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haddonfieldproject · 3 years

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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

WARREN COUNTY/CARPENTER COUNTY LINE, ILLINOIS

Twenty Seven Hours Later

“Oh god!” The Governor turned from the Mustang with a hand over her mouth, her face suddenly pale.

“Oh jesus fuck!”

She took off across the roadway, running has fast as her flats would carry her. One of those shiny black shoes slipped on the wet asphault causing her to teeter, but she did not fall. She reached the tall wet grass on the opposite side of the road, bent, and proceeded to vomit in the ditch there. Salazar hurried after her.

Meeker and McGrath gave each other a tired look, and then looked back to the wreck. They barely noticed the white truck pull up behind them and Fred Colbourne hop out. A siren wailed in front of them as another Carpenter County Fire Department vehicle joined the other one and ejected six or seven more fire fighters in full yellow and orange regalia.

McGrath pointed to the crumpled body which lay in the middle of the road, atop the white lines.

“That's definitely Lloyd Chumway there,” he said morosely, “And this one here in the drivers seat...that's Lee.”

Meeker spit. “Pretty well intact, considering.”

“Well, they were in a pretty nice truck.” McGrath said, glancing over to the Governor who had now dropped to her knees. Salazar held her gently by the shoulders. She was still wretching.

“It's Booger's truck,” Meeker replied softly.

“The cook from the diner? The one with his head in the..”

Meeker cut him off, “Yep.”

“What about the kids in the Mustang? Can you ID them?” McGrath asked, walking around to the other side of the orange sports-car.

“Well,” Meeker took a deep breath, “This is Brad Doyle's mustang. He's pretty well known by the police around here. Not a bad kid.” He spit again, “But not a very good one either.”

McGrath's eyes panned across the headless torso in the driver's seat clad in a blood soaked Code Orange shirt. Bits of blood, bone, and brain lay all over the steel bumper of the truck which had completley intruded upon the cab of the Mustang. Some of it belonged to Brad, some belonged to the mess of a carcass that lay in the center of the car beside him. There was nothing but a heap of blood, skin, bones, and some sort of leopard print clothing. Another crumpled body lay in the backseat. Young female, her head turned around the wrong way on her neck. She was missing her legs.

“Do you know these other two occupants?” McGrath asked.

“The one in the backseat is Kyndra Bailey. I'm guessing this one,” he gulped as he looked over the tattered remains, “this one is probably Zoey Gonland, her girlfriend. They liked to hang out with Brad.”

McGrath looked up from the other side of the car, “More trouble makers?”

“They were good kids. A little bit of the talk of the town, but good kids.”

McGrath shook his head, “I don't follow.”

“A high school lesbian couple in a small town like this. Everyone knows them.”

“Jesus God Almighty,” Fred Colbourne said as he stepped up to the wreck beside them.

Another man, this one tall and thin with short brown hair, a yellow polo shirt and khaki pants also appeared beside them. Meeker looked at him. The man extended his hand.

“I'm Shelton Ganoux, the Carpenter County Medical Examiner. They called for me as soon as they arrived.” The man said, nodding a head to the fire fighters who were laboring around the wreck of the semi-truck and ambulance.

“And we here in Warren County greatly appreciate your help,” Meeker said, shaking the young man's hand firmly. “We've had one hell of a night over here and our boys are a little tied up.”

Ganoux half-bowed his head, “So I've heard.”

“What the hell happened out here,” Colbourne asked.

The Governor and Salazar re-appeared next to them. The Governor pulled a kleenex from her pantsuit pocket and dabbed at her mouth.

“It appears we have two separate accidents, occurring within about an hour and a half of each other. The orange sports-car, the truck, and the tractor trailer incident occurred at around six o'clock this morning, while the ambulance seems to have collided with the tractor trailer at around seven thirty.”

“Makes sense,” Meeker mumbled.

“What?” Colbourne asked, “What makes sense.”

“It looks like Mustang was behind the tractor trailer and went to try and pass him when they struck the Chumway Brothers in the truck coming from the opposite direction.” McGrath said.

Meeker's phone began to vibrate in his pants. He pulled it out, hit the green button on the screen, and stuck it to his ear.

“Meeker!” He barked. The voice that answered was gruff.

“Hey Deputy, it's Lorne Appleby.”

“Who?”

“Appleby, from Protective Services.”

“Oh right. Well?”

“Nothing yet. I'm gonna head to the hotel room for some shut eye. Miss. Cromer should be back in a few hours. Just wanted to keep you abreast of the...”

“Mrs. who?”

“Cromer...Ellen Cromer...from DCF.”

Meeker rubbed his forehead. “Aww yeah..right right. I'm sorry Appleby, I got a million things going on right now.”

“I know, I know. Like I said, just wanted to keep you abreast of the situation.”

“Who do I got over there now?”

“Officer Chang just left, Officer Stanton just arrived, two other officers in a squad car just went on patrol an hour or so ago...forgive me, I don't remember their names.”

Meeker adjusted the phone from one ear to the other. “Oh right, that's Warner and Farnsworth I think.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Meeker ended the call.

“Who was that?” Fred asked.

“Guy from Protective Services about Maddie Keane.”

“Still haven't found her?” Colbourne asked.

Meeker shook his head and waved at the wreckage in front of him. “And if it wasn't for all this shit and everything else I'd have every god damn cop out there looking for her.”

Fred patted his friend's back. “I know Bengie. I know. You're doing the best you can.”

They were quiet for awhile and Ben took some deep breaths to gather his thoughts.

“You know what I'm wondering?” Colbourne asked after some time had passed.

“What's that?” Ben replied quietly.

“How in the world did no one around here hear a wreck like that?”

“Well the only ones out here are Reverend Taylor over there,” he pointed to his right, to a house on the top of a hill, “and Amos Yoder. Amos claims to have been woken up by the second accident, he's talking to the state troopers now.” he pointed to his left, toward a dirt road leading down to a quaint little farmhouse with a big red barn. An Amish man was indeed standing along side the curb next to his driveway talking to an Illinois State Trooper who was dictating his statement on a clipboard.

“Amos said he slept right through the first accident, and I've known Kevin Taylor for years, we had sleep overs together when we were kids. He has to sleep with some kind of noise. He always brought a sound machine to my house, annoying little shit.” Meeker continued, “He sleeps with a box-fan I think. He probably couldn't hear a frieght train coming through his living room.”

“Besides that it was still raining at six o'clock this morning,” Ganoux said, “the sound of the storm could have muffled much of the noise.”

“I just can't believe Gary Windorf didn't see the over-turned tractor trailer.” Colbourne said, gesturing to the ambulance. Gary Windorf had been the driver.

“We told him to haul ass,” Meeker sighed, “it was still dark and raining.”

“Plus he was coming up from over this hill,” McGrath added, waving at the rise in the road behind them.

The Governor cleared her throat. “So we have the Chumway brothers here...where the hell is Myers? Is he in the back of that ambulance where he belongs?”

“Who is Myers?” Ganoux asked.

“Objective number one,” Meeker replied, “Big guy, jumpsuit..”

“The guy with the mask, kinda toasty?”

“That'd be him,” McGrath nodded.

“He's over there.” Ganoux pointed. Three firefighters crouched beside a body near the tree line. The figure was face down in the mud only a few feet from the trailer of Gabriel Couture's truck. “It appears the patient was thrown from the ambulance.”

“But he's dead?” Meeker asked.

“Very much so. He hit a tree in mid air.” Ganoux replied.

“He was dead before he was even put in the ambulance,” Colbourne grunted.

“Well, I can't tell that. I'd need to do a full autopsy to do that.” Ganoux said.

“Forget that,” The Governor spat, “Get his ass in a body bag and let's get it back to the High School. Get all these bodies over there so we can...”

She was interrupted by the sound of approaching vehicles. The whole party turned as a black GMC Van pulled up behind the firetrucks. In the distance, it looked as if the van had been followed by a train of semi-trucks. The truck tractors where plain white with no lettering, while the trailers were gray, and also blank. The hiss of the parking brakes sounded off one at a time.

The doors of the GMC Van opened. Several almost identical looking Caucasian men in black suits stepped out. They seemed to be led by another man, who had climbed out of the passenger side of the van. He was older than the others, judging by the gray in his hair.

The older gentlemen stepped up and extended his hand to the Governor.

“Governor Harris?” He asked simply.

“I am,” The Governor replied, taking his hand.

“I'm Dick Spencer, Director of the Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team for Region Five.”

“How do you do?” The Governor asked with a forced smile. “This is Deputy McGrath of the---”

Spencer cut her off and pulled a piece of paper from the inside breast pocket of his coat, “Did you request Federal Response?”

“Yes sir, we've had a bad night in this town---” The Governor started but again, Spencer cut her off.

“And you are fully aware that in so doing, you have allowed the Department of Homeland Security to begin to conduct an investigation into the order, as to the reasons why such an order would be placed pursuant to Guideline 542, section B, article F?”

The Governor looked at Meeker and then to McGrath, who took the roll of papers from Agent Spencer. “Yes sir..I am aware of the...”

“Excellent then,” Spencer looked down at the papers and began to thumb through them, “I have two affidavits for your law enforcement officers here to fill out. They must be in precise detail as to the events that transpired over the night , and why you would need to place an order for a portable refrigeration unit for casualty victims.” He looked at McGrath, “You need to fill one out as does this local officer...Officer----???”

Meeker took one of the papers, “Deputy Sheriff Ben Meeker.”

“Meeker,” Spencer nodded, “I also have a battery of questions we need to go over, but first I have three questions.”

McGrath took the other paper, “Yeah, shoot.”

“Do you or do you not want to be a big pain in my ass today?” Spencer asked.

McGrath laughed in spite of himself. “What?”

“I'm not aware that I said anything amusing Agent?” Spencer replied, cutting a look to Meeker and then back at McGrath, “Do you want to be a big pain in my ass today?”

“No sir,” McGrath replied.

Spencer looked back at Meeker, “Do you want to be a big pain in my ass Deputy Sheriff?”

“No sir,” Meeker replied.

“Excellent,” Spencer said, “Now let's get something straight. I don't want to be here, okay?”

Meeker and McGrath nodded.

“You are aware that last night was Halloween?” Spencer asked.

Meeker and McGrath looked at one another, not sure how to answer. McGrath was brave enough to try. “Well—yes...”

“Do little girls and boys play dress up on Halloween?” Spencer asked.

The two men looked at each other again and then replied in unison: “Yes sir,”

“You know who else plays dress up?”

Meeker and McGrath looked at each other a third time and then back at Spencer and shook their heads.

“Russian mail order brides play dress up,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. “Just hours ago, I was playing dress up with my Russian mail order bride, and you can imagine what kind of activities proceed playing dress up and drinking Vodka and 7-Up all night. And you can imagine how doing these things would be very taxing for a man my age, couldn't you?”

“Yes sir,” the men replied.

“I would like nothing better than to be back in my bed, in my Chicago penthouse, with Katya on my ‪Saturday morning‬. But instead, I'm called out to this piss-ant little town in the Storm-of-the-fuckin'-century. You can imagine how that would put me in a bad mood, correct?”

“Yes sir,” the men agreed.

“If there is any thing between those two affidavits that doesn't match up, or if there is anything that has transpired in this town that isn't cherry, or if the two of you aren't one hundred percent crystal clear and straight with me and obedient to my will like two little golden retriever puppy dogs, I will have Washington DC on my ass, and I don't want ‪Washington DC‬ on my ass for anything, and that will turn you into a big pain in the ass for me, and we don't want that now do we?”

“No sir,” they responded.

“I want to get this over with so I can go back home and enjoy my weekend, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” Spencer pointed to the trucks, “Second question,” he said, “Where is the mobile refrigeration unit going to be erected?”

McGrath stuttered and looked at Meeker.

Meeker swallowed and said, “Best place I guess would be the parking lot of the high school...we've already set up a field---.”

“You guess?” Spencer stammered.

“Yes sir,” The Governor cut in, “The parking lot of the High School is where we want it.”

“What high school? I need a name people! I need an address!” Spencer's volume level went up a notch.

“It's Haddonfield High School, on the corner of Belmont and Main Street,” Meeker said.

“Well is it Belmont or Main Street?!” Spencer nearly roared.

“‪248 Belmont Avenue‬,” Meeker responded calmly.

“Got it,” one of the accompanyng men in black suits said quietly, and then they all turned to walk toward the first truck.

“Third question,” Spencer said, his volume level returning to normal, “is there a police station in this god-forsaken town that we conduct business in, or do we rednecks like to stand out in the road and play with our dicks in front of a bunch of mangled car accident victims?”

“I have two of my boys setting up a big tent in the parking lot of the hospital. That's gonna be ground zero for now until that scene gets under control and we can shift everything to the high school.” Meeker replied.

“The tent we use for the exhibitions on fair days and stuff. The recruitment tent?” Colbourne asked.

“Exactly. Herman Beach and Chris Huber are grabbing it from the storage unit. They should be there any minute. We should probably get over there now, I think we're done here.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Spencer said, turning back toward his vehicle. “There better be coffee.”

The Governor piped up, “Don't you have a Mayor in this town somewhere? Someone is gonna have to talk to the press!”

Meeker winced.

NEXT>> (Coming Soon)

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 4 years

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The Definition of Anything-happyaspie [2020-2-27]

The heater in Peter's apartment goes out on the coldest day of the year and the landlord seemed to be overrun with maintenance requests. Calling Tony to help him out seemed like the next logical solution. After all, he had told him many, many times that he should call him if he ever needed anything. The man had never really specified what 'anything' meant but he figured that by definition, 'I'm cold and you know how to fix things.', fell into that category. Right?

❄----❄----❄----❄----❄

--Anything--

Pronoun: Any thing whatever; something, no matter what.

Noun: A thing of any kind.

Adverb: In any degree; to any extent; in any way; at all.

Link to AO3-The Definition of Anything-happyaspie

It was the middle of February and the temperature had decided to take a sudden nose dive into the negative numbers. Not that those kinds of things would stop Peter from patrolling. Seeing as Tony had helpfully provided him with an in-suit heater, he was sure he would be fine and for a while, he was. Though once the sun had completely set, the wind started to become so bitter that, eventually, the heater could no longer keep up.

Seeing as the icy negative fifteen-degree weather seemed to be enough to detour any major crime from taking place in the borough, Peter began to swing him towards his warm bed. The first thing he noticed as he stood inside his closet shimmying off the suit was that it wasn't particularly warm in the apartment. It wasn't cold... it just wasn't as warm and cozy as he'd imagined it would be. So, once he was in a pair of joggers and t-shirt he walked down the hall towards the thermostat. He wasn't surprised by the display saying that it was sixty-one degrees in the house. The entire system was old and a little touchy. It wasn't unusual to have to knock the desired temperature up a few degrees in order to get the unit to kick in. Therefore, he hit the up arrow a couple of times, went back to his room to crawl under the covers and fell instantly asleep.

A few short hours later, he woke up to the sound of May getting ready for work. Though, having not gotten to bed until late he didn't bother to climb out of bed. He did instantly realize that his room was still cold and looked towards his window to make sure that he'd remembered to close it. When it was indeed locked shut, he sighed and pulled his comforter up a little more tightly under his chin. He wasn't worried. If it was really that cold in the apartment, May would turn up the heater before she left.

Except, the next time he woke up he could no longer ignore the chills that were dancing up and down his spine. He lay there for several minutes waiting to hear the hum of the heater begin to blow warmth into his room but it never did. So, with a huff, he pulled the blankets over his shoulders and sat up. May was long gone for her first shift of the day and he was going to have to finagle the stupid thermostat himself. However, once he placed his socked foot onto the laminate flooring, he sucked a hiss in through is teeth. The floor was so cold that it burned but he powered through and hurried towards the thermostat in the hall that showed the temperature to be a balmy forty-six degrees.

As he stood there hopping from foot to foot to avoid having any kind of prolonged contact with the floor, he tapped the arrow to send the desired temperature up well past eighty. Though he knew it wouldn't do any good. Something had finally given in and it was broken. There wasn't much he could do outside of requesting maintenance and he could do that from his bed.

After leaving a message with the landlord, Peter tucked himself back down under his covers. It crossed his mind that maybe putting on his Spider-man suit and swinging across the city with the heater running might warm him up but one look at the outside temperature had him changing his mind. Even with the sun up, it was still below freezing. Besides, he was already back to warming up under the blankets and the Spider-suit was all the way on the other side of the room.

For quite a while, Peter patiently waiting for someone to come to fix the heat but they never arrived. In fact, between the thin walls and the drafty windows, he could feel it becoming even colder in his room. His nose was frozen and he could feel it starting to run as a result. To make matters worse, his stomach was starting to protest his lack of breakfast. However, rather than get up, he grabbed at his phone with his suddenly uncoordinated fingers and attempted to leave another message with the landlord, only this time it seemed that the message box was full. Clearly, he wasn't the only one being affected by the cold snap.

Groaning in annoyance, Peter opened and closed his hands a few times to try and warm them up as he tried to decide what to do next. He considered trying to call May but there was no reason to do that, really. He'd already called to request the repair and it wasn't like she could do anything else. Calling her would just make her worry. Then he thought about going over to Ned's house because surely it was toasty warm in there but then he remembered he wasn't even home. Unlike him, he was still in the Robotics Club and would be spending the weekend at the school working on all the last-minute programming. Then, as he was flipping through his contacts list, his thumb landed on Tony's name... and that had him thinking.

The man was a genius. He knew how to do everything from fixing old car engines to creating an arc reactor and an Iron Man suit out of a box of scraps. Surely he could fix a broken heating unit. That and he had told him many, many times that he should call him if he ever needed anything. He'd never really specified what 'anything' meant but he figured that by definition, 'I'm cold and you know how to fix things.', fell into that category. So, with only slight hesitation he decided to send him a message. If nothing else, but to feel out the situation.

'Hey, Mr. Stark. Are you busy?', he typed out knowing that he probably was and that he'd just asked the stupidest question of all time. The man was a superhero who owned a gigantic tech business. Of course, he was busy. Then, just as he was about to retract the question he received an answer.

Tony, who had been in his workshop all night, literally knee-deep in a new Iron Man suit, smiled down at his phone when the familiar contact popped up on his screen. Peter rarely texted him before noon and he found himself curious as to what the kid was up to. 'I'm always busy. Why? What's up?', he typed back in return before his brain filled him on at least three thousand reasons why the kid could be texting him at nine o'clock in the morning. Especially on a weekend. Those were the days the teenager spent the majority of his time Spidering all over the city. 'Are you okay?', he added while simultaneously pulling up the information from the Spider-suit.

Still feeling, slightly apprehensive about asking his mentor to come over to his house, of all things, he decided to once again remain somewhat vague. 'I was sort of hoping that maybe you could come over to my apartment and help me.', he replied not realizing that by leaving out all context he was sending his mentor's heart rate through the roof.

A glance at the tracking information on the suit verified that it was inside of the Parker's apartment as Peter had indicated. However, the suit didn't seem to be on and the last activity that had been recorded was from the night prior. Upon further inspection, he saw that all of the vitals were within a normal range, short of a slight drop in body temperature and that there was no other indication that anything calamitus had happened. That was all well and good but at the same time, he knew that the teenager had been known to mess with the coding to prevent him from getting certain kinds of notifications. However, what was most worrying was that he'd straight-up, asked for help. He never asked for help. He could be bleeding out in an alley and would still insist that he had it all under control. He wouldn't put it past the kid to lay in his bed overnight, nursing a life-threatening injury, on his own, and then casually text him when he finally decided that maybe he didn't have it all under control, after all. That was all it took for him to call in a functional suit so that he could take off towards Queens. 'I'll be there soon, kid. Hang Tight.'

Being utterly relieved that help was on the way, Peter threw the comforter over his head completely and inadvertently drifted back to sleep. He never once considering how odd it was that his mentor had so quickly agreed to come over help him, despite having no idea what he needed help with.

While Peter was curled up in a tight ball, sound asleep in the little pocket of warmth he'd created for himself, Tony was flying towards him. He'd spent the first few minutes of the trip having FRIDAY go over the Spider-suit's video monitoring in an attempt to narrow down what he would be dealing with upon his arrival but the AI found nothing. He was trying to decide if that was more or less concerning when the familiar building finally came into view.

Deciding that it would be suspicious for Iron Man to go running through the halls of the Queen's apartment, Tony ditched the suit on the roof and began to climb down the fire escape that led into an alley, cursing himself the whole time for not thinking to put on a coat before he left. However, between the fridged air and the nagging worry, he managed to make quick work of the ricketty ladders and was soon inside, taking the stairs two at a time all the way up to the Parker's seventh-floor apartment.

Once he was outside the door he didn't even bother to knock, instead, he took the key that May had entrusted to him for emergencies and walked right in. He was unsurprised at the lack of activity in the large open room. Peter hiding an injury from his aunt would be a given. He wouldn't want her to worry. The fact that she'd already left for work was to be expected. Then, rather than announcing his presence, Tony bounded down the hall and threw Peter's bedroom door open steeling himself for the worst, only to end up face to face with a wide-eyed, sleep disheveled teenager looking back at him in surprise.

Having been abruptly pulled from his sleep by his bedroom door squeaking open, Peter rapidly sat up and pulled the light blue comforter off of his head while being careful to keep it tightly wound around his shoulders. "Mr. Stark!", he half croaked in surprise when he saw that it was his mentor and not his aunt standing in his doorway. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep but apparently it had been long enough for Tony to dive all the way there from Manhattan.

For several seconds Tony stood there and took in the kid's appearance. Well, what he could see of him anyway. Which wasn't much. All that was exposed was his head but his hair was a tangled mess, his nose was red and he could see him shivering where he sat. Upon further scrutiny, he realized that there were no signs of blood anywhere in the room and that all in all the kid didn't seem to be in any kind of distress. With that realization, he allowed himself to relax and it was then that he realized how cold it was in the room and involuntarily shivered himself. "Do you always keep your room this cold?", he asked as he crossed the room, carefully stepping over the various legos and school books that were strewn across the floor.

"N-no.", Peter replied through chattering teeth. "The heater's broken and the landlord hasn't sent anybody by to fix it yet.", he added before running his hand under his nose with a loud sniff. "I'm f-freezing."

After standing there for several more seconds the dots slowly began to connect and Tony huffed a laugh. "Is that why you called me?", he asked with amusement. "You're cold?", added, though he realized it was more than a little chilly in the apartment. It was near frigid.

"Well...", Peter replied with a small, although it be a bit sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "You said I could call you for anything, right?"

"I did.", Tony replied seriously. He'd been trying to drill it into the kid's thick skull for months that he not only could but defiantly should call him whenever he needed help with anything. Whether it had to do with Spider-man or not. Though, he'd assumed that whenever that first call for assistance came in, it would be over something a little more... detrimental. Not that he minded in the least but that wasn't going to stop him from giving the boy a hard time. "I just wasn't expecting it to be because you needed me to put an extra blanket on your bed and tuck you in."

"Actually I was kind of hoping you could fix the heater, Mr. Stark.", Peter replied as another violent shudder wracked through him. "...but an extra blanket would be nice too."

Tony then crossed into the room and patted Peter's leg so that he could sit down beside his shivering form. As he did so, he was more surprised than he probably should have been when the kid immediately leaned over onto him in an attempt to sap up his warmth. "Are you really that cold?", he asked with a chuckled as he wrapped an arm around the boy's blanketed shoulders. "How long has the heat been out?"

"I've been cold all night.", Peter replied with a contented hum, as the man started to run his hand up and down his back. "The heater in the suit, which is super awesome by the way, thank you... wasn't keeping up once it got really, really cold so I came home and I think the heater was already broken then."

"So, you never warmed up? Geez, kiddo. Come here.", Tony replied with genuine sympathy as he opened his arms up so that Peter could fall fully up against his body. They sat there for several minutes, Peter trying to absorb as much heat as possible from his mentor's warm embrace and Tony trying to come up with a plan that didn't have him sitting there acting as a human heating pad all day. "Alright, here's what we're going to do. We're going to move you out to the couch so that I can make you something warm to drink and then you're going to point me towards your tools so I can take a look at what's going on with the heater, yeah?"

"Mm-hmm.", Peter replied though he made no effort to remove himself from the comfortable position he was now in. That is until the man stood up and begin to pull him to his feet.

"Come on Linus Van Pelt, get your blanket and start walking. I'm too old to carry you.", Tony said once he had Peter standing reluctantly beside the bed.

"You're not that old, Mr. Stark...", Peter said in return, though he'd meant it as a compliment and not as a request.

Tony laughed as he continued out of the room shouting, "Still not carrying you.", over his shoulder as he went.

After a very quick stop in the extremely cold bathroom, Peter was settled on the couch and being handed a mug of hot tea. He took one small sip and then another, sighing as the warm liquid coated his throat and began to warm him from the inside out. "This is really good. Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're welcome. Now, where can I find some tools.", Tony asked and once Peter had pointed him in the right direction he got to work. First looking over the thermostat and then moving on to the heating unit its self. He had it apart in no time and was quick to diagnose the problem. "Looks like the capacitor's blown. That's why the fan won't cut on. Other than that, it looks okay."

"You can fix that, though, right?", Peter asked as he craned his neck around to where Tony was standing at the sink washing his hands.

"I can, but we need to get a new capacitor.",Tony replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "They should have one at the home improvement store around the corner. You coming with?"

"Sure.", Peter replied because that sounded better than sitting, cold and alone, on the couch while he waited for the man to get back. He was also sure that whatever fancy car the man had driven over would have seat warmers. Then before anything else could be said, his stomach grumbled so loudly that he was sure they could hear it three apartments over. "Can we get some food too, please?"

"Of course.", Tony replied with a chuckle. "I already messaged someone to bring me a car. It should be here any minute.", he then said. He'd actually done that the second changing the batteries in the thermostat hadn't done the trick and he was sure he would end up needing to go to the hardware store. Then he glanced over to see the look of confusion on his mentee's face he rolled his eyes. "What are you looking at me like that for? I didn't drive over this time."

"Then how did you get here?", Peter asked with perplexity. There were only so many ways one could get to Queens from Manhattan and he couldn't imagine the man taking the bus or subway.

"Before I answer that...", Tony began as he pointed an accusatory finger in his mentee's direction. "...let me make it very clear that you were being oddly cryptic and I thought you were dying...", he said with seriousness but rather than looking any kind of remorseful, he saw a smile spread across the teenager's face.

"Mr. Stark! You flew here in an Iron Man suit?", peter squawked with delight. While he felt just a tiny bit bad that he'd scared the man enough to make him think that he needed to rush to his side in an Iron Man suit, he was also extremely amused. It was sort of nice to know that his mentor cared that much about his well being.

Rather than playing into the kid's obvious enjoyment of the situation, Tony placed his hands indignantly onto his hips. "I repeat... you led me to believe that you were dying.", he stressed but even he could admit that maybe he'd overreacted just a little. It wasn't like he'd taken any amount of time asking what was wrong. The kid had said he needed help, his brain had demanded that he jump into action and his body had followed through.

"I'm sorry.", peter said though he continued to practically cackle at the mental image of Iron Man busting through the Tower's ceiling, jetting full speed across the city and landing on his building's rooftop.

Tony took a moment to wait out the teenager's continuous giggling, before even attempting to reply and when he did it was with playful sarcasm. "Yeah, you look it."

The trip to the store was quick, the fast-food was warm and soon the two of them were back in the apartment in their previous positions. However this time, Peter had a small electric heater sitting on the coffee table in front of him, blowing warm air in his direction. He'd been hesitant to accept the purchase when Tony had picked it up but now that it was there and cutting through the chill in the room, he was happy to have it. Even if it did take the man no more than twenty minutes to replace the part.

"Thank you for coming and fixing everything, Mr. Stark.", Peter said once, Tony had successfully turned on the heater with a celebratory, 'Yay.', and was sitting down beside him on the couch.

"You're welcome, kiddo.", Tony said before leaning back on the couch and watching whatever nonsense show the kid had turned on while he was doing all the work. Not that he was upset about that. He was just glad that the kid, who had buried himself in his side the second he'd sat down, was finally starting to shuck some of the blankets that had ended up piled on the couch and was no longer sniffling every three seconds. It wasn't until another thirty minutes had passed and he was really starting to feel the rise in temperature that he said anything to the kid who was still pressed tightly up against him. "You do know that the heater's been running for the last half an hour and it's no longer cold in here, right?", he questioned as he poked the boy's side in an unsuccessful, though admittedly unenthusiastic, attempt to get the boy to get off of him.

"I know.", Peter replied before happily scooting just a touch closer making Tony smile.

"Alright, just so long as you know."

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joneshartright-blog · 6 years

Text

The Other Side (Part 4)

Summary: a story about love and reincarnation

Warnings: none, song: please I recomend you to listen 'Ace of Hearts by Zella day' since a think is a beautiful song and match the romance, especially this chapter in the end.

»Thank you for being receptive with the fic.This chapter is in the same day as the other, if you look carefully at the details, you'll see.Also let me now if any of you wants to be tagged! «

Gabriella didn't know exactly how the visions started, she just remember feeling really nauseated at the time.However, she went to different doctors and psychiatrists that never find anything, but tried to put the fault in the fact that "she was abandoned, by her real mother" and it somehow caused a “trauma".

She always knew, since childhood, that she was adopted.At the age of 5, in a saturday morning her 'mother' came up and told to both of the kids that she wasn't her daughter by blood.But that it doesn't really matter, because the first time she saw her, she knew, she was meant to be her daughter and Julia's sister.The little girl only smiled answering a "love you,mommy”.

Now, old enough to understand, Gabriella couldn't be more grateful for everything that her and Julia, did to her.She would be forever grateful, the way they made her feel home and happy, never ending.She couldn't ask for more, but the same for them.

But yet, this never explained why she had the visions she had.The doctors could be right, if it wasn't for the fact that she was abandoned when a baby.Now all that she could think about was that.She was worried.She didn't know the meaning of a coffee "overflowing blood" , but she was damn sure she saw it happening, in front of her eyes.However the fear of being discovered as a “crazy lady in london", was worst so she just left the cafeteria, putting the pennies at table.

It has been only one day, that she was in London and confusion was something she felt the most part of the time.Her phone rangs and with cold hands she grabbed.

“Hello?"

“Hey, Gabs" she heard the voice of her sister on the other side of the line and tried to play it cool.

“Hey"

“Are you okay?" she could tell something wasn't right just by the tone.It was hard to lie to Julia.

“Yeah, right, I just had a headache. How was it?”

“It was fine, they told me everything I needed to know before I start on Monday." There we're a loud noise of people on the other side and apparentely some yelling.

“Look, Joe called me saying that he has some of kinda of invitation to us, and asked if we could find him at mall"

“At the mall?”

“Yeah, he told me that whatever where were going I have to use a dress, and not pants and a pair of boots"

Gabriella laughed at how annoyed she sounded.

“Are you laughing?"

“No, I'm sorry, but I think he's right, I don't understand why you never use a dress."

“It's not like is never, besides I think pants are more comfortable"

“Yeah, right"

“Ok, so find me at the mall, 12 PM?”

“Fine"

[...]

“Joe, this is really necessary?"

Julia asked annoyed after trying the third dress of the day.

“Of course it is, there's going to be a lot of ladies dressed like that"

She looked at the mirror, the dress wasn't bad, it was black, long and loose, she even liked it, but she still thought that her pants, sweater, boots and olive jacket was better.

“You're not gonna tell us where kind of event we're going, that requires those fancy dresses?”

“All you need to know is that a friend of mine invinted me, and me being the best guy that I am,I'm gonna bring you two with me and well now I'm buying you a dress.”

"What a gentleman" Gabriella says smiling and looking at the shoes she was putting.

“That's the time you two should say, 'oh my god Joe, you're the best!' "

“I really hope, you're not setting up one of us in a date"

“What's the problem?I see that you finally broken up with that prick so that means you're single and Gabi too"

She rolled her eyes adjusting the strap of the dress.

“Are you not going to tell us the name of your friend?"

"Yeah your 'best mate' " she faked the british accent laughing and receiving a hard look.

“Well you now" he posed in front of the mirror touching his hair and looking back at the two girls. “No one special, just Ben, I mean Benjamin Jones"

Realization came to Julia's eyes and she arched her eyebrows.

“Benjamin, wait, what?!” Gabriella took one minute to assimilate the sentence, a little shocked.

“Benjamin Jones?Are you joking?God, I can't , he's a genius!

“Yeah and happens to be a really nice guy too, I told him about you and he offered to go."

“I didn't know you two where friends"

“Well, we are, and I think you'll like him”

“Of course she will, he's intelligent, handsome and a journalist.I would kill to have a conversation about politics or anything with him"

Julia rolled her eyes again, shaking her head at her sister, smiling.

“Yes he's really talented and everything, but now I really need to decide which dress, because we don't pretend to expend all the day here right?And since you want your conversation we need to walk" her sister nodded enthusiastic.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect"

[...]

Outside the night seemed cold, only lights iluminating,sky without stars.The blond man looked through a window taking another sip of his whisky.

“Benjamin Jones!"

The voice of his boss echoed and he turned around giving him a quick smirk.

“Mitchum"

Mitchum Huntzberger was the editor-in-chief of 'The Front Page' one of the most influent journals in town.

“How are the things?"

It was really ironic to say that they were friends, since the beggining Mitchum made it clear their positions in journal: his being the editor-in-chief, and Benjamin, well a mere journalist who had the lucky of become famous.The truth was, Mitchum really liked Jones job, but refused himself to recognize that he was, in fact, a better journalist than he, Mitchum Huntzberger, could ever be.

“Fine"

“Did you enjoy yourself at this party?There's a lot of ladies here, for all types."

Ben always hated the way he treated woman around him, objectifying them.

“Yeah I see they're all interisting”

“You should give yourself a night of relief, if you know what I mean, if you keep yourself working like a dog, you might loose the taste."

Benjamin thought that at any moment he could throw the man in front of him out of the window, but infortunately he liked and needed his job.

“Thanks for your worry Mitchum, but I'm not looking for anyone tonight." he took another sip “I might let the chances for you"

He tapped his boss shoulder walking across the room, lefting the man alone, grateful that he didn't followed him.He step aside the tall man sighing tired.

“TED talks with the boss"

“I swear I could throw him trought the bloody window”

“The feeling is mutual, my friend, but think at least now we have a reason to toast"

Ben laughed.

“To our dick 'editor-in-chief'"

They hit the glasses, drinking all the whiskey.

“Joe is really coming?"

“I guess so, I offered to him to bring to girls"

“Two girls?" Gwilym smirks intentionally at his friend.

“What?”

“Nothing you just offered to him to bring two girls and I am the desperate for love"

"Oh shut it"

He shake his head seeing his other friend entering the party.

“Joe!" he talk out loud as the music start playing in some waltz rhythm.

“Ben!" he hugs his friend tapping his back.“Gwil!"

“Give me a drink please" Joe says to the man who has been serving the drinks. “So how is the party"

“Sublime" Gwilym says ironicaly and the blond one denies with his head, smirking.

“Well I have two interisting people to apresent to you, so maybe you night could be less boring." he blinks at Ben and he reply with a mouthful "yeah".

Joe turns around going into the direction of the two girls, one of them with a short hair and other with long.

At the moment she turns around to look at them Benjamin could hear his heart skip a beat and his eyes focuse in her moviments.The resemblance was haunting.She had exactly the same pale skin, freckles on it, dark brown eyes and hair except for the fact that it was shorter than he remembered.He could feel his stomach drop, he didn't know if he was seeing was true or not, but she was there in front of him vivid and real just as his dream.No she wasn't pleading to live, neither crying or even dead.She was alive, right in front of him looking at his eyes and smiling politely as he continued staring, reminding himself of his dream.

“Ben this Julia, Julia this Ben, well Benjamin, but we call him Ben"

And he took her hand, an eletricity running trought their palms as he shaked it gently.He was sure she felt it too, by the way she looked away, at his friend.However her eyes always find his again after some minutes.

In the other side of the room Gabriella stopped, she could feel it happening again as she tried to approach the group of friends.Blinlink a few times, she looked at them.

Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.No, she couldn't be dreaming.At one minute she was in a room, a party, but now everything seemed out of place and time.Her blood started to boil, she didn't understood why they're dressed like that, with old clothes and accessories, like in era of the queen victoria and the books that she read before.Whatever it was, it wasn't her sister or Benjamin, they looked so different, so

“Gabriella!"

She didn't felt when she fell on the ground and before she could even reply everything went black.

@strangemaximoff @alosthufflepuff @imamazzellhoe @jdroman5432 @parkersroses @benshardy @kurt-nightcrawler @imaginesbyme @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @wint-er-voices @eyeballchambersgirl @blooharry @queenspur @72-mingo @toasty-fish

@onceuponadetectivedemigod @lizgarxo

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chocolatemillkk · 6 years

Text

Call me Out (CM)

"Soo what are we doing again?" I ask for the fifth time, hugging my arms to my chest. It was an unusually cool evening in LA and although my bottom half was covered appropriately in a pair of jeans, I had on only a tube top leaving my bare arms covered in goosebumps.

"Well Rick forgot his ID and so did Omar and Anth's still on the damn phone." My friend sighs. "So I don't know!"

"Just go to the club without us!" Rick says for the millionth time and I seriously wonder why we didn't do just that. "We'll come next time."

"The whole point was to go together since we've all finally got fake IDs." Omar pouts. "They can go if they want. But-"

"We could go to one of those all-age clubs-"

"No! No, those suck-"

"I have an idea." My friends all pause at the new voice. It was Anth's friend Conor who he introduced us to earlier that evening. We'd all said hello and included him in the group without a question even though he was obviously British and not from around here. Which we all secretly thought was really cool...but were just too LA to admit. But Conor hadn't gone unnoticed for me-catching my eye and sending my heart racing. Not only because he had the same accent as my favourite movie ever made at the time (Bridget Jone's Diary) but he was cute in a way that wasn't intimidating. "Those of us with ID can get the beer and we can find some place to hang out." Conor licks his lips. "We can still make the most of the night that way."

All eyes are on the group newbie until Omar speaks up, obviously relieved from his fomo: "You're genius. Let's do that."

"Okay, my basement's empty we can head there. So how about Y/N goes and..." Malia stares at our newcomer for an uncomfortable second as she blanks on his name.

"Conor." I cut in. "Conor and I will go."

At the sound of his name, Conor looks up sharply at who said it. I feel myself blushing clumsily as I try not to look as excited as I felt but I couldn't help it! I would finally get some time alone to get to know my sudden new crush.

Since the closest liquor store was right up the street, Conor and I head off and tell the gang we would meet them at Malia's. As we walk, I'm nervous. I fold my arms into myself, and then unfold them, and fold them again before Conor offers his leather jacket.

"Oh I'm fine," I say politely. Damn. I wasn't fine in any way. But I couldn't just accept his-

"No take it. I'm warm." Conor begins stripping the jacket off before I could politely decline again. "I've got a jumper underneath anyway."

"A jumper?" I ask, looking at the sweatshirt he wore underneath and back up at his face.

"Yeah," he picks the fabric up to show me. "A jumper?"

I take the jacket from him and eagerly drape it over my shoulders; its leftover warmth blankets my body. "Is that like, a British thing?" I ask, intrigued and still staring at him, forgetting we should be continuing our walk instead of standing under the street lamp.

"I don't know...I guess?" Conor seems just as nervous as me as he shoves his hands into his pocket. I tug the jacket closer around my body which catches his attention, his eyes roaming all over me. I sense a shift in him, almost unnoticeable except in the way that he finally meets my gaze.

"You've got really nice eyes," he says and then immediately looks away.

"Thanks," I laugh nervously. "You've got a really toasty jacket."

He looks back up, his cheeks a slight pink under the sodium lights, and his tensed face melts into a smile that warms me up from the inside. He has a playful glint as he tugs at the jacket's lapel, "I'm a hot guy-didn't I already say?"

He was hot. But I don't stroke his ego. I turn away instead, continuing again on our trek to the store, calling out behind me. "If I remember correctly the only thing you said was you were warm!"

He laug loudly into the night and the ice between us. We begin talking and asking about the other, greedily tearing up the rare time alone, wanting to know each other as well as we could before we had to return to our group. By the time we get into the liquor store I've told him about growing up in LA, how I hated school, and how my brother drove me crazy and he's told me about the town he's from, his younger brother and sister, and why he was in LA--to work on music. And I was impressed, he was only my age.

"So are you any good?" I ask him as we track down the aisle with the cheaper beer. We're the only ones inside so we try not to draw too much attention.

"No. Not yet," he laughs and his face does the squinty thing I'd started to find adorable. I stare at him as he leans down and picks up two cases.

"Well will you let me hear it? When it is good?" I ask seriously.

He straightens up and turns to me, nodding his head vigorously. "Yeah," he answers, his voice suddenly serious. "I will."

Two Years Later: "I've heard it then," I'm on the phone with Conor as I look out the taxi window into the crowds of tourists. I was on my way to my boyfriend's place and the radio surprised me with a familiar voice. "Your song just came on the radio and I've finally heard it!"

"I was on the radio?" Conor asks from the other side of the world. I wished he was here to hear it with me so I could see his reaction myself. "You heard me in LA?"

"I'm in a taxi," I say. "And I'd recognise your stupid voice anywhere."

"And?" Conor asks, not hiding his excitement at all.

"It's still not good-I told you to only show me when-"

"Shut up!" Conor shouts and I have to move the phone away slightly as his belly-laugh emenates from the phone. "You're a little shit!"

"No!" I insist. "You're shit!"

"Don't say that," Conor's humour is slowly leaking out of his voice and I decide I'd taken the joke far enough.

"It’s-as you would call it-bloody amazing! I was totally kidding. The song. Is. Amazing."

"Really?" Conor asks, his excitement apparent again.

"Yes!" I shout. "You should be so proud of yourself! Soon you'll be as big as Beiber!"

We go back and forth as he shies from the compliments and finally accepts them. We move onto the cliffnotes version of life updates before I reach my destination and tell him I had to go. This was the way it had been with Conor and I over the two years we'd known the other. After an intense first time hanging out, we'd eased up and stuck to the safe option of being good friends. The constant distance between us and the fact that we shared a mutual friend group, prevented us from hooking up-if things went south, it would be very awkward. Plus, we were both busy figuring out our own futures. Mine, currently, was going to school so I could get into acting.

But I still couldn't control my erratic heartbeat whenever I spotted Conor in LA. There was an undeniable attraction, made stronger with the easy chemistry we had. He had a pull on me none of my other crushes or boyfriends ever had. But after a few weeks every time, I had to let Conor go back home to London and as painful as it was each time, it would be made more painful if we were anything more than friends. So I simply chalked it up to a juvenile crush and forced myself onwards.

One Year Later: "Y/N..." Conor pulls his pants onto his hips and secures it with a belt. "I don't know what to-"

"It's fine," I laugh like I thought everything that had happened over the last 10 hours was all one big joke. But my hands shake under the covers and I have a hard time looking him in the eye.

I had turned 21 yesterday and my boyfriend dumped me the morning of because I was being too "clingy”. He was leaving in the afternoon, flying out across the country for some modelling jobs he'd landed and I was mildly upset he had to leave on my birthday. Meanwhile, Conor suprised me at my apartment, completely oblivious, with birthday champagne and a balloon he'd stuck a picture of his face on. It was his only free night because he had to fly out the next morning.

But he'd found me: mascara on my cheeks, crumpled pyjamas, and a fistful of tissues. He sat and listened so patiently before helping me clean up. Once I'd cried it out however, the inevitable happened. We popped the champagne, swore at my ex, drank the bottle between us, and then reached for each other. Because of loneliness or our long history, we ended up in bed. My bed. And I wish I hadn't drank so much so I could remember even half of it but as soon as I woke up I knew I fucked up. I was simultaneously heartbroken over my ex and absolutely gutted that my first time with Conor was under circumstances like this.

"You were comforting me. We're both adults now and we made an adult decision right? It's fine." I sit up, making sure the blankets were wrapped tight around my torso. Conor looks at me hesitantly, his hands dropping to the side and he looks just as gutted. We weren't supposed to let this happen. Not like this. We knew eventually we would sleep together with all the sexual tension we had between us-but never ever like this. This felt cheap...we could barely even remember it.

"So you're okay I have to go again?" Conor asks slowly.

"I'm fine. You have a life to go back to." I say more confidently than I felt-I didn't want to be clingy again. And what would I even say if I wasn't okay? It was a stupid question to ask. "And my shift starts in a couple hours anyway-acting doesn't pay the bills!"

Conor throws his shirt on before sitting beside me. He looks down at my hands clasped around the covers and then my collar where the pendant I always wore rests. He picks it up and rubs it like I usually did when I was nervous. It was hard to reconcile the person Conor put on in public to this gentler version of him in my bedroom. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'll see you on the big screen soon enough."

"You'll only see me when I'm good enough," I give him a wry smile, calling him out. He drops the necklace, his hand curving around the back of my neck. For a split second I think he was maybe going to kiss me again but he kisses my forehead instead. I close my eyes, stretching the brief millisecond into an hour, or two, or five. I create some alternate timeline where I can do this all over, so that when Conor kisses my forehead it doesn't feel cheap with regret and stink of pity.

Fourteen Months Later: "It's nothing!" I pull my hand out of Malia's grip but she grabs my hand again.

"You call that a promise ring?" She asks skeptically of the diamond ring my boyfriend had gifted me yesterday evening.

"Promise ring?" Anth asks as he comes back with Conor who'd arrived late-a bad habit we'd all gotten used to. I try to stuff my hand back into my hoodie but Conor catches the light glinting off the diamond. I don't want to see his expression but I can't help but watch as it falls, a look of betrayal settling in. It wasn't my fault-not really. Conor and I kept up a false pretense of being friendly after the last time we saw each other but we unravelled quickly the longer we went without addressing it. How could we be the same when we suddenly carried so much baggage?

Our relationship suffered. Meanwhile, my boyfriend came back to LA on his knees begging for forgiveness. He had been stressed out about his shoots and he regretted our breakup as soon as he'd landed at JFK. So I kept my own regret from that night to myself and taken him back. A month in and we'd moved to New York for the year where he modelled and I miraculously landed a very small Broadway part. When we moved back, he'd given me the promise ring. That was last night. Malia messaged me this morning to tell me the gang was in town and we were meeting up again. I didn't realise Conor would be there too. Our conversations had fizzled out once he realised I’d moved to New York with my boyfriend.

"Y/N's settling down," Anth teases. "Y/B/N is making a wife out of you!"

"It's not an engagement ring guys!" I insist but it sounds false even to me. It was supposed to be one. But the look of horror on my face when my boyfriend got on one knee at the beach had him stuttering and then insisting it was just a promise ring. So I had accepted like the coward I was because I was too scared to be on my own again. Three years of our relationship and Anth was right-I was settling.

"That's a big ass diamond," Conor jokes but it has a sharp edge to it. "Good for you. So uh-I'm getting a drink."

When I track Conor down, away from the group, he's stony faced.

"It's been a while." I say, feeling like that first night we met when I didn't know how to talk to him.

"Yeah," his eyes flick down to my hand. "A lot's happened it seems."

"Con-" I try.

"I'm alright." Conor cuts me off.

"No. You're not." I call him out.

He clenches his jaw, glancing at me and then sighing. "I know we fucked up Y/N but why did we just stop talking? You're bloody engaged and why am I only finding out now? I've never even met your boyfriend!"

"It-I know-it's complicated. We...complicated things!"

"It shouldn't be complicated! It was just sex!" Conor shouts. "It wasn't complicated! I'm still your friend!"

"Right..." I look down and try to blink away the sudden tears. That all it was to him? "Right. Yeah of course...obviously-duh! It was! I just got...I was unsure! I didn't know what you thought about it. But I'm cool if you are. We're still friends?"

"Yes we're still fucking friends!" Conor is instantly a ball of sunshine as we slip off our past like an oversized, stuffy jacket. I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, trying to toss out the confused emotions I was feeling. Conor squeezes my hand and I snap out of my thoughts to his smiling face and when he looks at me it feels like that night, I first saw him smiling under sodium lights. When we wouldn't even know this was how we would turn out. I wish I could go back then. Maybe tell Y/N to keep things simple.

As his mouth moves to tell me something, I can’t focus as my head buzzes with the words he'd said earlier. But maybe it's better this way, I think. I didn't want to end up hating Conor, or be hurt by him, when I cared for him this much. I would just have to see it his way, I decide. Just sex. Only friends. "-always your friend."

One Year Later: "Happy birthday!" I shout at Conor. He was in LA for his 24th and the party was massive. Like this-many-people-could-never-fit-in-my-house massive. "Look at you! You're so spoiled now!"

Conor crushes me against him-it had been a good six months since I'd seen him. I was travelling all over for a movie I'd gotten a small role in and barely had time to see friends let alone Conor. I missed his energy. And he was super famous now too. Somewhere between seeing him last on New Year's, breaking up with my boyfriend and moving out, auditioning like crazy, and finding a role-Conor had blown up online and my heart swelled every time I saw his ad or his music somewhere. Despite our messy mishap, I'd realigned myself to realise Conor and I could only ever be friends.

"I love your jumper," I say-the term an inside joke by now.

"This is actually a hoodie." Conor teases.

"Fuck I can never get the terminology right!" I laugh and wrap my arms around him again, his "hoodie" a snug fabric to rest my head on.

"Y/N." Conor says seriously so I look at him again, concerned. "Y/N I-I think I'm finally good!" Conor shouts in my ear and when I give him a questioning look he explains. "My music! I think it's finally good enough!"

"Oh Conor," I can't help but grab his face between my hands and squish his cheeks. "It was always good enough!"

Conor laughs causing his face between my hands to morph oddly so I let go. "You're not as much of a bitch as you used to be!"

"Watch your mouth!" I pull his hood over his head and continue tugging it over his face until he apologizes between laughter. When I let go, he takes off the hood and wraps his arm around my shoulder. We stay that way for the rest of the night as he introduces me to everyone we meet. They all assume I'm his girlfriend, joking with me that I should watch out. And I didn't blame them with the way Conor's hand was always on my shoulder or my waist, my hips, touching my hair, leaning in to say something in my ear. I crave his touch every time I don't have it and by the end of the night, I feel drunk on desire more than any of the cocktails I'd had. So when Conor looks at me with a question in his eyes at the end of the night, I don’t call him out. I simply take his hand and go back home with him. Just sex. Only friends. Always friends.

Eighteen Months Later: Since Conor's 24th, we'd made a routine. Unless one of us were in a relationship, every time Conor was in LA, he would stop by. We'd catch up on life and then end up in bed for however long he was here for.

"I'm only in LA for two week." He would say. Or "I go to New York next week." Or "I have a flight on Thursday for Dubai."

It wasn't permanent, he meant to remind me. It wasn't a relationship. It was just sex. And we were just friends. And this was just a bad habit. Or a good habit-was there such a thing? I always looked forward to it. It felt like we were each other's safe space, a secret the other held close to their chest. Minus the emotional attachments of course. It happened so often like this that I'd forgotten I ever wanted more. Being like this actually gave us more time to catch up on every detail of each other’s lives. We opened up about our insecurities, our goals, and all our shared memories. When Conor was staying longer he would work on things in the same room I was in or he would help me practice lines and we created small bubbles in time where everything was blissful between us as long as we were together. It was harder some days than others like when I wanted to kiss him in public or gush to my friends about him-but it was worth it to be close again.

Months Later: I had my first anxiety attack that morning. I didn't even realise I was having it until my knees hit the carpet and I tried to look up at the time.

I had a big audition that afternoon for a children's movie. My agent was so sure I was going to get it-she'd talked me up to every friend she had in high places and knew the company hiring so I knew I had it in the bag yet a movie on such a scale was terrifying. Conor had told me he was coming over after auditions to see how it went and I was oddly nervous to see him too-I'd gotten out of a short relationship so it had been a while since Conor and I got together. And then my mom called me worried about my brother who'd been making all the wrong choices in life as of of late which kept running through my mind. So when my agent called to tell me they wanted a Skype interview now, I knew that usually meant it was a courtesy interview and they didn't actually want me. I did the interview with a really bad connection, my anxiety heightening with every scene looking at their impassive expressions. As soon as it ended, I ignored my agen't phone call and suddenly found it hard to breath, my vision narrowing as everything looked off, and the room tilted around me. I fell to my knees and located my phone, calling the only person I knew who'd understand: Conor.

By the time he arrived, I had managed to calm down but I still couldn't take a deep breath nor could I talk in full sentences. Conor squeezed my hands and helped ground me until I could focus and then he'd gathered me in his arms so carefully, so lovingly, that it scared me enough to start crying. He mistook this for being sad about not getting the part and helped me to bed, setting up his laptop beside me. I didn't correct him, falling asleep as I felt exhausted, and awakening to a vibrating hum.

I don't open my eyes, anxiety clutching my chest as I remembered where I was and what had happened. But the humming beside me helped, the dread slowly unravelling it's hold on me. When I do open my eyes Conor's concentrated on the screen as he hums the same few lines again and again. And the tenderness with which I felt towards him sends me tipping into the panic zone so I get up and yank the covers off. I couldn't do this. We said we wouldn't.

"Hey you're up," Conor looks at me. "I'm gonna hum something does it sound like something you've already heard or is it-"

"You have to go." I say abruptly and he stops talking immediately. "I need to be alone Conor please go. Now."

He stays for a heartbeat before closing his screen and getting out of bed. His mouth opens to say something but he looks at me and closes it, bowing his head and moving out the door. I listen as he leaves and take a deep ragged breath. I felt wild, like a frantic ball of confused energy was buzzing within me like a pinball machine. Like a panic attack hangover and as soon as Conor goes I want him back. I make it so far to the front door when I retreat until my back hits the wall. What was I doing? But I craved the comfort of his touch and it urged me to call him back. I couldn’t though. He wasn’t my boyfriend, I couldn’t keep doing this. But the sudden sound of a knock at the door echos my pounding heartbeat.

I carefully open it to Conor, running his fingers through his hair. I barely register what he says; opening the door wider, just wanting him back in. He drops his bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him. In an instant, his hand finds my waist, our foreheads touch, our eyes locked. It felt like we were the center of a volcano of passion and desire, boiling as his hand tightens on my waist, bubbling as my hand slips around the the base of his neck, simmering and leaking as I close my eyes and he crashes his lips into mine.

I can't remember what happens next-not chronologically. We're bumping into walls and shedding the day, as well as our clothes, and as we ease into the sheets the volcano bursts with hot molten lava, destroying anything that was ever left of us before.

I must have nodded off again right after because I wake to Conor in bed facing me. Behind him, my window shows streaks of pinks in the sky as day goes down to dusk. Conor's eyes are watching me carefully, his expression unreadable as he watches me watch him. I trace the bridge of his nose to distract him but he continues staring, something budding in the way he looks at me. It was scaring me and I tell him so.

Yet Conor doesn’t take his eyes off of me, his thumb brushing my cheek and my breath catches as I realise why I was so scared. His eyes hold no trace of its usual playful spark. Instead they're unguarded and clear as day with what he was thinking. Shit. This was it. This was the end. We'd both fallen. Made this something important.

"When are you leaving LA?" I ask, almost begging him to reply with a deadline to our romance for some sort of normalcy. The only way this worked was when he put a time stamp for us to stop waking up in each other's arms. Even if it was one month or one week we would have the most fun as the end date was our safety net.

But when he shrugs and continues to gaze at me, my heart feels like it would burst from my chest. And it practically does as all the hopes I ever ignored of Conor and I as something more than friends, all the fantasies I ever had of Conor wanting more with me, the thoughts I suppressed before they could even manifest-shoving them into a dark corner of my mind-roll forward and flash before me. This was Conor-the first person I think I ever fell in love with. And I can admit it to myself now, looking at him-at us, like this. This was Conor-how could I have ever thought we could be anything but in love in the end? So I remove Conor's hand from my face and hold it to my chest, willingly showing him how much I was feeling in the moment. "I feel it now, can you feel it too?" Conor takes my other hand with his free hand and places it against his own palpitations. My own races faster; was this our demise?

"I feel it too." Conor answers slowly.

"But this is exactly what we said we wouldn't do." I remind him. What he said we wouldn't do. What we weren't.

"What was that exactly?" Conor asks me and his mouth flicks up in a slow smile as the playfulness returns in the blink of an eye. He's weightless as he rolls over me and brings his lips down in a kiss so tender, I never realised he had it in him. When he moves away, he rests his forehead against mine, his lips a hair's breadth away from my own. The look he gives me is a challenge, a dare like we would give when we were younger. His brown eyes looking into mine are daring me just one simple thing:

Call me out.

#conor maynard #conor maynard imagine #conor maynard imagines #youtube imagines #fic #lyrics #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #sarah close #jack maynard #joe sugg #i know this jumps all over the place but i really wanted to write something like this #hope its easy to understand #i spent so long on this #ahhhh #thatcherjoe

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 6 years

Text

With all your heart - Part 2

You ended up sat between Steve and Bucky again, it was a common occurrence when you all got together for movie night. Halfway through the movie you started to feel the cold from the AC, but you wouldnt let your brother win this! You refused to go and change. Instead you cuddled up against Steve who was like a human furnace. He looked down at you and smiled before putting his arm around you and pulling you closer, It wasnt the first time you had snuggled.

"You okay over there sweetheart??" Tony asked "you want me to grab you a sweater?"

"No I'm good T, Steve is nice and toasty" you smiled sweetly and you could see the irritation in his eyes as he clenched his jaw looking away, Nat and Wanda sniggering in the corner at your answer. Next to you Bucky looked tense, he was really acting weird tonight. You reach over and take his hand giving it a gentle squeeze making him look up at you questioningly "you okay?" You ask quietly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He just nodded and gives you a tight lip smile. He didn't try and pull his hand away so you leave yours in his resting on his thigh as you watched the rest of the movie.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you know Your waking up in your bed snuggled under the covers. You could hear the nightmarish cries from Buckys room down the hall, Steve usually went in to calm him down but he didnt seem to have heard him yet so you climb out of bed and quietly make your way to Buckys room and opened the door. As expected he was tangled in his bed sheets as he tossed and turned in his sleep, his hands gripping on to the sheets, eyes tightly scrunched shut. He was covered in sweat as his breathing was getting heavier and heavier. You kneel beside the bed and reach out to run your fingers down his face as you sshhh'd him. You brush his sweaty hair back from his face "your okay Buck....your safe. Come back to me, its just a nightmare" you whisper like you usually do when you come in to help him, Bucky never knew you came in to help him sometimes.

He slowly started to calm down, his breathing evened out and his eyes relaxed, he let go of the sheets and turned to face you.... he actually looked peaceful. You smile to yourself and get up to leave hoping he would sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

"Y/N....?" You hear his rough voice say as your hand grabbed the door handle, your heart started racing instantly! Shit now you’d have to explain why you were in his room in the middle of the night.

"Yeah its me, go back to sleep Buck"

"I was having the nightmares again wasnt i?"

"Yeah you were" you reply nodding your head "goodnight"

"Y/N?...."

"Yeah Buck?"

"Would you stay..... until i fall asleep again" he asked shocking you, he was showing a vulnerable side to you right now that you’d never seen before.

"Sure" you nod heading over towards the chair in the corner of the room, but he pulled back the covers and waited for you to crawl into bed with him. You give him a smile and climb in next to him, he instantly curled up against you resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his right arm around your waist. You comb your fingers gently through his hair to sooth him, something that apparently he was enjoying as he let out a contented sigh that instantly made you smile.

You wake up feeling the heat of a body surrounding you, an arm wrapped around your waist....it takes you a few seconds to remember where you are! You must have fallen asleep with Bucky.

"I know your awake doll" he suddenly said from behind you his voice still husky from sleep "are you okay? Your heart is racing...."

"Im fine.... i just.... im sorry, i fell asleep. I didnt mean to stay all night" you say quickly trying to get up but Bucky just tightened his grip.

"Its fine i don't mind, its actually nice. Wait...did you think id be mad?" He suddenly asked sitting up to look at you.

"Maybe a little.... you only wanted me to stay til you fell asleep..."

"I don't mind. Not at all, i actually slept better than i have in..... well since before everything" he admitted looking slightly embarrassed by his confession.

You turn in his arms so your now facing him and reach up to place your hand against the side of his jaw and smiled at him "Bucky you know you can always come to me if your struggling..... if you just need me to be there while you sleep you know where i am okay?"

Bucky looked surprised to hear you say this to him and was at a loss for words, a blush crept onto his cheeks as he nodded and gave you a nervous smile.

"I should go, we've got training soon. I'll see you later" you say quickly leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the cheek before making your way to his door.

"Y/N?" He said suddenly with a small voice that instantly had you turning to face him "yeah?"

"Last night wasn't the first time you've come in to help me through a nightmare was it" it wasn't a question, more like a statement, now it was your turn to blush.

"No Buck it wasn't the first time, you've never woken up and seen me in here though" you reply shrugging a shoulder.

"How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you been helping me?"

"Pretty much the entire time you've been here" you smile and quickly leave his room.

You couldn't stay any longer, what if he asked why you had been so willing to help him? The truth was you had been smitten with Bucky Barnes since the day you met him. But he had always been so distant with you..... he'd leave the room shortly after you would walk in and you’d catch him looking at you like it pained him to be around you. It got better over time, he'd talk to you a bit more if you were alone but as soon as the group was together he'd distance himself again. The nightmares started his first night here and you would hear Steve go in and calm his friend down and leave moments later. Then one night you heard his screams and you waited to hear Steve come to help him but it remained silent... just Bucky's screams. So you had taken it upon yourself to go in and try and calm the super soldier down. You couldn't bare the possibility of him suffering, reliving all those terrible things Hydra put him through. And it became habit, the nights you didn't hear Steve you would go and ease Bucky through his nightmares. If You were being honest with yourself, you enjoyed being alone with him for those few minutes and knowing that you was helping to ease some of his stress.

You were falling for Bucky Barnes more and more everyday but you couldn't admit your feelings for him, the rejection would break your heart. That was why you were adamant on going on these stupid online dates! You had to get your mind off of him, maybe you would find a guy who would keep your mind occupied long enough to get over Bucky.

#bucky x starkreader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #steve rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sebastian stan #withallyourheart

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