towels at home.”

Your heart flutters a little bit at the mention of home. “I do love your towels.”

“They’re your towels. I got them for you,” he admits.

“You did?”

Lafayette rests his head on top of yours. “Got new pillows, too. And a new coffee maker.”

“Just for me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums softly. “I’d do anything for you.”

You sigh out the name of some deity, maybe it’s his name, and you just stop thinking. “I love you. I’m so in love with you.”

He pulls away to stare at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

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