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julemmaes · 5 years ago

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Pinky Promise - Chapter Four

A/N: I love them so much and if they don't kiss in the immediate future I'm gonna sue myself. This is some fluffy-whump shit I don’t even know, I tried to update earlier this time, I hope I didn’t fuck anything up and please please be nice if you don’t like the chapter cause today was hard - we found out my uncle is positive and my parents might be at risk (me as well) and it’s not good. Enjoy!:)

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Word count: 4,779

Nesta sat on the armchair in Cassian's apartment and stared at the void, clutching her hands around her cup of tea.

She had been there for thirty minutes, joined by her boyfriend, and they had both said only a few words. She was terrified at the idea of having to force herself to listen to him and he, unaware of the battle that was raging inside her, seemed not to want to drop this crazy idea.

"I spoke with Feyre this morning," Nesta murmured. Cassian's head snapped up, a not too convinced smile flashed on his lips, inciting her to continue. "She told me I should listen to you."

The half smile turned into a proper one at her words, but he got serious when she gave him a dirty look, "Why?"

"She said that if you've gone so far as to call this insane mission of yours a dream, then it must be important." she held the cup even tighter between her fingers. Cassian followed the movement with his eyes, frowning. "She says I can't clip your wings. That it would do us more harm than the prospectus of you dying in combat, apparently." her sharp tone that of a woman who leaves no witnesses.

He stiffened in his seat, "Nes..."

"I'm not saying that she's right. I'm not going to give you my consent to do shit like that, not yet..." she pointed out, looking him straight in the eye, "But I want you to explain to me how it would work."

She saw the second hope ignited in his irises. The moment he knew that if he used the right words, if he pushed the right buttons, he would be able to make her give in. And Nesta wanted to shut herself down. She wanted to throw the cup against the wall and yell at him how stupid, stupid, stupid he had been to think such a thing.

She wanted to tear her hair out because the man in front of her was the only thing that hadn't brought her down in the last ten years and now he was slipping through her fingers, and she couldn't do anything to avoid it.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, pushing himself forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn't smiling openly, but she could see that the conversation was making him happy.

She licked her lips and saw him swallow.

They hadn't kissed in about four days and Nesta was counting the minutes since their mouths had touched before they started fighting, wondering if it would be the last one every second that passed.

"I want to know everything." she stammered, "What should you do now, right now, to prepare to join the army?"

He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up, "I'll have to take a medical examination, of course, and do a physical screening." He began, "This will be held in MEPS, which stands for Military Entrance Processing Station," Nesta had a feeling that she would remain silent for much of the explanation, without interfering. Not because she didn't want to, but because she could better absorb the information and all the acronyms he would spill on her.

As if she had been in class and they were explaining yet another protocol.

"I'll have to go there to process into the army." he looked her in the eye, "Basically, I'm gonna spend a night in an hotel, chosen by them. You can come visit me with the others, but you'll have to leave at ten and-" he stopped, arching his eyebrows, "Do you want the details of what I'm gonna do or?

She stopped him, "Please, tell me everything."

Something in her voice must have moved him, because he looked at her carefully before he resumed, "Alright, I'm gonna get a call at four in the morning, I'll get breakfast there at the hotel cause they do that for you," he said as if it were something to be applauded.

She snorted, "I think that's the least."

She wasn't ready to thank an organization that would surely destroy her family just because it would give her boyfriend a free breakfast.

Cassian glared, "And then we're all there at MEPS at five."

The fact that Cassian already saw a "we" in the army made her skin crawl.

"They'll assign me to a liason and that person is gonna explain what the day will entail and what we should expect."

He took a deep breath, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He did that so often, "Then, there's the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, that I'm gonna call ASVAB from now on. It is a mock test used to screen applicants to ensure that they mesure up to the high standards that are required."

And here it was, his recruiter voice. Nesta didn't think he would mention other propaganda videos, like the night before, but it seemed exactly like he was doing that while saying, "The main reason this test exists is because for Prythian Armed Forces it's important that they employ people who show strong levels of enthusiasm and skill." he winked at her and Nesta had to make an effort not to throw the cup at him, "You know, in order to maintain a great level of service and professionalism."

He puffed his cheeks, with thoughtful expression, tapping a finger on his lips, "There are nine subtests to this thing." And then he started counting on his fingers, "There are General Science, Arithmetic Reasoning, World Knowledge, Paragraph Comprehension, Mathematics Knowledge, Electronics Information, Auto and Shop Information, Mechanical Comprehension and Assembling Objects."

He stood up, took the phone at the center of the coffee table and passed it to her. She hesitantly picked it up and saw only a picture of a book, "There are plenty of sites and a specific book with sample questions I'll need to try out." he pointed the phone into her hands, "Just like a normal exam, same exact stuff."

He joked that he would need her to study, but she didn't change her expression, putting the phone on the coffee table and taking a sip of her tea.

"I'm gonna get a medical briefing and after that I have to get an exam with some physicians," he continued, "Once I'll be done with medical part-"

She interrupted him again, having to stop that dump of information that was being tossed at her, "And at this point you're not enlisted yet, are you?"

Cassian's smile turned soft, "No, baby, this is the moment they see if I'm suitable."

She nodded, "Got it."

He gave her the thumbs up, "Resuming, once I'm done with medical, I'll meet up with a counselor and that's the part where I negotiate a job. We'll talk about this later." he cracked his fingers, sighing, "With that being done, I'll go to the processing section, they'll do what they have to and at this point, I'll take the Oath of Enlistment, where I'd like you to be there."

He looked hopefully at her and Nesta closed her eyes, breathing through her nose.

Cassian stood up, approaching her. When she felt his hand on her leg, Nesta opened her eyes and saw him kneeling in front of her, his eyes glowing as he stared up at her.

"And then I'm gonna come home. To you." he whispered, stroking her thigh with his thumb, "And the first part will be done."

She moved her leg, fleeing his touch. She missed him too much and that hand, whether it was a strategy to soften her up, to make her lower her guard or simply because he missed touching her too, was messing with her brain.

Cassian swallowed noisily, clenching his hand in a fist and bringing it to his side. He stood up and sat down on the sofa, as close as possible to her armchair, "I'll return to the MEPS a second time, to begin my path on the army. A second medical inspection, a second oath and final processing and then I'll leave for BMT, which is Basic Military Training," he concluded.

Nesta looked across the room, toward the kitchen, where they had argued heavily just a few hours earlier. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, suddenly feeling weak.

His words appeared behind her eyelids, as clear as the sun.

We can always have children and pursue the careers we want.

He had seemed so sure of what he was saying.

We don't have to choose.

"Sooner or later we will have to..." she whispered.

Cassian pushed himself towards her, "Sorry I didn't hear that."

Nesta passed her hand over her face, "No, nothing," she sighed, "I was just thinking out loud."

He nodded, biting his upper lip.

"Is that why you've been training so hard?" she asked, remembering only then how much more he had actually started working out in the last few weeks. In the last few months.

Cassian responded positively and they continued talking for hours.

Nesta asked question after question: what would happen now, what would change in the immediate future in their lives, when was he supposed to leave Velaris - when was he supposed to leave here.

He explained to her what they were going to do. He would sign the contract for enlistment in a delayed entry so that he could leave in more than six months. So that they could plan everything calmly without the fear that he might be called to start Basic.

The departure date would have been decided together before he left for MEPS. He would apply for a career in the Transportation, Distribution & Logistics field as a Cargo Specialist.

Cassian had opened a web page on his phone and had her read what a job in that field involved.

"Cargo specialists ensure service members all over the world receive needed supplies and are themselves transferred safely and efficiently to their destinations. They are responsible for transferring or supervising the transfer of cargo to and from air, land, and water transport by manual and mechanical methods. They also plan and organize loading schedules." she read aloud.

Exactly what Declan was doing at that moment, he explained.

Cassian remained silent for a few minutes, allowing her time to assimilate any information he had given her. There was still so much to discuss that Nesta's head was bursting at the thought.

Before she could say anything about the fact that they were done for today, the door of the house opened and Azriel entered, with two vases so big that they covered his face, followed by a smiling Elain.

Cassian puffed and looked at her, whispering so that the others would not hear him, "I can't wait to have our own house," Nesta felt her heart implode, "so no one would ever come into the middle of our arguments to interrupt." she knew that his was a poor attempt to make her laugh, but she had completely turned her brain off.

She was used to talking about these things with him. Her heart hadn't hurt at the idea of the two of them just living together. Her whole body had hurt at the idea that in that house, there would only be her. No one else.

Even if they spent the next six months looking for the perfect house and found it, she would be alone.

Because Cassian would be overseas.

She turned to him, really looking at him and concentrating on the long black eyelashes that were fluttering fast.

She caught her breath, rising abruptly and Elain realized at that moment that she and Azriel were not alone. Both of them seemed more than surprised to find her in their living room, but, exchanging a quick glance, they decided not to say anything about it.

Azriel put the large vases on the floor, taking the smaller ones she was carrying out of Elain's hand, "Hello," greeted both of them and Cassian stood up in turn, turning to the newcomers and giving them a tight smile, "have you read the messages?" Azriel asked, taking off his coat and scarf that Elain had knitted for him.

Nesta smiled slightly.

It was Cassian who shook his head.

"Mor said that Manon arrived early. There was a misunderstanding with the time zones and they got confused with the days, but she's here anyway." Elain sounded excited, "Dinner at hers tonight."

"Fuck." Nesta murmured, running a hand over her face. She grunted in pain thinking of the headache she would have the next morning when she was due back at work. The week she spent at home on vacation had certainly made it easier for her to lay in bed without having to spend hours in the bookshop.

Cassian turned to her, slightly worried, "We don't have to go if you don't want to".

We.

Azriel looked closely at them and when he crossed Nesta's gaze, he sighed.

"We-" she began, "We?" she asked sarcastically, laughing in his face.

She was getting angry and had to try to control all the emotions roaring inside her.

After all the things he had decided without her, there was still an us. Apparently.

Cassian seemed to be in trouble, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "You don't have to come if you don't feel well." he corrected himself, "I'm sure Mor can arrange a meeting with just the three of you."

Nesta looked him in the face, clenching her jaw, "I'm going."

Elain let go an excited scream and went up to her, "I'm glad you're coming too."

They exchanged a quick hug and the older one almost cried.

She didn't realize how much the lack of physical contact weighed on her. And how more than half of that contact came from Cassian.

***

"Hey girls, come on in!" Mor greeted Nesta and Feyre with a bright smile on her lips.

As soon as they entered the house, they smelled the smell of baked pasta and both their mouths watered.

"Amren and Varian are in the kitchen with Manon and Rhys is wandering around the house somewhere, so," she told them, informing them on who was already there. Then she took one look at Nesta, "You're sure you and Cassian can stay in the same room without jumping at each other's throats?"

Feyre giggled next to them, shutting up immediately when Nesta looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

She turned to Mor, "He promised me he wouldn't bring up the army topic tonight and I promised him I wouldn't get mad about anything he said, so there shouldn't be any problems."

The blonde didn't seem so convinced, but then someone called her from the kitchen and her face lit up. She grabbed them both by the hand and dragged them into the other room, where a tall girl, with almost blinding white hair, was standing with a pan in her hand. When she saw them, she opened her eyes wide and flashed them a smile.

Feyre raised her hand in greeting and Nesta smiled tightly.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry," Mor approached Manon, taking the food and placing it in the center of the table.

"Baby, these are two of the three sisters, Nesta," she said, pointing to the eldest, who reached out to Manon to shake her hand, "and Feyre, the youngest of our group."

"Pleased to meet you," murmured Feyre, blushing under the inquisitive gaze of Manon.

The girl smirked, "The pleasure is all mine." then she turned to Mor, "Our Morrigan told me that you were all very beautiful, but I didn't think I'd join a group of models."

Amren, who hadn't taken her eyes off Nesta until then, snickered, "And we're the modest ones, just wait until Rhys and Cass are in the same room and we'll have a hard time breathing from how much space their egos will take up."

Feyre laughed, "You say that as if Azriel didn't know he was the most charming one in the group," then turned to Varian, "Nothing personal," she joked, sitting between Amren and Mor. The boy shook his head smiling, always with his silent manner.

"At least dear Az remains humble and does not go around proclaiming himself Miss Velaris," said Mor.

"It happened only once and I was drunk off my ass."

Rhysand entered the kitchen with his usual grin on his face, sitting next to Nesta.

He greeted the sisters with a quick smile, and she saw Feyre smiling back as if they hadn't yelled at each other five nights earlier.

She looked around, trying to figure out if she had missed something in the last few days or if she was really the only one who just couldn't let things go.

It was true, she wasn't going to cause Mor any trouble that night and she certainly wasn't going to spoil everyone's dinner by arguing with Cassian, but she wasn't going to pretend it was all okay either. Looking at each person at that table, however, it seemed that the fight that everyone had heard had never happened.

They were talking about the university and the jobs they had and Manon seemed more than calm and comfortable in that group. Feyre, strangely enough, was the one who was the most involved in the conversation and Nesta realized with no small apprehension that it must have been because Tamlin didn't let her make new friends so often.

Manon was a flower that had just bloomed in the burnt lawn that was her sister's life.

When the other three arrived, Azriel had one arm around Elain's shoulders and Cassian, behind them, had shiny eyes. Nesta knew very well that he was not crying or drunk. That was the face Cassian had when he was exhausted and only two days of deep sleep could fix that.

Manon and Mor had got up to make introductions and Nesta had burst out laughing when the newcomer had extended her hand to Az and said, "You must be Lucien. You and Elain are a splendid couple."

Elain laughed and shrugged Azriel off, "Oh, no. He is Azriel. Lucien's not coming tonight."

Mor had cast a long look at her girlfriend and Manon had apologized, smirking, as if she had done it on purpose.

Nesta knew very well that the blonde in their group often talked about the relationships-non-relations within their circle, so Manon must have known that no one in that house really believed that Elain loved Lucien. At least, no one in that house believed that Lucien was the right person for Elain.

There was a time when Nesta was convinced that he was going to propose to her. That sweet little Ellie would finally leave the nest and build her family elsewhere, but whenever she was asked questions about their relationship, she seemed indifferent. She cared about Lucien, she did, and it was obvious.

But maybe that wasn't enough anymore.

Azriel had introduced himself for who he really was and then rushed to the table, sitting next to her, red from head to toe. Nesta bent over to him, making a joke about what had just happened, and then whispered, "Thank you." Azriel raised a confused eyebrow. "For sitting here," she pointed to the chair, "I didn't want to have to spend the whole evening next to him."

He smiled at her, clutching her knee under the table and reassuring her that it was not a problem.

When they all sat back down to eat, Manon was looking at her and smiling at her in a reassuring way. Whatever Mor had told her, the white-haired girl knew more about them all than she let on.

Cassian didn't speak to her the whole time, too lost to have a chat with Varian and she was grateful that both of them were sitting on the same side of the table, because she didn't risk crossing his gaze, not once.

Also because she was sure that if he looked at her even for a moment, he would notice that something was wrong and that Nesta was not feeling well.

When Mor put the wine on the table, half of them refused the alcohol, finding a plausible excuse that they would all have to work the next day, but Nesta knew every person at that table like the back of her hand and she knew that Feyre had refused because she would have argued with Tamlin if she drank without him being there. Elain would bring up things that weren't supposed to go out in such a context and she and Cassian would start fighting, driven by the liquid courage in their glasses.

Halfway through the meal, Nesta got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as she shut the door behind her, she sighed closing her eyes.

Cassian was right when he told her that she should not come. Her headache was getting worse and she couldn't concentrate on anything that was being said.

She sat on the closed toilet and put her hands to her face.

She felt her fingertips tingling and her stomach hurt so much that she would not be surprised if she vomited all over the table when she got back.

She had to go home and sleep and not think about anything.

She heard the others burst out laughing and suppressed a groan of pain when her ears started ringing.

She was dying, she could feel it.

She came out of the bathroom staggering, almost as if she were high on drugs.

Leaning on the wall for support she managed to return to the kitchen and covered her eyes with one hand, sheltering herself from the light. She coughed to call Mor's attention and they all turned towards her.

Nesta sighed for the umpteenth time, "I'm really sorry but I don't feel so good and I'd rather go home," she stepped to the table, approaching Manon and offering her a tired smile, "It was nice to meet you, I hope you can come back soon and visit us."

She had no idea what she was saying, the ringing in her ears became louder and louder.

Cassian stood up and everyone's attention shifted to him, "Do you want me to give you a ride?" he was already slipping out of his seat.

Nesta shook her head, grimacing, "No, there's no need-"

"You're sick, you shouldn't drive in these conditions," said Amren, looking at her severely.

Feyre came to her aid, "If you want I can take you. I can go out with them tomorrow," she said, pointing to her friend and her visiting girlfriend. Mor nodded, looking at her pale face and looking more concerned than necessary.

"Nesta," whispered Cassian, "please."

The fact that no one was making fun of him for literally begging her to drive her home made her realize that others had also sensed the emotion in his voice.

She looked him in the eye and nodded slightly with her head.

She saw Cassian sag with relief and then he was gone to the other room, fetching their stuff for her. She arranged with the sisters how they would return home and Azriel reassured her that one way or another they would safely go home. This made her slightly agitated as Azriel wore that stupid sneer he had every time he exaggerated with wine. Elain told her that she would be driving, since both Az and Rhys did not seem to be properly sober, and Nesta calmed down. She was about to thank Mor again when she felt the weight of the jacket on her shoulders.

She turned and smiled gently at Cassian, who had a tired and worried look on his face and shifted his gaze over her cheeks as if he could find the illness on her skin and remove it only by willpower.

He put his arm around her shoulders when she got dressed and said goodbye to everyone one last time, while Nesta, tired of being angry and on the verge of another hysterical crisis, snuggled up against him, letting herself be dragged out of the apartment and into the car.

As soon as she sat down, she leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes, yawning.

"Let me," Cassian murmured to her. He looked at her hopefully and it took her a few seconds to realize that he was asking her if he could fasten her seatbelt. She nodded almost imperceptibly, swallowing when he smiled at her and stretched over her to reach the other side of the seat.

She breathed the air deeply and had to close her eyes tightly when his scent ran over her and tears made their way under her eyelids.

She missed him so much.

Cassian closed her door carefully and then went around the car, settling down behind the wheel.

Like the last time they had been in the car together, he was not putting the keys in the patch and she was getting nervous.

She didn't have the strength to argue at that moment and if Cassian had offered to accompany her and she had accepted without too much fuss, it meant that her body knew it too.

"What is it?" he asked her finally, starting the car.

Nesta looked at him from the side, with a lost look, "Everything hurts, I think I might have a fever".

Throwing her a look full of worry, he said, "Why don't you close your eyes for a while? I'll wake you up when we get to your house."

She nodded and leaned her forehead against the cold window.

It wasn't long before she fell asleep, lulled by the gentle humming of Cassian and the rocking movement of the car.

When she woke up, she was no longer in the seat of her boyfriend's Jeep, but someone was carrying her and her head fell right and left as she was being bounced up the stairs. She tried to open her eyes and recognized the stairwell of her building.

She had her head resting on his chest, one arm around her back and one under her legs to support her.

"Sssh," he murmured into her hair, "we are almost there."

She grunted in pain, whimpering and almost crying when Cassian had to put her down to get the keys and open the front door. Her feet touched the ground and she leaned completely against him, gasping against his chest.

She didn't even have the strength to touch him and her arms were dangling along her sides. It was as if her legs had become jelly, she couldn't stand on her own.

"Sweetheart," he called her and she moaned, "I know, I'm sorry," he rubbed his hands on her back, stroking her gently, "but you have to give me a moment to open the door. So I can take you inside and you can sleep."

Nesta couldn't see anything and if she tried to keep her eyes open, everything would spin, but she still heard the hint of panic in his voice and could picture the worry painted on his face. Clenching her teeth she pulled herself away from Cassian and backed against the wall, "Hurry up," she said through her teeth.

The door was opened in a second and then Cassian picked her up without her even noticing. He took her directly to her room and as soon as she touched the bed, she sighed, pressing her face against the pillow.

Cassian took off her shoes and pants, helping her slip into her pajamas and covering her legs with the comforter. When he tried to pull her up to sit down, Nesta twisted, her head pounding.

"I know everything hurts, but if I let you sleep in your bra, tomorrow your ribs will hurt even more," he explained to her, sitting on the mattress, "Lean on me and I'll take care of it, Nes," she laid down, her head turned to the other side.

She heard him sigh and then Cassian's arms wrapped around her chest. She leaned completely against him with her eyes closed as she cried silently. The pain had reached overwhelming levels.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she heard him murmuring when she sobbed.

Once he had removed her shirt and bra and put the top of her pajamas on, he laid her gently on the bed and put the comforter on her so that she was not exposed to the cold.

She felt Cassian's lips on her forehead a second before sleep took over.

“I promise we’ll get through this, too.”

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Imagine

Erik talking real nasty and the reader can’t take it.

“You got some big ass titties on you. Them bitches look like they got nipples a nigga can suck on all fucking night.”

Why your friend set you up with this horny ass, hoe ass nigga was beyond you. It was a double date and your best friend and roommate from M.I.T set you up with her new boyfriends child hood friend and fellow Annapolis classmate, Erik Stevens.

Tall. Chiseled. Full pouty lips. Eyes like a hawk. Sponge curled fro atop his head. Scruffy facial hair. A real fuck boy for sure.

You weren’t with that shit especially after getting over a break up with your high school sweetheart about five months ago. You vowed to stay single for as long as you needed, and to never allow yourself to get some rebound dick.

Currently, you were all chilling at what appeared to be Erik’s off campus apartment since he was only getting his Doctorate in Engineering. He was around 30, you were only 23 years old. Your friend liked them a lot older, roughly 5 years older and she was 25. While your girl and her man sat on Erik’s balcony sharing a blunt you kept Erik company on his couch within his living room. It was only fair and you weren’t a rude person. Your head was throbbing already from the few sips of hard liquor Erik offered you since you were a light weight.

Rubbing your temples, you secretly scolded yourself for not bringing ibuprofen. His words were clean cut and to the point, throwing you off completely. No man had ever talked to you like that, not even your ex. He really just openly talked about your titties like he was about to get some of that pussy you had.

“What did you just say?” You sounded so embarrassed by his words.

“Girl, you heard what I said,” he took a sip of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “you a big titty girl. I like big titty chicks with pretty faces.”

Your eyes left his and cascaded down towards your breasts slowly. Dammit. Your nipples felt like they were jumping. Hard like stone pebbles, obviously visible through your white crop top. You couldn’t hide them things if you wanted to.

“You...you always talk like this when you’re drunk, Erik? What happened to all that science talk?” You we’re enjoying that talk better, or at least that’s the talk you preferred.

“Nah, shit ain’t even hit a nigga yet. Ain’t no way I can get faded from just once glass of Henny.” He chuckled, giving you a teasing smile.

“Well, Id appreciate it if you don’t look at my breasts.” You ask him with an even tone. His eyes were stuck on your face, watching whatever movement you made. He was dissecting you with his sharp eyes. He took in the lie you tried to convince him to believe.

“Well,” he looked at your lips then, “I could talk about how much I wanna suck on that bottom lip cuz it keep pouting like you want me to bite it.”

He leaned back on his elbow while balancing his half empty glass in hand, “Why you uptight? A nigga tryna tell you what he like and you acting like I’m bothering you.”

Closing your eyes you turn to him, fighting the way his voice grew all demanding.

“I’m sorry it’s-its my nerves. I’m...I’m not used to this it’s been a minute, Erik.”

She couldn’t look at him. It was hard to look at his sexy face she couldn’t even push herself.

“Can you at least look at me, Y/N?” His voice was softer and more pleading.

You close your eyes briefly before looking back to him. He had these low domineering eyes, mouth parted like he was thinking about fucking you, hands all warm on your exposed thigh since you wore a pleated skirt that day.

“See? Was that hard?” His voice cracked a little with his laughter, “get comfortable, ma, night ain’t over.”

“Yeah,” you look at the TV screen, some irrelevant show on.

“You wanna listen to music while I blow some trees?” He asked, sitting up fully to pour himself another drink.”

“Sure.” You fold your hands within your lap, fingers twiddling with nerves. Erik looked like he could ruin you. This night was going be a long one. Who knows how much further he planned on taking you with his sharp tongue and hungry eyes. He looked like wanted to eat you alive.

“Your last boyfriend, how he fuck that up?” Erik leaned back into his couch, legs swinging. You try not to react to the way his knees kept hitting the side of your exposed thigh.

“He fell outta love with me apparently.” You laugh to cool off the growing anger you still felt towards it.

“Fell outta love with you?” Erik scrunches his face in distain, “fuck kinda nigga falls outta love with a fine ass girl like you.”

He shook his head with laughter, eyebrows raised, “nigga wildin’ he prolly punching the air right now, prolly thinking about what other niggas want a piece of that lil thang you got.”

He said that shit so casually, rolling up his blunt and rapping to the music from his latest trap music playlist. You just studied the side profile of his sexy face,

The Damn dimples.

Jesus take the wheel.

“He’s missing me alright,” you spoke before you could stop yourself, “He’s been blowing up my phone, telling me he miss me.” Your eyes rolled to the ceiling.

“Oh yeah?” Erik leans into the couch, licking the blunt to seal it, “I bet you used to put it on him.”

You could feel your lips go tight from restraint.

“What made you come to that conclusion?” You we’re finding yourself to be curious as to what he had to say next. This Erik was something else.

“Like, you must have that real good pussy to have a nigga missing you.”

I mean, you might be shy but that didn’t mean your shit wasn’t golden.

“You didn’t deny it either,” he laughs, “I like that. I think I just found out some shit I needed to know.”

You shake your head, licking your lower lip to fight a blush. Erik caught that, sitting up straighter now. He took you by your thigh, pulling you closer to him so that you were sitting in his lap. You didn’t object but your body was so rigid.

“Damn, why you so stiff, ma?” His hand rubbed along your back all soft and soothing.

“You just- it’s nothing.” You shake it away, looking around the room timidly.

“You shy with me?”

He knew the answer to that already but he wanted to toy with you. That’s clearly his thing, toying with chicks. You didn’t want to admit that to this experienced man but damn.

“You just...I’ve never had a man talk to me like this so...”

“That’s a fucking shame. I’d talk like this to you any chance I get. I got a serious thing for letting a woman know what I want.”

His thumb stroked the side of your leg. It was so delicate but it held an edge to it. You take a chance and look at him, his eyes magnetic with yours. It was too much. You couldn’t imagine yourself underneath him while he beat into your pussy something serious. He didn’t play about that it seems.

“You like sitting in my lap, Y/N?”

You simply nod your head.

“You feel this?”

You didn’t know what he meant at first but then the solid firmness of his dick that had to be long and fat rested between your ass through your skirt. Sheesh. He was a big one. You didn’t even have to touch it to know. If things ever went far with the both of you how in the hell were you supposed to take that?

“Erik,” you close your eyes, pushing at his chest. He was giving off too much and that shit was making you feel real bold at the moment. You wanted to get on your knees with curiosity and see what he was hiding away in his jeans.

“My guess is you ain’t used to that,” he rubbed at the back of your neck with his finger tips, “if you let me get to know you I can help you out, I’m a good teacher, ma.” He made his dick jump again and you close your eyes, lower lip trembling.

“Shid, you can’t be used to all that. You look like you need to be opened up some.”

The gasp that left your mouth was loud and clear. He was straight up nasty.

“Why are you so freaky?!” You ask with pure shock. Since this never happened to you it stroked your curiosity. He had a way with words. Very persuasive.

He smiles up at you, dimples deep, “I been wanting your little ass since I saw you around campus, girl.”

You blushed deeply, biting your lip while your clit jumped in your wet panties, thighs squirming.

“I was thinking like, damn the shit I would do to her little thick ass,”

“What?” You asked with glossy eyes. You wanted him to keep talking. No matter how much you couldn’t take it he just needed to keep talking to you like that.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” He asked while his head was already leaning in.

“Yes, please,” you were telling him without a second thought. Damn, that was quick.

He sucked on your bottom lip, pulling moans from you before clashing his mouth to yours. The taste of the liquor on his tongue mixed with his saliva was a taste you now craved. He had the back of your head while his lips did dangerous things.

“Mmhmm, so fucking sexy. You gonna let me finger that tight pussy with these?” He held up his fingers, all fat and smooth with manicured nails. He could dig them things deep in you anytime. He asked you because he knew from the size of them they would have your ass crying.

“Yes,” you whisper, thighs rubbing to gain some kind of friction.

“You sure? I know I’m not dealing with just any pussy, Y/N. You look like you need to be opened up though. Shit prolly micro mini.” He laughs again and that only makes you blush with arousal.

“I said yes,” you speak with slight irritation. You already gave into his fine ass but he clearly wanted you to beg.

“Then open that pussy up.”

You open your legs, wet panties cooling from the air. Erik places his hand there, rubbing up and down before peeking lower, pulling your panties to the side while your wet folds slipped out.

“Damn, that shit is straight dripping. You always get this wet little mama?”

He was driving you crazy. The fact that he called you little mama or little baby because you were younger than him made you weak and fucking horny. Erik spread you open, his eyes closing.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He shook his head, biting his bounty bottom lip.

“I couldn’t wait to bring you back to my place, you wearing the fuck out this little school girl shit, tryna tease a nigga.”

You whispered softly at how gushy your pussy was at the moment. This man had a way with words. It was as if he hypnotized you.

“You ready for all this mature dick, huh? After I’m done with your pretty ass I’ll have you regretting being with that nigga in the first place. You gon’ take some good dick.”

Mature dick meant big ass dick that would have you paralyzed from the waist down. Dick that he would have to fit into your tight pussy and make open up for him. A dick that would have your walls tugging and sucking in every inch, stretching you out beautifully.

“Erik,” you looked fully aroused and your skin was covered in sweat. This shit had you hot and ready to fuck. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this but it was Erik. You couldn’t help yourself. His fingers teased your pussy lips that were swollen and sensitive. You could cum just like that and the whimpers you were making only made him keep it up.

“Easy baby, easy. I’m not going no where. We got all the time in the world, little mama.”

Erik’s dick jumped, it felt thicker and it only made you get wetter. How many stages of growth did his dick have? You shuttered.

“It’s okay, you’ll be sitting on Daddy’s dick real soon.”

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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evalinkatrineberg · 5 years ago

Text

Practice Prompt 2

A/N: The dialog with @idaliamoretti and @lady-indiana comes from an rp we did earlier today :)

The knock on my bedroom door made me jump. As quickly as I could, I tugged the white shirt I was holding over my head, still pulling down the hem with one hand as I made my way to the door, opening it with my other.

My father was standing in the other side of the doorway, his car keys in hand. “Proctor wants you to come in and help her out with something today.”

I frowned. I had done a research assistantship with Professor Proctor during the spring semester, after taking her course on genetics in the fall. I loved the work I had done under her, though it was mostly just looking at certain chromosomes under a microscope before and after she had altered the sequence of nucleotides, and comparing how the images varied. Either way, it had gotten my name out there as her assistant on the papers she published, which was certainly something. I definitely couldn’t be credited with most of the work or writing though.

“Why?”

My father shrugged, already walking away from the door. I tied the fabric belt of my flowy black pants in a bow, and began to follow him down the hallway. It wasn’t like Professor Proctor to spring work on me unannounced like this, especially when school wasn’t even in session anymore.

My father made his way immediately to the door when he reached the bottom of the staircase, picking up his work bag, which was already leaning against the shoe rack. He tapped his watch twice, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I protested.

“You should’ve gotten up earlier.” My father only shrugged as I grabbed my purse from the hook next to the shoe rack.

“I woke up at the same time I always wake up.” Not a lie. My early morning routine had been the only thing that remained constant these past few weeks. Between capital officials calling or visiting in person, and family members I barely remembered trying to get in touch with me, altogether consuming my every waking moment, my life felt like it had been the unfortunate victim of a hit-and-run accident.

“Not even at the palace yet, and already developing an attitude,” my father noted, holding the door open for me. “That’s not a good sign.”

I sighed, opening the passenger side door of his car the moment two chirps confirmed it was unlocked. “Sorry, I’m just kind of confused and concerned as to why Proctor wants me to come in today.”

As he got in the car himself, he handed me his work bag and nodded, the only sign that he had even heard what I said. He was a man of few words, my father. Always blunt and to the point, he got what he needed to get done done, and didn’t waste people's time with niceties and polite chatter. That part of socializing he left to my mother. It was also probably a big part of why the officials from the palace preferred to have her around when they needed me to sign something, rather than my father.

My absolute favorite moment from the past few weeks had been the time that some official or another had called from the capital, and my father, fed up after a long day at work, had picked up the phone and just yelled, “What? What do you want?” He had then paused, as whoever was on the other line said something, and then calmly, he had said, “Oh, Evalin, it’s for you.” My mother had been absolutely mortified, and had taken the phone out of my hands to apologize profusely to the capital official on behalf of my father. I had found it hilarious, however, and had to leave the room at one point, unable to contain my laughter any longer.

“She probably just needs your help.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I thought. I bit my tongue, though. Fighting with my father wasn’t worth it. It never was, but especially not now that this would be our last full day together for a while.

So we continued the rest of our ride in silence. The streets were just beginning to fill with other vehicles as we hit the main roads. I kept my eyes on the cars passing by as I thought about the upcoming Selection. Today really was my last full day in Knoxville. I didn’t know whether to be sad about the fact that I kind of hoped I wouldn’t be back for a while. I would miss my family, sure, but I couldn’t deny that no matter which way the Selection went, it was going to be a life changing experience. I was going to learn and grow from it, and for once in my life, not in the traditional classroom-learning sense.

This could possibly be the last time I was setting foot on this campus, I realized, as my father parked his car. This might be the last time he drove me here, the last time we hugged in the lobby of the biology building before heading down separate hallways, the last time I had to smell the brine of the oyster labs as I passed by them on the way to Professor Proctor’s laboratory. Had I taken all these things for granted?

I swallowed once before walking into the lab, refusing to let myself dwell on all the what-ifs. I was done with what-ifs. The here and now, that was real, and that involved finding out what Proctor needed me to do for her.

My professor was standing in the corner of her laboratory, flipping through the pages of what appeared to be an old book with maroon leather covers. The book itself looked like it was shorter than most normal-sized books, but maybe that was just the angle I was looking at it at. Or maybe most of my time had been consumed by textbooks and official documents the past few months.

“Good morning, Professor,” I said by way of greeting, holding on to the door as it closed behind me to make sure it didn’t slam. “How are you?”

Professor Proctor looked up from her book, shutting it with one hand as she smiled at me. “Good morning, Miss Berg,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she pushed some gray hairs behind her ears and readjusted her glasses. She might be old, but she was no less wise than she had been when she had published the results of her first independent study when she was just twenty-two. I had been ecstatic when I learned that she would be teaching my genetics lecture last fall. I mean, this was a woman whose tenacity and intelligence had always inspired me. I had literally done projects about her in elementary and middle school.

“Or, should I say, Lady Evalin?” One corner of her lip tugged upwards.

I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks as I hung my purse on the coat rack by the door. “That really isn’t necessary, Professor.” Then, turning back to face her, I added, “My father said you wanted me to come in today?”

“Yes.” She began to move towards one of the microscopes, placed on a low lying lab table towards the front of the room. She pulled out two chairs, facing them towards each other, and motioned for me to take the one opposite of her. As I complied, she explained, “I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

That was right - I hadn’t been able to see her since the announcement was made on the Report. My research period with her was over once the spring semester ended, and with all the craziness of the Selection going on, I hadn’t made time to come to campus and seek her out myself.

“Thank you, Professor, for making time for us to talk. I’m sure your schedule must be busy after the release of your latest findings.”

She smiled at my reply. “It may be, but science does not stop and wait for the media circus. There are always new discoveries to be made. The world keeps turning.”

I felt my blush deepen at her clear jab at the Selection. Oh, God, she must have been mad. Or maybe my father had paid her to give me the lecture that he couldn’t bear to give me himself.

“With that in mind,” she continued, “can I ask why on earth you decided to enter yourself in the Selection?”

Oh yes, here it was.

I decided to start with a joke, laughing nervously as I asked, “Did my father put you up to this?”

“Oh, good! He’s already given you this lecture! Now, I don’t have to!”

I sucked on a tooth. That hadn’t gone according to plan, but I decided not to correct her. Professor Proctor gave amazing lectures, but they were always long-winded and strongly worded, and I wasn’t sure I could handle one at the moment. I still hadn’t even had any coffee yet. “I understand that by participating in the Selection, I am putting my education on hold, but this could be a great opportunity. Think about it - if given a position of power and influence, I could promote the inclusion of more women in science!” It definitely wasn’t my primary reason for going, but it was better than admitting my childhood crush on Prince Arin to my professor.

She waved a hand through the air. “The Princess Safiya is already a woman in science herself. You’re more useful here, studying and publishing research to enhance our knowledge of the human genome. By throwing yourself at the shoes of some spoiled boy, you might as well be throwing all of your intelligence and hard work in the sciences into a trashcan, lighting that trashcan on fire, and then kicking it down a flight of stairs.”

I nodded ever so slightly, brows furrowing as I attempted to think of something I could even say in response to that.

The professor saved me from having to respond, though. She clucked her tongue. “None you worry, though! Your time at the palace won’t be a complete waste!”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I replied flatly. I didn’t know why I was so irritable lately. First the almost-fight with my father, and now this. Was the stress of the competition getting to me already?

“How were you at history, Miss Berg?”

I pursed my lips, thinking back to high school, picturing the marks I had gotten on my exams. “It was my best subject out of the humanities and social sciences. I think a lot of my success had to do with my memorization skills.”

“Good.” Professor Proctor nodded, leaning back in her chair. “So you are aware, then, that Illea did not always exist as a country. Not as it does now, at least.”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. Where was she going with this?

“So, then, the Illean caste system, as it exists currently, could not have always existed, right?”

Alarm bells were ringing in my mind. “Yes, but -”

She cut me off. “Tell me, Miss Berg, have you ever dreamed about pursuing another career? Something besides biology?”

Wasn’t that what I was doing by participating in the Selection? Wasn’t that we she was just about to lecture me about before?

I studied the woman across from me. How could she sit there, so relaxed, not a tense muscle in her body, and talk about such things? She was like a spider with a fly already trapped in its web - all she had to do was watch. She had the power to strike at any moment.

“I used to dream of being a ballerina,” I admitted, “but I was four years old, and they were just that - dreams!”

“But what if there was a world where your dream could become a reality?”

“Well, that would require for me to have advanced physical coordination skills, which I don’t,” I stated, staring at her point-blank, my face relaxed. “That fact has nothing to do with the history of Illea.”

A casteless society. Was my professor really hinting at a casteless society? It was downright treasonous of her to be doing so, and bold of her to speak so freely of these things in front of somebody who would be inside the palace tomorrow.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Professor Proctor reprimanded, waving a hand through the air again. “The point I’m getting to, though, is that I have a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, letting out a scoffing laugh. “Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to write me letters while you’re at the palace.”

I frowned. “That’s it?” I had already been planning on writing my family and June, and maybe even Lukas, though I doubted he’d want to hear about the drama that was bound to ensue. I supposed I could add Professor Proctor to the list as well, though I found it highly unlikely that she would want to hear about the drama either.

“Yes, but not just any letters.” Here it was. Here came the catch. “I need you to get information about the plans the government have against the rebels and the abolitionists.”

“No.” The word came out of my mouth before I could even think, before I could even fully consider her proposal to me. “I won’t do it.”

She sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. I’d hate to have to do this Miss Berg, but if you don’t send me those letters, I will make sure you never work in the field of biology again.” Her eyes narrowed as mine went wide. “If you want a research assistantship after your time gallivanting at the palace is over? You won’t get one from me, or any of my colleagues. You want to get into graduate school when this is all finished? Good luck doing it when no accredited institution worth a grain of salt will accept you.”

I shook my head, standing up and pushing my chair back under the lab table. “Treason, and blackmail,” I hissed, my voice wavering slightly, in spite of my desire for it not to. “I don’t care if you never let me work with you again. I don’t want to.”

“Think carefully on my offer, Miss Berg,” she instructed, not even moving as I made my way across the room to grab my purse. “I won’t hold this little outburst against you.”

I stopped in front of the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I looked over my shoulder at her, the woman I had spent most of my life aspiring to be, one last time. “You disgust me.” I shook my head again. “I’ve lost all respect for you.”

I opened the door, flinging it wide as I began to walk down the hallway.

She called after me. “What do you think your father has in your attic, Evalin?”

The door slammed, cutting off anything else she might say. I hurried past the oyster labs and up the stairs, blinking away tears as I made my way into the main hallway. Was I crying? God, I needed to get myself together.

I ducked into the ladies room on my left, right before I entered the main atrium, and threw my stuff down on the sink counter. After splashing some cold water on my face, I considered my possible next steps. My mother was at work, so I couldn’t ask her to come get me, and my father was up in his lab, which meant his phone was in his locker, and he wouldn’t be able to check it until the end of his workday. That left one person with a car that I could call.

June picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Evalin!”

“Hey, June.” I reflexively put my hand up to my free ear, covering it, even though the bathroom was silent. “What are you up to right now?”

“Running errands,” she replied. Indeed, if I listened closely, it did sound like she was in her car, not on a crowded street, but still definitely driving.

“Could you possibly come get me along the way?”

She cut me off before I could even tell her where I was. “I wish I could, Ev, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch!”

I heard someone mumble in the background - a distinctly male voice, and familiar at that. Was that Lukas? I blanched, putting two and two together. Oh my God, were they hooking up in June’s car? Was everyone I knew breaking a law today?

“No worries,” I assured her, my voice breathless and a little shaky. “I’ll find another way home.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Is everything okay?”

No.

“Yes!” I did my best to sound bright and chipper, but I didn’t think for one second that June was fooled. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, I hung up. It looked like I was stuck here, and at the very least, I was not going to spend the rest of my day in the bathroom. So I picked up my purse, and made my way to the dining hall, purchased a cup of coffee, and carried it back to the biology building, where I spent a few hours playing solitaire. Anything to talk my mind off what Professor Proctor had told me.

It occurred to me that I didn’t have to give her the time to blackmail me. I could report her for conspiring with the rebels right now, and have her arrested. The only issue was, I had no proof. It was her word against mine, and I wasn’t naive enough to think that anyone would believe me over a world renowned researcher and scientist.

My phone was on it’s last two percent when my father finally emerged from the hallway. He frowned as his eyes darted from me to the three empty coffee cups that were now stacked behind me. Hey, walking to the dining hall was exercise, right?

“Done so soon?” His tone was skeptical, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Yeah, she got a call from a publisher of one science magazine or another, asking her if they could interview her about her latest study.” I shrugged nonchalantly. It was a good thing that I had had the better part of a day to come up with a believable lie. “How was your day?”

“Less hectic than I thought it would be.”

I stood up then, following him out the door and through the parking lot, to his car. He was silent up until we were in his car, when he asked, “Was it good to see her before you leave?”

“Yeah,” I lied, leaving it at that. Luckily, my father didn’t press me for more details. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel at every stoplight, humming along to an old song playing on the radio. No matter how much any of us protested, he refused to change the station in his car to anything other than “Classic Hits of the early 2000s.” He was insistent that it was the only music that would ever play in his car. If we wanted our own music, we were to bring something else to listen to. Too bad my phone was dead.

My father pulled into our driveway at a snail’s pace, each motion he made deliberate yet relaxed. He turned the keys, shutting the car off, still humming to that stupid song that played at least twice every time I rode with him to work - once in the morning, once in the evening.

I was over it. I wanted nothing more than to eat dinner, shower, and curl up in my bed. I was all but packed, seeing as we didn’t need to bring many personal items with us, since our wardrobe and essentials would be provided for us at the palace. All I needed to do was get through the rest of today, and then tomorrow, I would be on a plane, and with any luck, I would never have to see Professor Proctor ever again.

My father practically raced to the door. I trailed behind him, narrowing my eyes at him as he watched me slowly trudge up the porch steps, his gaze expectant. He waited until I was right behind him before he slowly began to open the door, which creaked slowly on its hinges. From what I could see, the inside of our house was dark, which was odd, considering my mother’s car was definitely in the driveway.

Once his hand was inside, my father flung the door open the rest of the way, and I stepped inside, blinking twice as the lights flashed on around me, and a wall of people jumped into my line of sight. The word, “Surprise!” was yelled in various pitches and intonations, jarring me almost as much as the sudden change in brightness did. I dropped my purse as I took in the sight in front of me. My entire family - my father’s parents included - along with June and Lukas stood in the living room, partially obscured by the staircase, wearing party hats and holding noise makers. Above the couch was a banner that read, “We’ll Miss You, Evalin!” in big red block letters.

I forced myself to smile, and then I forced myself to hug everyone, and act like this was the best present I had ever received. “I knew you’d love it,” Lydia squealed. “A going away surprise party just seemed perfect!” When our brothers were out of an earshot, she whispered, “I released the ants, too!”

I was quite sure an ant infestation was the last thing I needed at this point in time, but I assured her that it was the highlight of my day, which was the truth, though the bar was quite low. After her, it was my grandparents, who were so pleased with how much my Swendish had improved since I had last seen them around Christmas time. I informed them that I had been furthering my study of the language in order to help me stand out during the Selection, and they beamed.

The rest of the night was much the same. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that our company started trickling out. First it was June, lazily waving goodnight as she made her way to her own home nextdoor. Then it was my brothers and Lydia, whose departures were punctured with screaming and laughter as all four made it to their rooms, finally. Then my father decided it was high time to drive his parents back to the hotel they were staying in, though they promised they would see me again at the official send off ceremony the next day. My mother drifted off upstairs, saying she needed to deal with whatever mess had been made. I didn’t want to imagine what her face would look like when she found out her daughters had collected and released ants into her sons’ room.

That left just me and Lukas, seated on the couch downstairs, me with a glass of water, and him with an untouched slice of cake.

Now was as good a time as any, I decided. Today could not possibly get any worse.

“I heard you in the car with June, today.”

Color rushed to his cheeks as he placed his plate on the coffee table. “I went with her to pick up your grandparents from the hotel.” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “She asked me to come with her since I know a little Swendish.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes right back at me. “You sounded kind of upset on the phone. What happened?”

I just shook my head. “You would not believe the conversation I had with Professor Proctor today.”

“Oh, good.” His eyes lit up, his lips starting to tug upwards in a smile, and his speech animated. “She filled you in on everything, then? It’s great that you’re continuing to work with her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I never said that.”

His face went pale at that, and he leaned forward, towards me. “What do you mean?”

“I told her no, Lukas.” It was an effort not to ball my hands into fists in my lap. “You’re working with her?”

He shook his head, and then ran his hand through his hair. “Evalin, why -”

It was all the answer I needed.

“Get out of my house.” I stood, pointing towards the front door. “Now.”

Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “Evalin, listen, you’re being irrational. Can’t you see -”

“Don’t you dare try to call me irrational when you’re the ones committing treason,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the door. “Get out of my house, and don’t you ever come back.”

My teeth were clenched as I opened the door, practically shoving him into the night air. As he stumbled out onto the porch, my father rounded the corner of our driveway in his car, his headlights like a beacon in the night.

“Evalin,” Lukas tried again.

I’d had enough. I pushed him towards the porch steps as hard as I could. He stumbled back a foot as I reiterated, “I said leave!”

Finally, he took the hint, and began walking across the lawn, turning right when he hit the street. To my left, my father stepped out of his car, locking it as he came to stand beside me on the porch. “I never liked him,” was all he said as he turned around, opening the front door and holding it for me.

It was a sleepless night after that. Between the fight with Proctor, and then the fight with Lukas, I had a lot to think about. My brain wouldn’t shut off, no matter how much I tried to drown out the sound of my thoughts with the sounds of the crickets outside. By the time light started filtering through the window again, I had managed to sleep for maybe half an hour, if that.

There was not enough coffee in the world to get me through this day. The morning was a blur of my mother fixing my hair and applying makeup to my face, Lydia zipping up the dress the capital officials had instructed me to wear, and my father, handing me cup after cup of coffee until I couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without having to use the restroom. After that, we were out the door, and off to the town square, where the mayor was waiting on a stage in front of a crowd of people.

I had to give the crowd credit - some of the signs were kind of creative. Even June was there, holding one that read, “Evalin? More like Eva-WIN!” I cracked a smile at that, but it faded as I thought back to the night before. I wasn’t going to get the chance to tell her about Lukas. Shit.

Speak of the devil. There he was, dressed in a button up shirt and dress slacks, standing at the side of none other than Professor Proctor herself. A bold move, on their part. I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing that I had seen them. Instead, I adopted the broadest smile I could manage, and plastered it on my face as the mayor droned on about my merits as a candidate for the princes heart, and what a great service I was doing for my province.

Once he had wrapped up, it was time to say goodbye to my family. My brothers were first, practically crushing me with the combined force of their hugs, and assuring me that they would get payback for the ants. I only laughed, challenging that I would love to see how they planned to do that from the other side of the country.

Then it was my grandparents, who gave me quick well-wishes in Swendish, before stepping aside to let Lydia through. Lydia gave me a quick hug, both her and my mother offering words of encouragement.

The last one left was my father. Steeling myself for what I knew I had to do, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of coffee and hazelnut for one last time. Then, discreetly, I raised my head a bit, and whispered into his ear, “Proctor knows what’s in the attic, and I think I made her very angry yesterday.”

My father, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch at the news. His face remained stoic, though he did offer me a nearly imperceptible nod, the only sign that he had heard what I said.

With that done, I was ushered into a limo, where I sat for the next two hours, until it arrived at the airport. I had wanted to sleep in the limo, but the caffeine in my system had left me too jittery and alert to do so. Maybe that was for the better, though. I didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep on the plane, in front of the other Selected girls.

One of them was already on the plane when I boarded. I ran through my memory, trying desperately to place her face to one of the names I had memorized. No luck. I was drawing a blank.

I offered her a smile as I made my way down the aisle. “Hi, I’m Evalin!”

She matched my smile with one of her own. “Hi Evalin! I’m Indie!”

Indie. Indiana? The film director from Clermont? I struggled to remember what else Lydia had told me about her, but it wasn’t coming through. God, I was so tired.

I took a seat across the aisle from her, keeping my smile in place. “It’s nice to meet you! You’re from Clermont, right?”

“Yes, I am! And you’re from -” she paused, smiling sheepishly, “-remind me again?”

“Carolina.” I smoothed out my skirt. At least I wasn’t alone in the not-remembering-information boat at the moment. “You’re a movie director, right?”

Her smile was nothing but kind as she replied. “I am. What is your profession?”

I inhaled slightly before answering. “I’m still in college, but I’m studying biology.”

For now.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool. I could never do science.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a slightly nervous laugh. “It’s second nature for me, really. I grew up around it. I think it’s really cool, what you do, though! I’ve never had that kind of artistic vision!”

“Aw, thank you. It’s the only thing I could ever do, and I’m glad. I truly love it. The profession saved me, in a way.”

“That’s amazing!” I couldn’t help but smile at that. Indie and I weren’t so different when it came down to it. What she felt for directing was exactly what I had felt, still felt, for biology. “That kind of passion is very admirable!”

Once again, she matched my smile. “We are still waiting on two more, right? The plane is supposed to leave soon.”

“I think so.” I frowned, looking over my shoulder, out the window. Missing the plane would set a sour tone for the rest of the Selection, that was for sure. As I craned my neck, trying to get a better view, I caught side of a girl with dark hair was walking through the parking lot. “Looks like one is coming now!”

Sure enough, as soon as the words popped out of my mouth, one girl boarded the plane, followed by a second girl, who already had headphones in. The first girl popped into the plane like a ball of pure sunshine, looking over her shoulder at the plane staircase. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, breathlessly, “My parents kept saying goodbye!” She turned back to us then, her eyes flickering over each of our faces in turn. “Idalia Moretti,” she said by way of introduction, plopping down in an empty seat to my right.

The fourth girl took up a seat towards the front of the plane, not so much as glancing back at us. Instead, she turned to face the window, keeping her headphones in.

“What about you guys?” Idalia’s voice drew my attention back towards my right side.

I offered her the same smile I had given Indie earlier. “Evalin Berg. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Oh,” Indie began, grinning like mad at Idalia. I had to admit, the girl’s energy was infectious, and she was practically bursting at the seams with it. “Hi, I’m Indie! Are you guys excited?”

With everyone on board, the plane began to take off. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be to say my goodbyes to Carolina, though I did still have my worries. Would Proctor report my father, out of spite for me? Would Lukas? What was even in my attic that was so illicit? It’s not like my father could just sneak up there willy-nilly. The attic door was a drop-down from the ceiling on the second floor, kind of like a reverse trap door, with a ladder that unfolded out once the door was open. The hinges were so rusted and creaky that half the neighborhood would know that someone was going into our attic before they ever set foot in it.

I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. “Very,” I answered. “A little nervous, too, though. What about you?”

“It should be an interesting day,” Idalia offered. “Tomorrow is when I’ll be nervous. Or, I guess whenever we meet the prince.”

“I’m definitely a little of both excited and nervous,” Indie agreed. “But you’re right. Tomorrow is when things get really real.”

They were right. I needed to focus. “True. Today is just makeovers and getting settled in, right?” I winced at my own unawareness of what I had gotten myself into. I cursed the stupid fights keeping me awake all damn night, and for making me forget what I really needed to do. “Sorry, this whole thing has been a bit of a whirlwind. It’s kind of hard to keep track of all the details.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Indie answered. “I’m sure there will be people telling us what to do, and where to go. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“It’s kind of weird, being thrown into the spotlight like this! Do any of you know any of the other girls? I’ve only gotten tidbits of information that my sister has dug up.” A half lie. Lydia had dug up a good deal of information, I just couldn’t recall any of it.

“I know one of the girls,” Indie admitted. “Emily. She’s acted in a few of my movies. I know some of the other actors just from industry talk, and stuff.”

“Yeah!” Idalia took over the conversation. “I just know the details because I have a friend obsessed with this stuff. She sent me a PowerPoint of, ‘The Most Important Things to Know,’ on everything and everyone.”

Indie’s eyes went wide and her smile grew. “A PowerPoint? That’s iconic!”

“Oh wow!” I laughed, but it came out a good deal more nervous than I had intended it to. “Dare I ask what it said about us?”

“Oh, Evalin,” Indie reprimanded with a shake of her head, “never read the reviews.”

I blushed, but Idalia only smiled as she forged onwards. “She is iconic like that! She liked your last movie, by the way. It was in her PowerPoint.”

“Oh, really? That’s sweet!”

So much for not reading the reviews.

A joke. I should crack a joke. “Ah, sorry! I’m used to my work being peer reviewed.”

I was the only one who laughed at my joke. I should not have cracked a joke.

As if it took her a second to catch on, Idalia let out a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure your slide just said, ‘bio smart but I have no idea what any of her work says.’”

“Ah,” I replied, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. I should have seen that one coming from a mile away. “I haven’t really done anything of note. I held a research position under my genetics professor last semester, but it was mostly just me using a microscope.” It felt weird to talk about it now, after everything that had happened yesterday. I could only imagine these girls’ reactions if I had told them the full story.

“That sounds way more intelligent than anything I’ve done, so,” Indie trailed off for a second. “Kudos to you.”

I let out another nervous laugh, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Time to change the subject. “What movies have you directed?”

Indie seemed to consider it for a moment, as if she had to pick between a large sum of movies when saying her next sentence. “A few,” she settled on, finally. “Some of them you might know are Lady Bird and Little Women. I’ve also done The Greatest Showman, but I also direct episodes of TV sometimes.”

“Oh, I loved Little Women,” I gushed immediately. “That and Pride and Prejudice are the two movies my sister insists we watch whenever we have a family movie night!”

She grinned at that. “Pride and Prejudice is amazing. I’m glad my movie sings along beside it at your family movie nights.”

“Funny,” Idalia interjected, smirking. “My house is usually filled with suggestions of Megamind on family night.”

“Hey, I mean, Megamind,” Indie trailed off again, clearly searching for the words in her head. “Important stuff!”

Interesting. That movie definitely sounded like something Randall would request. That, combined with her big personality, was making me wonder if Idalia and I had more in common than I had initially assumed. “Do you have a lot of siblings, too?”

“No, actually,” Indie answered first, “I don’t have any siblings. You?”

Idalia had an amused smile on her face as she admitted, “I only have a younger brother, but Megamind is usually not his idea.”

“Like I said, Megamind - important stuff,” Indie reiterated.

“Megamind is a classic,” I decided out loud, though I had never seen the movie before. “I have three brothers, and a sister.”

“A big family,” Indie observed. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” I admitted, thinking back to our goodbyes a few hours earlier, “for the most part, but we can get a little antsy. There’s plenty of teasing and pranks to go around! Having time to yourself must be nice, though!”

Idalia nodded knowingly. “I probably tease my brother more than he teases me.”

“Having time to myself can be nice,” Indie agreed, “but at least I get to live vicariously through my characters.” After a brief pause, she picked up the conversation again. “Oh, hey! Idalia, we never asked you what your profession was. You seem like a prankster. It has to be something interesting.”

I wasn’t the only one who got that vibe from Idalia then. The brunette leaned back in her seat, cracking a smile as she responded, “Interesting assumption. I fence sabre.”

My eyes immediately lit up. So that was where I knew her from! “Oh, wow, that’s awesome! I thought your name sounded kind of familiar! You fenced in the Olympics, right? My youngest brother had the games on all day, every day when they were being broadcasted!”

She brightened as well, her smile broadening. “I did. I’m going again next year. Or at least that’s the plan.”

“Ah, congratulations!” Thinking about all of her words had me biting my lip. “Are you nervous about the possibility of this Selection taking over a year? I know the officials said it shouldn’t, since it should display the prince’s decisiveness, but” I sighed, “I have to wonder how into the Selection he’s going to be, what with his engagement to Evie Waldia being cut off so recently.”

It was a fact Gabriel had been bringing up since the beginning. This wasn’t a quest for love, according to him, but a quest for the royal rebound. His argument only got worse once he realized how similar my name was to Evie’s. From that point onwards, he refused to address me as anything other than, “Evie 2.0,” much to my annoyance. I was my own person, not a new Evie, and not a rebound. My brother, of all people, should know that.

Idalia turned her head towards the ceiling. “Time will tell, but I doubt they will say I can’t go. Illea, like everyone else, sends people that can win. If I’m still one of the candidates when the time comes, it would be foolish of them to deny my participation.”

“That’s true,” I conceded. “It must be so cool, being able to compete for your country like that!”

“That really is cool, Idalia,” Indie echoed. “I’m sure you’ll get to go. It’s probably even better press for Illea if they send a Selected.”

I was inclined to agree. “That’s a good point! You’d get to be serving the nation in two ways at once!”

“I guess that could be said,” Idalia conceded, chuckling. “So we’ve got a film director, a bio major, a fencer, and,” she paused, looking at the fourth girl, who had shown no inclination to join in the conversation, “an unknown.”

“Should,” Indie bit her lip, and I tried to remember who the fourth girl on this plane should be. “Should we try to talk to her, or…” She trailed off again, not taking her eyes off the girl.

It hit me then. Shala Lie of Dominica.

“Shala?” I asked. No reply. I frowned and lowered my voice to a whisper, having the vague sense that Shala might still be listening in on our conversation. “Maybe she’s just very nervous.”

“Yeah, probably.” Indie shrugged. “Well, anyway, you girls seem really nice. It’s definitely made me feel a lot better about this whole process.”

“Likewise,” I replied. I had to admit, my smile was less forced this time. “It’s good to know that we’re not in this alone.”

Idalia took control of the conversation again. “I’m sure Prince Arin must be having a similar feeling.”

“Speaking of Prince Arin,” Indie began with a grin, “thoughts?”

I couldn’t help but blush at the thought of the prince. I kind of hated it. What was I, twelve years old? Nonetheless, I had to field my question. “Well, he is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“He is quite handsome,” Indie echoed. “I’m excited to get to know him. Or, at least I hope I get the chance to know him.”

“Me too. I’d love to be able to talk to him and get to know him.” Admitting this to these girls, these almost strangers, was somehow less embarrassing than admitting it to anyone at home had been. “I’m sure he has lots of interesting stories to tell.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s just crazy that we are going to be living in the palace, of all places,” Indie gushed. “Hanging out with the prince, of all people. It feels like a fever dream!”

“Truly!” I had been saying as much since the letter first came in the mail. “I never imagined that this is where my life would actually take me!” The faint popping in my ears was my first clue, but a quick look out the window only confirmed my suspicions. “It looks like we’re about to land!”

“Yep.” Indie nodded in agreement. “We should keep in touch down there. I think it’ll be nice to have some friendly faces around.”

My smile was my main reply; my words were secondary. “Certainly!”

“I wonder if we’ll be near each other, room-wise,” Idalia chimed in.

Finally, something I could actually remember. “What rooms are you in? I’m in room eighteen.”

“Oh, uh, you know, we might be close to each other. Hold on.” Idalia paused, pulling a piece of paper out of her back pocket. She skimmed it for moment before finishing with, “Yeah, sixteen.” Her brows furrowed, then, as she looked over what I could only imagine must be a map. “Okay, so we’re in the same hall, but you’re right outside the circle of rooms around mine. Not the closest, but still same hall.”

I looked over her shoulder, taking it was was indeed a map, for myself. “Yeah, it looks like we’re diagonally across the from each other.” I smiled at Idalia, then. This could be good. “We should definitely be seeing each other around, then!”

“I’m in room six,” Indie announced, “but we will still see each other around!”

“I’ve heard there’s a woman’s room, and also etiquette lessons,” Idalia admitted.

“True.” My grin was one hundred percent genuine this time. “I’m kind of excited for the etiquette lessons. It’ll be nice to learn something different, for a change.”

“Oh, it’ll be something for sure,” Idalia agreed with an amused grin. “How to be photographed, how to curtsy, maybe which spoon is for the salad as well!”

I laughed at the joke. “I wonder if they’ll make us learn how to walk with books balanced on our heads.”

It was Indie’s turn to laugh now. “That would be funny to see,” she admitted, “but, trust me, that’s not the hard stuff. It’s the learning to talk to the press that’s hard.”

That was where the conversation ended, as the plane touched down and we were escorted down a carpet, through a large crowd of people, and into a limousine. It was silent at that point, and for that I was kind of grateful. I was out of Carolina. I was here, in the capital, possibly about to meet the love of my life, and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

#selectionoc #((sorry this is a long one lol))

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spideydaddyboy · 5 years ago

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SUGAR

CHAPTER 1

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A chilled breeze hit the city, turning Gwen’s nose and cheeks cherry red, the same shade of cherry lip gloss she began to chew off her lips. She tugged the ugly orange handknit beanie her mom sent her last Christmas hard over her ears, and skipped the steps down to the subway, knuckles white and blue from the cold and clutching the strap of her shoulder bag so tightly. Nerves were high, today was important, it was a chance to get in on an internship Gwen had her eye on since she started Uni. Oscorp Enterprises was offering a seminar for engineering and science majors from Empire State University and a couple other small colleges. The professor that offered her the ticket clued her in on a little inside information, 2 spots for interns were open, with 260 candidates attending they were looking at, and Gwen got to be one of them. Her name was already on the list, but she had to make sure to climb her way to the top of it in the 3 hours she was there. Peter is such an idiot, she thought to herself and scowled. Originally Peter was the first recipient of the ticket offered to her, but he turned it down because he had “things to do”. Of course Gwen knew he was always out late doing God knows what and slept until his classes at three. The six am presentation was just not in the realm of his capabilities. A little part of her was jealous, Parker was the perfect student on paper, and he could put in little effort and get high scoring results. Gwen threw herself into her projects and research, only to be a sliver behind Peter, which was never good enough for her. She couldn’t understand how he did it.

The subway slowed at her stop and she scuffed her black docs on the rough concrete, scurried up the steps and found herself a block away from the Oscorp building, a glittering glass paneled building that reached and touched the sky. From the moment it was built Gwen couldn’t help but drool over it, it was a scientist’s dream to get to work in that building. A directional flyer she was given earlier along with her pass led her to the opening of an amphitheater, hundreds of students like her chattered about, grouped together in the dimly lit dome shaped room. She perched in a seat mid-back, with a great view of the stage and the screens displayed off to the side for people who couldn’t make out the presentation from where they sat.

The lights dimmed and the room ceased with a hush, yellow toned spotlights followed a smartly dressed woman in a dark navy pantsuit to the centre stage, the sound of her heels clicking echoed off the sides of the domed ceiling.

“On behalf of Oscorp Enterprises, welcome…”

A trail of drool trickled down the side of Peter’s cheek, glistened off his face as Ned yanked their dorm blinds open, the light hit every corner it could reach in the tiny room. Peter sat up with a snort, hitting his head against the post of his bed, he’d rolled on to the floor in his sleep-or just didn’t make it to his bed at all. The city was busy with low-life’s the night before, 2 car thefts, 7 muggings he could get to. Not to mention the end of the night “bonus”, a jumper he had to sit with and coax down for an hour. Not that he minded, he still loved being the Spider Man, but it was tiring after a full day of University.

“What the hell Ned,” he grumbled and propped himself up on an elbow, yanking the sheet closer to his body.

His roommate and high school best friend shot him a look, “you missed both your afternoon classes dude, you can’t keep doing this to yourself every night.” He tossed an oatmeal bar from his backpack and Peter caught it easily, “I’ve got a study group with Betty to get to-aaaand you were supposed to meet Gwen about 15 minutes ago, you’re lucky I forgot my book this morning and came back, she’s gonna have your balls.”

“Shit,” Peter uttered gruffly and pulled himself up off the floor, reaching for the nearest shirt and pair of jeans.

He hopped around tugging at a light faded pair of jeans and tugged an Empire State Sweatshirt over his head, pairing it with the worn carhartt jacket May bought him two birthdays ago. The Dorm hallway smelled like stale ramen and faintly of weed, it gave him a headache across the bridge of his nose. Once outside in the fresh are he sprinted toward the campus cafe, making fiery eye contact with Gwen through the large clear glass windows. She sat in their usual spot, a table in the far right corner, next to the window so they could look over the lawn. Gwen's eyes sparked with annoyance and her nose was slightly scrunched like it got when she was angry, and she was angry at Peter. He couldn’t blame her, their meetings were almost nearly put off a good 20 minutes all the time because of Peter’s chronic lagging.

“You’re late,” Gwen uttered, Peter plopped in the chair across from her.

A yawn tore out of his mouth, “yeah I’m really sorry Gwen, I was out late last night, sleep got the better of me.”

She eyed him, tired bags under his eyes, the lazy smile, a bruise blooming on the underside of his chin, it alarmed her, “where’d you go?”

“Uh, nowhere really, just around,” he twirled his finger in a circle motion, evading the question. “How was your seminar this morning?”

“It was interesting, how’d you get that bruise,” he looked at her confused. “On your chin.”

Soft fingertips brushed over his jaw, he hadn’t realized she reached out to touch the sore spot until pain blossomed across the left side of his face, “ack! Gwen knock it off!” He swatted her hand away and grimaced, “you didn’t need to do that.”

His memory was flaked, it got like that sometimes after a couple knocks to the head, but he remembered the hard right hook he got from one of the ladies he returned a purse too last night. She didn’t seem to appreciate the help. Dread settled in his stomach, Peter didn’t like having to lie to Gwen, but he didn’t want to involve her in his double life. He didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to her just because of what he was. They had been best friends since high school, Junior year when she transferred. He was as close to her as he was Ned, they were an inseparable trio, at least until they started college and things became complicated for Peter. Ned started to date Betty again, and Gwen was left to herself and studies.

She sighed, dropping her hand and picked up her cappuccino, her mouth perched over the rim for a small sip, “you never tell me anything anymore, you and Ned both.” Peter frowned, she wouldn’t meet his eyes and her lips twisted, “you’re always tired, and bruised, I’m worried Peter. You and Ned are in your little bubble all the time and I’m left out.”

“Gwennie,” Peter tapped the top of her hand with his fingertips and her blue orbs met his, “if anything we’re trying to keep you in a bubble, I’m only trying to protect you.”

“From what Peter?”

He gave a boyish smirk, “if I told you I wouldn’t be very good at keeping you safe would I?”

She scowled, “you’re so odd Parker.”

“Now tell me about the seminar, did you make an impression?” He diverted the conversation, “did you get to meet the big man himself?”

A peachy blush tainted her cheeks, thinking back to the end of the presentation earlier that afternoon. It was so crowded, students flooded the stage, one after the other trying to get in a conversation with Norman Osborne, it felt hopeless thinking she would get a turn. Gwen stood toward the back, hand gripped on her shoulder bag tightly, and drummed the fingers on her other hand against her elbow. Out of the corner of her eye she had caught a boy staring at her, leaned on a post at one of the side wings of the stage. She gave a small smile and returned to look out over the crowd, a moment later she felt a light tap on her shoulder. The boy had walked right up to her, a charming smile on his face. He was very attractive up close, with deep blue eyes and a straight nose, “it’s a pretty crazy charade wouldn’t you think?”

Gwen had shrugged, “we’re part of it aren’t we?”

“I suppose…” He chuckled and gestured to the pin on her bag, “Empire State? What’s your major?”

“Science, if you couldn’t guess, never dreamed I would be here with this opportunity,” she waved a hand over the crowd, “I don’t know if it means much with all this insanity though.”

He gave her a coy smile, “I believe you’ve got a better chance than any the lot of that swarm, what’s your name?”

“I’m Gwen Stacy, you?”

“Harry-” his phone chimed and he looked down for a second, then back up to give her another heart palpitating smile, “-Osborne. I’ll put a word in for you. It was nice to meet you Gwen Stacy.”

Peter broke her out of the memory with a cough, “you met his son? That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I hope he meant what he said,'' she peered at him, the profile of his face as he looked out at the quad, the dip of his nose and his mouth. He’d lost all the baby fat on his face and it sculpted sharp cheekbones and a solid jaw. She savored moments she got to sneak peeks at him. Peter was beautiful hidden under the bedhead and baggy worn out clothes. In high school she had a major crush on him during the first couple of months they had met, but that faded when she realized his attention was elsewhere, so she opted to be a friend and that was where she stayed.

“Thank you for being a lazy ass or else I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity,” she shot him a wicked smile and he gaped at her, a guffaw escaping his lips.

“No thank you, Gwen, for making me realize I shouldn’t throw you a bone ever again,” he laughed as she faked a shocked offended gasp, “no, no you deserve it more than I do, you deserve all of that.”

Gwen took a moment to drink in Peter’s boyish grip, then gulped down the last of her coffee and stood brushing the crumbs of a chocolate biscotti off of her corduroy pants, “I’ve got to practice for a gig tonight with MJ in about 30 minutes and it takes about an hour to get over there, I lost track of time because of you Parker.”

He gave her a cheeky smile. She leaned down to kiss his cheek, her sweet coffee breath wafting under his nose, and ruffled his hair as she passed him. Out the window his eyes trailed after her as she walked away, an ache filled his chest. Never could he understand what drew Gwen to befriend him, sometimes he wondered if she did it as a tease, to make him fall in love with her, but then would remember it was the Spider Man’s fault he was plagued by friendship. It wasn’t hard to miss how he admired her, looked at her, loved her. Either Gwen ignored it or was blatantly oblivious to it, Peter could see her doing both. He watched until that incredibly ugly orange beanie on top of her short tied up light hair disappeared around the corner before he stood to return to his dorm and scrap together as much homework as he could before his night patrols.

Peter’s walk back to his hall was kept at a leisurely pace, an afternoon sky darkened the window lit hallways of his floor, the only sounds to be made was a gaggle of laughter behind a closed door and the swing of Peter’s lanyard, the keys jingling together. He slowed nearing his door, brows quirked in a curious confusion observing the long haired brightly blonde girl leaning on it, concentrating on the screen of her phone.

“Uh, can I help you?”

The girl looked up, a dazzling smile lighting up her face and she shoved her phone in the pocket of her tight leather jacket, “Peter Parker? Professor Tuscollini sent me to check up on you since you weren’t in class today? To give you notes, make sure you catch up and all that.” Her voice was soft, like Jan Brady from the Brady Bunch.

“Oh okay,” he took a paper clipped folder from and twiddled his keys in his other hand. “May I ask who is the messenger?”

“Oh yes, of course,” she gave a coy smile. “I’m Felicia Hardy, pleasure to finally meet you, Tuscolloi’s hermit star pupil I hear.”

Peter nodded and gave her a look, she left him feeling unsettled, “Yeah, see you around Felicia, nice to meet you.”

The leather clad blonde slid off the door and watched him put his keys in the lock. He twisted the key but it stuck, the handle already loose and unlocked, “I could’ve sworn I locked this before I left.”

Felicia sucked in an exaggerated breath, “weird, gotta be a little more careful Peter Parker.” She saluted him and slinked down the hall and around the corner, soaking up the way he watched her leave.

Laid out on his bed where he definitely didn’t leave it, was his old suit.

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(A/N): I’m super excited to drop this fresh fic! Daddy’s Girl is still ongoing but In Between will be holding until further notice. Thank you guys for the read!

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i-am-a-wife-of-my-husbasnd · 5 years ago

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BROKEN GLASS

I am a broken glass now.My life broke me MANY TIMES.Still now i am gentle,soft-hearted,blind believer.I am now just normal because of my husband’s(bf) love.Really true love can make a person diamond which can’t be sell to every person and also at the same time all the person can’t handle a diamond.I have realized and experienced from my own life.We all know that outside people are not at all good.Some people are truely good from heart and most of them are fake people.Our mom also say such that be aware of outsiders and all.But sometimes your mom can be witch,your family can hell your life.Such thing only happened with me.So i will say everyone never believe your family members also ever,always be aware from them.Now going to say you all my story.

Me from kolkata. I did my schooling from cbse board .I am always studious,hard-working passionate student since childhood.TYPE OF MYSELF:passionate & enthusiastic in any kinds of works which really touches my heart.From very small age only i am very serious in everything.When i born my mom’s mother wasn’t happy as i was a girl.I am the 2nd child after my bro.So my maternal grandmother didnt went to the hospital to see me when i was born. Okay....i don’t mind.So when i was in class 1 i was raped by my home tutor.He locked the room 3 times when no 1 was there nearby and did sex intercourse with me by using my asshole.He showed me a book of sexual pictures and postures of different types.That time i didn’t understood anything of these.I didn’t have any knowledge that time.One day my mom’s sister found that THE TEACHING ROOM IS LOCKED.When i tried to give a bit of hint to them they said i was interested on boys actually.They said i cant control myself when i see boys.I felt very bad as they blamed me unnecessarily.OK....After that i told my parents that i dont want this teacher please.So they got frustrated with my behaviour and finally the teacher left.i was very happy after that.Then AGAIN A NEW tutor came.While teaching he also see me badly that was in class 3.After class 10 i was very much interested to go in science stream butt what happend i got confused whether to take science or commerce after class 10 becz our class 9 teacher was checking class 11 paper in front of us and saying that hardly 1 child passed in physics and all failed.As i didnt had any confidence on myself so i was thinking that if i take science and get failed like those students then my life will be doom forever.SO first entering in class 11 with science then after some days i changed my stream to commerce.For 1 week i did commerce class i found very interesting but left commerce again changed to science stream becz the classmates were not good from heart and werent serious.I didnt fit in such environment.That phase of my life i saw that i can do anything.No subjects RE TOUGH FOR ME.JUST STUDENTS NEED TO GIVE DIVE IN WHATEVER STREAM OR WHATEVER THING DAT CHILD IS DOING.LOVE MUST ME THERE.The students dont fell in love with subjects or the any work they are doing.They need to feel that subject or work from inside.Especially parents destroy their children mind.They alwys say you need to get alwys good marks,u need to be topper alwys but parents never say that u need to feel ur strength ,ur capabilities,ur love,ur passion,think about yourself,give time to yourself first.They push ourselves that yaaa see all children are going in science stream so u should also go in that stream only.So my family is exactly of that type.Thank god i am just out of box of my family.

YEAH!!!!!!! NOW coming back to myself....so i read 2 times in class 11 with science stream without being failed.When i said my family that i will REPEAT class 11 so they said areee what society will say about u,u r wasting ur years,ur friends wont be talking with u.ALL TYPES OF BULLSHIT THINGS THEY WERE SAYING SO THAT I CHANGE MY MIND. SO depression came inside me and i tried 2 do suicide by having phynly. MORE THAN 1 WEEK I COULDNT EAT PROPERLY BUT SLOWLY SLOWLY I WAS AGAIN BACK 2 MY NORMAL POSITION.When my frinds saw that i am repeating again 11 they r saying me “r u crazy,u hav so much energy to study all those subjects again”.I said them yes..y not????As i am in deep love with science so.So succesfully completed 11 .IN CLASS 12 I MET MY HUSBAND.REALLY i am blessed to get him in my life.He IS VERY pure,helpful,understanding.For him only i had fallen in love with computer which i hated before.He left many gd colleges for me so that everyday he can see me.One of the painful thing of our relationship is that my family still now didnt accept him becz of their low status and income.

Recently i got molested by my dad few months back only afrer shifting to new house with him.Many times he did sexually abuse with me.While i was sleeping and door wasnt locked of my room and room was fully dark as i alwys switch off light before sleepling.He shifted my maxi till lower abdomen and clicked pics in his ph in such way at midnight.There were 3 different pics of me in different postures.In the morning i was going to wake up and unstable at that moment he pulled my left breast nipple.I was very angry.Then later ONE DAY I WAS SEEING HIS PHONE CASUALLY AND GOT ALL SUCH PICS OF ME AND AFTER SEEING DAT I FEARED AND DELETED ALL PICS.Then one day he touched my shoulder badly while i was eating then took his hands on my left breast and touched.THEN another day he touched my vagina.Another day he touched my butts.Even many times it happened he touched my butts.i said him many times not 2 touch me but still he did ....even my mom also told him not to touch me but all in vain...but when i told all the molestation case 2 my mom,my mom didnt believed and said me dat as he loves u that y,he didnt do anything badly,he is a very good studnt of ramkrisna mission so he cant do such things with u.i then said my bro.he got shocked.my family said me not 2 say any1 about all these.....i felt bad dat none of them protested against this...stil now i hav this depression within me but now i left my home forever and staying in pg.MY HUSBAND SUPPORTED MY DECISION.NOW ALMOST I OVERCAME DAT DEPRESSION..LETS PRAY HOPE FOR THE BST..NOW I AM STUDYING FOR GRADUATION..

###guys from my life i hav experienced dat never believe ur family memebers also.we know we shouldnt belive any outsiders.just b cautious when u will be choosing person as a trustable,friendly 1.manygirls, boys or trangender people also get raped or molested but they felt ashamed 2 themselves and dont speak up....guys u all shouldnt b ashamed of ..the culprits should b ashamed of doing such things 2 human beings..b fearless,speak up,b motivated and help others to be motivated becz many people cant bear such pain and ultimately do suicide..never do suicide at any situation dear

#sad story experience life dark shades motivational inspiring

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cecilspeaks · 6 years ago

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147 - The Protester

Hot singles in your area are staring into the forest and grinning absently.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Astronomers are frantically trying to determine why a chunk of the moon is missing. Ragged and greedy like a slice removed from a pie by hungry hands rather than a civilized serving utensil, the gap in the moon has been baffling professional sky gazers for weeks. Fun fact: did you know a group of astronomers is called a commotion?

Astronomers believe the moon could be eroding, because people have stopped believing in it, like ancient Roman polytheism. Others have theorized that the moon was damaged by enemy ships in the ongoing Blood Space War. But people on the internet have countered that this is part of the mandala effect, and that that piece of the moon has always been missing and we’re collectively misremembering. Like how those beloved picture book bears that we all remember as the Berenstein Bears, have by all physical evidence always actually been spelled “The Dog Pound Boyzzzz”. Boyz with a Z. Because of the 2016 city ordinance that proclaimed that anything can be true if you say it loud enough, astronomers are forced to consider all sides.

I don’t know any astronomers, but I do know a scientist! My husband Carlos has been the leading scientific mind in Night Vale since we started dating, almost six years ago. Carlos says that he has been studying and interesting meteorite he found out in the sand wastes and scrublands beyond Night Vale. He believes this particular rock is a piece of the moon. Standing before a giant wall of blinking lights, flickering screens and intermittent beeps, Carlos determined that this piece of the moon broke off only one month ago. But this is impossible, because no one can remember seeing the moon breaking apart in the sky. Well, maybe we were all asleep when it happened, I told Carlos as I dabbed away a small crumb from a cheese Danish that had gotten stuck in his beard. Oh, fun fact: Carlos grew a beard! And I have never liked beards on men, but now – I do. It’s got two thin silver racing stripes down the chin, and the hair is so soft. We’ve been married over two years and every day, I fall more in love.

Oh right, the moon, OK good God, always with the moon. [mutters] Yeah, yeah… Carlos has been studying an unusual number of empty homes and businesses about town. He noticed that the houses on either side of us are completely empty, but he didn’t remember them being empty before. He remembers us having neighbors, but he couldn’t name a single thing about them. He believes this might be related to the damaged moon. Whatever happened a month ago to the moon immediately caused us all to forget it, because something in our timeline changed. Carlos said: “Perhaps we are not forgetting people and events, perhaps they never existed at all.” His eyes were cloudy with pensive thought, and I touched his furry cheek and said: “You’ll save us, hon. I know you will.” He smiled and asked if I’d be willing to reach out to archeology professor Harrison Kip again. Carlos, uh, had been communicating with Kip about this very issue, but now emails to Harrison keep bouncing back, and his phone number is no longer in the phone company’s database of working numbers. I laughed and said: “Carlos, I don’t know who Harrison Kip is!” Carlos looked worried, and said he wasn’t sure he did either. But he felt like he should.

Protestors have organized a sit in in front of city hall, demanding an end to the Blood Space War. The city council, seeing the crowd of about 150 people gathered around the front entrance of their building, took immediate action. They announced they would be taking a long planned family vacation to the Badlands National Park in South Dakota, until this whole protest thing runs its course. “We don’t believe South Dakota actually exists,” the single-bodied, multi-voiced council said. “When you look at a map, it seems like it exists, like it’s just right there when you look at it and it’s between two other identical states, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. Anyway, this feels like a great time to take the kids to see Mount Rushmore.” As the city council said this, several small childlike heads emerged from the city council’s singular body and screamed in happy unison. Or terrified unison. Mm, it’s hard to get an emotional reading on screams.

The organizer of the protest is 20-year-old Night Vale community college student, Basimah Bishara, whose father Lieutenant Fakir Bishara returned home from the Blood Space War three years ago. Basimah greeted her father’s return with joy, but that joy has since been replaced by confusion and pain. Let’s hear Basimah’s story in her own words.

Basimah: Time no longer works correctly for my father. I understand time does not work correctly for many people in Night Vale, but it had always worked correctly for him before the war. In December 2015, he returned home after 11 years of serving our city, our country, our planet in a war that still makes no sense to me. I was six when he volunteered for service, he was 30. 11 years later when he returned home, I was 17. My father was 19. He did not remember joining in the war nor having a daughter nor meeting his wife. He is a teenager, like I was. I no longer am a teenager, but my father still is. He has stayed 19 years old. Time no longer works correctly for him.

My mother Tahira raised me. She expressed reticence about the band I started, the music we played. She grounded me when my grades slipped and shouted at me when I told her I had a girlfriend. But she came to love Marina and more, my mother came to understand as both as people, as women. Not as rivers to be damned or levied.

My father’s return has been especially hard on her, because she is 45 and her husband is a 19-year-old stranger. You probably know what it’s like to have a father, to have a man much older than you who changed your diapers or watched your diapers being changed. Who taught you to speak or ride a bike, who helped you develop as a human from an animal from a larva from the simplest, squirming wad of meat into an adult. That father will always be a father, not a friend, not an equal, a father. You probably do not know what it’s like to see a father at your age, to talk with your father when he is also barely an adult. To have your father lonely and inquisitive think of you as his only friend in the world, while you look to him for guidance and love. But he is incapable of both, at least not in the way you need to be guided and loved.

It took two years for Fakir to open up about the war and it still makes no sense to him nor me. The Blood Space War requires constant shifts through time, through worm holes to change lost battles into won battles, to undo what has already been undone thousands, millions of times over. The future does not look like a blank page, it looks like a tattered sheet of paper, grayed and frayed from countless transcriptions and erasures of history. Battles are won and then undone through time travel. We lose our lives and then regain them by traveling backwards and fighting again. We are winning the war by perpetuating the war. Last month, the Polonians attacked our earth, I am sure of it. The only evidence is our broken moon. I believe the general undid this attack with time travel and this has changed our reality, changed who was born, who ever lived in the first place. People are disappearing because they will have never existed.

People think we’re crazy for protesting. I’m 20 and my father is still 19. I’m not crazy. My mother Tahira is not crazy. We are angry.

Our next protest is scheduled this afternoon at the corner of Earl and Somerset by the Dog Park near the Ralphs.

Cecil: Not sure what Basimah was referring to. That’s an empty lot by the Ralphs. There was word for a dog park to be built there many years ago, but it never materialized.

[clears throat] Let’s have a look now at local news. Earth sciences professor Simone Rigideau announced today that she is scrapping all text books and lesson plans at the community college in favor of organized prayer to a god named Huntokar. Several students and parents argued against such an extreme divergence from core curriculum in favor of French religious practices, but college president Sarah Sultan supported her staff member by saying: “Cut Simone some slack. She doesn’t even teach classes. She’s a transient who lived in a storage closet inside the earth sciences building for 20 years. The only reason she has the title of professor is because of antiquated squatter’s rights laws.” Rigideau donned rabbit furs and an old bicycle frame wraught into the shape of antlers, and began spray paintin the Fibonacci sequence on the cars in the college parking lot, all the while singing a ballad about clocks.

The intergalactic military headquarters released their first quarter earnings statmenet this week. Investors were displeased to see that each of the board members of the privately own space defense contractor had purchased a 125-foot yachts and NFL franchises. But those fears were quickly allayed by the announcement of layoffs of more than 5,000 employees. Stock prices for the intergalactic military soared to an all time high this afternoon, at 490 dollars a share. Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald said the intergalactic military has no actual earned income. 100 per cent of their gross is from venture capital. Archibald said: “Some investors keep asking how we plan to monetize our military, which is a stupid question, man! I mean, look at this Patek Philippe watch I bought. It’s encrusted with 10 pounds of diamonds, and the watch face was made using an actual piece of the Sistine Chapel. We are doing fine.” Archibald added that the intergalactic military is developing an app and a subscription service that allows people to engage in celestial war fare any time they want for only 12,99 a month.

Alright, listeners, I heard back from Basimah, and she said I was right. There is no dog park. Of course I was right. If I knew there was a dog park being built in this town, I would have reported it immediately. Carlos and I have a dog. His name is Aubergine because he’s purple and European, and Auby is adorable and we love him dearly. I mean, I wasn’t into the idea of having to care for a dog, but Carlos strongly urged this case one morning over breakfast when he said, “I think we should get a dog”, and 20 minutes later, we were leaving the SPCA with our adopted pet. [clears throat]

Basimah said she was positive there was a dog park next to the Ralphs, but when she arrived at the corner of Earl and Somerset, it was all empty lots. To be honest, I don’t remember her mentioning a Ralphs before, because I would have corrected her. There’s never been a Ralphs affiliate in Night Vale. This is what Basimah had to say. Um, hang on, let me just insert the tape I used to record her. And there we go.

Basimah: If a person never exists, did they disappear? If you never knew them, can you miss them? My father spends most of his days playing basketball with friends he made at the rec center. He is 19 years old and trying to escape a decade of inescapable drama from warfare. Asked him who my mother was. I grew up with only my uncle Omar and did not know my parents until my father returned from war. Fakir did not remember my mother. He did not remember his marriage or my birth, because it has not happened yet in his timeline. Asked what if mother didn’t exist at all. What if the general’s time traveling has altered our lives so much that my mother was never born and you can never meet her. My father, the teenager said: “If I never met a woman, I do not know I will not miss her. But I’ll meet another woman.” I asked: “What if I was never born?” My dad said: “Basi?” He hid his tears and then he hugged me, but it was not the hug of a father and daughter. It was the hug of a son and mother. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, repeating: “Basi! Basi!” And I comforted his heaving head with my palm. I said: “Father, Fakir. I think I shall no longer exist soon. [voice fades] I think I-

Oh OK, sorry for the dead air, listeners, I was playing a recording of an interview I did. Wait, nope. I just checked, there’s no tape in the player at all. I thought I had been talking with… Ugh. Aah! Who have I been talking to? Maybe it was my husband Carlos reporting on his findings about the damage done to our moon or, mh, or maybe it was nothing at all. [clears throat] Well, let us forget that we forgot, and go now To the weather.

[Shake” by Wednesday’s Wolves https://www.wednesdayswolves.com]

We have an update on the Blood Space War, Night Vale. John Peters says his brother has returned home again. When he left a month ago, James Peters was 22 years old. But he is now in his seventies, which is the age he should be. John held his brother tightly, crying in gratitude and relief that his own family could return to some kind of normalcy. James at first was heartened to see John again, to see his home again, and to learn that he and the general had thwarted the Polonian attack on our planet. But his tearful smile drifted slowly downward, an evening shadow overtaken by night. Upon James’ face now was the sudden knowledge that he had made a grave error. James looked around Night Vale seeing empty lots and homes, abandoned buildings and sparse streets. According to James, thousands of people have gone missing from Night Vale, because they never existed or never moved here in the first place. The general had leapt in time to successfully stop the Polonians from ever reaching Earth, but the change in the timeline caused Night Vale to change too.

Listeners, this may seem strange, but perhaps there are people you once knew, family you once lived with, places you were in, all of which are gone, and without your knowing. I have tried hard to think of any memory of any experience or person I have lost in the last month, but I can think of none. I told James Peters that perhaps the change in timeline did not matter if no one knew what they had lost, if no one noticed any change. James said: “Cecil, I just don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe if we had a scientific perspective on this, we could better understand how this is affecting us as a community.” And I said I didn’t know any scientists, not personally anyway. There’s the strange woman who lives in the storage closet at the community college, I suppose we could ask her.

The important thing is that we are safe, and that another veteran has returned home, and it is another beautiful day in Night Vale.

Stay tuned next for “Conspiring to Love”, our new relationship advice show, which as a lifelong bachelor sounds like something I should check out.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: “Nothing lasts forever” is a phrase with two meanings, and they’re both true.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 147 #the protester

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rogersgirlfriend · 6 years ago

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Traveling at the speed of light (part three)

IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I'm so sorry it took so long but there it is, part three! I had a few problems in this weeks and I couldn't concentrate on writing. However I hope you like it and leave some feedback, that really means a lot to me! Enjoy the reading 💕

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Female Reader

Warnings: none, science (fan)fiction

Plot: after discovering that the reader is from 2019, her and Roger decide to go back to the future to get some information about what to do next from the reader's father. When they come back in 1974 the reader finds out that Roger did something very stupid.

“I promise you we’ll find a way to make it through it, all right?”

The next day you woke up in Roger’s arms as you did for the last two months. You took a moment to admire him while he was asleep. A few of his blonde locks covered his face and you gently moved them to look at him better. You wanted to kiss him really badly but you didn’t want to wake him up. Then you felt him move and hold you closer to him.

“Stop staring at me babe, you’ll make me blush!” he said with a raspy voice slowly opening his eyes. A little laugh escaped your lips as you leaned to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“So, are you ready to see the future, blondie?” you asked him getting up from bed and heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

“I don’t know, am I?” he laughed getting up and following you in the kitchen.

The day before you both agreed to go back to the future to ask your father some questions. You knew he would probably be very upset about all the mess that you made, but you were sure he’ll find a way to fix everything. Hopeful that you wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Roger. The thought of losing him made you feel devastated, you really loved him and you would do anything to be with him.

After you finished breakfast you both got dressed. You were really nervous, you were worried about how your father would react to the disaster you made, especially now that you were taking Roger to the future with you. You reached your closet and grabbed your time machine that you carefully hided from Roger. You didn’t need to hide it anymore.

“That is it? I thought it was something more complex than just a box!” the blond said looking at the machine sceptically.

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s not ‘just a box’ Roger!” you replied to him setting the date of your destination. 31 March 2019. You knew in the future just a couple of minutes had passed since you left so you were sure no one noticed you weren’t in your room anymore.

“Come here.” You said taking Roger’s hand and placing it above yours. You looked him in the eyes smiling at him trying to calm him down, you could feel he was nervous.

You pushed the button and the spinning sensation caught you by surprise, you almost forgot how it was to travel time. After a few seconds once again you felt the pain of getting pushed to the ground, you and Roger arrived at your destination.

“Fuck!” you cursed opening your eyes. The colours of your room greeted you, a little pat of you had really missed the future and the advantages of it. The first thing you did after getting up was checking your phone. As you expected just two minutes had passed since you left to go to the past.

“Is this your room?” Roger’s voice distracted you from your phone, you almost forgot he was there. You turned to saw him looking around. Your laptop suddenly got his attention.

“What is this?” he asked genuinely curious pointing at it.

“It’s a computer” you replied smiling at the amazement in his eyes.

“What does it do?” he asked again taking it in his hands.

“Well I use it for multiple things, I’ll let you see later.” You explained reaching him and removing the laptop from his hands.

You put your laptop back on your desk and headed to the door of your room, but before closing it you turned to Roger with a warning look.

“Stay right here and don’t touch anything!” you said marking the words you pronounced. You exited your room and looked around the house to see if your father was home. You found him sleeping on the couch, the TV was on.

“Dad…” you gently shook his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a confused look seeing your nervous expression.

“What happened?” he asked sitting up. You sighed and started to explain everything to him accurately leaving the part where you took Roger with you in the future, scared of his reaction. You watched his expressions changing from confused to angry to resigned.

“(Y/N) I can’t believe you! I told you to be careful with that machine, I thought I was clear! I thought I could trust you!”

“I said I’m sorry dad! You’re right, I should have been careful, I’ve committed a mistake but please I know you can fix this…”

Your dad sighed again and stayed silent for what it looked like an eternity while he began to search for a pen and a piece of paper. He started to scrabble something.

“Okay listen carefully sweetie” he said raising up the paper showing you what it looked like a circle with two lines. “When you got caught you caused a split in this universe creating a new universe where Roger met you and saw his future self, even if it was just pictures. You’re lucky that the machine worked and took you here in this present universe. Where is it however? Let me see if you could use it again or if it’s broken.”

You had no idea that all of that happened because of a single mistake, now you understood why you shouldn’t had to play with time travel. You didn’t even know that the machine could’ve not work. You instantly went to your room to grab the time travel machine but when you entered a little laugh escaped your mouth.

“What are you doing?” you asked watching Roger trying to understand what he had in his hand. Apparently he found your phone on your bedside table.

“What’s this?” he asked amazed.

“It’s a phone” you said smiling and reaching the time machine.

“A phone? But it doesn’t have any buttons! Why is it so small?” he asked again.

“Rog I thought I told you to not touch anything!” you said taking your phone from his hands and putting it back where it was.

“But I’m bored!” he whined.

“Just wait a little more, please..” you reassure him.

“Fine” he muttered rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “What’s the point of visiting the future if I can’t touch anything?”

“I already told you, you can look but you can’t touch!” you said while he snorted and you exited your room to go back to your father who was now sitting at the kitchen table.

He grabbed the machine and started to check it.

“It seems alright, but how were you able to come back here in this universe?” he asked more to himself than to you. You watched him study the machine but he didn’t understood how was it possible for you to be there. But then he find it. Under the box there was a very small green button, he recognised the work of one of his co-workers who wanted to use the machine also for traveling across the universes. You had no idea how your father team made all that work but you were happy they could do it, thanks to them you met Queen and now you had Roger by your side.

“(Y/N) are you here?” speak of the devil. You heard Roger’s voice coming out of your room, panic starting to take over you.

The blond entered the room and reached you as you became more tense. Your father raised his eyes and saw Roger passing an arm around your shoulders. He was speechless and now more mad at you.

“You took him here!? Are you out of your mind!?” he told you putting down the machine for a moment.

“I thought there was nothing wrong with it!” you replied.

Your father sighed strongly. He couldn’t believe you.

Roger started to feel a little uncomfortable and the tips of his hears became slightly red.

“I thought you told him I was here…” he whispered to you.

“No I didn’t! That’s why I told you to stay in my room!” you whisper-yelled at him.

Your father got up from his chair and turned to look at the both of you.

“You need to go back to the past, to your past. Roger can’t stay here for too much.” He said handing you the time machine.

“(Y/N) please be careful this time…” he gave you a hug and smiled warmly at you. “Oh and about you Mr. Taylor!”

Roger gulped and widened his eyes. You tried not to laugh at his intimidated expression.

“Please take care of my princess…” your father said lowering his voice and smiling at him.

Roger smiled back at him calming himself down.

“You can count on me, Mr. (Y/L/N)!”

You took Roger’s hand and pressed the button again as you did before.

When you got back in 1974 in Roger’s apartment you heard him curse.

“Does it always have to push you on the floor this hard?” he whined.

“Yep, unfortunately.” You replied rubbing your butt as you got up.

“So, how does it work?” Roger asked curious. You turned to him with a confused look only to find him holding your phone with the charger still attached to it. An horrified expression formed on your face.

“ROGER FUCKING TAYLOR!” you roared feeling the anger growing.

“Hey! My middle name is ‘Meddows’!” he joked trying to calm you, but seeing that you started to walk over him he sprinted towards the corridor as you began to chase him.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME I’M TOO PRETTY TO DIE YOUNG!”

TAGLIST: @xgoingdownx @borhaprogerina @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @clara-who @crazy-little-cool-cat @violetpond @rogertaylorin1976 @lynxinapackofwolves @blackmambaxnx@theglowissodivine @sweeterthancheese @justgivemethekeys @x5vale @mrswinterhater @cosmicsskies @deardeacy @lacontroller1991 @5sos-wdw @bookish-oreo @butterfliesflewaway @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @esthermeddows @rogertayolr @pietrorunsforme

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader

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mrdanielbond · 6 years ago

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Bond’s New Flatmate (Chpt. 4)

“Duck? Swann? Same thing.”

[James Bond X Reader]

Plot; She’s here. Bond’s girlfriend has finally arrived. Dr Madeleine Swann. Don’t they make the perfect hot couple? Well...after spending some ‘quality’ time with James’ new girlfriend, unfortunately, you already find her the most irritable person you have ever had the displeasure of sitting in the same room with….

[Word Count; 4000+ ]

[Y/N - Your Name]

[Y/L/N - Your Last Name]

[Warnings? Does a crazy girlfriend count?]

[A/N; It’s back- God knows how many times I suffered through a brain fart because if this. But on the bright side, Madeleine’s character is a blend of her in Spectre and inspiration from others. Also Jonathan, the new friend is an actor you can imagine just to open things up for you! You’ll see more of him soon! I really do hope you enjoy this! ]

1 Week Before…

“Come on Y/N. Sit with me.” James said as he shifted aside on his bed.

He had been working on a case to do with a Turkish terror threat for a while now and the case had proved to show some difficulties. It was 9.00 pm and you could see Bond was slightly frustrated with the way his shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled up and slightly unbuttoned, his tie had been thrown to one side, he didn’t really care how he had looked, especially in front of his flatmate half the time. You didn’t care how you looked either, in a long t-shirt and a pair of leggings beneath, you were starting to feel more comfortable in the flat almost over eight months in. You both had been getting a lot closer - well in the eyes of others, you two made more snarky remarks to each other as a way of ‘respect’ or some form of friendship.

“Are you’re scared I’m going to bite?” He remarked.

“In all the wrong places.” You teased. “You have no idea…” You mumbled that part to yourself quietly.

“Come on. I won’t bite.”

“No touching.” You said with a stern tone in your voice.

“No touching.” He repeated with his hands up.

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m not going to do anything Sir.” He laughed, “I just want you to look at this case with me that’s all...Unless you’re uncomfortable with that.”

“Please. I’m the one who does the uncomfortable making, not you.” You said as you sat next to him, leaning against the headboard and looked at the photographs of the terror suspect.

You two sat together talking about the case for over an hour and you realised, you hadn’t been this close to James ever. And for the first time ever, there were no flirtatious jokes - well he managed to slip in one or two but he really did want your help. He turned to you, smiling once you’d both finally stopped talking.

“So just out of curiosity, do you think you will ever divorce your husband?”

“Way to drop in the question.” You laughed, “And why are you asking? So you can try and jump into my bed and prove you don’t go around sleeping with married women?”

“No.” Bond chuckled shaking his head, “I’ll wait two weeks after.”

You turned, glaring at him, prepared to jump out of the bed and make a run for it, “I’m joking! It’s a genuine question. You two aren’t even a couple so you’d understand why I’d ask that question.”

“Well, I don't know. I’ve just been too lazy.”

“But what if you weren’t feeling lazy?”

“I can’t imagine myself being bothered enough though.”

“God you’re annoying.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s almost attractive.”

“Not happening James.”

“Got it.” There was a silent pause before he continued, “So did you love him?”

“At one point, yeah. But it’s just I think we see each other more as friends.”

“Uh oh. That’s the kind of thing you say once you’ve had a break up.” He laughed.

“No. I told you what happened. We had to move away to different places and just grew distant. Had no time to talk to each other about anything or even bothered to see each other down the line.” You looked down at your hands with a sigh, James was genuinely interested. He listened to your every word when you opened up about your marriage, it was almost an odd therapy session.

“So, same time next week? This time a little less talk and more action?”

“In your dreams.”

“Fine. Playing hard to get, you won’t be able to handle this anyway.” He winked, looking down.

“Handle what? There’s nothing to handle, not even downstairs.” James became stunned as you slipped out of his bed smiling, was he trying to undress you with his eyes?

“Oh and don’t stare too long, you have a girlfriend.”

“What girlfriend?” He said, enjoying the view behind you.

***

The evening in Chelsea had finally hit and during winter especially, nothing could defeat the feeling of soaking up the warmth of the flat, being on the couch wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows and some popcorn with (your favourite show) on television, James’ light blue shirt and your PJ bottoms. To set the record straight, you had always borrowed his shirts for experiments in the labor at home and never returned them but this was a different case. Your laundry had stacked exponentially and the clothes you had left were down to the ugliest t shirt and bottoms you owned, which you were not willing to put on at all, especially when you’re living with someone like James who knew how to tease. So on your day off, you had to get that sorted immediately. Today was your day off and you appreciate it more than anything. A day away from James and his ridiculous saga with Q, which still you haven’t been able to divorced from (your laziness had increased by a milestone since you moved to London) and had the displeasure of being the centre of it. Today was definitely a break. From Bond and all his questions, his flirtatious tricks and from Q and his snarky remarks. James was out working as usual, considering he was ‘Mr. 24/7’ and had to be alert all the time - something about a debriefing had to take place, you couldn’t remember. It’s evidently clear you aren’t one to listen to what James is usually up to at work.

Just when you thought you were going to spend the entire night like this, binge watching your favourite television show, that thought was immediately defeated by the sound of the door unlocking. James stepped in and noticed you resting comfortably on the couch.

“Oh hello.” He mumbled quietly, noticing you in a change of clothes, “This is the most comfortable I’ve ever seen you in the flat.” His rich voice caught your attention instantly. You turned to him and casually ate popcorn, giving him a slight shrug.

“I live here too, don’t I?” You responded with a proud smirk. “Better take advantage of what I have.”

“That being my shirt? Not that I’m saying it looks bad on you.” He smirked too, except his eyes were on you completely, eyeing the way you were dressed in particular to his fascination.

“What? I had to call the plumber to fix the washing machine.”

“Really? A plumber? You should’ve told me that the washing machine had a problem.”

“You’ve been really busy as of late I couldn’t disturb you being on that case for a washing machine and what would you have done? Shown your manly skills off in front of me?”

“If you wanted me to, I could’ve made time to help you out and who knows? I don’t even think a washing machine would even have to be involved. I could just show you what it does.” He winked. The man was at it again, he was at his flirtatious jokes once again, yet this time you had no remark or form of response to that. You simply shook your head, knowing he wasn't going to give up.

There was a comfortable silence between you two, as James appriciated the way you looked, especially in his shirt, it was almost - attractive in a way. The way your hair was let down to one side, while you were practically covered in two blankets, one being James’ shirt almost completely covering more than just your arms and the actual blanket itself. It was almost tempting for him to join you.

See the emphasis on the almost? Here’s where Bond stops himself in his tracks…

Footsteps came from behind him and entered the flat. A woman with flowing blonde hair and a slim figure stood beside James, with a long expensive coat, under that an all black outfit, black blouse and trousers and you could’ve sworn you saw a pair of Louis Vuitton heels and handbag. Shit. An upper class snobby woman had just casually walked in wearing - was that - were those - Bond’s Tom Ford sunglasses? You quickly took your phone and cursed yourself realising what day it was. Shit. It was MONDAY. And you knew what that meant. Bond’s girlfriend, Madeleine Swann was standing before you. Something inside you wanted to poke and prod her, see if she really was as snobby as your assumptions believed her to be - you were just that type of person or maybe she dressed to impress for him. James does have a love for dressing lavishly in suits. In fact, you may or may not have been ruining a £500 shirt at this current present moment in time. Though you’ve seen him dress completely different to that and you considered those his best days, so you weren’t embarrassed to be dressed so casually in front of her. She looked around the flat for a moment, with a smile on her face, impressed by the sight. Then she turned to you and slowly took her sunglasses off with a curious look on her face. She then looked at James then back at you, confused.

“Oh right!” Bond ended the silence quickly, “Sorry. Y/N this is Dr Madeleine Swann. Madeleine this is Y/N Y/L/N, she’s one of the forensic investigators who works on the same branch with us sometimes. Mainly when a body is involved. Oh and she’s my flatmate.” He looked at the both of you, eagerly smiling.

Dr of what? You thought. Perfecting the sciences and study behind the resting bitch face? How you wanted to say something smart to test her, and it wasn’t even because you were jealous, it was just because of the way she looked at you. But then again, maybe that’s the way she normally looked, so you had to give her a chance and held your tongue. You rose from the couch and extended your hand, “Hello. I’ve heard so much about you.”

She paused, looking at your hand for a moment, you could’ve sworn that was a dirty look, “And I’ve heard very little about you.” She said in a more serious tone. She then laughed it off and shook your hand after a short pause.

“Nice shirt.” She remarked.

“Why thank you, I do know a thing or two about dressing appropriately for the occasion, especially in the comfort of my own flat. What’s the point of dressing as if I was going to meet the Queen all the time? Would be quite painful, especially for the people around me.”

She scoffed and turned to Bond with a smile, “James, with the way you described your flatmate, I thought he would’ve been some dirty, greasy, big man, who works as a bouncer at a nightclub. I didn’t know you were staying with a woman after all you’ve told me.” She smiled.

You were tempted to spit the remainder of your hot everage on her expensive shoes. Well that was rude. But then a thought crossed your mind...

Woman. Now that’s what offended her. The fact that you were a woman living with her boyfriend as flatmates - when you put it that way, any jealous girlfriend would’ve thought this was the perfect scenario. Then again, what competition did she have? If James was to describe you to anyone, you could’ve sworn he would’ve used the word ‘sociopathic’ considering that’s how you were and that was a definite turn off for him. Plus did she just call you a dirty big guy? You were sure to have words with James after that, but for now you had to be a kind host, make the woman you would gladly never see again welcome into your shared flat.

“Yeah, she’s a woman. Did I mention that to you? I swear I did.” He chuckled to himself.

“Baby, is that one of your shirts?” Madeleine turned to James holding his hand tightly, with an innocent look in her eyes.

“Uh yeah, it’s - the laundry ran low so I let her borrow one of mine.”

“Really? Was she so poor that she couldn’t go out and buy something else other than borrow someone’s boyfriend’s things and claim it as theirs? I mean doesn’t she have a husband to borrow things from?”

“Unbelievable. You told her didn’t you?” You asked Bond, who kept his eye on Madeleine, in particular her lips.

He then turned to look at your direction and noticed that you were uncomfortable and felt insulted, simply through the fake smile ‘death’ glare you had given him. You wrapped up your blanket and picked up your cup.

“Please, make yourself feel at home.” You said, keeping your piece and headed to the kitchen to put it away. There you were with your manners, you so wanted to completely annihilate her with insults there and then, starting with the way she walked in like the flat was hers, but if anything, you were taught by your close university friends not to take that road so quickly. You left James and Madeleine to talk alone while you washed your cup.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

You heard from James. He walked into the kitchen and leaned his back against the counter so he could see you clearly. “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think of what?” You asked, finally finishing with the washing and dried your cup with a dish towel.

“You know what I’m asking. Y/N, you’re a very intelligent and capable woman but sometimes I think you purposely decide to have a dreadfully slow mind for the sake of being ironic.”

“Do I?” You gasped sarcastically, “Says the one who can’t catch up with the fact that his girlfriend is a slight stuck up bitch.” You mumbled low enough for him not to hear.

“What was that?” He asked.

You chuckled to yourself and shook your head, “I’m sorry I was just saying that I don’t have an opinion on what you just asked because my dreadfully slow mind would need time to process all of this. Come back to me tomorrow when I finally am able to keep up with you.”

“Y/N…” He said with a stern tone in his voice. “What do you think of Madeleine?”

“Oh you’re talking about the doctor - by the way what does she have a PHD in? I’d like to know, so my dreadfully slow mind doesn’t find itself in the predicament of finding the answer out from her.”

“Are you jealous?” He smiled.

“Jealous of who?” You laughed, practically in hysterics, “Bro, I think she’s an absolute charmer and I can’t wait for the day you start to pull your hair out because she’s driving you crazy - I mean crazily in love with her. I mean it’s already happening with me.” You said and quickly moved passed James, “Try not to make too much noise. Good night.” You said as you walked down the hall.

Morning had arrived and you knew that Madeleine was here. You just knew she would be, especially with the time she arrived at the flat. You were in no mood to see her and James, only because if that was what you were facing for an entire day, you’d rather work a full day, then overtime, then overtime that overtime. There was something about her. Something off about her. Her clinginess to James, the way she eyed you as if you were competition, the way you dressed, well maybe she was having a rough night. So you tried to brush away the thoughts and took a shower, heading into the front room to find James and Madeleine stood in the kitchen - together. His arms wrapped around her waist as he was in just a robe and she was in a nightgown, she couldn’t keep his hands off him, constantly kissing him as if it was the last time they saw each other.

“Oh gross.” You said, walking straight into the kitchen, you squint your eyes, disgusted and tried to make yourself some toast when you heard Madeleine giggling and Bond mumbling something in his deep voice. These two were not teenagers! Fuck it. You thought. You quickly drank your orange juice and grabbed your toast, heading for the door.

“Y/N? Where you going?” James finally asked, letting go of Madeleine and aware that you were about to leave.

“Work.”

“But I thought you don’t have work today.” He said. Madeleine turned to you, moving his arms around her waist once more and looking at you with a smile.

“Now I do.” You responded. “I just think working is much better than doing nothing - you know - watching a wet blanket cling on to some old tool or teddy bear.” You said closing the door behind you. God that was gross. The remark itself made you smile, but you were still annoyed you couldn’t have the day in peace.

You kept yourself busy, catching up/texting a new friend of yours, Jonathan. You both met at a bar, while you were out with colleagues and had gotten to know each other better ever since. He was comfortable to be around, easygoing and hella handsome if you could say so yourself. After that you were sent to a crime scene, as part of an emergency to collect different samples for a double murder. Bond and his clingy girlfriend ceased to exist in your mind by the time you were off busy. However, by the time you returned home a few hours later, there was something off you sensed. You headed into the flat and suddenly realised there was a change. You looked around and found all the furniture in odd places, the television had moved into a strange area, far away from the window, the dining table was distanced all the way to the front door but the thing that ticked you off the most...your chemistry set moved.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” You shouted, seeing Madeleine move some more of the furniture around the flat.

“Oh hi!” She jumped and turned to see you with a smile but then she sensed your slight anger and frowned, “Sorry, James and I thought the flat could do with a little feng-shui, a change to feel a fresh breath of air.” She said swaying her long, expensive skirt towards you. God you were fuming, you felt the heat starting to boil inside you, your anger rapidly grew, it was getting harder and harder not to plant your fist into the wall.

“I’m currently choking in this air created by stupidity right now.” You growled, “Sorry, who said you could touch my equipment?”

“James.” She said looking down to her feet innocently, “He said that it was perfectly fine to move things for the sake of making room if that was going to make all of us feel more comfortable and at home.”

“Did he now?” You raised your eyebrow and balled your hands into a fist, your breathing grew quick and sharp, attempting not to stab Madeleine with your piercing glare.

“I had to.” Bond said as he walked in with a two cups of coffee, one for him and one for Madeleine, “You could do with a change, your work is cluttered everywhere. Madeleine said that such a mess brings negativity into the flat. She also said that it was good for the vibes in the flat and a positive home definitely brings a positive mind.”

“Who the fuck is she? A fucking monk? Don’t you presume to tell me about negativity when you kill people for a living!” You raised your voice, it was impossible not to rage, especially at the woman in front of you, who had irritated you in record breaking time. There were things you got angry about. Even though you were a sarcastic individual but one thing that ticked you off was when someone messed with your work. That was crossing the line, which she did.

“Y/N, oh my god I’m so sorry. Look if you don't like the way the flat is, I’ll put everything back.” She began hyperventilating in front of Bond, who began to glare at you as he rubbed her back.

“Yes that is what I want and I don’t want you to touch my shit again, that would be great. When are you leaving again?”

“Y/N…” He said sternly.

“What?!” You hissed at Bond.

“There’s no need to take out your anger out on Madeleine, she was just trying to help! You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“I’M DOING WHAT?” Your voice raised even louder, in disbelief.

“Y/N, A word please.” Bond said, as Madeleine looked at the two awkwardly. She began sniffling, which you thought was complete and utter bullshit then stormed off into the kitchen as James spoke to Madeleine.

“I was just trying to help…” She said, frowning, in a timid and terrified voice.

“It’s fine, love. I’ll get this sorted.” He kissed her cheek and gestured her to sit down then followed you into the kitchen.

You stood staring out at the window, holding both hands on the counter and looked down trying your best to slow your breathing as Bond watched you from behind, annoyed. He then headed over to you and flipped you around to look at him with a hard tug on the shoulder.

“What was the meaning of that?!” He asked.

“That was rude! Don’t grab my fucking shoulder!” You shoved his hand off it and almost went to hit him but you stopped yourself, glaring at him with your hands balled into fists, “You know I told you in confidence that I was married, you know that my work is very important to me, YOU KNOW that when you have a visitor in this flat they are YOUR responsibility and as your responsibility you make sure that no one touches my stuff! So why on earth did you let Dr Mindful Duck touch my chemistry set and files!”

“Her name is Madeleine and it’s not duck, it’s Swann.”

There was a silence between the two of you. You were both extremely close to each other and you felt the walls closing in on the both of you. The tension was there. The anger was definitely there. The sharp breathing and deadly sound of silence took over the kitchen for a brief moment before you said...

“Fuck you.” You spat, squinting your eyes in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were going to get this angry! You being married to Q isn’t even a big deal, why are you complaining about it!”

“It’s not just that James. Who knows what kind of stuff you said about me behind my back! I thought we were friends! Friends don’t describe their friends to other people as a dirty, greasy nightclub bouncer do they? What have you said behind my back actually?”

“Nothing Y/N! I’ve said nothing!” He sighed, “Look, I know you don’t like your things being moved and I’ll deal with that myself. I’ll put it back. Just please go and apologise to Madeleine.”

“And why would I do that?!”

“Because you haven’t been nice to her or given her a chance the moment she walked through the door!” He hissed, “Here’s the reason you are struggling to make new friends, have you considered not being a complete arse from the beginning and trying to be friendly for once! Madeleine hasn’t been in London a minute and hardly knows her way around! She is out to impress you and you don’t even appreciate what she’s doing for you! You’re making life really difficult for me Y/N and I seriously don’t appreciate it when my own flatmate is butting heads with my girlfriend!”

Before you could come up with a smart remark, you smiled, “You know what? I’ll apologise. I’ll go and make yours and everyone else’s life easier and say sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be an arse and give people a chance…”

“Really? Thank you.” He said, relieved and smiling. “And I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I know it was wrong. I just want you two to get along. It’s really important you do.” He extended his hand, “No hard feelings?”

You looked at his hand, shaking your head, “No thank you. I don’t know where’s that been. And besides, you don’t want to shake hands with someone that is a complete arse,” You nudged passed him, and he rolled his eyes, sighing deeply, “Christ…”

The moment you stepped back into the front room, Madeleine jumped from her seat, waiting to hear from you. “So Madison-”

“It’s Madeleine.” She corrected quickly.

“Yeah - same thing. I’m sorry for being a dick, I know I can overreact sometimes and don’t really care about the other person’s feelings as much, which is awful…” You turned around and found James watching you expectantly with his arms folded, “I just wanted to say, I’m willing to start over if you are.” You smiled.

“That would be great! Thank you so much!” She said smiling, relieved and hugged you quickly, in which you didn’t respond to it, leaving your arms by your side. She really was an off person. You pushed away for a moment smiling - well you were actually freaked out by her strange behaviour, “Well, I’m just going to sort a few things out.” You turned around slowly and walked down the hall, “James I expect my shit back on the table otherwise tomorrow isn’t going to be fun for anyone.”

And with that, you left the two alone again.

“Is she always like that?” Madeleine asked James, who looked at your direction, watching you walk into your room with a smile.

“Unfortunately, she is. But don’t worry there's more to her beneath the surface.” He practically smirked, with his hands in his pockets.

“Excuse me?” She said, disapprovingly.

“What? Nothing.” He turned to her smiling and moved his arm around her waist, “I meant she’s more of an open person if you get to know her and much more friendlier.”

#007 #british #fanfic #daniel craig #james bond #james bond 007 #literature #mi6 #casino royale #fanfiction #london #movie #spy #books

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homesweetsewer · 7 years ago

Text

Radiant (Donatello x Fem Reader)

So...this will be a 3-part follow up to Harmless. You can go back and read all 5 parts of that if you’d like, but I don’t think it’s necessary to understand what’s happening here. I kind of left Donnie hanging and I just can’t do that to my nerdy ninja booboo bear after he had his little heart shattered 😭

@loveyourselfcreateyourself kinda like this? Great minds!

“Hand me that voltage meter.”

“One voltage meter, coming up,” you smiled as you grabbed the requested item and passed it into Donatello’s waiting hands. “Here you go.”

His fingers brushed your’s, lingering just a moment longer than was necessary. An almost perplexed look flitted over his features as he continued to look at you for just a beat longer before returning to his task. “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you chirped happily, trying your best to ignore the strange looks he’d been giving you lately.

It had been a couple of months since April had informed Donatello that she was dating Casey and that her feelings for him didn’t extend into the romantic realm. It had been hard for the turtle to hear but after many shed tears, long nights leaning on your shoulder, and few weeks of avoiding April, Donnie had finally managed to pull himself back together into a semblance of his old self. For that, you were extremely thankful. It had hurt you to watch him struggle with his unrequited feelings. It was a something you were all too familiar with and, though you loved him desperately, would have given anything to change things so he could be happy. To say you’d been relieved when life had more or less returned to normal around the lair would have been an understatement.

You’d slowly settled back into old habits, the routines you’d become so familiar with since becoming acquainted with the turtles comforting in their own way. One of your favorite things to do was play assistant to Donnie’s mad scientist. Though you were more into literature and art than science and technology, you took direction very well and Donatello appreciated having an extra pair of hands. It went without saying that you thoroughly enjoyed the time spent together and you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t learn something new every time you were together. Donatello had an amazing wealth of knowledge that never failed to impress you and, in fact, his intelligence been one of the first things that had attracted you to the tall terrapin.

You were currently seated cross legged on the floor of Donnie’s lab, passing him tools as he requested them as any good assistant would, while the turtle in question was crammed quite awkwardly beneath an electrical console trying to figure out how Mikey had managed to trip all the circuit breakers earlier in the day. You enjoyed times like this when it was just the two of you...not that you didn’t enjoy spending time with the others, mind you. It’s just that you and Donatello seemed to share a common wavelength of sorts which, you noticed recently, seemed to have drawn you closer following the whole April/Casey fiasco. Not that you minded in the slightest. You were just happy to have his company and would take whatever you could get of him.

An irritated sigh emitted from beneath the console a second before Donatello popped his head back out to look at you. “Well,” he announced dryly, “I think I found the problem.”

“I knew you would,” you grinned at the turtle which again caused that strange perplexed look to flash across his face. You consciously chose to ignore it, instead focusing on the matter at hand. You waited patiently as he shimmied his way out of the tight space to plunk down beside you on the floor. You looked at him, expectantly awaiting an explanation. “What’s the verdict, professor?”

Donnie held up his hand, a chewed up piece of pizza crust pinched between his two fingers, “Double cheese and pepperoni.”

“Eww,” you scrunched your nose. “How in the world did it get under there?”

Donnie gave you a look as if he couldn’t believe you’d even had to ask. “This is Mikey we’re talking about.”

“Point taken. Gotta love him, though.” You laughed, fully expecting the ninja to join you in your laughter. Instead, he remained oddly quiet, studying you carefully. As you quieted, you frowned slightly at his seemingly intense analysis. Curiosity got the better of you. “Seriously,” you asked, “do I have something on my face?”

“What?” Donatello seemed to snap back to himself, “No...” he shook his head. “Why?”

You shrugged, “It’s just that you keep staring at me. I thought I may have grease smeared all over me or something.”

“Uh,” Donnie let out an embarrassed chuckle, raising one hand to rub the back of his neck nervously. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s just...you...look different.”

It was your turn to be puzzled. Feeling suddenly self conscious, you gave yourself a quick once over but found nothing out of place. “I look different?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, flushing slightly. “I didn’t mean to stare. I was just...trying to figure out what it is.”

“No worries.” You bumped shoulders with the turtle, trying to play it off. “I hate to break it to you, though, I’m the same old boring me you see everyday.”

“You’re not boring,” he murmured, tossing the pizza crust into the nearby wastebasket.

The two of you fell into silence for a moment. While Donatello fidgeted nervously with his tools, you hummed to yourself, wracking your brain over what could have possibly caught his attention to make him act so odd but you drew a blank. You hadn’t changed your hair. Your makeup was simple as always. Knowing you’d be crawling around on the floor, you’d worn a pair of old worn out jeans and a band t-shirt Donnie had seen you in plenty of times before. You hadn’t gained any weight and you certainly hadn’t lost any. Something about the way he looked at you, though, made you feel strangely anxious.

Pursing your lips, you asked, “Is it good different or bad different?”

Donnie’s head snapped up in your direction, his eyes wide behind his tortoise shell frames as he perused you once more. “It’s...it’s good different.” He paused for a moment before adding shyly, “You look...radiant.”

You quirked a brow at that, an amused grin lifting the corners of your mouth. “Radiant?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, embarrassed, and averted his eyes from you. “Sorry...that sounds stupid. It was just the first thing that popped in my head.”

“No,” you assured, reaching out to grab his hand. “It’s not stupid. I’ve just...never been described as radiant before.” You gave his fingers a squeeze, “I kind of like it. Thank you, Donatello.” You sat up a bit straighter and flipped your hair back over your shoulder. In a cheeky voice you proclaimed, “I look radiant.”

Donnie chuckled at your display and turned his hand over beneath your’s in order to clasp your fingers and give you a gentle squeeze in return. “Yeah,” he spoke softly. “You do.”

Silence enveloped the pair of you once more as you stared at one another. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but the air between you felt almost heavy. You were hyper aware of the fact that he hadn’t released your hand and that his much larger fingers completely enveloped your own. His skin was slightly cooler than your’s, not surprising given his reptilian lineage, and the texture slightly more rough, but it felt nice. It wasn’t like you hadn’t touched him before but this felt...different. The way he kept looking at you, like he’d only just seen you for the first time, caused a myriad of butterflies to erupt within your stomach. Time seemed to slow, forming a bubble around the two of you and making it feel as though you were the only people left in the world.

You swallowed audibly, your voice whispering out just loud enough to be heard, “Uh...Donnie?”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped in pitch and he leaned in toward you slightly.

Subconsciously, you leaned in toward him as well. Your tongue peaking out slightly to moisten your suddenly dry lips. His eyes caught the subtle movement and a soft churring sound rumbled up from deep in his chest causing a shiver to work its way down your spine. You’d always fantasized about a moment just like this. The only thing separating the both of you were just a few scant inches and some lingering self doubt...the rational part of your brain reminding you over and over that he’d only just gotten over April. He was waiting on you, you realized, to finish whatever thought you’d started.

“Donnie...I,” You struggled to string together something coherent, his proximity and intense gaze made thinking difficult. It shouldn’t be that hard to tell him how you feel, it was nothing you hadn’t practiced in your head a million times. You wouldn’t pressure him, just share what was on your heart and reassure him that you’d be his friend regardless. If only you could force your mouth to do your bidding. “I...I really...”

Beep...beep...beep...beep...

The alarm on your phone went off suddenly causing the pair of you to spring apart. You jerked your slightly trembling hand from his grasp and fumbled trying fish the offensive device from your pocket in order to silence it. Your eyes widened once you’d finally succeeded and were able to see the time.

“Crap!” You exclaimed, jumping up. “My parents are dragging me to some charity carnival thing. I have to go or I’m going to be late.”

Donnie scrambled to his feet, a look of slight panic on his face. “I’ll walk you home,” he quickly offered.

“Thanks,” you smiled up at the turtle, “but it’s still light out. Someone could see you.”

“Right...” frustration laced his tone. “Just...be careful...”

“I always am,” you assured as you quickly swept around the room gathering your things. “Besides,” you offered teasingly, “it’s too early for all the crazies to be out. So don’t worry, I probably won’t get mugged and stabbed in your absence.”

“Not funny.” Donatello frowned, “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Sorry...” you apologized. You knew better. You knew he worried. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you as soon as I get home, alright?”

“Yeah,” he still sounded unsure. “Alright.”

“Don’t work too hard while I’m gone,” you warned, knowing full well he’d completely disregard your advice.

“I won’t,” he agreed, then asked hesitantly, “Will...are you coming over tomorrow?”

You quirked a brow, “Don’t I come over everyday?”

“Heh,” Donnie shuffled nervously, “Yeah...”

You smiled at the turtle. That strange look passed over his face again, giving you goosebumps and the sudden urge to kiss him. What would it hurt? Just a quick peck...a friendly peck...on the cheek? It would be so easy. Too easy. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you shuffled forward, propelled yourself up onto your tiptoes, and pressed a chaste kiss to his right cheek. His quick, surprised intake of breath was like music to your ears. You realized belatedly that it was more than likely the first kiss he’d ever received. That thought both thrilled and saddened you.

You lingered for just a moment longer than was probably appropriate given your status as friends but you didn’t want the moment to end. When you did finally pull back, you found him looking at you as though he’d just discovered some earth-shattering scientific breakthrough. You felt a blush rise to your face, a mixture of attraction and embarrassment. “I have to go,” you whispered. ““I’ll see you tomorrow, Donnie.”

Donatello could only watch as you turned on your heel and bounded out of the room. His brain had all but turned to mush as he had an incredible epiphany: You’d been here all this time and he was a complete and total idiot.

“Oh my God, oh my God...” Donnie pressed his palm against his cheek, muttering to himself as he sank into his chair. He could still feel the warmth where your lips had been, like a brand marking him as your’s. Thoughts of you and he played through his head as he analyzed what had almost transpired between you...what had probably been bubbling just beneath the surface for some time now that he was only just beginning to notice. His heart thrilled at the notion even as a ball of nervousness formed in the pit of his stomach. He’d never felt this way before, not even with April, and that frightened him. “Oh my God,” he muttered again.

To be continued...

#tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction #teenage mutant ninja turtles #april o’neil #casey jones #donatello x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo

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crimsonwritesstony · 7 years ago

Text

Selfless Pie: Chapter Four

And here is the final piece of this story! I'm so happy that people seem to be enjoying it, so I won't take too long here. <3

Chapter Three link here

“Ten years and they still haven’t changed this wobbly deathtrap. Lord knows I’ve given them plenty to update it. I blame Fury.” Steve didn’t move from his spot on the path just outside of the bleachers, his eyes quietly tracking Tony’s fingers dipping along the rusted metal of the structure. “Based on the current level of erosion and decay, I can’t expect these things to last another two years. I’ll have to talk to Bruce about setting up a plan to work it into the funds and get new bleachers for all the fields before next summer.”

“Tony, why are we here?” He hadn’t meant to sound so strained, but the sharp pains echoing in his chest with each heartbeat were making it hard to push out his words. He hated this memory and had tried to wash it away any way he could throughout the years. The feel of Tony’s cheek in his hand stained his skin like ink that couldn’t be scrubbed off. His show of vulnerability burned against the back of the soldier’s eyelids for months, and silently Steve would beg that something would show him mercy when he’d sleep. He couldn’t stop the younger man’s wounded face from running through his brain any time he went to bed, and distortions of the night would manifest into nightmares. The only time he’d been able to truly forget about Tony’s pain was when he went to war, knowing it was too selfish to let lingering regrets cloud his mind.

“This is the place your punch knocked Brock into.” Two fingers tapped a specific beam on the bleachers, his smile genuine when he glanced back to Steve. “I thought you killed him for a second. His little cronies nearly wet themselves in fear. I think there’s still a dent here from Rumlow’s thick skull.”

“Not one of my best moments,” Steve admitted with a roll of his eyes, glancing back out at the field he’d called a second home in high school.

Despite the bitter flashback lingering in his mind, he knew there was more to remember. He’d met Sam here, and he could recall how impressed he was with the freshman’s agility on the bases during tryouts. Even as a freshman, his friend refused to be treated with kiddie gloves, and rose to every expectation Mr. Fury had given him without a protest. And he’d never hesitated to give Steve advice, whether it was about baseball or adolescent hangups, making the man a truly trustworthy friend.

A glance to the right field made him think of Clint. Cheerful and optimistic despite some of the surlier friends of their group, Clint was compassionate and always there to give a unique take on any situation. Many times he’d stay late to catch fly balls that seemed impossible to track down for anyone but the nimble outfielder. The jokester had always tricked one of his friends into staying with him, not that any of them minded. It took until the middle the Sophomore season to realize their friend was scared to go home while his alcoholic father was still awake.

It was a year later Natasha learned she was adopted. In the middle of practice, the redhead walked onto the field, eyes distant and movements coiled tight as a new guitar string. She made it until Clint’s hand touched her shoulder, the girl collapsing into her best friend’s arms. Steve hadn’t hesitated to tell Mr. Fury they had to go, knowing it could jeopardize his chances of getting captain senior year. He and Bucky scrambled to grab their stuff, Clint’s steady arms carrying her to his car without a second thought. Mr. Fury later told Steve that his dedication to supporting his fellow teammates, no matter the consequences to himself, was just what he needed in a future captain.

That very field was where Bucky met his soulmate, though that hadn’t been an easy road. Sam and Bucky clashed the first year, unaware the tension between them wasn’t hatred. Junior year had seen the two learn each other, and connect in ways they’d never done before with another male. It had scared Bucky enough to make him avoid Sam for the last month of school. A summer night of the original four hanging out at the baseball field ended with Steve confronting his friend with the truth; he liked Sam. He’d gotten a left hook to the face in reply. They’d only stopped when Clint and Nat forced them apart, and for three weeks there had been radio silence between the two. It’d been the longest time he’d gone without talking to Bucky. They even made up on the field, tricked by Sam to meet while being unaware he’d been the reason they fought to begin with. Senior year, the dirt diamond had been witness to Steve helping Bucky accept that it was okay to fall for a goofy smile, even if it was connected to a boy.

He was just as surprised to realize that he’d held many memories with Tony there, as well. The earlier memories were mundane, strictly studying on the bleachers. The two argued through their sessions and stomped away childishly at the end, frustrated and sure the other would quit their arrangement. But animosity and hatred ebbed away, replaced with subtler feelings. There was an afternoon where Tony asked about Steve’s curveball, and the pitcher had left their science books on the dilapidated metal to drag Tony onto the mound. Or when it had started raining on them, and for the first time, Tony had offered his house as an alternative to the field.

Then the genius randomly started popping by during practice with excuses too elaborate to be real. Tony made a new signs system for Nat to use with the team when their old set had been leaked online. He’d helped Sam fix his swing with data collection and bought Clint a better glove when seeing how worn out his old one was. Tony would be at as many games as he could get to with his hectic schedule, even though he made sure to remind the snickering Bucky how much he hated the sport. He learned baseball slang to harass Steve with in the hallway and recited pointless sports trivia during late night phone calls. When Jarvis was hospitalized for pneumonia, Tony had asked Steve to show him how to ‘hit something hard’. Steve pitched for hours to the emotional genius until Tony’s knees gave out, and didn’t hesitate to hold the brunet while he cried into Steve’s chest.

It was where he realized he was in love with Tony Stark, even if he was too much of a coward to say it out loud. Good or bad, mundane of life-changing, Steve owed the place for the memories it kept for him. All he needed to do was return, and like the ocean against the sand, waves of memories would drag him back to a time where he’d felt the most alive. He loved his life, was proud of the man that he had become. But there was something about the time captured in the grass and dirt of the baseball field that he knew would never be replaced. Taking a slow breath of the chilled air, Steve closed his eyes and let go of the final traces of anxiety that had clung to him throughout the night.

“Tony,” he started, but his words were halted when the quiet voice of his companion piped in.

“Can I ask you something?” Brown eyes didn’t lift from the metal in front of him, Steve slow to step closer to prove his attention was focused on the brunet. “That last night we were here, after you went super Saiyan on Brock’s face...was I the only one who felt something there?”

“What?”

“I think about it, probably more than I should. And I just...I question if it’s an error in my programming. Question where I went so wrong that I thought that someone like Steve Rogers would ever wanna be with me. But then I think about that night, and I’m sure that I saw...something. Don’t ask me what exactly because I was hopped up on coffee and awake for almost two days, so maybe I was just drugged from the caffeine ingestion and hallucinating, but I thought...were you gonna kiss me?”

“You’re rambling.” It was the first thought that came to Steve’s mind, knowing it was a clear indicator that Tony was nervous when they were younger. Tony’s hand tightened on the metal in his grasp before he winced, the reaction sending up red flags in Steve’s mind.

“People always want to kiss me now, you know. And why wouldn’t they? I’m smart, made of money and have been voted the sexiest man under thirty for three straight years. But back when I went here, we both know that wasn’t the case. I was still smart and my dad was the one with the money, but I was crazy to think I’d attract anyone. Pretty sure the only person who thought I was cute was the cafeteria lady with the mole on her nose. Why I got it in my head that you would be...this is stupid.”

Tony’s head shook slowly, as if the movement would dismiss whatever was filling his complex brain. Something welled up in Steve’s chest at the scene unfolding in front of him. Tony was closing himself off, just as he’d done the night Steve had chosen Tony’s future over his own feelings. For the second time in his life, he was watching a glimmering moment dim with doubt and rejection.

“You’re asking-”

“Nothing, I’m not-I just brought you out here to check out Stark field; thought you’d get a kick out of it being named after me when you practically lived on it. But we should’ve went back by now; Jan’s wanted to climb you since junior year and I probably just ruined her plan-”

“I did want to kiss you.” The truth was easy this time around. Tony’s head lifted from the slumped pose it had dropped to during his berating, staring at Steve with eyes a little wider than normal. Steve’s hands shoved themselves into his pockets and he nodded, refusing to hide his face while he confessed. “The truth is, I had a crush on you. Probably from the moment I saw you, but I didn’t really admit it until Senior year. So that night, I was sure someone out there was giving me a shot to finally tell you how I felt. But...when I realized that you were this young prodigy about to change the world and I was going off to be some army brat...I knew you were too good to keep on hold. Why would someone like you wait for me?”

“Because you’re Steve Rogers? You’re hot and kind and way more talented with a cherry stem than I could ever dream of and...you were Mr. Perfect. Seriously, is this a real question?”

“You were never swept up in any of the hype when it came to me. You saw past all that and treated me like the awkward teenage student I was. And it was...nice,” Steve admitted, feeling a bit of a grin grab at his face when noticing how thrown off Tony had become. “Nice to have someone call me out when I made a mistake. Infuriating at times, but nice. You treated me normal. Teased me when others were too nervous to smudge my ‘perfect’ legacy or something. But it was different than Bucky or Sam. Felt different, at least. Was kind of endearing, when you weren’t being a sarcastic pain.”

“This is...not really happening right now. Really, I don’t need you to lie to me about this. My pride will totally shake off your rejection after a bottle of whiskey and a Grey’s Anatomy marathon.” The skepticism that trickled through Tony’s voice was broken up with moments of hope, as if he wasn’t sure which emotion to truly believe in. “I know what I was in high school; you don’t need to keep trying to save me.”

“That’s not all I do, you know.”

“It’s sort of your calling card, Cap. Though the fake pining story must be clashing with your honor code.” Stubbornness started to flare its head in the genius, and Steve’s need to shake the other was almost too tempting to ignore. Instead, he took a slow breath, glancing around the area while trying to think of a new approach to the discussion. It was only natural that the field came back into vision, Steve’s mind flickering with an idea.

“Did you watch the baseball game?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You told me that you were going to try and get my game on the plane. Did you end up watching it? Specifically the fourth inning?” Tony’s eyes searched Steve’s expression as if waiting for the other man to flash a grin and take back the random questioning. The blond kept his face as serious as he could, feeling his shoulders tense up until Tony gave a nod.

“Yeah, I watched it. Almost didn’t, cause of...but I did. Nothing else really to do on the plane.” Tony glanced to his fingers picking at the rust on the bleachers, another attempt at casual despite the tension in the air.

“There was a clip that they cut out of the reruns of the game later, but during the live broadcasting, Clint did something.” That was putting it mildly. The outfielder had started to scream bloody murder in the mid-inning, going as far as tossing his glove and kicking at the dirt on his way to the outfield. The loud cries of ‘why didn’t you do it?!’ had been recorded for the millions of people to see, but the only person Steve was currently focused on was now snorting.

“Clint throwing a temper tantrum and rolling around in the grass on live television was the highlight of the game. I thought Fury was going to get arrested for killing him!”

“He got close,” Steve admitted, remembering the look of death that crawled over Mr. Fury’s face when they came off the field. The only thing that had saved Clint was the amazing catch he’d made later on in the game after getting his emotions in check.

“So, besides reminding me of something I need to tease Legolas about when we get back to the reunion, why are you bringing it up?” Some of the strain that had been holding Tony hostage looked to be disappearing from the younger man’s body, using the bleacher’s beam to support his weight.

“I was the reason he had his meltdown.” The intrigued look Tony gave Steve urged him to explain, the blond clearing his throat before talking through the blush. “I guess before the inning started, Bucky let it slip that I didn’t kiss you the night before. And Clint...well, he was sorta positive that we were gonna fall in love in high school. Even went as far as to bet some pretty decent money on it with Sam, so when he heard about what happened, and that you had left for MIT without us kissing he...lost it.”

“That beautiful bastard.” Tony let out a small chuckle at Steve’s awkward explanation, his eyes shining with mirth as he tilted his head in a way that flipped the blonde’s stomach. “I thought you looked pretty flushed on the mound that inning, but I attributed it to your Irish skin being in the sun too long.”

“No, I knew exactly what he was yelling about, and unlike Clint, I remembered it was national television. Something you’d said you were going to watch. After that, there was no way I could talk to you.” For the first time since his admission, Steve glanced away from Tony, staring at his shoes toeing the dirt of the pathway. “Every time I even looked at my phone, I was scared you’d seen it and would ask. We’d never really...talked anything out, and doing it on the phone felt cheap. I tried to save up the money to come see you at MIT, but by the time I got it, I was shipping off for basic training.”

“Did you forget I was rich back then, too? I could have bought you a plane ticket first class with just my allowance alone. Like seriously, wouldn’t have even put a dent in my wallet. I was going to do that anyways until that almost-not-really-probably-hallucinating kiss we didn’t have.”

“I couldn’t use you for your money, Tony. That’d be selfish.” Tony stared in pure shock at Steve’s explanation before his arms shot into the air in obvious frustration, though Steve couldn’t understand the anger.

“I was in love with you, Rogers! I watched baseball for you. Baseball. You could have asked me to buy the moon and I would have done it without question! NASA would have fought with me about it, but honestly I could have swayed them with ideas to improve their equipment and we’re on a speed dial relationship at the moment so it would have worked out-” the second round of rambling was cut off by Tony himself, seeming to realize mid-sentence what he had said. Before the genius could lapse into his fight or flight response, Steve stepped forward, rushing his answer out.

“Me too! I mean, I loved you, too.” They stared at each other for a moment, letting the shared confessions sink in. A warmth settled in Steve’s chest that he didn’t want to lose. Tony had loved him. It felt like he’d known the information already, but hearing it was a different sensation. He was sure he was blushing, but the embarrassment over that simmered away when realizing Tony was quite pink himself. Tony Stark never blushed, and this was the second time Steve had gotten the opportunity to see it. Rushing to seize the opportunity presented to him, Steve didn’t hesitate to reach forward and grasp Tony’s hand. “And even now, I…”

Except, for just a moment, the soldier wondered if anything had changed. Tony was still a star thousands of miles out of Steve’s reach. For ten years, the older man had dedicated his life to protecting the weak, just as he’d always done. But the man in front of him had changed the world with his technology. He’d given Bucky his arm back and helped Sam’s organization flourish. He donated money to charities, fundraisers, and a school that had rarely shown him kindness or sympathy. Tony Stark wasn’t just on a different level than Steve; he was in his own galaxy. Ten years ago, he’d let the charming young man slip through his fingers to keep from tying him down. He’d already given up their moment so Tony could shine brighter. But could he walk away again, knowing the first time was one of the biggest sacrifices of his life, without saying something?

Who says he wants you to walk away? The small voice of hope questioned, and Steve knew he didn’t have an answer for that.

But there was only one way to know the truth.

“Even now, you what?” Tony didn’t seem willing to let the conversation die either, fingers quick to sneak between the space of Steve’s. He hooked them as if afraid the blond would pull away, just like he’d done the last time. And God, Steve knew in that moment he never wanted to hurt this man again.

“I still-” The loud blare of a ringtone interrupted Steve’s confession, the brunet vocalizing Steve’s frustration with a growl that boarded feral. Snatching the device from his pocket, Tony didn’t release Steve’s hand, using his other one to turn on the speakerphone.

“Bruce, normally I’d be tickled pink to provide you phone sex, but you’re totally interrupting something that I’m 92.5% sure is important and/or life-changing.” A quick glance at Steve’s face had the genius recalculating, pressing the phone closer to his mouth. “Make that 96%.”

“Sorry, Tony, but Jan is 100% ready to hunt you down if you don’t return to the reunion with Steve in the next five seconds. She’s been waiting for twenty minutes to get this class photo done, but since you two missed the last reunion, she refuses to do it without you. We’ve been trying to stall for you two, but she’s a hard woman to deter when she’s on a mission.” Bruce did sound apologetic for the interruption, but he didn’t seem to be in a position to try and buy the pair any more time.

“Tell her we died. Tragic...bear accident. Cap fought till the bloody end to protect me and it was magical. She can send flowers to my house in Malibu, I prefer yellow daffodils-”

“Tony, no.” Steve scolded, having to bit back his smile when the brunet glanced up at him and rolled his eyes.

“Well I doubt a rabid raccoon digging through the school’s dumpster is gonna take you out, so Yogi’s the way to go.” The atmosphere from before was broken when Steve laughed, the blond pulling the scowling genius closer to speak into the phone.

“We’re on our way, Dr. Banner. Please extend our apologies to Miss Van Dyne.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Steve ended the call with the teacher before he pushed the phone back to Tony, whose face showed his obvious displeasure in the decision.

“You are literally trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Says the one debating which animal should maul me to death.”

“For good reason!”

“It’s just a picture,” Steve replied, shaking his head before he pulled the stubborn man back toward the school building. “We’ll take the shot and then we’ll find a place to continue this conversation.”

“You do realize we have the worst timing in the history of the world? I think we give Titanic a run for its money.”

“Picture, then talk. It’ll be fine.”

Except, like most situations, Tony was right. The picture took forever, as managing to get that many people in the shot without one of them sneezing, blinking, or getting threatened by Logan was a tedious endeavor. As soon as the photo was taken, the genius got yanked into a conversation with Reed Richards and his wife, Sue, regarding thermonuclear chemistry. Steve’s attention was pulled to helping Scott Lang find his missing watch and then tossed into a tense debate between Jean Grey and Emma Frost about the definition of cheating. He’d only escaped that by offering to help Jan clean-up the buffet table, followed by a few dances with many girls he faintly remembered from high school. He’d looked for Tony while using the excuse of needing to use the restroom, but he couldn’t catch sight of him. Right when he spotted the man of the hour flailing his arms at a song Peter Quill had convinced the DJ to play, Carol Danvers was yanking on his sleeve to play ‘would you rather’ (“Aren’t we a little too old for high school games, Danvers?” “Aren’t you a little too old to be staring at Tony like a lost puppy, Rogers?”), leaving the blond no time to seek out his moment.

And then, in a blink of an eye, the reunion was over.

“That was way better than last year!” Clint’s loud proclamation proved that he’d had his fair share of drinks, and Steve gave a concerned glance to the redhead keeping Clint from stumbling through the parking lot. Her fingers lifted high enough to show the keys of the truck, the soldier releasing the breath he’d been holding.

“I had a lot of fun,” Bruce added, giving a full smile toward Natasha before glancing to his right. “What about you, Tony? You happy we convinced you to come?”

“When has a Stark ever regretted going to a party?” Tony’s smile was large, mischievous, and completely fake. Steve could tell how hard he was forcing himself to play the part he’d been cast in for years, but it was phony. Fingers twitched by his side, wanting to reach over and grab the man. Though their group was walking out together, it meant the chance of finishing what they had started a decade ago was rapidly closing.

“Well, I’m just happy that we all got through it with no broken bones or wardrobe malfunctions.” Pepper’s head was resting on her husband’s shoulder as he led her along the pavement, and Steve wondered if the flush on her face was from the heat of the gymnasium, the cold outside, or the wine she’d been drinking throughout the night.

“The night’s still young, and Lang was starting to unbutton his shirt. Wonder if he was a stripper in a past life.” Bucky grinned at the slight buzz he had, linking his fingers between Sam’s as he swayed.

“It’s like I said before; just like old times.” Clint’s declaration was met with a hum of disagreement from Nat, who gave a casual glance toward her boyfriend.

“Some things have changed.”

“But the basics are the same. Like...like...oh!” Clint sharply turned to face the large group, holding his hand out to count down the fingers while he spoke. “Brock’s still the biggest asshole I know.”

“Okay, one point for Clint,” Pepper teased, though the blond didn’t seem to care as he continued.

“Stephen Strange still wears a cape around.”

“To be fair, it’s made of much better material than before.” Tony’s words were mumbled as he clicked away at something on his phone, which he’d had glued to his face since Clint had started his rant. The observation was surprising, considering the two men never got along in high school. Strange and Tony were similar in the worst ways, and their differences only increased the tension. But there was no bitterness or annoyance in the brunet’s comment, and Steve wondered if they’d mended bridges throughout the years.

“Then there’s the fact that I’m still the best dancer of the group-”

“You are milky white and have no rhythm.” Sam’s deadpan reply was waved off by Clint despite the snickers from the group.

“And the biggest thing that hasn’t changed is that Tony and Steve.” Like a vacuum sucked the good mood from the air, all signs of laughter evaporated. The only man who was still smiling was Clint, too drunk and proud of himself to read the scene. “They are going to hopelessly pine for each other for another decade, and we’ll have to listen to them be miserable but be too chicken to do shit about it until the next reunion.”

Steve’s stomach flipped as he glanced at Tony, who continued to stare at his screen despite no longer moving his fingers. It was obvious he was tense, proving he’d been paying more attention than he let on. The fingers on the back of the phone were tapping, and Steve knew the sign. It’d always been a tic of his, and Steve realized that even after a decade, he hadn’t forgotten the small nuances of the genius. Just like Tony remembered his favorite flavor of sour patch and knew the exact spot Steve had punched Brock’s head into. If Steve was being completely honest with himself, he was sure he’d never forget the things he’d memorized about Tony in their youth, no matter how long they went without talking. And it didn’t take much introspection to realize why.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve’s bold proclamation dragged Tony’s attention up from his phone, the tall blond taking the few steps across the parking lot to stop in front of him. He didn’t look away or flinch at the murmurs behind them, instead keeping his focus on the way Tony worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

“You a fortune teller now?” It was tossed out as a joke, but Steve wasn’t willing to take the easy way out. Instead, he reached forward, grabbing Tony’s free hand in his own and linking their fingers together again.

“I owe you a talk.”

“You think this is the best place for that?”

“No, which is why I’m gonna ask you out on a date now.” The wince that had started in the brown stare in front of Steve quickly turned to surprise by the end of the bold statement. Refusing to back down from the fight, Steve took a slow breath and continued. “ Let me take you out for dinner, and we can talk about what I was gonna say behind the bleachers. Um, if you’re still interested.”

“If I’m still interested,” Tony parroted back, and for a split second, Steve wondered if he’d read the entire night wrong. The genius had admitted how he felt when they were kids, but what about now? Had Steve been too late, and asking for a second chance made the situation awkward? The need to backtrack rushed through him, Steve’s eyes dropped to his feet while he stepped back.

“But you’re busy with running your business and helping Sam’s foundation so I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No no, you don’t get to pull that selfless pie crap right now.” Tony’s phone was shoved into his pocket before Steve could blink, the newly free hand grabbing Steve’s tie and yanking him forwards.

“Woah, Tony-” But the words he meant to say lodged in his throat when getting a good glance at his counterpart’s face. Anger and desire bloomed in the glare sent his way, the grip around his tie only tightening while Tony spoke.

“If you want something with me, you take it right now or you walk away again and we spend another ten years...whatever the hell Drunk Arrow called it.”

“Pining.”

“Sure, that. Did he tell you I made him his own archery playground? Honestly, I don’t listen to him most days, but I like looking at his arms when he strings a bow. I mean, they’re nothing compared to your gorgeous body- okay, delicious thought, but not where I meant to go with this.” Tony’s eyes flickered across Steve’s face, as if making sure he still had his undivided attention. “Here’s our options, man with a plan. You can try to make up another pathetic excuse for why we can’t have this and take back your offer to wine and dine me. Then I can go to my lab with Platypus on speaker phone, moaning about the Meredith-Derek relationship we got going on. That’s a choice; terrible one in my opinion, but still a technical, sex-less choice.”

“I don’t-” But the genius seemed quite done listening to Steve’s excuses, steamrolling over whatever he planned to say next with a raised voice.

“Or, you could man up and for once in your life be selfish. Cause I’ve got NASA on speed dial, and I’m still willing to make that call for you. You want the moon, you got it. And that’s not going to change, no matter how many ways you slice your stupid pastry. But another ten years is too long to be left in limbo if we’re both feeling the same thing. And I want this. I really want this. ” A hiccup of softness rounded the expression on Tony’s face, and Steve’s heart skipped when the once bold voice lowered in a quieter confession. Then, as if the change never occurred, Tony’s bravado was back in full force. “ So what’s it going to be, Rogers? Am I going to be stuck growing old and watching baseball forever with you or not?”

It was the worst love confession Steve had ever heard, full of rambling and half-baked thoughts that didn’t show a hint of the genius IQ Tony was known for. In fact, part of the time he was blatantly hitting on one of Steve’s close friends. He insulted the best sport known to man, had implied the two-time receiver of a medal of honor was a coward, and somehow brought NASA into it. Why was he so set on giving Steve the moon? All in all, Tony’s speech was a train wreck of a statement, filled with far more glares than Steve had envisioned on nights he wanted to torture himself over thoughts of ‘what if’. The whole thing should have had Steve running for the hills.

But the blond didn’t hesitate to smile at the man watching him, leaning down to steal the kiss that was ten years overdue. The warmth pressed against his mouth felt charged with electricity, and Steve’s hand leaned up to cup Tony’s face while he deepened the connection. The tie was left dangling between them when slender fingers slid into Steve’s hair, angling his mouth lower for the genius to deepen the kiss. In what felt like the far distance, the sound of cheers and hollers pricked the back of the soldier’s ears, but he ignored it to run his tongue against the parting lips under his mouth. Everything felt right, like a piece of a puzzle Steve hadn’t known he was missing found its place in his heart. Tony moved as if he was on the same page, hand clinging tightly to Steve’s while their mouths became fully acquainted. Feeling the lean curves pressed against his body made the taller man shiver before pulling away, panting from the kiss. His forehead easily dropped down onto Tony’s, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of holding the other man in his arms.

“About fuckin time, punk!” Bucky’s loud call made Steve glare over to him, though another tug on his tie brought his attention back to Tony.

“Focus, hot stuff.” The hand that slipped into his back pocket made his eyes widen, though Tony’s fingers seemed more interested in snagging the cell phone than mapping the curve of the captain’s ass. A look of irritation crossed his face when staring at the flip phone, and Steve had to hold himself back from leaning down to taste Tony’s pout. “This is just an insult. It’s sacrilegious that I’m even touching this piece of junk.”

“What’s wrong with prepaid?” His tease actually got a shiver from Tony, who finished typing something in before pushing the phone into Steve’s chest.

“Pick me up at Stark Tower tomorrow. Eight sound good? Oh, and I’m giving you a new phone because I refused to be in love with a Motorola caveman.”

“You still love me?” Steve asked, hoping the tremble at the end of his question was covered by his sheepish smile. Tony’s smirk was instant, rising to his toes like a sleek panther. A final, sultry kiss was stolen by the genius, and Steve’s hands twitched with the need to yank the warm body hard against his own. But before he could give in to temptation, Tony pushed away, his eyes smoothing over Steve once more before turning.

“Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.” The blond knew the sway in Tony’s hips was purposeful, yet the man couldn’t keep his eyes off the motion. Pepper and Happy exchanged their quick goodbyes with the group before they scurried after the man, leaving Bruce behind with his thoroughly amused girlfriend. Steve was instantly weighed down by Bucky and Sam’s arms, which each took a post on a shoulder. The couple took their turns ruffling the blonde’s hair, wearing matching grins.

“I’m proud of you, man.”

“Yeah, looks like little Stevie finally got his fella.”

“You two are too much,” Steve muttered, hating how warm his ears were feeling despite his smile.

“Boys,” Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes while leaning closer to Bruce. The expected reaction had the soldier laughing, but the sudden wail of their final companion turned the group’s attention to Clint.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, crooking an eyebrow at the distressed friend.

“If I knew it was that easy to hook you two up, I would have won the bet in high school!” The cry of unfairness set the friends into a loud roar of laughter, Clint’s drunken scowl only increasing the craziness of the night. Steve’s smile softened as he glanced across the parking lot, eyes lingering on the baseball field.

And he knew out of all the memories he’d had of this place, this one would always be his favorite.

And that's it! Poor Clint, just wanted to make some money. But at least our boys are happy! Thank you all for taking the time to read my first Stony story, I have a BINGO card I'm working on currently as well as two stories my Discord friends helped convince me to write, so you'll be seeing those pop up here soon. Until then, reblogs and comments are always good ways to let me know if I'm doing something right! thanks again <3

#Stony #Stony fandom #Stony fanfiction #Stony fanfic #Marvel #Tony Stark #steve rogers #Marvel fanfic #Marvel fandom #Crimsonwritesstony

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stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove · 7 years ago

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Some of us are Human - Stiles’s Dorm Room and Cali’s Coffee Shop (Chapter 2)

Author: @what-the-hell-is-a-stiles826

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Rhiannon King & Reader

Summary: You wake up in Scott and Stiles dorm room, confused and concerned. Later, you and Stiles over hear a strange conversation.

Note: Again, I’ll just say Y/n means your name and y/e/c means your eye color. Also, I gave your sister the name Nicole. Sorry if you don’t have a sister, just go with it.

Chapter Two - Chapter Three

You blinked your eyes open a couple of times. It was bright and your head felt like someone stood over you all night repeatedly hitting you directly in the temple. The pain throbbing so violently around your skull you thought it might just split open. You got a peak of the white ceiling, light reflecting off of it making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. Your hair was slightly damp as you ran your fingers through it and reached for your phone on your night stand but found a warm piece of clothing instead. You nervously moved your hand across it, feeling it rise and fall slowly and deeply; it was breathing. You jolted upright and realized you were not alone. You glanced beside you, somewhat afraid but your eyes wide open now. Stiles. He was fast asleep next to you, still wearing his red and blue plaid flannel and his brown hair was slightly matted to the side. His head faced away from you and his right arm hung over the bed. You looked around the room and noticed Scott asleep in the bed across from the two of you, while Issac was cuddled up on the floor next to Stiles gray Adidas. You weren’t in your dorm at all, somehow you were in theirs. You rubbed your face, trying to remember last night the best you could. You got flashes, bits and pieces and grunted at yourself. What would his girlfriend think? Why were you here? Stiles moaned and rolled over, now facing towards you. You watched him peak through his left eye before closing it again quickly and scrunching his face.

“Hey.” You whispered. His eyes fluttered open again and his golden ones met your y/e/c ones. He stared for a moment before letting out an enormous yawn.

“Don’t freak out.” He said. But you were freaking out a little bit. Clearly nothing happened between you but you hadn’t woken up this hungover in a very long time. He sat up and rubbed at his face, the sound of his movement causing Issac to shift on the floor. “You wouldn’t go back to your dorm, so I snuck you in here.” He explained without you having to ask. You nodded to let him know you understood and rubbed at your forehead some more.

“Why is my hair wet?” You asked, awkwardly. Surely he wouldn’t have helped you into the shower. You did not want to even think about Stiles seeing your drunken self, naked and vulnerable. But maybe he had Malia or Rhiannon help you, because that’s the kind of guy Stiles is. He smiled, which was a little annoying.

“You wanted to go swimming in the fountain out front.” He giggled.

“What?” You responded in disbelief. He picked up his phone and read the time. It was only six in the morning.

“Like three hours ago.” He continued, rubbing his eyes. You shrugged and placed your face back into your hands. You hadn’t noticed before, but you were wearing a long, baggy gray T-shirt with loose black sweat pants that were not your own.

“This is why I don’t drink very often.” You admitted, embarrassed. “Where are my clothes?” Stiles stood up and walked over towards the end of the bed. He pointed down to your jeans and tank top that were draped across the base board of his bed.

“They are still pretty wet.” He said, gripping the sleeve of your top. He began to walk back around the bed and tripped over Issac’s long legs. He stumbled into Scott’s bed backwards and Issac sat up.

“Ouch!” Issac yelled. Scott turned over and saw Stiles leaning against his bed below his feet.

“Morning to you too!” Scott replied to Stiles’ clumsiness. Stiles stood back up and made a face at his friend. Issac threw his blanket across the room, got up and stretched before making his way towards the door.

“Well, since I’m up now, I have to pee.” Issac said as he left the room. You squinted your eyes at the light that shown through when he opened the door.

“I uh, should get going too. But I’ll see you both around?” You asked, searching for your flip flops and grabbing your clothes from the foot of the bed. You were too afraid to ask any more questions in that moment, maybe you didn’t want to know.

“Yeah!” Scott replied while Stiles watched you search and pointed under the desk across from Scott’s bed. You snatched up your silver flip flops and waved goodbye with them still in your hand before heading out the door. You closed it behind you and took a deep breath.

Back inside, Stiles turned to Scott who raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got class in thirty minutes, dude.” Scott noted.

You sat in the black leather couch at your favorite coffee shop near campus. Your friend and roommate, Rhiannon, sat at the opposite end of the couch as you, gripping her latte in her hands. She took a sip and shook her head.

“You woke up in their room?” She questioned. “And then you bolted?” She continued. You rubbed your fingers across the worry lines that appeared on your forehead, your bare feet tucked underneath you and your silver flip flops on the floor.

“I didn’t know what to say!” You explained, defensively. Rhiannon sighed and thought a moment about her response.

“They used to be your best friends, how about thanks for taking care of my drunk ass.” She said. “Oh, and by the way I totally wasn’t worried about you or anything.” She rolled her eyes. You squinted your face and took a sip of your caramel macchiato.

“I’m sorry.” You told her. “I didn’t mean to get that drunk. Just...” You trailed off. Rhiannon shifted in her seat and leaned forward, placing her drink on the coffee table.

“Well, clearly he drives you crazy.” She said, devilishly. You jolted your head up, stunned at the nerve of her comment.

“What?” You said.

“You totally like him!” She giggled. “I could tell something was off with you last night after they showed up, it didn’t take me long to figure it out.” You placed your feet back on the ground and held your coffee on your lap.

“Who?” You screeched. Rhiannon brushed her curly blonde hair back behind her ear and spoke again.

“Stiles!” She replied quickly. You gulped and shook your head.

“Rhi, just don’t. Not with this one.” You pleaded to your best girl friend since losing Allison. You’d met her here only three months ago, as your college roommate. But the two of you instantly fit. Rhiannon curled her lip up at you.

“Wow, you really do like him.” She grinned. You took a drink of your coffee and then proceeded to stare down at it. Once again, memories of your last days in Beacon Hills flooded your brain. You thought back to when Stiles was still missing but you remembered him. Sure, it was Lydia who got everyone to remember but it was ultimately you that finally brought him home. You had begged and cried, allowing a rift to open that he could come through. But when he got back, he didn’t appear to you. He appeared in his jeep, then pretty much saw everyone else before he saw you. He’d already gotten with Lydia. It was that quick.

___

“Why don’t we just ask her why she left?” Scott whispered to Stiles from the seat next to him in their computer science class. Stiles paused from his work on his laptop and huffed.

“Maybe she left because we aren’t kids anymore. We graduated high school and people drift apart after that. Maybe that’s all there is to it.” Stiles assumed, obvious that he no longer wanted to talk about it.

“But, why wouldn’t she say goodbye? Was she pissed at you for something?” Scott asked. Stiles whipped his head to the side, frustrated at the thought.

“What? No. Was she pissed at you for something?” He replied, eagerly. Scott pressed his lips together, silenced. He didn’t mean to snap, it just came out a little stronger than he meant it to. He did worry that maybe he had done something to upset you. His cheeks flushed red at the thought, slightly embarrassed by his past actions. One of the last days the two of you had spent together before he was taken by the Ghost Riders has stuck with the both of you ever since. It was shortly before Scott and Stiles visited Alex’s house, right before Alex was taken from the station. Stiles had a discolored piece of the boys family’s shattered windshield. He was determined that something supernatural was going on and was desperate to prove it. The two of you went to his house before school to do some digging. The Sheriff was gone at the station and you were in Stiles’ bedroom researching things like ‘magic bullet’ and ‘blue residue’ while Scott took the piece of glass to Mrs. Finch to see if she might know anything.

“It’s stained blue. There was something wrong with the way this windshield was shattered.” Stiles thought out loud to himself while you listened, both of you sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of his bed. His laptop sat on his lap while you scrolled through your phone. “Damnit.” He whined to himself and angrily closed his laptop. You turned to your best friend as he nervously bit at his finger nails.

“Stiles.” You gently nudged him. He dropped his hand and turned to face you, your shoulders touching. You stared into those golden brown eyes for a moment in silence and he waited for you to speak patiently. “We will figure this out. We always do.” You told him. “You always do.” You whispered. Stiles took a deep breath and smiled at you. You didn’t even know why you were sitting so close to him, it just felt nice.

“You are always the one that believes me, no matter what.” He grinned. “Thank you.” He placed his hand on top of yours that was still holding your phone. And for some reason, on this particular day, he left it there. Your eyes, with a mind of their own, studied the tiny moles on his cheek and jaw line, then they moved to his lips. And all you could think about was kissing him. Why did you want to kiss him so badly? When did your boy best friend turn into this man you were starting to crush on, very intensely. You weren’t sure but you knew those feelings had been slowly brewing for awhile now. Your heart literally flopped in your chest when he reached his hand up to your face and very gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek bone. “Y/n.” He whispered to you, his eyes now staring at your open mouth.

“It’s okay.” You told him, referring to what you thought he was about to do. What you hoped he was about to do. Those words gave him the courage he needed; the reassurance that it wouldn’t be awkward or weird. He slowly leaned in closer, wondering if you might stop him but couldn’t prevent himself from still trying. You lightly tilted your chin up, grazing his bottom lip with yours, a shock of electricity sprung though your chest as you waited for the actual kiss. But a sudden and familiar voice echoed through the house and Stiles pulled away.

“Stiles!” Sheriff Stilinski shouted from out in the hallway. Stiles jumped up and you followed him just to the doorway, peaking your head out past his door to see him talking to his father and just like that the moment was gone. “Get your butt to school, both of you.” Noah demanded.

Stiles thought back on that moment, nervously fidgeting in his seat. He had laid in bed that night contemplating what he’d almost just done, realizing the change in his own feelings towards you recently. Or maybe those feelings had always been there, he just now chose to fully let them in. He wanted to act on them. Until right before he was taken, he decided his feelings for Lydia were too strong. The girl he’s had a crush on since the third grade. That strawberry blonde hair, he couldn’t get past any of it quite yet. And so, though he’d meant it, he said those three words in a rushed moment of desperation. “Remember, I love you.” With that, you’d lost him in every way possible and didn’t even know it yet.

“I’ll drop it for now.” Scott concluded, picking up on his friends anxious body language.

“Excuse me you two?” Professor Williams shouted loudly across the giant room, waking Stiles from his thoughts. “Am I interrupting your conversation over there?” Stiles sunk down into his seat. “Or is it maybe you who is interrupting the rest of us?” He snarled. Scott stumbled over the right words to say.

“Sorry.” Scott simply commented.

You had three hours before your next class and your headache had finally subsided. You decided to eat your lunch at a secluded picnic table outside of the library. It was warm out, a light spring breeze blew through the large, very green tree shading you. Footsteps began approaching, so you looked up. Stiles again. He sat down across from you and swung his right leg over the seat across from you.

“Hey.” He spoke warmly. You closed your books, pushed them away from you and took the last bite of your banana, setting the peal down in front of you. “I just came from the library and saw you sitting here.” He continued.

“Yeah, I’ve got a bit of a break between classes.” You explained. “Hey, um, thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I kept you up so late.” You paused. “I’ll get your clothes back to you after I wash them.” You awkwardly lowered your hands into your lap and he smiled at you.

“Y/n, it’s fine. No problem, that’s what friends are for right?” He asked rhetorically while setting his backpack in the grass below him, getting comfortable. “I’ve never seen you drink so much.” He noted.

“Yeah, I don’t know what got into me.” You shrugged and pulled a can of Pepsi from your bag and opened it, taking a sip while Stiles remained quiet. You stared down at the bubbles forming on the lip of your can, listening to the small crackling noises. You wanted to explain. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.” You began. Stiles’ face lit up a little at your brave words and he shifted in his seat, both legs now over his seat and completely facing you.

“Why didn’t you?” He somehow found the courage to ask, leaning forward against the table. You scrunched your face, crinkling your eyebrows.

“Well, I supp-” Your voice broke as a loud, high pitched scream bounced off the building in front of you. Stiles turned around and you both stood up. “What the hell?” You wondered, Stiles exchanging a similar look of curiosity. You both ran forward, towards the scream. It was a student, facing away from you but you could tell she was crying.

“Help!” She screamed louder. Professor Williams appeared and approached her, quickly. You were now close enough to over hear their conversation.

“Olivia, what’s the matter?” Professor Williams intervened. She covered her mouth, her hand shaking.

“She came out of nowhere. She was crazy!” She cried.

“Who? What are you talking about?” The tall, thin and over dressed college professor asked the girl.

“She took him! My boyfriend. She just vanished.” She sobbed. Stiles turned to me, a look of dread covered his face. A crowd was now forming behind us at the scene.

“Her ears.” You pointed out. Both of Olivia’s ears were dripping a good amount of blood. Another teacher showed up and walked her out of the crowd. But not before she spoke again.

“She had white eyes.” She said, still shaking. The crowd was now whispering and you knew they were all thinking she was crazy, but you and Stiles knew better. Maybe something was here, something supernatural. Once Olivia was gone, the crowd began to die down and Stiles moved in front of you.

“White eyes?” He crossed his arms. “I better call Lydia.” He said, reaching into the front pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone.

“Right.” You agreed with hesitation. So she was close by? You shrugged awkwardly and watched Stiles walk forward, away from you with this phone to his ear.

“Hey, Lyds.” You hear him say before you began walking back to the picnic table to grab your things and text Scott.

You-Hey, meet Stiles and I in the library asap.

Message sent.

Meanwhile, Stiles fiddled with his feet, kicking rocks away from the front of him and awkwardly talking to ex girlfriend for the first time in weeks. “I know, I just thought we could use your help. This could be something.” He said. “Okay, see you soon.” He finished up while approaching you again and you raised your phone to show him the text you’d just sent as he hung up with Lydia.

“Come on, let’s go wait for Scott. Then maybe we can talk to Olivia, find out more.” You suggested. He nodded and you walked back towards the library doors together.

Stiles and you found yourselves in a similar situation as before. Laptops, phones and researching strange things. Only this time, he has a girlfriend and you’re in a public place. You thought back on what happened after your last adventure and how you almost lost Stiles to more than just Lydia Martin. It made you a little nervous, not because you were afraid of what creature you might discover next. But because you were afraid for your friends as well as innocent people like Olivia. That’s why you were here helping. Although, sometimes you wondered why Scott let you be a part of this Pack even after all these years. You had an in because of knowing him and Stiles since kindergarten. Would you be a part of this if it weren’t for that? You didn’t feel like you were anything special. Stiles is human, but he’s got all the brains. What did you really bring to the Pack?

“Scott and Lydia will be here shortly.” Stiles woke you from your thoughts. “Scott is just finishing up his anatomy paper and Lydia is on her way.” He finished.

“Is she going here now too? I haven’t seen her.” Your curiosity got the best of you. Stiles looked down at this phone, awkwardly. Something you noticed and wondered why.

“Uh, no. She’s coming from Beacon Hills.” He answered you. You nodded, wondering if you should ask him about the two of them and how they were. You came to the conclusion rather quickly that you’d rather not know. Just be his friend, you told yourself. Get over it. You both sat down at a table in the middle of the room, side by side this time.

A few moments passed. Stiles thought about starting up your conversation from earlier, at least a dozen times. Still desperately wondering what you were about to say. You scrolled through your phone, Stiles spotting an old picture of you and your sister. “How’s your mom and Nicole?” He asked. You looked up from your phone at his ice breaker question.

“They are good. Nicole is a junior this year.” You explained.

“Yeah, she’s a little ahead of Liam, Mason and Corey right?” He added, fully knowing what grade your sister was in having known you both for as long as he could remember. You nodded in response as you both heard the doors to the library open. “There they are.” Stiles said moving his eyes past you. You looked to your right to see Scott and Lydia entering the library together. Stiles waved an arm in their direction and the two approached you. They sat across from you and Stiles at your table and you thought it was odd that Stiles didn’t stand up and hug Lydia at the very least, rather the two barely even looked at each other.

“Hi, Y/n.” Lydia said firmly before finally glancing in Stiles direction. You looked to Stiles and then back to her, wondering what you’ve missed.

“Hi, Lydia.” You repeated back to her. Scott moved forward in his seat breaking Lydia from her awkward stares.

“You two are sure about this?” Scott asked, focusing on the reason you all sat in the library together.

“This girl was really freaked out.” You told him.

“You said she mentioned white eyes?” Lydia interjected. Stiles licked his lips and leaned back.

“Yeah, where’s the Argent’s Bestiary when you need it?” Stiles noted to the group and you sighed. “Lydia, you have any weird feelings on your way in here? Any banshee related vibes coming your way?” He asked.

“I can’t just turn this on.” She spoke, the frustration clear in her voice. “You know that.” She added quietly.

Scott looked down awkwardly before speaking.

“Alright, Lydia and I will see what we can come up with. I’ll see if I can catch some sort of scent.” He told his friends and Lydia shrugged. “You two can find out more from Olivia. If it is something, we’ll take care of it.” He finished. Lydia gritted her teeth and Stiles stood up.

“Okay but first, Lyds can I talk to you for a sec?” Stiles asked. She tilted her head slightly and got up, the two exiting the library together. Something felt off so you decided to confide in Scott.

“Why can’t you and I talk to Olivia?” You wondered why Stiles wouldn’t go with his supposed girlfriend. Scott smiled, a little annoyed.

“Is that what you want?” He asked. You scowled a little and picked at the skin on your lip. “Because I guess we could totally give them the time of day to make up, or you could go with Stiles and tell him how you feel about him since he’s too much of an idiot to speak up about how he feels towards you.” He stated, boldly.

“Wh...what?” You tried to play it like you had no idea what he was talking about but he wasn’t buying it.

“Y/n. Come on, I’ve known you two my entire life.” Scott told you. You huffed, now refusing to make eye contact.

“What did you mean ‘give them the time of day to make up’? They are fighting?” You asked. Scott folded his arms and smiled at you.

“Talk to Stiles.” He replied, not answering your question.

<<Chapter 1, Chapter 3>>

Any and all feedback is always appreciated! (;

#stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien

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storytimeafterdark · 4 years ago

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From Online To Reality

Kennadee Charleston was surfing the net one rainy Friday evening & snacking on a candy bar. She stumbled upon a Tumblr page she had never seen before. The username is southwestblogboy. She read the title: My Life In A Nutshell: One Man’s Virtual Journey. She looked at the page & thought to herself, “This looks interesting’. She decided to check out his archive & liked what she saw: a wide variety of interests. She then went back to the home page of his blog & read the description: ‘Corey; 34 year old single guy living life one day at a time. I’m quiet, laid back, funny when I want to be, an avid photography, sports, & music nut. If you feel the urge, hit me up. I like getting to know people & who knows. You may just be who I’m looking for.’ Kennadee then took a cute selfie & saved it to keep on hand in case Mr. Nutshell wanted to see what she looks like.

Corey Stevenson sat at his laptop, just finishing emails & decided to add more things to his Tumblr page, when he saw he had a message. He clicked on it & read the following: Hello Corey. My name is Kennadee. I came acrossed your blog, took a look around, & I really like what you post. You didn’t mention where you’re from, so I am wondering about that. If you would like to chat, reply back.

Corey decided to check out her page. He smiled at her alias: monsoonprincess. He read her title: I’ll Be Your Girl For All Seasons, All The Year Through & then read her description: ‘Atmospheric Science major aka Weather Geek! Alongside of studying the weather for a living, I enjoy music, sports, photography, good movies, roadtrips, damn good Mexican food, & a sense of humor. Feel free to say hello. I don’t bite THAT hard!’

He replied back: Hi Kennadee. Thank you for your message. You have a great blog too. By the way, I am an Arizona boy. Attended U of A in Tucson. IT major with a minor in English. I think it’s awesome you are into the weather. You could probably teach me a thing or two. Do you storm chase also?

She replied back: I also attended U of A & luckily graduated before they sold the Atmo Sciences program to the Scum Devils LOL I would love to talk weather with you anytime! I am also here in Arizona. I live in Chandler. Where are you?

He replied back: I am also in Chandler. Can I see a picture?

She sent his picture. He told her she is beautiful & sent her a picture in return of him. She found him to be very handsome: a dark blonde, blue eyed man with glasses & the most gorgeous, perfect white teeth she had ever seen. She was blonde, green eyes, glasses & straight white teeth as well.

After that night, they chatted online or by phone every night for a month straight before deciding to finally meet in person at a Starbucks the next morning for breakfast.

Kennadee got up, showered, did her hair, found her outfit for the day, put deodorant on, sprayed body spray on, got dressed, brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, put her makeup on, put her glasses on, threw on her shoes, & out the door she went. Corey showered, put deodorant on, sprayed some cologne on, got dressed, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, put his glasses on, as well as his shoes, & was ready to go. Kennadee drove to Starbucks, parked her black Edge in a space, & got out. She heard a voice acrossed the lot yell “Kennadee!”. She looked & there he was, the most beautiful man on the planet, Corey. She walked faster & he met her halfway. They giggled as they said hello to one another with a hug. They went inside & he insisted on buying her breakfast so she let him. They got their food & drinks & went to a table to sit down. They talked as if they had known each other all their lives & spent the rest of the day together. They went to see a movie that afternoon, shared a bucket of popcorn & got sodas. Corey took her hand in his during the movie & they both enjoyed that. Afterward, they were hungry for dinner & chose Olive Garden. He drove her back to her car at the Starbucks after dinner. She enjoyed riding in his truck, a beautiful white Ford he had recently bought. When they pulled up next to her Edge, she got a little sad, as did he. He looked at her & said, “Kennadee, I don’t want this day to end. I have really enjoyed being with you”. “I don’t either Corey. You are amazing & I like you”. They stared at each other for a minute. Corey’s hands were in hers. “I like you too & I really want to kiss you”, he said. “I want you to kiss me”, she said. Their lips met in the most wonderful kiss. They kept on kissing. They hugged each other & she began to kiss his neck. He loved feeling her lips on his neck. He also loved the sensations happening inside his jeans, as she was turning him on & he was trying to fight it. He was afraid that if he put the moves on her he would go too far too fast. She kissed him very passionately. Their tongues met in the most romantic way & he couldn’t keep his hands from roaming her body. Hers were already roaming his. “Kennadee I usually don’t take girls home on the first date, but I don’t want to be without you tonight”, he said, kissing her again. “Corey, I never want to be without you. You’re everything I want & have waited for”, she said. “Follow me to my place then”, he said, & kissed her. She agreed to & followed him to his place. He was standing outside the open garage & told her to pull her Edge in there. She did. She got out & he kissed her again. “I’ll give you a tour of my place”, he said, taking her hand in his. He took her through every room of his bachelor pad & showed her the back yard, which contained a beautiful pool, hot tub, seating, & a built in outdoor kitchen for grilling & barbecues. “This is gorgeous”, she said. “Glad you like it because you’ll be spending a lot of time here now that we’re together’, he said with a smile. “Good because with you is where I want to be”, she said, giving him a big smile. She kissed him again & he held her in his arms. He pointed to the sky & mouthed the words “Thank you” to the heavens above.

They were out in his back yard, sitting on the outdoor sofa, kissing. She wanted him badly & he wanted her but also wanted to be a gentleman. She pulled him on top of her as she lay down & their mouths met again. Her hands ran down his back & she massaged his ass. He felt sensations in his jeans again & she felt them too, as he was pressed against her lower body, & she was getting turned on as well. She felt her panties get damp with desire. He kissed her neck & she said, “Corey, that feels so good”. “Glad you like it babe”, he said, & kissed her neck some more. One of his hands found the zipper on her blouse & unzipped it. “May I remove this?” he asked. “Please do”, she said. She wanted to be naked with him & was having a very hard time trying to control herself. She unbuttoned his shirt & took it off, loving his gorgeous upper body. He took very good care of himself & she told him so. He said the same about her, especially when he then removed her bra-less blouse. He sucked on her breasts & kissed all over them. He then held her to him, loving the feel of their bare chests together. “I want you Kennadee but I don’t want to go too far either”, he said. “Corey, I want you. It’s obvious we are crazy about each other & we are meant to happen. You are a true gentleman in every sense of the word. Show me how much you want me”, she said. “You’re right. I want you very much & I’ll admit it. I’ve wanted you since the night we started chatting”. “Really? I’ve wanted you too since then”, she replied. Corey was very happy. He found the girl of his dreams & now he had her there with him, he way it should be.

Corey untied her wraparound skirt & saw her pink lacy panties. “Damn you’re sexy. I am the luckiest man on the planet”, he said. She smiled & kissed him, undoing his jeans. He took them off & she saw black silk boxers on his sexy frame. “You are so damn sexy Corey. I’m the lucky girl who gets to have you as my own”, Kennadee said, running her hand down his body. He took her panties off & she took off his boxers. She had slip on shoes without socks & kicked them off when they sat down on the couch. After removind his boxers, he took off his shoes & socks & sat down on the couch. Kennadee, who was now sitting up, began to kiss him while fondling his already-erect cock, making him moan. He told her to open her legs so he could touch her & she did. He loved that she was wet & he got even harder for her. He asked her how she liked to be touched & she told him with the middle finger, nice & slow to build her orgasm. He did exactly that & she moaned. He was really turned on watching his girlfriend get off to his finger pleasuring her pussy. She was enjoying stroking his cock & he was enjoying her doing so.

He slid his finger out of her & licked it seductively. “You taste so good. I want more of that”, he said, smiling wickedly. “Plenty more for you”, she said. He told her to lie down on the sofa & she did, opening her legs so he could go to town on her wet pussy with his tongue. He made love to her pussy with his tongue & enjoyed her sweet scent & taste. She enjoyed the feel of his tongue inside her, building her orgasm up gradually.

It was a beautiful summer evening. Neighbors were on vacation & Corey’s house was on one corner of the cul-de-sac he lived in. Kennadee expressed her pleasure to what he was doing. He enjoyed tasting his girlfriend & exploring her with his tongue. He gave her multiple orgams, each more intense than the previous one & she made out with him when he was done. She loved the taste of her cum as did he & it turned him on even more when she told him so. She then told him to lie down while she sucked his cock. She wanted to devour his cum like he did hers & she got her wish, as she brought him to orgasm & he filled her mouth with his sweet cum. She laid down next to him & they made out. He wanted to get hard again so they could make love. She was playing with his sensitive cock while they were making out & he was fingering her again. After he got her to orgasm again, he rubbed her cum on his cock. He than began to stroke it & she loved that. He moaned as he grew harder & harder. Soon he was ready to be inside the love of his life. He made passionate love to her on the outdoor couch, underneath the moon & stars that night. Soon, they were thrusting & building up their orgasms...faster, deeper, harder!

When they came, they came together & Corey told Kennadee he loved her. Kennadee told Corey she loved him. “I know this happened fast, but I don’t regret any of it”, Corey said. “I don’t either. I am very happy. I owe it all to my blog”, Kennadee said. “I owe it to mine too”, Corey agreed. They grabbed their clothes & shoes, went inside, & went to bed.

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meltingalphabet · 8 years ago

Text

Killing Kyle

You know you’re an impressive person, when other people try really hard to impress you.

I was not an impressive child. I was actually pretty unimpressive. To give you an idea of how thoroughly unimpressive I was, many east-coast school systems believed I was irreparably mentally handicapped. They realized I had a high IQ, specifically high 130s, low 140s. Not quite genius, but close. The fact that I couldn’t talk till middle school was surprising. I spent most of my childhood with specialists, who tried desperately to figure out why such an intelligent child was performing at such a low level. Finally, they gave up. I was deemed unfixable.

As I grew older, I began to ignore the experts and try to reconcile these two sides of me myself: the dumb, obvious half, and the intelligent unspoken half. In high school, I defied all expectations by flourishing. I spent valuable summers studying in college classes in order to advance to the next level of mathematics, science, literature, and history. I graduated with a high GPA, and got into an ivy league university with an entire semester of college credits already under my belt. I spent my college years taking two more classes each semester than required, and graduated on time with two degrees instead of just one. I got a high-paying job in the city immediately after school.

I was born with a need to compensate for myself. I learned fast how to overcompensate. And thirty years later, I am very, very good at it.

Yet, I still have to pay several hundred dollars a week for therapy, psychotherapy, and drugs. Just because I look successful, doesn’t mean I am.

“It’s Elizabeth.” I say to the intercom. I hear a buzzer from inside the front entrance sound, and I push the door open. The Brooklyn brownstone, now converted into an apartment building, is narrow, so as I enter I must be careful to sidestep the pile of packages waiting for the upper middle-class, one child, two parents city families to arrive home from karate and clarinet lessons.

Rachel, my therapist, likes to talk about my parents a lot. About being exposed to sexuality at too young an age, about being moved from city to city, state to state, about being underestimated, about being ignored. She’s very fascinated with them. To be honest, it’s a bit of an obsession. But somedays, we move away from them.

“How’s the thing with Kyle going?” She asks. I can feel my cheekbones burn as I glance at the warped caramel wood floor. His name isn’t Kyle, but I don’t tell her that. Don’t get me wrong, I love my therapist. But I’m not confident she’d be ok with the knowledge that Kyle is a pseudonym for one of her other patients. I’m worried if I ever told her, she’d disown me as a client. And I don’t think I could handle that.

Clients aren’t supposed to be connected outside of therapy, right? You and your therapist are supposed to be a bubble, completely removed from the outside world, unaffected by anything that doesn't exist within that one hour every week?

Like most over-achievers and alcoholics, I’m a little insane.

I shrug at Rachel. The Kyle things ok, I say. It’s underwraps.

I had sex with Kyle. I’m not going to lie, it was pretty great. Amazing, really. I don’t know if he’d agree. I’m not convinced he’s not a total slut. He broke it off though. He thought it’d get too complicated. Him being my boss and all.

Whatever. He’s a fucking basic bitch. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with him. He’s so… unimpressive. So typical. Yet, I can’t go to sleep without thinking about him. Scott texts me and I hope it’s him. Jared calls and my heart flutters with the idea that it’s Kyle. It’s never Kyle though. He has better things to do than to care about me.

But I know that’s selling him short. One drunken night, I opened up myself to him and he encouraged me to seek help, even giving me his therapist’s number.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to help you find someone you could talk to.”

I’m sure he didn't expect me to see her. I’m not really sure why I did. I often shrug it off as that quiet, highly intelligent but crazy part of me.

I’ve been seeing her for months. I love her. I want to stop loving Kyle. But….

We had a meeting the other week. Me, Kyle, and Jacelyn. Jacelyn. That fucking fat thighed cunt. I watched, bile rising to my throat, as she hugged him like an old friend. As she rested her hand on his arm, explaining the specifics of statistical averages or some bullshit I don’t really care about. He doesn’t hug me. He doesn’t text me. He doesn’t care if I show up or not. I could die in the streets and he wouldn’t notice.

“Elizabeth who?” He’d ask, before brushing his brown hair out of his eyes and taking a sip of coffee.

I could be stabbed by a homeless man, raped by a drunk frat boy, butchered by a deranged psychokiller, and Kyle would shrug before showing up late to my funeral, some size 0 floozy on his arm.

Maybe that’s why I’m obsessed with him? Because he cares so little for me. I’ve been dumped before. A lot, really. I’m not the type of person to do the dumping. I am the type to emotionally manipulate someone else into dumping me. Rachel and I are working on that.

Fucking Jacelyn. The flighty bitch. I don’t even really hate her. I just hate him that much. Yet, I know if he called me, asked me to leave some important event to wait hopelessly at a bar just to be stood up, like I knew I would be, I’d drop everything.

I feel powerless. I feel fucking pissed. After our meeting ended, as I drowned myself in cheap beer and tequila and cigarettes, I fantasized about killing him, about crushing his throat with the weight of my pain, frustration, and hatred. I know I couldn’t though. I know I’d stop. I love him too much.

Luckily, sometimes, the universe provides for us. Last month, it provided something hours with Rachel could never provide: visceral satisfaction.

I live in Manhattan. I’m not bragging, it’s just a fact. Something going to a high end school afforded me, while leaving my bank account in the negative for the rest of my life. I was taking the 6 train home, as I do every night. It was late.

The train was filled, but not crowded. I had the privilege, as a lone white woman, of sitting in a row of seats by myself. Or it could have been that I was in the back corner, a place reserved for the handicap or half passed out drunk college kids at 2am.

A group of young men occupied the row beside me and in front of me, whooping and hollering like a gaggle of monkeys, dangling from the ceiling rails as they pursed their lips outward, echoing each other’s cries of misogyny and ego.

My eyes glanced over at a businessman, sitting half hidden behind the group. His face taut with concentration as he stared at his phone. I snorted silently to myself as I saw the reflection of his screen in the window behind him: he was playing Candy Crush.

Rolling my eyes, I looked to the other side of the car. My gaze fell on a young woman, probably in her early twenties. Her sleeveless blouse was loose, gently hugging the curves of her chest before billowing out around her slim waist. I lingered on her toned arms, tanned from the summer sun. I thought of my eyes as Kyle's, admiring her femininity with lust.

I looked down at the novel my friend recommended, that had been sitting, neglected, in my purse for the past few months. It was a classic, and the character discussed her prospects of marriage too much for my tastes.

I glazed over the words, my mind lingering unwillingly on Kyle’s scent. He smelled warm and clean, like laundry detergent, yet no one else I knew was followed that much by the scent of clean clothes. He couldn’t be the only one to use that detergent. How does he smell so strongly? It’s like an aerial glue, that pulls at me in every conference, or when he pops by my office to pick something up. It catches in my nose, like the hook on a fisherman’s line, and tugs at me, despite how unwilling I am to follow.

My legs were crossed, and I bobbed my dangling foot in the air. I’ve never been one for sitting still. I’m sure Rachel would say that’s somehow related to that time I walked in on my parents having sex. Five years after their divorce. Not that it was the first time I’d walked in on my father having sex. Just the first time it was with my mother. I remember being nine and seeing his girlfriend’s bare breasts, her large dark nipples protruding as I looked on, wide-eyed, at a scene I couldn’t fully comprehend.

Rachel wasn’t surprised to learn, that the few times I’ve had sex with other women, I seemed to have quite the tit fetish.

I sometimes wonder if that’s why my ex-husband eventually wanted to get a boob job. Or if it was his gender-fluidness I was attracted to in the first place. Or if that’s why I was attracted to Kyle. And Scott. And Jared. They were bros, through and through. Maybe I wanted less female influence in my sex life. Rachel would say that was me fucking less like my dad, and fucking more like I was being fucked by him.

Fucking therapists and their Oedipus complex.

My foot shook with the impatience of sitting still, the old-fashioned yellow subway seat beneath my bare thighs as my business skirt hiked it’s way up towards my lap. I didn’t care. Modesty was never my thing.

I thought of my lifeless corpse, bloated with murky water and cold to the touch, being dragged up from the Hudson, a dull red slit from ear to ear. I imagined the detective, his hand expertly crawling up my thigh, as he examined the bruises my killer left. His signature on my pale skin. Kyle getting a call, telling him I was dead. Him nodding silently, the phone clutched to his ear as he remembered my warm, living body beneath his. As he imagined the spreadsheets he didn’t know how to fill out, left half empty in my work folder on the shared hard drive. My expressionless face lingering in his mind as he glanced over to Jacelyn, her low cut shirt exposing too much cleavage.

I knew from experience that Kyle also had a bit of a tit fetish.

I brought the plastic straw to my lip and took a drink. The warm, bitter taste of beer hit my tongue with pleasure.

The train skidded to an abrupt stop. Looking up, I glanced at the electronic map. Four more stops till I was home. I groaned, and looked around. The young men hadn’t even noticed, the businessman was still engrossed in the sweet falling pieces of brightly colored candy.

I continued to read the words of a woman entwined in the social construct of sex and marriage and the myth of love. I had seen love before. And I knew it to be fake. A half-thought out blend of hormones and evolutional training. Maybe it wasn’t laundry detergent Kyle smelled of, maybe it was pheromones? Sparkly, clean, fabric softening pheromones.

The train was still stopped. I looked up at the map again, as if it would have changed. I’m 15 minutes from my stop. Why am I still here? I uncrossed my legs, recrossing the previously bottom thigh over the other, the damp skin clinging to the yellow plastic. I thought of Jacelyn and her description of some new global social synergistic bullshit. I looked up at the young men in front of me, still hollering as if no one else was in the car with them. I tried to will one to look at me. To fuck me with his eyes.

They didn’t seem to notice. They never do.

I leaned back in the seat, and looked down at my book.

The main lights in the train went off with the low hum of electricity dying. The emergency lights remained on, illuminating the train car in a low white glow. The young men started whooping loudly, braven by the sudden mask of near-darkness. I shifted in my seat, slightly, trying to mask my discomfort. The men continued to pay no attention to me. The businessman looked around in confusion for a brief moment before shrugging to no one and continuing his game.

The emergency lights shuddered, and went out. I blinked in the blackness of the tunnel. I’ve been riding the New York City subways for more than ten years, and I had never seen the emergency lights cut out before. I listened, stretching my ears into the darkness, but only silence greeted me. The young men had become silent. I didn’t think the emergency lights could turn off.

I sat, as still as possible, not breathing. I closed my book slowly, turning my head from side to side, trying to make out any movement that might be coming towards me.

I felt something I don’t feel very often: vulnerability.

Placing the book back into my bag, I tightened my legs against each other, trying to protect myself from the darkness. Hugging my bag to my body, I listened intently. The train was disturbingly silent.

“Boo!” Yelled one of young men. I jumped in my seat and a high pitched scream from his friend followed, along with a chorus of loud laughing. My heart pounded and I sighed with relief. Voices now filled the car around me, normal speech volume increased to compensate for the lack of visuals. My body relaxed as the tension melted from my muscles.

The train filled with the sounds of strangers chatting, some joking about the situation, other freaking out, faces illuminated with the glow of screens and the small flashlight beams from phones traveling from body to body. The train’s speakers were oddly quiet, no staticy voice explaining the bizarre situation. I groaned internally, and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the greasy glass of the train window, now shrouded in nothingness.

I felt someone sit beside me. Alarms began to ring throughout my head as I shifted slightly away from their mass. I stayed sitting though, not wanting to be rude or to try and walk around in the darkness. The roving flashlights had stopped, pointed at either the ceiling or floor, or occasionally a book. The light illuminated some of the train, but mostly filled it with tall dark shadows. My end of the train remained fairly black. The young men had moved further down, probably trying to find a group of young women to comfort. I squinted towards where I remembered the businessman sitting, but it was too dark for me to see him.

Hot breathing climbed up the side of my neck. Goosebumps formed and I scooted further towards the wall, away from my neighbor. I felt the large mass move with me, pressing up against my side, squeezing me between him and the wall. From the size, I assumed it was a man. His body was firm and he was leaning on me, his thighs, stomach, and chest blanketing me.

I opened my mouth to protest, but a large hairy hand covered half my face. My bag fell to the floor with a quiet clang as I twisted in my seat, trying to force his body away from mine, but he only moved closer.

He rotated onto me, his chest against mine. I could feel his breath on my face. The hand he wasn’t using to cover my mouth grabbing clumsily at my breast. His pants stiffened, his erection pressing against my thigh as hot tears flowed down my cheeks.

My mind jumped away from the situation, and for just a moment, the heavy mass of my attacker was colored over with the sensation of Kyle on top of me. My brain was heavy with alcohol as I reached to him, encouraging his frame onto mine, kissing his neck. I dropped my head into the pillow, my hands on his shoulders as he looked at me, his eyes glazed with lust and beer.

“How’s Stacey?” I had asked.

He shrugged and looked to the wall, “I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

My hand grazed down his chest, relishing in the fine light brown hairs. So soft it felt like fur.

“How have you been?” He asked, not looking at me.

My attacker’s fingers grasped onto my nipple, pinching hard. I squeezed my eyes in pain, and pushed feebly at his form.

How had I been? Why the fuck was I having sex with someone who didn’t ask how I was until seconds away from being inside me? Why the fuck was I in love with a man who I wasn’t convinced would notice if I died? And why the fuck does he refuse to acknowledge me?

I bit down. Hard.

The man gasped, his hand flying from my mouth. I gulped in air from the train, no longer tainted by his sweaty grasp.

Kyle’s half-cocked smile filled my mind

“You’re adorable.” He said.

My hand shot through the black air. I found flesh, and I grabbed at it. It was thick and sweaty, but narrow enough for my fingers to wrap around it. The man gasped and tried to cry out, but the sound was only halfway from his lips before the air stopped and his plea was muted. The din of the train echoed around us as the man fell silent.

“I think we should just be friends.” He said.

I had found his throat.

I squeezed as he tried to fall back, but while he was heavy and strong, I was light and fast. I tightened my grip as I climbed on top of him, my knees digging into his lap. He tried to yelp in pain but no air could escape.

“You’re really good at that.” He said.

His wet throat felt more pliable in my hand than I would have expected. His skin pressed through between my fingers as I used the weight of my body to push into him. One large hand pulled at my arm as the other hit my chest. My breath caught with the force.

“I don’t want to cause any issues at work.” He said.

He grabbed the side of my head, and twisted. My neck strained with pressure, and the spots where his fingers dug into my flesh stung.

I reached my other arm up, squeezing his body between my thighs to keep myself balanced, and took his face in my hand. My thumb found his cheekbone, and then his eye.

“We’ll hang soon.” He said.

I dug my thumb deep into the organ, my other hand clamping his throat hard so his scream couldn’t escape.There was a wet popping sound as the eyeball burst with the pressure. Warm liquid spattered up my arm. The man convulsed, his arm hitting the side of my face hard. I was knocked forward, banging against the plastic seat in front of us. My head rang, and I could feel wetness in my hair.

“Fucking bitch.” He coughed, his voice weak from his damaged throat. His hand grabbed my knee and pulled me towards him. I felt my leg snap with the strain and the sides of the seat dug into me painfully.

I grabbed the man’s head in both of my hands, and pulled. He screamed.

“I’ve been busy.” He said.

“Are you ok?” Someone yelled. I could hear the rest of the train, finally aware of an issue at the back of the car, begin to converge.

“I don’t want you to take it personally.” He said.

I pulled again, kicking in the opposite direction, the hoarse screaming in my ear deafening me, until I heard a loud crack, and the screaming stopped. The weight of the dark mass fell on top of me. Dead.

I laid there, his body on mine, and panted. My eyes were blinded with flashlights and I squinted at the featureless crowd around me.

“What the fuck!?!” Someone screamed.

“He was… he was…” I sputtered, pushing the man off of me. “He was trying to…” I exploded into sobs.

A reassuring arm wrapped around my shoulders, and lead me away from the back of the car as the lights came on.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience.” The conductor's voice hissed above us, “this train just experienced a complete power failure. We will be pulling into the station in just a moment. Police and medical personnel will be there to assist in any issues that might have arose during the blackout. Please do not leave the station until we’ve confirmed all passengers are ok.”

I looked back at the last seat in the car and saw the businessman who I had noticed playing Candy Crush earlier. He lay on the seats, his mouth opened. One eye stared right at me. The other was a mess of blood, dangling from his eye socket.

Guess what, Kyle. I did take it personally.

I wasn’t convicted of murder. It was bloody and overzealous, but it was still deemed self defense. I found out later that the man who tried to attack me was named Bryan. He had served a two month sentence for sexual assault and attempted rape four years ago. The state appointed lawyer told me that was good. A past criminal record and Bryan’s lack of any family to press charges against me meant I was mostly in the clear.

I was in the news a lot, after it happened. A lot of people called me a victim. Some called me a hero, and some called me a psychotic bitch. I don’t mind though. It feels good to have affected someone. Because I'm affectual. I killed a man with my bare hands. You could even say I’m impressive.

#nosleep #shortstory #horror #nyc #meltingalphabet

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notsoguiltykpop · 8 years ago

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The Ghost in Apartment 1403

You x Namjoon

Genre: Angst, supernatural, fluff, humor

Warnings: Mentions of death, dark themes, generally kind of sad at times.

Part 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Credits: Loosely inspired by the movie “Just Like Heaven”

Namjoon had never believed in ghosts. He had always been more of a science person, preferring fact over speculation. He was called a nerd in high school and a genius in college, but the words didn’t change anything—he honestly just liked to learn things.

Taehyung said he could sense ghosts, feel their “auras” he said. Namjoon had laughed and told him that was ridiculous. He had then proceeded to check out all the books he could find in the library disproving supernatural theories. Taehyung had not read a single one, so Namjoon told him the important parts.

There was no such thing as ghosts, so Taehyung should go back to studying math and quit insisting he had the potential to be a medium.

The irony of it all was laughable.

“You were right, Tae.” Namjoon sighed, watching one of his best friends sit on his bedroom floor and flip through his old notebooks. The younger couldn’t hear him, though.

The door to the room was pushed open further, and Yoongi shuffled in. His eyes were red, but he looked fairly calm as he knelt down on the floor by Taehyung.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Taehyung mused quietly. “I thought I was okay, but being here, going through his stuff…”

Yoongi nodded, patting him on the back sympathetically. “I know, I was thinking the same thing. I’m just glad his parents didn’t throw everything out. A lot of this crap was special to him, he wouldn’t want it going in the landfill.”

Namjoon smiled. Yoongi knew him so well. His parents had been by, they had taken all the family pictures and a few other things, and then made a phone call.

“If none of you want it, we’ll call someone to clean out the apartment. I just… I can’t go through it, and the landlord wants his stuff out.”

Namjoon had wanted so badly to hug his mother, tell her that it was okay, that he was okay. He didn’t even remember what had happened. He remembered leaving his house for work, and then there was just… Nothing. Until he opened his eyes and he was back in his apartment, two months later and invisible. He couldn’t touch things without intense concentration, and even then, if someone looked in his direction it was impossible. After some initial freaking out, screaming, and then some crying, he had come to the conclusion that he was a ghost.

“Are you going to keep those?” Yoongi’s voice brought Namjoon back to reality, and floated closer to the pair.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to frame this one.” Taehyung held out the page for Yoongi to see, and Namjoon laughed. All of the notebooks Taehyung was looking through held lyrics for songs he had written, but of all of the pages to frame…

“Didn’t he write this in his freshmen year?” Yoongi laughed. “God, he was so over dramatic.”

Taehyung nodded, smiling even though there was sadness in his eyes. “I know right? That’s kind of why I picked it. I feel like it really captures how cringy he was in high school.” All three of them laughed but it didn’t last long.

“I miss him.” Taehyung said, running his fingers over the paper.

“Me too.” Yoongi sniffed loudly, clearing his throat. “Namjoon would tell us not to be sad, though.”

“Yeah, I would.” Namjoon sighed. Jungkook walked in, and Namjoon couldn’t help but feel horrible. He looked like he had taken it the hardest. His eyes were puffy and his nose red, looking nothing like the sophisticated young man Namjoon was used to seeing. Without even thinking, Namjoon reached for his arm. It passed through him and Jungkook shivered.

“Is there a draft in here?” He asked, walking over to where the other two were sitting.

“Look at what I found.” Taehyung said, holding up the notebook with Namjoons angsty lyrics scrawled all over it. Jungkook shook his head, looking down at his shoes instead.

“I can’t—maybe some other time, Tae.” Jungkook rubbed his sleeve over his eyes. Yoongi stood and stretched before speaking.

“Why don’t we go out for lunch. My treat.” Namjoon was so grateful to Yoongi. The older didn’t often like people to know that he cared, but he was one of the most perceptive people Namjoon had ever met.

“Thank you.” Namjoon said, even though the words fell on deaf ears. “I’m glad they have you, Yoongi. You’ll take care of them.”

Over the next few weeks, Namjoon watched as his apartment was cleared out. He watched when the landlord discovered the hole in the wall that Namjoon had accidentally created when he was trying to hang a picture and the hammer had missed the nail. He cried when his mother walked through the empty place that he had called home one final time. And then he got bored.

He could have haunted the people he loved, but for the moment, that was too painful. He couldn’t just watch them go about their daily lives and not talk to them, not laugh with them, not… Exist to them.

So he decided to haunt his apartment. He did a good job of creeping people out who were thinking about renting the place, though it wasn’t on purpose. He had a tendency to float a little too close to people, only to have them turn around and walk right through him. He didn’t like it any more than they did, but while he would feel weirded out and a little tingly, they would feel as though they were doused with ice water, not to mention the feeling of “walking through a spider web” that he heard so much. After a while, the property manager had put some potted plants in to make it feel more “homey,” but it had completely backfired when Namjoon tried to water the things. He had finally managed to pick up the pot and was half-way over to the sink when the door opened and it crashed to the ground.

“I read online that this place was haunted!” The women that was supposed to have been looking at the apartment screamed, hurrying past the manager and out into the hall. The man (Namjoon was pretty sure his name was Jaebum) had sighed, walking over to the shattered pot and the ruined plant.

“If there is a ghost, I’d appreciate it if you’d go away. You’re costing me a lot of money, you know. No one wants to rent a haunted apartment.”

Namjoon had taken the opportunity to step through the man, giving him chills and thoroughly disturbing him in the process.

“Okay, I get it. I’m leaving. But leave the plants alone, please?”

No one came by for a while after that, so Namjoon started wandering through the rest of the apartment complex. The old lady next door had a tendency to leave her stove on, the young couple below him were about to go crazy with their screaming newborn, and the man across from him was downright weird. He discovered something while doing this—newborns and animals could see him. He had all manner of ideas as to why this would be, whether it was because there was something different about their brain, or if perhaps their minds weren’t clouded by expectations. It didn’t really matter though.

He was busy making faces at the baby downstairs (her parents couldn’t figure out what had finally made her stop crying, but they were relieved none the less) when he heard noises above him.

“I’ll see you later, okay kiddo?” Namjoon said. “I’m going to teach you how to speak other languages so you won’t have trouble in school.” With that, he drifted upwards and through the ceiling. His apartment was a mess.

Movers were everywhere, carrying furniture, boxes and—was that a keyboard?

“What are you doing?” Namjoon demanded, forgetting for a second that he couldn’t be heard by adults.

“Let’s get this over with as soon as possible!” One of them grunted, helping another man carry a dresser into Namjoons bedroom. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Can you imagine her face when she realizes this place is haunted?” Another laughed from the kitchen. “But the poor girl already signed a two-year lease!”

There was more laughter, and Namjoon began to panic. Girl? Lease? He couldn’t share an apartment with someone! But this was his home, where else was he supposed to go? Then again, whoever it was wouldn’t exactly appreciate living with him, either. He had already freaked out so many people, and they weren’t living with him.

Whoever it was, they were in for one hell of a surprise when they got there.

A/N I have no idea what this is. I haven’t had the brain power to work on series or requests, but this idea has been floating around in my head for a while and I’ve been pretty stressed so I decided to write it. There will be future parts, I hope you look forward to them! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think! <3 </p>

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