#51 years and they finally fucking cracked it
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Bottom Dementia: The Only Friends Episode.
Kicking things off for year 2 of The Conversation is our Only Friends episode. We brought back a friend of the podcast, David (@yankeebastard), to discuss the various cases of bottom dementia in this show, our thoughts on the sexual and social politics of the show, and how shipping and fandom culture complicated the entire experience our watches.
We'll end this episode with @ginnymoonbeam returning with us months later to see how we still felt about the show
Timestamps
The timestamps will now correspond with chapters on Spotify for easier navigation.
0:00 - Introduction
1:20 - Only Friends and What We Liked
13:47 - What We Wanted from the Show
26:40 - Where the Story Breaks Down
38:40 - Bottom Dementia™
47:38 - Do Not Take Only Friends Seriously
51:00 - Final Thoughts (Two Months Later)
The Conversation Transcripts!
Thanks to the continued efforts of @ginnymoonbeam as transcriber, and @lurkingshan as an editor and proofreader, we are able to bring you transcripts of the episodes.
We will endeavor to make the transcripts available when the episodes launch, and it is our goal to make them available for past episodes (Coming soon thanks to @wen-kexing-apologist). When transcripts are available, we will attach them to the episode post (like this one) and put the transcript behind a Read More cut to cut down on scrolling.
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0:00 - Introduction
NiNi
Welcome to The Conversation About BL, aka The Brown Liquor Podcast.
Ben
And there it is. I’m Ben.
NiNi
I’m NiNi.
Ben
And we’re you’re drunk Caribbean uncle and auntie here sitting on the porch in the rocking chairs.
NiNi
Four times a year we pop in to talk about what’s going on in the BL world.
Ben
We shoot the shit about stories and all the drama going into them. I review from a queer media lens.
NiNi
And I review from a romance and drama lens.
Ben
So if you like cracked-out takes and really intense emotional analysis…
NiNi
If you like talking about artistry, industry, and the discourse…
Ben
And if you generally just love simping…
NiNi
There is a lot of simping on this podcast…
Ben
We are the show for you!
1:20 Only Friends And What We Liked
Ben
And we're baaaack!
NiNi
Welcome, welcome to our winter series. It is so nice to be back with y'all—I'm saying back, but we're literally recording this on the day the Fall Lagniappe went up, because this is how we do it on this podcast.
This is the Bottom Dementia episode.
David
Oh my.
NiNi
[laughs] You can hear our special guest, say hi David!
David
Hiii!
NiNi
David is back with us!
Ben
You are literally back by popular demand, David, the people were like, when is he coming back?
[everyone laughs]
David
I need to stop fucking around with my Tumblr and just be on there.
NiNi
I'm not sure you want to be on there, like legit, but—[laughs]
We are here to talk about Only Friends! We're here to talk about the high highs, the low lows—and they were some lows for sure. I’m gonna let Ben do what he do.
So Ben: What is Only Friends about?
Ben
Oh man. How do I describe Only Friends now? So much of how I feel about it has been clouded by how it ended. Only Friends is a messy drama about a gay friend group nearing the end of college, as they deal with some of their… issues with sex and romance? At least that's how it felt at the beginning? Only Friends has this group of homos who hang out at their local gay bar. You've got Mew the virgin, Boston the slut, Ray the drunk, and Cheum who is sort of like the lesbian wrangler of their group.
Boston introduces this guy named Top to their group to flirt with Mew. Mew falls for Top—Boston was not expecting this, because he was just trying to smash with Top again. He causes a bunch of problems, but ends up in his own side romance with a very weird but kind of sweet boy who does not understand healthy boundaries, especially when it comes to digital space?
David
Oh lord.
Ben
Ray ends up involved with the singer at the bar—who can't sing that great, sorry First.
NiNi
God it was bad.
Ben
It harkens back to the kind of dramas that were happening around twenty-odd years ago, like Queer As Folk, Noah's Ark, and some other shows that Jojo referenced, some of which I haven't seen. But it struggles for me, because while all of those were fairly episodic in nature, this one decided to be a serial, and concerns related to the actor pairs and the economic viability of said actor pairs, I really feel muddled the waters on the back half? And so while there were a lot of really great stylistic moments in this, it ends up feeling kind of limp at the end, in a way that was very unsexy for me.
David and I watched it together, it was one of our Saturday shows. David, it's been a while since we had you on the show: why don't you give us some of your reactions, thoughts, and feelings about Only Friends?
David
Hm, let me see. Only Friends can best be described, in my personal opinion, as a ledger against the evils of monogamy… how unhinged gayness serves really only ever one person and that's the unhinged gay themselves—but hey, it's entertaining!... the apparent gay police state we live in, where if you do anything and it gets recorded, it becomes a psychodrama later… In short, I thought I would only end up not liking one person at the end of Only Friends? But the entire show can go through a recycler for me. That's where I am with it.
NiNi
So we've got Ben sort of general wet floppiness of it all, David saying ‘fuck them’ at the end. [laughs]
David
Yeah.
NiNi
[laughs] Let's see, where did I land on it? I had an incredibly cynical read on this show, and one of the reasons that I had a cynical read on this show is A) it was just fun; B) Ben, you talked a little bit about this hearkening back to some of the queer shows of the early 2000s. And that made sense for me, because the characters are of the here and now, but the creators, Jojo and Ninew and them, they’re my age. Well, slightly younger than me, but around that 40-year-old mark, elder millennials, so to speak. So that's the stuff that they were watching when they were the age that these characters are now. So it has like a weird juxtaposition, the show, where it's of the moment but also deeply nostalgic in some ways? So it was a very interesting experience for me watching it.
Like I said, I enjoyed being real cynical about the show, my reads on Top clearly got people mad pissed. [laughs] I was enjoying the show on the ‘everybody is awful’ tip, and then like one or two characters surprised me at the end by being not so awful… but I was having a good time right up until the end.
Ben
So why don't you go through the things that you enjoyed in the show then, since you came out of it less ambivalent than the rest of us.
NiNi
Less ambivalent is the word, because I was having a good time and then I was pissed. [laughs] There was no in between. So it was not really an ambivalent feeling, it was like a high high and then a crash.
Some of the things that I enjoyed, let's see. I enjoyed, low-key how terrible everybody was. So much of BL tries to make characters really likable. I'm not sure if the show was trying to make the characters likable—if it did, it failed, which was great for me because I didn't really like any of them [laughs]. Except for at the end, I liked Boston and I liked Nick, but other than that, I was just like ‘oh these people are terrible, yes, inject it into my veins!’ So I had a good time with that. I had a really good time with all the aesthetics, the style of the show, like you said throwing back to that early 2000s late 90s kind of vibe in terms of the set dressing and the set design, in the way that everybody's wardrobe played out, and just the entire vibe of the thing. Very Jojo, thoroughly enjoyed that.
I really enjoyed the acting. As much as coming down towards the end I didn't really enjoy the writing, the acting I thought was incredibly solid across the board. Not even so much the big acting, because there were like a lot of these big emotional moments, there was a lot of crying—I mean, First and Khaotung were in this, there's gonna be crying—but that's not the stuff that I was enjoying, it was the little subtle details. Like Khaotung’s playing Ray, Ray is an unrepentant drunk, and Khaotung really sold Ray being drunk all the time. It was like, little things that he was doing, it wasn't anything big, that really sold me on the fact that hey, this dude is not ever sober, and you can tell. I liked Book in this a lot. Which is weird, because I hated his character, I hated Mew so much. But I thought that Book really sold this kind of sanctimonious priggish character really really well, I actually really enjoyed that. And then of course Neo Trai and Mark Pakin, just, *mwah* chef’s kiss, fantastic acting work.
I think in terms of the enjoyment levels, that's where I landed. Everything else I'm a little bit more, hmm, okay, there's a positive and a negative about, but those were the things that I really really enjoyed.
Ben
David, before we get big into tearing this thing up, why don't you tell us the things you did enjoy along the way?
David
I actually did like the Melrose Place 90s aesthetic that was going on with the show.
NiNi
Yeessss, Melrose Place, that was it!
David
There is no way that anyone is going to tell me that these two people did not watch Melrose Place. Even some of their shots were very Melrose Place, Beverly Hills 90210-ish. Their little main area, where they would have the drama explosions were always at the bar, that was very much a Melrose Place thing. I enjoy unhinged—I'm trying not to say the other word—
Ben
Just go ahead and say it. You know you need to.
David
I enjoy a healthy dose of unhinged fa**otry. I live for it. More than likely, my second or third favorite performance in any show will be the show's most unhinged fa**ot I will love him. He could be evil, he could be killing people, but I'm gonna find something to love about him.
Ben
And who is that for you this time?
David
Oh Lord! Look: I love Boeing. Boeing was completely unhinged, I saw too much of myself in that boy. Unhinged. Sir you cannot hop like this. I need you to calm down. He completely sold that whole… soulless, like sort of just, gross performance. I love Boeing.
Ben
Mond Tanutchai was a gift that we were not expecting.
David
And that show did not deserve.
I thought the show was beautiful, it was colorful—me and Ben have had this conversation before, how since Vice Versa I've noticed that more. We don’t have this cream, beige, taupey writing-out of color, we've returned to this really rich tapestry, and I felt the show did that, which was also, I didn't realize, very 90s. So the color of the show, the way it was filmed, how it was produced, was great. And like NiNi said, it was great acting.
Ben
For posterity: David has caught up with BL very aggressively in the last year and a half. Thailand has been reintroducing rich color into their shows since the post ITSAY wave began, with You’re My Sky. Vice Versa does not get credit as the show that introduced color into this shit.
David
Fine.
NiNi
[laughs] Ben's like, fuck Vice Versa, fuck it forever.
David
I can’t even defend it.
Ben
That’s not me digging at you, just, for the people who've been following the timeline of BL, that does not go to Vice Versa. Absolutely the fuck not.
NiNi
Ben says no, you don't get to have this! You don't get to take this—[laughs]
David
That's fine, that's fair. But there are a few things that I thought were things I liked about the show, that, when I thought about, I went, ‘I did not like this as much as I thought I did.’ And the only character I liked at the end of this was the one who ended up being the unredeemable one to me. Because I kept thinking about it, and I got a lot of what he was going through. I thought he totally got vixen vamped by the weird, shitty, forced monogamy thing that the show was beating everyone up the head with, while at the same time simultaneously showing everyone how none of these characters are making it work.
Ben
Are you talking about Boston? Just for the sake of the listeners?
David
Yes, Boston.
NiNi
It was so weird to feel that coming off the show, but it wasn't coming off the show from the beginning.
David
Mhm.
NiNi
Somewhere like, into the third act is when that whiff, that eau de straightness started coming off the show. [laughs] Everybody started feeling the weird shift, they were like, ‘what is this? Are they—but they're not, Jojo wouldn't.’ You know what it feels like, it feels network-interferencey? That's genuinely how it feels. Because the front half of the show is so tight. It does not feel like the back half of this show. The back half of the show feels like somebody came in and said, ‘Nope you can't do this, do something else!’ and then they scrambled and tried to do something else that sort of lined up with what they had done before.
David
Yep, I completely agree.
13:47 What We Wanted from the Show
Ben
Before we talk about the weird shift that happens, let's talk a little bit about what we hoped from the show on the front end. Like when we sat down to watch the show, we were all coming at it from different places, what were we hoping for? Let’s start with you, NiNi, because you were dealing with a lot of other shit at the beginning of this show, so you weren't maybe watching it as intensely as you were by the time we got to the end.
NiNi
Oh no, I was fully here for a messy mess, that was all I was hoping for. Like David, I wanted to see some unhinged gays. I wanted something like Cruel Intentions or, like a Wild Thing. I wanted to have a good time. I didn't want to think too much, you know, that was my mantra for [laughs] a lot of this year, I don't want to think too much. And then I wind up thinking too much.
But that's what I was aiming for, I was aiming to have a good time, I was aiming to cackle. I was aiming to gasp. Before the show made the weird switch, I had thoroughly enjoyed being right about every character, but wrong about the narrative. [laughs] That was the thing that I really came to it for. I came here, I perched my little feet up on a pouf, I hit the button on the remote, and I was like, okay, show me the mess. And they started to, and then they pulled back from it.
Ben
What about you David? What were you hoping to get out of Only Friends?
David
I was expecting we were going to get way more of an adult, complicated thing about people's feelings and how sex played into it… Maybe we're gonna get a multi-couple, and this show was gonna do some stuff that no one else had done before. And at some point that collapsed.
Because I could see the ways that they could have pulled this off with certain characters, and showed some characters empowered to be that? But the full tilt boogie of Mew becoming the most sanctimonious, boring fucking part of this show and Top having the personality of cardboard, and Ray just being a drunk who clearly is never gonna learn his lesson, and Sand being a simp—what started out as being sort of complex characterizations, when we got to the very end, I was just sitting there like, what the fuck?
Ben
All right, I'm gonna be mean.
NiNi
Go for it!
Ben
I really hoped that this would be Jojo and them’s attempt to get less focused in their whole serial soap opera style dynamic, and I was really excited about the title cards early on, that they were going to have really strong internal arcs for each of these episodes? And that's not what we got. We got just an ongoing stream of mess from a bunch of maladjusted young people. I really hoped that some of the class things would play out because there were differing levels of wealth, and they did very little with that. I really hoped that a lot of these actors would get to play against their type for once, and do some really interesting stuff, and they did not. While some of these GMMTV boys are good, we have seen their body of work, and they are basically doing the same goddamn thing every motherfucking show.
David
Well! Go on, pastor!
Ben
First has only ever been a grumpy simp, in every fucking show he's in. Like, we love the boy! He's very expressive. He can be very funny. And it's kind of annoying that he has played like five different goddam versions of the sad sack simp now. I was really hoping that we were going to get to see him do something interesting with the fucking baseball bat, which implied that his character was going to make an active choice for once. That's the crux of the missing baseball bat stuff: the bitch who picks up a baseball bat? She's over it! She's going to smash something. She is committed to a choice, and destruction is the only thing that will sate her blood lust at this point.
[NiNi laughs]
And we never got that! Like, we literally end on First’s character calling himself a dog happy that he has a nice owner. What the absolute fuck was that?
Khaotung always plays the super-cute provocateur. They just made him super rich this time and let him be drunk all the time. Khaotung plays it well, but like we’ve seen basically this out of Khaotung repeatedly. I’m kinda over it.
And then poor Force. I think this show did a genuine disservice to Force. He does so much good work playing Top. Like, he fully committed. I understand the show’s choice to make him enigmatic because we were primarily reliant upon Mew’s POV, and because Mew could never feel secure in his connection to Top, they did not let the audience feel secure about Top. That is not a bad choice from an editing or directing standpoint, but it means that Top is so empty of a character. He only represents status to Mew.
I think Book is a fairly limited actor, and I think Jojo and them used him well as the sanctimonious bitch of this group. That was really cool in the front half. The fucking virgin who reads too many fucking books playing games they ain’t ready for and then winning stupid prizes as a result. That was fucking great, but it feels like the show wanted us to take the drama, as it happened from Mew's perspective, super seriously. But I cannot take a character like Mew seriously.
I don't think Lookjun was treated well in the show because Cheum is a goddamn mess of a character. Jojo was tweeting about her in a way that seems like she's supposed to be the lesbian wrangler saving these gays, but she is so mean to them.
And you get Boston. Boston did deserve some of the Ls he took, like when he got kicked in the chest and thrown into the pool with Mew jumping behind him trying to drown that motherfucker? He deserved that. That was some bullshit, you should have known better. However! Did Boston deserve to be the victim of revenge porn and blackmail three times? No. No he did not. I feel some kinda way about the way the back half of this show is just everybody saying ‘at least you're not as bad as Boston’ as everybody is doing nasty shit to each other.
David
In the name of the god of monogamy.
Ben
I'm like, goddamn, where is all of this fucking moral superiority coming from because Boston likes to get his dick sucked? What the fuck is wrong with the rest of you?
David
He never lied to anyone that he was having sex with; he told them, “Look, I don’t want shit. There's other people. This is what's going on.” And I felt like he was put on this pyre to monogamy that didn't even function—as a matter of fact, it was made even more glaring that it wasn't even working for the other characters because by the end of the show, they're all together—but barely. The fucking show ends with Mew flirting with another fucking dude in front of Top.
NiNi
Here's the thing for me. I see a way that this show carries all of the same narrative beats, but changes the tone, and works so much better for me. I don't actually have a problem with the couples ending up together. If you're aiming for a messy story where people end up in relationships with people who are the worst people for them, or they end up in a relationship where as we say in Trinidad, “Every bread have their cheese.” Jamaicans say, “Every pot have a cover,” you know what I mean?
[David laughs]
My favorite version of the MewTop relationship is Mew putting Top through hell because he's a piece of shit. Every time I got even a hint of Top being miserable—but still being there—and Mew deciding that he was gonna put Top’s balls in his purse and carry them around; I enjoyed that! I really enjoyed that ‘cause that's not a relationship dynamic you get to see in TV, but is incredibly realistic. There are so many, so many couples I know that are just like that and it's horrible to be around, but it's low key entertaining.
If the show had leaned into that, that would have been, strangely enough, more enjoyable, cause I don't need to believe that these characters [cutesy voice] ~are in love and they're going to be together forever~. I don’t need to believe that. I need to believe that they make sense with each other. And them making sense with each other is not a question of them being nice people or good people or being good for each other. It just seems that the way those two puzzle pieces fit together is great because they ain’t making nobody else miserable along the way.
Even the stuff that you were saying, Ben, about Sand being a simp and, as I said, having a humiliation kink. I have seen so many Sands and Rays end up together. It's exhausting to watch it happen because they get into a cycle and keep doing it over and over. But I mean, if we're only going through one iteration of the cycle, it could have been entertaining because we're not gonna have to see them doing the same shit over and over. We just see the disaster once and then we're like, “Ooh, child. Glad that's not me.”
That's where I wanted to land on this show, because that's where I thought they were going in the beginning. And then at the end, for it to descend into this kind of sappy, lovey-dovey, aren't-they-cute-and-sweet shit. That was the tragedy for me. That was what pissed me off. Not that they ended up together. The ship, couple, pair-branding, ship, whatever. I didn't care about any of that ‘cause as far as I'm concerned, I could see ways for those particular characters in those particular couples to end up together. But it felt so inauthentic. It felt unreal. It felt uncanny valley. It felt Stepford. I did not like it.
Ben
Exactly. The inauthenticity and the unearned feeling of it all is really what pissed me off. So when Mix’s character appears at the end and drops the line that Top said to Mew: “Can I be your friend, too?”
NiNi
And Top’s soul leaves his body? [laughs]
Ben
Like that would have landed if Top felt like a real person to me, but the show never gave us interiority for him in a way for me to care about how he feels in that moment. The show spent so much time its finale punching down on Boston for being disloyal sexually with people. And then like there's this goofy-ass victory lap. “Look at all these couples together!” Sand literally says, “I don't even know why I'm here.” Then Mix’s character walks in and it's like, oh, oh, there's trouble in paradise. I was like, “What the absolute fuck is the show?”
How do we spend so many episodes castigating Boston for enjoying sex, and then we end on this nonsense? It was so shitty and I'm still not over the way they ended things for Boston and Nick. I don't think Boston and Nick should have ended up together, but I really hate that they don't get a poignant ending that owns the complex incompatibility that is going to keep them from working out. Instead, we end on a final shot of Boston, alone and dejected on the side of a nondescript street. [big sigh]
26:40 Where the Story Breaks Down
Ben
Boston is not an ethical slut. He introduced a guy to his friends to fuck with his friends. He brought Top around just to fuck with Ray. And then he got pissed because Top got serious about Mew, and he didn't care about Mew or respect Mew, and so that's why he fucked Top.
But they don't really build into whatever the real beef is between Boston and Mew. We can project things into it. We can sit here and try to come up with meaning for why these people are together. Best I had was you just don't have a lot of options when you're homos. These are your friends. You stumble into a group of gays and you deal with it. That could be fine, but I really wish for all of the talk that this show was “only friends” that we really understood the function of this friend group and the nature of betrayal here, other than, “You fucked my boyfriend. Blah blah blah.”
NiNi
The back half of the show was missing a really good bitch. The front end of the show, Boston is the one out there pushing people's faces in their shit, and then the back half of the show he's like a little kicked dog. Boston is fucking terrible, but he was the truth teller, and that's what I was looking for, I guess, in the back half of this. And I hoped that Boeing would be that character and then that fizzled out.
David
I can tell you when I think the narrative shift actually happened, and I've thought about this. I feel like three or four characters did things that seemed wildly out of place for their character. Even though we knew that that recording was going to get out somehow—that was a foregone conclusion. It being Sand…did not feel right at all. Ray finding out about the recording, and releasing it, was totally where I saw that coming from. But Sand being the one that did it is when it had a narrative shift to me that did not make sense.
Ben
You know what? I think it is that episode, because the way Boston responded to being confronted by Ray.
David
Right! I was going to say that next.
Ben
Where did that demon in him come from? Why does he feel so strongly about Ray like that?
David
Right! The more I thought about it, that is the episode something happened, some conversation in the writers room. Something happened somewhere. I firmly believe when they originally wrote that somehow Ray got ahold of the recording, and he directly took that recording to Mew. It does not make narrative sense to me in the way that they've presented Sand that he would have done it.
And that whole episode and the episode after were people doing things that didn't make any sense for what we knew about the character up until then. Like when Boston loses his shit on Ray—didn't make any sense within the context of what was going on. Had he unloaded on Mew? Totally would have made sense.
Ben
That's what I wanted to see. I really wanted to see the crux of the differences between Mew and Boston really come to a head properly, and instead we get Boston yelling at Ray, “You're no better than me!” and then Mew decks Ray so that he can do his own ‘gotcha bitch’ moment with Top.
That was incredibly unhinged. I liked the follow up for that where Mew was like I'm gonna get all of these bitches, and then he concocts his plan to get Boston’s sex tape just to be morally superior to him. That tracked completely for me. [laughs]
David
Oh oh yeah.
Ben
But like that's also sort of where the huge breakdowns occur because they make that confrontation primarily about Mew getting one up on Boston and making Boston grovel, but I just feel like we never really understood what the deal was with the two of them, because clearly they both felt some kind of way about the other but they never really express it to the camera.
NiNi
That's the problem for all the fights that there were between Mew and Boston, I still don't have any sense of why they don't like each other.
David
The thing that bothered me the most about this? My favorite part of most of the shows is friend groups that are ride-or-die for one another. You don't fuck with them. That's my girl. That's my boy. We gonna help you creep to him, but there gotta be rules. Unhinged friend groups that are down for one another like Secret Crush [On You]. Those kids sincerely fucking loved one another. We've seen good friend groups.
This friend group. Why the fuck are y'all around one another? Mew doesn't respect Boston. Boston can't stand Mew. And at some point, you think they would have explained it. Like, maybe there was some guy that Mew liked that Boston fucked. I could see that in such a way that Boston doesn't even remember what dude it was.
NiNi
I could even see just Mew hating Boston because Mew thinks he's a hoe, and Boston responding to that. But that doesn't even become part of the conversation. They're in this friend group together, but they hate each other. Okay. I can see that happening, especially when you're in college. You end up hanging out with a bunch of people, including this one bitch you can't stand. That's a thing. It occurs.
Ben
I wish we had really gotten at the envy that Mew definitely felt about Boston.
NiNi
Yes! There's like a seething envy between the two of them, and not just on Mew’s side, on Boston’s side as well. What I thought it was going in was that there was this weird kind of love/hate where they're mad jealous of each other, but they're also mad judgy about each other.
Ben
If this were like an American show, where we thought we might be getting more seasons, the two of them would definitely have the weirdest raunchiest sex scene at like the 60% mark of a second season.
[NiNi laughs]
NiNi
Their beef predates Top, but the show made their beef about Top.
David
I feel like Boston has actually wanted to fuck Mew for awhile. I think, too, that he knows he can't get Mew; that's never gonna happen. Conversely, I think Mew wants to fuck Boston and cannot handle or deal with that, because he's created a veil around himself that is so righteous, so sanctimonious, that to even do that would shatter everyone's notions of who he is, and I think he turns that annoyance and anger about that situation towards Boston.
I think they both want to fuck each other and the other one doesn't realize that the other one wants to fuck them. But if you look at it from that viewpoint, everything else makes sense. That they are fucking attracted to one another and Mew can't let it happen because of the picture he has painted of himself, and Boston can't look like he wants it because he knows he can't get Mew.
NiNI
This is some of the stuff that I thought the show was playing with: self-image and our ideas about ourselves, and the way that we want to project certain things and maybe hide in our hearts what we really want. That's one of the things that I definitely thought the show was doing with Mew. Maybe Mew’s a hoe at heart, maybe he wants to be everything that Boston is, maybe he wants to fuck Boston. It's this weird thing, but it just never gets addressed. And then it gets glossed over entirely in favor of this being somehow about Top.
This shit ain’t about Top!
David
Oh no! Top is definitely an ambulatory penis.
[NiNi laughs]
As a great philosopher named Benjamin Tiberius once said: Dick is abundant [NiNi in unison] and low in value. This could have literally been any other dude. The primary powerful personalities in this friend group are Mew and Boston, and they are such strong personalities at opposing poles that they are constantly fracturing that group. Those other personalities in that group are not strong enough to counteract that.
Ben
Speaking of other personalities in that group, let's talk about Cheum and how much I fucking despise her.
NiNi
Do we have to talk about her? [laughs]
Ben
Oh yes we do!
David
I was ready to defend Cheum until Ben turns around and goes, “But she's, like, mean.” She's consistently mean. And she gets away with it because she's the girl of the group. And in a lot of ways, she's as much of a status hopper as fucking Mew is.
NiNi
She is the one who started pushing Mew towards Top. Boston brought him around, but she was the one who was like, “Don't you wanna sleep with a top-tier dude?”
David
Yup! Yup!
NiNi
Girl, you, what? At one point in time, I thought that she was the shipper analog in this show because she is treating these boys like her Ken dolls that she's leaving around on the lot. Girl, go fuck your girlfriend and leave these boys alone. That's how I felt about it at one point in time. And then when she's sitting crying on the couch because the police have busted up her little party because Ray loved that booger sugar.
Ben
As her friends are being literally arrested by the cops, she takes that moment to go the fuck off on Ray.
NiNi
She makes that whole moment about her.
David
Yup.
Ben
That was so gross. And then she tried to weirdly play solidarity with Boston at that moment? “You don't care about me and Boston.” Me and Boston!
NiNi
There's a you and Boston?
Ben
I wish Boston had been fucking Atom at that exact moment and looked up like, “Who said my name?”
[David and NiNi laugh]
David
You imagine Boston just looking up and going, “I felt a baleful presence. What the fuck was that?”
NiNi
[laughs]Oh my God.
Ben
It was so ridiculous. And she's like, “Oh, boohoo. These boys were mean to me.” Like, you are a lesbian crying on your girlfriend's shoulder because gay boys were mean to you? You ain’t strong enough. Get out of here.
David
And let's all talk about that. Now, bitch, don't pretend like you didn't know that Ray was basically Guns ‘N Roses in your goddamn party. Bitch, don't play with me. You lie to God. Don't lie to me. There ain't no way you didn't know that boy had pockets full of booger sugar, booze, ketamine. Don't play in my face like this, please.
Ben
Ray is also so embarrassing. You really wanted Mew that bad that you let him use you just to piss off Top. And then you spend half your time running around calling Sand a whore? Fuck Ray for always calling Sand a whore.
NiNi
And also, if he's gonna call you a whore, and you're gonna be okay with that because Sand is always somehow forgiving of that, then at least take the motherfucking money.
Ben
He did deserve financial compensation for having to put up with that entire friend group.
38:40 Bottom Dementia™
Ben
David, let's talk about Boston and how his bottom dementia drove him insane and that's why he had to fuck Top so bad.
[NiNi laughs]
David
I was the first one to use bottom dementia, because I said, “Look, sometimes if you are a primary top and you find someone who makes you want to bottom, that bottom dementia make you go crazy.”
He ain't going crazy over no bottom like this. This is a top who put it down good one time, and this boy is willing to risk it all. Friends, career, school. He just want the dick! Bottom Dementia is a real problem and affects 6 in every 10 gay men.
[NiNi laughs]
What do you think poor Nick was going through? He had Nick turnt. Nick was bugging cars because the dick turned him so good. Do you know what kind of bottom dementia you gotta be going through to bug someone’s car and just be casual about it?
Ben
Not only did he casually bug the car.
David
Girl, he listened. He watched.
Ben
And then recorded the encounter. He then edited the clip so that he could listen to it just to hurt himself.
David
Bottom dementia! It is trademarked. I want my coins, and I am open for TED talks on bottom dementia. I've had one case of bottom dementia in my life. I know what it looks like. I went halfway across the country because of bottom dementia. I knew it when I saw Boston. I was like, “Oh, that's bottom dementia right there, girl. That's all that is.” I was like, I understand him though, like my sis is going through it right now. Y'all gotta let bottom dementia play out. It's like a sleepwalker. You can't just jostle them out of it. [NiNi laughs] Like, if you see someone going through bottom dementia, what you do is you make sure they're not thirsty and they've eaten—or maybe not eaten, depending on what stage of the bottom dimension they’re in.
Ben
Gurl.
[NiNi laughs harder]
David
You know, you just be there for them, because they're gonna come up out that fugue, and they're gonna be like, “Bitch!” And then you go, “Bitch…”
Ben
I almost understood it when they were in that car and Top's like, “Fine, I'm gonna do it,” and then tried to send that man into orbit.
[NiNi laughs]
Aight, bro. Shit!
David
Let me tell you! That was not good for poor Boston, ‘cause that made the bottom dementia a lil crazier. So when he rejected homeboy—and that's how you cure bottom dementia. You just get rejected, or you get common sense.
[Ben and NiNi laugh]
Like in my own case, it came when I was on the plane. I was like, “Am I really flying halfway across the country for dick? [NiNi laughs] Is your girl really sitting in coach class for dick? Did I not get my snack for dick? [Ben laughs] What is happening? Wait, wait, wait. Am I on Spirit Airlines for dick?”
NiNi
[laughs] I’m choking…
David
Girl! I—look! Man, I got off the plane, I called my girlfriend, I was like, “Let me tell you something, bitch.”
She was like, “Mm-hmm.”
I was like, “Girl, I'm on Spirit.”
She's like, “Mhmm. Right!”
“In coach.”
“Mm-hmm. Yup.”
“Halfway across the country.”
“Mhmm, right again.”
“For dick?”
She was like, “Sir. Ma'am, my sister in Christ.”
Now I went and got that dick because, at that point, I mean I'm already there, you know, but, like… bottom dementia is a real thing, okay? Let me tell you, like, whether it's you realizing that you are in the throes of it in coach on Spirit Airlines [Ben and NiNi laugh] on a one o’clock flight—Bitch, it was one in the morning. What is my life choices?
Ben
You caught a red eye??
[NiNi continues laughing]
David
Girl! Ben, for dick, girl, bottom dementia.
Ben
Speaking of bottom dementia, let's talk about Atom
David
Gurl…
NiNi
Woo. Jesus, fix it. Fix it, Jesus.
David
Jesus, take the wheel, take the axle, take the car, like. Lord.
Ben
I don't mind the plot line. Atom being like, “Give me that dick. I want it.” Fine. Whatever. We've seen like three different cases of bottom dementia in this show now. You got Boston's for Top, Nick’s for Boston, and now Atom’s for Boston. And then there's also Sand for Ray—oh my God.
David
Girl! [Ben sighs]
NiNi
That ain’t bottom dementia. That’s something else entirely.
Ben
That's true. And so, it was expected. Cheum storming over there and whooping Boston's ass ‘cause she thought he laid hands on her brother, but not calling the cops on him? That was her being nice. I don't blame her for being as live as she was, but I do blame Mew. Because Mew was supposed to be smart—and definitely knew better—and just wanted to see Boston punished.
And for as smart as he is, as much as he reads, choosing to let Boston go down that way is fucked up in ways that I just can't properly articulate, because there's no way you think it's okay for Boston—after you've helped him get out from under some sexual blackmail—would think that he would do that to somebody else. Let alone, Cheum’s brother. And letting that go down the way he did was, for me, the kind of unforgivable shit that a character can do.
It tracks with the character because Mew is a mean bitch, but was too fucking far from Mew.
Ray! Ray is drunk. I don't care about Ray.
David
Girl, Ray didn't know where he was. They said get in the car, we rolling. And Ray was like, okay. He put his flask in his pocket with his booger sugar and he got in the car. Ray barely knew what day it was.
Ben
But Mew definitely knew that Boston didn't do that to Atom, and he still let that go down. That was gross for me, and I hated the little perfunctory apology she gives Boston about that whole situation and then two scenes later it's like, “Okay, time for you to apologize to everybody for all the shit you did.” I'm like, “[scoffs] is? Is that how this is going down?
NiNi
No, you see. You ain't got smoke for Cheum over how that shit went down with Boston over at him, but I got smoke for that bitch, and here's why. It is one thing to be live about somebody you think did something to your little brother. Be live about that. 100%. But the way she was live? The shit that she said?
“Oh, my brother was straight before. What did you do to him?” Come the fuck on?
David
Her whole verbiage of that… as one of the gay men near her, I would have been like, “Bitch, what is that supposed to mean? Ain't nobody gonna check this bitch about what she just said?”
NiNi
That scene was when I was over Mew. I was over Cheum. Them two were completely out of control.
David
Because of another little BL group I'm in, I started doing all this research on… trigger warning guys, sexual assault and date rap drugs and all that… and it's like a major issue there. And I thought the way that this show touched on that did everyone involved a disservice.
Cheum, when her brother said he lied, she should have beat his ass in the middle of the kitchen. Why would you lie about something like that? Do you know the consequences of that kind of lie? You, identifying as a straight man, told me that one of my gay friends raped you.
Ben
I really hate that she reassured her brother.
David
When he lied, I decided, “Oh no, Atom is done.” We don't lie about that. I don't care what the fuck his reasons are. That shit was foul.
Ben
I do not like Cheum. I do not like Atom. I do not like Mew. I don't like any of these bitches! I was watching this like I was an older patron at Yo's bar. “What’s going on with the twinks these days?”
“Oooh, girl, let me tell you…”
“Oh, Lord. And then he did what?”
“Girl, he punched his own friend in the bar so he couldn't out that man, just so he could go fuck him up at home.”
“Damn, that bitch is crazy.”
That's how I was watching this whole show.
47:38 Do Not Take Only Friends Seriously
Ben
The thing here is, the show was just meant as entertainment. Do not take this show seriously. A lot of us like to write meta. We like to really engage with the stories and stuff. But, as David and I are fond of saying to all of the gays around us when they ask us for help and then don't do what we tell them they need to do to get out of their situation: “I can't want more for you than you want for yourself.”
This show does not want a lot for itself. I'm not going to pretend like this show was deeper than it was. This was a fun romp where a bunch of the BL boys got to cut loose for a little bit and have a good time, and that's totally fine. If you watch it as just the BL boys and some of their friends got to do a cracked-out, messy gay show, and we got to have some fun moments, it's fine.
Are we going to want to engage with this more seriously as a lens into queer life? I don't know. Like, there are some things to talk about, and I think there's some great shit to talk about with Nick and Boston. But overall? Mmmm…It’s fine. It's fun while you're watching it. There is no need to return to it.
NiNi
I just wish, and this is the thing that I try not to do with shows, but I think in this case it's justified. I just wish it was something else. For whatever reason, it's very clear that something in this show got changed during its run, and I just wish that they had been able to make the show that they clearly envisioned at the start.
Ben
I think we thought the show was going to be broader than it was, in terms of interacting with the queer experience. And it's fine if that's not what the creators intended. I feel like that's something we wanted from it. I don't think it's something that was necessarily promised to us. The only thing that was promised to us that we didn't get was Sand and his motherfucking bat.
NiNi
Now, you know how I feel about pilot trailers, Ben. I do not trust them.
Ben
It's less about that he didn't actually wield the bat. It's that the character pitched out there seemingly had a stronger sense of self than Sand ended up having in the final, and that irks me. Where is the version of Sand that was mad as hell and took a bat clearly about to go break something? Bring him back!
David
The whole narrative shift is so weird and awful, and Sand and Boston are probably the two biggest victims of it.
Ben
When did the show shift for me? The moment Sand called Ray his 25th hour. I was like, “Oh, what the fuck just happened??”
NiNi
Eww….
Ben
We don't have to wring meaning out of this experience. Like, we had a good time. We got some laughs. Mond kissed all of the boys. Whatever.
51:00 Final Thoughts (Two Months Later)
Ben
Hello again, folks. We apologize for the abrupt end to the last section. When we were recording this with David, we ran into an unfortunate hour and a half long string of technical difficulties, and some of the recording was lost, and we do not have the capacity in us to try and rebuild the end of that segment.
So, couple of months away from Only Friends, NiNi and I are back together, and we brought another guest with us, and we're going to wrap this up. So, everyone welcome Ginny back to this side of the podcast, Ginny, say “hello.”
Ginny
Hey!
Ben
What I kind of want to talk about now, a couple of months away from the show, what from Only Friends, if anything, sticks with you at this point?
Ginny
Disappointment. [laughs] Really, Boston and Nick as characters and, what I hoped, and was ultimately frustrated by in their stories. But I did, really, love so much of what was done with their characters, and when I think about the show, it's mostly the two of them—both separately and together—that I think about.
Ben
What about you, NiNi? You had an ongoing rankings board for 12 weeks on this show. What sticks with you from it at this point?
NiNi
Definitely Boston. That's been haunting me for a while, but it also, oddly enough, Top. Because I feel like my conception of Top was more interesting than what the show gave us, and so I've been stuck with a lot of Top headcanons, which is a weird place for me to be in. They missed a trick, I think, when it came to Top, and the whole TopMew dynamic.
Ben
For me, nothing about the show itself sticks. Only thing that I think of when I think about Only Friends was Neo did a really good job, and I really liked Mark. And that's not great.
I think whether it was spoken or not, a lot of us hoped that this show would join the gay canon, and it doesn't. The way this show lets down its audience on the sexual politics towards the end is truly unforgivable and it has made me think less of Jojo. I don't know how much of this is him, or how much of this is the powers that be at GMMTV, but it was kind of weird, with as online as Jojo is, just sort of laughing about how Boston's a fugly slut. And that's where, sort of being where the show ends, being really surprising for me from him, ‘cause I thought he had a stronger grasp on his characters.
I really hate that one of the shows we were most anticipating ends up being barely worth mentioning? It sucks, because, I think, a lot of the talent in this really put themselves out there and pushed themselves beyond their comfort zones. It really sucks how flat Only Friends feels by the end, because the early parts of watching this were just so fun. The need to make bolder and more risque or more interesting storytelling seems to be at odds with whoever has the final say on what goes into these stories, and Only Friends seems to be a very obvious victim of that.
NiNi
It's a show that should have been fun. In the end, it was not fun. I would give this show seven and a half, and the half point is for the stylistic elements. I'm sad to be rating Only Friends a seven and a half because up to episode 6 this was probably like a 9.5 show for me.
Ben
Ginny, what about you?
Ginny
I still have to think about my final rating. Because yeah, the first half and a bit—fully 9.5. And then by the end I want to put it down in the 7 zone. I think at the moment it's sitting at 8.5 on my MyDramaList, but as time has passed and I haven't gotten over the things that made me sad about it, I think it's going down to at least an 8, and it may sink further as time passes and my bitterness pickles.
Ben
Pickles is a good term for it. It's a 7. It is not an easy show to recommend. It is a show, that if you're going to tell someone to watch it, you have to give caveats for. You have to explain that something is going on politically with this show in terms of what it was allowed to do, and how that seriously impacts the end. Anytime you have to recommend a show with a pamphlet explaining things, or learning people about things, it lowers for me immediately.
If this was any other creator, they should have gotten a 5, because I was Gay Mad about this show.
Ginny
Yep.
Ben
I was not expecting to be Gay Mad at Jojo. The fact that this is Jojo and NiNew, and I liked the cast, and it feels like meddling and not necessarily the creators per se, is the only reason this gets a 7.
NiNi
7, 7.5, 8, so that's an average of a. 7.5.
Ben
You know what it is? It's a chop!
NiNi
It's a chop, and I am so sad to be saying that about this show, about a Jojo show. So sad, but that's where we are.
Ben
And on that note, we will see you all in the next episode—which one is it, NiNi?
NiNi
I don't know. Whatever ends up happening ends up happening.
Ben
Oh, God, the next episode is Swoon.
[NiNi laughs]
We will see you next week for I Feel You Linger in the Air.
NiNi
It might be the same week! You don't know when things are going up. My calendar is a little wonky, right now.
Ben
We will see you in a few days [laughs] for I Feel You Linger in the Air. The Swoon episode.
NiNi
We out. Say “bye” to the people, Ginny.
Ginny
Bye-bye.
NiNi
Say bye to the people, Ben.
Ben
Peace!
#lgbtq#podcast#only friends the series#the conversation#ben and nini's conversations#on art#thai bl#bl series#season 5#winter series#Spotify
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You’re laughing, they finally cracked the Zodiac killer’s 340 cipher and figured out the fucker can’t spell ‘paradise’ and you’re laughing.
#51 years and they finally fucking cracked it#I’ll be honest this wasn’t on my bingo card#zodiac killer#340 cipher#2020
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post-episode 3 fix-it
words: 2.9k
notes: i started a long fic based on this post after watching ep 3. i cannibalized some snippets from another fic i wrote last week so if you see similar scenes, that’s why. i think this will end up being 12-15k words endgame sambucky by the end, but i refuse to post on ao3 until it’s complete. this is the first 3 scenes. feel free to comment and message me your thoughts since i’m still very much in the writing phase :)
summary: “It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.”
“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.
“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.
“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”
Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.
The thing is, Sam is unreadable when it really matters. He offers words of comfort where needed – in Germany, after seeing Walker with the shield that wasn’t his, knowing that it had affected Bucky just as much as himself; in Madripoor, Bucky’s hand on the throat of some henchman or other, Sam’s hand on his when the Soldier’s memories threatened to overtake him; even in Riga, when Bucky’s guilt over releasing T’Chaka’s killer bubbled to the surface and Sam had checked in with him even though he couldn’t have possibly known about Bucky’s meeting with Ayo. Sam speaks with his eyes, always a searching look that leaves Bucky raw and feeling like he’s been x-rayed. I see you, is what those eyes say.
In contrast, Bucky’s words of comfort feel hollow. He knows that Isaiah is still a live wire for Sam, checks in with him after Madripoor when he can tell the conversation with Nagel weighs heavy on his mind. But he doesn’t see the way Sam does. He knows he’d missed something important because that conversation had ended in an argument and a threat from Sam to destroy the shield.
He never gets a chance to ask Sam what he’s getting at, because Torres signals to them that they’re at the drop point before all hell breaks loose.
***
In the end, after Karli and the Power Broker and whoever else decides to show their head from the emporium of supervillains are dealt with and they finally have a moment of peace, Bucky says, “The shield looks good on you.”
Sam freezes a few paces ahead of Bucky, the shield strapped loosely to his wrist.
“We make a good team,” Bucky says softly.
What he doesn’t expect is for Sam to whirl around suddenly. The look of barely restrained fury is enough to nearly knock Bucky off he’s feet. They fight without ever really fighting all the time, squabbles over who went left and who went right and who was supposed to lead and who was supposed to follow, but never has he seen Sam look like this before. The fury verges on hurt and it’s so fucking visceral that Bucky can barely breathe.
“You don’t get to say that,” Sam says quietly. His voice shakes and he closes his eyes like he’s steadying himself.
“I said I’d squash it until the mission was over, and I did. But you know what? I’m not doing this anymore.”
“Sam–”
“You don’t get to tell me what a good team is. Not after all the shit we just went through. You invited yourself to Munich, and I thought, ‘Fine. I could use the extra set of hands.’ We went through it together against Thanos and I respected that.”
Sam shakes his head. “But then you went off on some lone wolf woe-is-me bullshit, and look at where it got us. You broke Zemo out without even asking if I was down with that. You knew I wasn’t and you forced my hand. Now I’m an accomplice.”
“He was our only lead–”
“Bullshit. That field trip to Madripoor led us right back to Karli. Torres ended up tracking them to Riga anyway.”
“But the Power Broker–”
“–showed his ugly face in the end. All we got out of Madripoor was you digging up your trauma and us getting our faces plastered all over the internet. I promised Sharon one goddamn thing and I can’t even deliver on that now.”
“But I went along with it, fine,” Sam continues. “I knew it couldn’t have been easy reaching back into that headspace, doing what you did to Selby’s men.” The memory blindsides Bucky. “So I tabled it.” Sam taps out a tally with his fingers.
“And back in Baltimore, you’d been too keyed up about Steve being wrong about you to even listen to what I had to say. Again, I tabled it.” Another tally.
“I’ve been meeting you halfway this entire time, man, and I’ve gotten near nothing in return. You kept Isaiah a secret from me, and at first I thought you were just clueless about how damn significant it would’ve been for me to know about him.” Sam shakes his head.
“But then we met him. You saw what they did to him. The one Black supersoldier – a fucking hero – and look what they did to him. You saw it with your own eyes and you still sat there and lectured me about what you thought I should’ve done with that goddamn shield.”
“There’s precedent for it, you know,” Sam says. It takes Bucky a moment to realize Sam is expecting an answer.
Bucky doesn’t know, is the thing. He feels like he’s all of five years old again, put on the spot. He’s reminded of when Zemo just had to let him know about the African American experience; he’d felt chastised and embarrassed enough to pretend like he’d had any clue what themes lurked in Marvin Gaye’s work. Sam just searches him with those eyes, searches Bucky for something yet unfathomable and decides he hasn’t found it. That hurts more than anything else; Bucky wishes he could sink into the ground, make himself as small as possible. Sam doesn’t notice, or else doesn’t care, and just plows on with a scoff.
“You don’t even know the true history of the country you’re living in. Figures.” He shakes his head. “You’re not ever going to be able to separate the shield from the history Black folks have endured at the hands of this country. Not now, not ever.”
Sam doesn’t even look angry anymore. Angry, Bucky can deal with. It would be a relief, even.
Instead, Sam looks at him with a disappointment that somehow surpasses what Steve could have ever accomplished.
“Whatever. I tabled that, too,” Sam says. “And then after Madripoor, after we heard that doctor go on and on about Isaiah’s blood like he wasn’t even a real human-being? I said my piece and all you did was throw that shield bullshit back in my face.”
“Sam–” Bucky tries again. He’s mortified to hear the crack in his own voice.
“It’s honestly breathtaking,” Sam says with something that might be akin to genuine wonder, or maybe even morbid curiosity in his voice. “We saw the same things in Baltimore and Madripoor, but your head was so far up your own ass that you never once stopped to think all of it was just proof to me. That the shield in the hands of a Black man wouldn’t make any damn sense.”
It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.
Sam’s not even done yet. “And that’s another thing. Stealing the shield from Walker…” Sam rolls his eyes at the memory. “You want to run around with that giant frisbee, fine. That’s your business. But then you forced it on me–”
“That’s not fair,” Bucky says immediately. Desperately. “You didn’t have to accept it.”
“The whole damn country was watching,” Sam says hotly. “It was either accept it, or shit all over Steve fucking Rogers’s legacy and make myself into the villain half the country was already hoping I’d turn out to be.”
“You were dead wrong for that,” Sam says. “I stuck around until we took down Karli because it was the right thing to do. After Munich, though, this little adventure was all you. Zemo, Madripoor, the shield.”
Sam shoves the shield into Bucky’s arms, the impact so sudden that it forces him back a step.
“Since you’re so obsessed with this thing, it’s yours. Congrats,” Sam says sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ll do it proud.”
Bucky lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
“For what it’s worth,” Sam says, “Steve might not have understood everything about me. But in Vienna, when it came time to sign the accords? He was considering it. I put my foot down first and he listened.”
Sam shrugs. “Whatever you thought we were, it's not a team.”
Bucky knows where to drive the knife in to kill a man in as few twists of the wrist as possible – a brutal economy of movement and technique. But Sam...it pales in comparison to what Sam’s capable of. His weapons aren’t knives and his targets may not be made of flesh and blood, but he knows exactly where he needs to strike to rip Bucky open raw. Bucky feels like he’s been flayed alive.
“How about that long vacation?” Sam says, and claps Bucky on the shoulder.
And we’ll never have to see each other ever again goes unsaid.
Fuck.
***
The thing about ignoring Sam’s texts was that Bucky responded if they were actually important. It just so happened that most of the nonsense Sam sent was inane prattling about his day, about his job, his sister, his nephews. Now that he’s on the receiving end of it, though, it feels awful.
3/25/21, 2:58 AM
I’m sorry.
Delivered
3/28/21, 1:51 AM
Can we talk?
Delivered
3/31/21, 3:05 AM
Let me know what to do and I’ll do it.
Read 3:34 AM
4/1/21, 12:42 AM
Or if there’s anything you need.
Read 1:05 AM
Yesterday, 1:00 AM
I’m available if you need another body for a mission.
Read 1:02 AM
A week into the admittedly one-sided exchange, Sam turns his damn read receipts on. It’s ridiculous and it’s fucking asinine and it gets under Bucky’s skin immediately. It’s a form of twenty-first century psychological warfare that he’s unfamiliar with and already can’t stand. Mainly, he hates that it makes him seem desperate (he’s not), needy (he might be, especially when he realizes with horror that he actually misses Sam’s rambling texts), and ridiculous (he definitely is, because he’s letting petty mind games get to him).
Normally, Sam would send him nearly daily updates on his comings and goings – whether he’d been in New York, D.C., or New Orleans. The radio silence is unsettling. Bucky wonders if Sam made good on his promise to take a long vacation. And then....
The thing about apologies is that Bucky isn’t sure he’s ever done a proper one in his entire life, at least nothing beyond a rote “I’m sorry” with the “let’s move on” part left unspoken. But it stands to reason, Bucky thinks, that a proper apology can’t be given if he’s not completely certain what he’s dealing with. That’s all well and good because he’s got the world at the tips of his fingers, is what Yori always said. And when he grows frustrated with reading on his tiny phone screen, the New York Public Library is only a train ride away.
Sam had mentioned precedent, so Bucky’s first search is for medical experimentation. He knows for a fact he was good at this once, a memory of Steve whining about him being too good at exams coming up unbidden. He reads voraciously. Anything and everything that might offer a clue on what he’d missed. And it doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for.
He reads with dawning horror. The Tuskegee syphilis experiments. Eugenics. God, the fucking Nazis had even modeled their race science on the American school of thought. The things that the history books left out. Some of it was even happening under his nose in the 30s, he’d just been blissfully unaware. He somehow ends up down a rabbit hole where words like `prison industrial complex’ and `school-to-prison pipeline’ make increasingly more persistent appearances. New Jim Crow. COINTELPRO. War on drugs. The way all of these horrors reached their long arms into the twenty-first century.
Bucky’s going to be sick. The memories come up one after another.
Just give him your ID so we can leave.
You think you can wake up one day and decide who you want to be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.
So you’re telling me that there was a Black supersoldier decades ago and nobody knew about it.
This is what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to come here in your over-extended life and tell me about my rights.
The shield wasn’t yours to give away.
He spends the next week in his downtime reading. With the mission being over and his parole in jeopardy, his downtime mostly coincides with every day of the week.
Had Steve known?
No, he thinks. Steve was compassionate, but he wouldn’t have known because he’d taken one look at the problems of twenty-first century America and decided he’d had enough. Then he’d ran back to the 40s to live out some fantasy that simply didn’t – couldn’t – exist anymore. Had he eventually become aware of all the issues plaguing this country that they’d been able to ignore as starry-eyed kids in Brooklyn? Bucky hopes not, because that would mean he’d...no.
A part of Bucky thinks he’s so surprised because he’d thought things – race relations, civil rights, not things, his brain amends – had been getting better in the 40s. Deep down, though, he knows that’s a lie. A 2 AM read through Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States confirms it. Shady politicians. Klansmen who went back to their day jobs as cops, judges, firefighters. Mass incarceration taking its place as the new king on the throne of segregation. Evidently,
There had been plenty of folks – white folks – raising an uproar about these hidden horrors back then. The seeds of those movements had even been there in the 30s. Bucky tells himself that he’d been raised during the Great Depression, that his family had been too focused on putting food on the table to focus on social movements, but that, too, ends up being a lie. The poorest and working class whites – some, at least – in movement and solidarity with civil rights. Not him, though. Apparently he’d had his head up his ass back then, too.
Bucky can see the bigger picture a tiny bit more clearly, now.
Fine. So he’s been disarmed of the little lies he’d used as shields, and he also owes Sam one hell of an apology.
Somehow, he doesn’t think “I’m sorry, I was ignorant then but I read some books and now I know better” is going to cut it. Maybe a commitment to do better would work? Perhaps after Baltimore, but not now. That ship had long since sailed. Some grand act of service, then? He’s sure he can think of something Sam needs in this post-Blip world that he can provide. He vaguely remembers Sarah mentioning something about a ship and bank loan. That could be a starting point.
It doesn’t take much time to find the public records on the Wilson family business and then the not-so-public records on the denied bank loan. It wouldn’t take much for him to pry a little, not when seedy bankers were astonishingly amenable to the threat of violence. But he’s reminded of Zemo and figures that he ought not to do anything so drastic that could jeopardize Sam’s family situation further.
He snorts. Did growth that came several months late still count?
In the end, he decides to rip the bandage off quickly, which is how he finds himself in the sticky Louisiana heat with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring back at an incredulous Sam through his open door.
“I did some reading recently,” Bucky says.
“Hmm.”
It’s not outright refusal, so Bucky continues.
“About, um, the things you mentioned last time. Precedent.”
“Huh.”
For someone who’s normally so expressive with his language, Sam’s one-word answers as nerve-wracking as anything.
“I didn’t fully appreciate the situation that you were in. That you’re still in,” Bucky amends.
Sam shrugs. “It’s cool,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound like he really believes it. Bucky wonders if this is a test; he feels just as lost as he did on that plane a week ago.
“Let’s do this outside,” Sam says, closing the door behind him and ushering Bucky away from it. “Walk with me.”
They head down to the pier mostly in silence until Bucky breaks it. “I’m sorry for making it all about me,” he says.
Sam stares at him. It’s true Bucky might stare a little too much on occasion, but Sam’s stares are utterly unnerving in the way he seems to see right through Bucky when he really wants to, like he’s already mapped out all there is to know.
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Prompt 49/51/53
49. Go on, tell me. Tell me you don’t love me. / 51. Those things you said yesterday.. did you really mean them? / 53. I love you and I am terrified.
This is it, he thinks as she hastily wrings the water from her hair with a towel and a determined flick of her wrist. There’s no talking her out of it, no way he can change her mind.
He’s seen that same calculated detachment in her eyes before, a year ago in the parking lot of another hotel, the night everything changed. She’s filing this away, never to be spoken of again, and in a few weeks, he’ll find himself wondering if any of this ever happened at all. Aaron shouldn’t be fucking surprised. Yet he finds himself standing in the middle of the hotel room that now feels too small for them both, helplessly staring at the scene playing out before him.
“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, not sure if he wants to hear her answer.
“Can you just … throw those clothes into my suitcase?” Emily gestures to a pile in the corner, clearly left there from her arrival only hours before. “My flight is in a few hours.”
He nods slowly. Not exactly what he meant, but of course she already knows that.
She does a once over of the room, crouching gracefully to sweep underneath the bed. When she stands again, her lacy strapless bra dangling from her fingertips. “Wonder where the other half of that is,” Emily says with a laugh he doesn’t find funny at all. “If you find them … “ she adds, glancing around with a shrug. “Keep them, I guess? A souvenir, if you will.” It’s how she smirks with the slightest bit of amusement that makes something inside of him snap.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re going to disappear again. Like last time? How many times will you fucking disappear, Emily?” He takes two heavy-footed steps toward her but stops before he gets too close. He’s angry now, the sparks emitting from him in the heavy silence. She flinches, eyes flicking warily, a shaky exhale of breath falling from her lips.
“How dare you?” She hisses, her eyes holding his with a fierceness she shouldn’t have to bear. “How dare you even begin to question what I’ve done? You of all people should know.” Her anger is mixed with something else - the unmistakable shadow of remembrance, a trace of shame. “That was low.”
“I’m sorry.” He says firmly, holding up both hands in a truce, angling his body between hers and the door. “That was out of line.”
The anger in her face dissipates, but the rest remains. “You know I can’t stay here, Aaron.” There’s a resigned sadness in her voice as she comes to stand in front of him, rising slightly on tiptoe to rest her hands on his bare shoulders. “You knew from the minute you sat down next to me last night.”
She’s right, and his chest aches at the memory he’ll now hold along with the rest of what he keeps of her in his heart. “It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?” He caresses her cheek with rough fingertips, wanting to commit the feeling of her skin to his memory too. He’ll never have enough memories of her.
“Of course it was.” Emily pecks his lips with her own, ducking away before he can close his arms around her. One foot gets tangled in her dress, unceremoniously deposited on the floor, and she nearly trips over her own two feet in the heap. “Fucking thing,” Emily mutters as she rights herself less than gracefully, ignoring it altogether. She seems so unbothered by all of this now- as if in only a few hours time she’ll be gone again, likely forever. It feels so final, a cruel joke that she was even here at all.
“What should I do with your dress?” Aaron bends down to pick it up, holding the endless folds of blue silk in helpless hands. Was it only a few hours ago he took it off of her? It already seems so much longer.
Emily shrugs on her way into the bathroom, as if she’s already forgotten. “Donate it?” It’s her way of putting walls up, shutting him out and closing doors. “I’ll probably never wear it again.”
The hum of the hair dryer in the bathroom is like a siren, a warning bell if you will. He takes a deep breath, one that catches in his throat. It’s now, he tells himself. Or never.
“I���ve always thought of what would happen if …” he begins, his words heavy in the air. “If we saw each other after all this time.” Aaron studies the luggage tag on her suitcase, running a finger over the neatly printed letters and numbers. It feels like a breach of her trust to write it down or commit to memory for safekeeping, just in case one day. It’s something he was never supposed to see in the first place. Instead he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to forget what happened in this damn hotel room. It’s an attempt to accept that these are their final moments, as unfair as they are. “Tomorrow it’ll be like it never happened at all. Jack has a soccer game, you know,” he adds for good measure. He imagines her smiling into the mirror at the mention of his son. “I used to think I could just … call you. Beg you to come back. To me. To us. That you would, if I just … But I was wrong. I’m sorry, Emily. For what happened. My God, I’m so sorry.”
But no apology can ever be enough to make it all go away.
Aaron picks up the pile of clothes she asked him to, presses her sweater to his nose. For a brief moment, he contemplates tucking it in his jacket and taking it with him, because it smells like her, and that scent is becoming more distant with every passing day. Tears prick behind his eyes like tiny needles. “Everyone … no one mentions you anymore. They think they shouldn’t … that it will make things worse. But god damn it, Emily, not hearing about you is what I can’t live with. I like remembering the good times.” He swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, a few tears staining his skin. “I love you.” And then he holds the damn sweater to his face again; he breathes it in one last time before tucking it into her suitcase with a breath that feels like the piercing of a knife. “I love you,” he adds once more, seconds before the numbing sound of the dryer ceases.
“Were you saying something?” Emily asks crisply, suddenly appearing from the bathroom, her hair perfectly dry and shiny, almost bouncy on her shoulders. “I couldn’t hear you over the noise. it’s … loud ... you know.” She avoids looking directly at him, yet he can see the glassy sheen of tears in her eyes.
Aaron takes a chance. “Those things you said yesterday.. did you really mean them?”
She stops in the middle of the room, twisting the belt of the fluffy robe in her hands. “I said a lot of things yesterday, Aaron,” Emily says quietly, in a tone that tells him she knows exactly what he means. “We both did.”
“So you lied to me then.”
“I didn’t lie.” Emily folds her arms over her chest with a tired sigh. “I’ve never lied to you.” They’ve been here before, she thinks. It didn’t end well then, it won’t now.
“Go on, then. Tell me. Tell me you don’t love me.”
Her spine stiffens; her hands clench into fists. “Please stop, Aaron.” A single tear rolls down her face, then another. “Please don’t … don’t do this. I can’t. Let’s just … let bygones be bygones and move on from here.” Separately, she thinks.
Never, he thinks. “Admit it,” Aaron says, closing the gap between them, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. “Or look me in the eyes and tell me the fucking truth.”
She pointedly looks away, unable to meet his gaze. “How can I possibly say it now? After … everything that happened in -”
“What happened there doesn’t matter,” Aaron assures her when she finally looks at him, calm and focused, his touch gentle and his eyes assuring. “When are you going to forgive yourself for this?”
“It matters,” she reminds him, because it never won’t matter. “It changed everything. This,” Emily looks around, searching for something she doesn’t quite find. “This isn’t where I belong anymore.”
“This is where you’ve always belonged. What happened isn’t going to change that. You’ve blamed yourself for too long.” Aaron gives her a gentle shake, just enough to know she’s listening. Her eyes are wide, fully focused on his, lower lip trembling as she blinks back tears. “I love you,” he reminds her, shifting his grip on her arms just enough that he can wrap her into his own. “Please don’t go.”
“I love you too, and I’m terrified,” she admits, perhaps the most honest she’s been all evening. “Of being here. Of not being here. No matter what choice I make, it always feels like the wrong one.”
“Me too,” he whispers back with a nervous smile, wiping the tears from her face with his thumbs. It doesn’t make much of a difference. They still fall anyway, and when he leans in to kiss her, the ones on his cheeks blend with hers. “But please … don’t go. Not like this.”
It’s a plea, and when she smooths her hand down his face, a sad smile cracking across her lips, Aaron closes his eyes and prays.
#hotchniss#hotchniss fanfiction#prompts#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#I thought I would be writing fluff and this came out#hurting myself at 5 am#criminal minds fanfiction
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Secret’s Out
Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)
Word Count: 1,796
Warnings: not much, brief slight angst i guess
A/N: back on my cheek to cheek bullshit 😌 after this one, im going to be posting some oneshots that date back to some of reader’s background and times before bucky! which im excited for :D enjoy!
MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST
Another mission, another briefing. You get the alert the morning of, the last minute meeting blaring in your room as you make yourself breakfast. You sigh and turn the stove off, accepting that you won’t have time to finish cooking and make it to the conference room in the next five minutes. You take the time instead to get dressed in what you normally wear to briefings and take your coffee to go.
When you arrive, there’s no one in the room, no one besides Sam and Bucky. Was the meeting for nine and not eight? Are you freakishly early? Could you have actually stayed and eaten your eggs and toast?
“Do you know what this is about? Because he won’t tell me.” Bucky huffs at you playfully, not actually angry, but still annoyed at the fact that Sam refused to tell him anything that’s going on until you got here.
You shake your head to tell him you don’t and slowly make your way over to the seat next to Bucky as Sam’s voice booms in the room.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock the door.” A distant click is heard as your bottom meets the chair and Bucky’s face becomes more and more confused.
Sam is silent for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out what words to say and how to start.
“I found a video of you.” He says.
“... What?” You whisper in disbelief.
“I was looking into your background. Specifically your HYDRA background. And I found a video that needs explanation.” As if on cue, a video is displayed behind Sam.
You are seen sitting at a small table, a small blender to the right of you. You look dangerously thin, hair greasy and matted, dark circles under your eyes. You have a crazy look in them, a look Bucky hasn’t seen since the first time he saw you in prison. This isn’t prison though, he very quickly realizes. Besides your body growing rigid next to him, he just knows that this is a HYDRA facility.
You’re humming obnoxiously loud in the video as a large man - presumably a Hydra scientist - steps into frame. He wears a light blue button down shirt tucked into slacks underneath a lab coat. The tune of Singin’ in the Rain is all that’s heard for the first few seconds of the video as you stare up at the man, watching him as he checks the blender.
“Shut up.” He finally snaps at you, growing annoyed with your loud humming.
“I’m singing in the rain! Just singing in the rain! What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again!” You yell out, screaming out the lyrics in tune before a loud crack sounds, as the man in the lab coat slaps you hard across the face.
Bucky flinches next to you and you barely remember what this video was. You’re more consumed by the fact that Sam was doing some kind of background check on you for some reason and the fact that there’s a video at all. I didn’t know they recorded me.
You seem to hold back a smile at the man, as though he told some amazing joke and you’re trying not to laugh, despite having been backhanded across the cheek.
“Turn on the blender.” The man commands.
“That’s a very nice shirt you’re wearing.” You compliment.
He ignores you as he waits for you to turn on the blender. Bucky looks closely at it, but the button is on the side closest to the handler. He takes a wild guess that they don’t expect you to just reach around and switch it on with your finger.
You suddenly remember what this video is. And you realize why Sam is so angry. This isn’t good at all.
“It’s a nice shade of blue. A calming shade of blue. Like a sky blue.”
“Shut up. Turn on the blender.”
“No, no, not a sky blue. More like a… cerulean.”
“So what, you like my shirt. Turn. The. Blender. On. Now!” He commands, voice raising as his patience wears thin.
“Cerulean… blue. A nice shade… of cerulean… blue…” You drift off.
That’s when Bucky sees it. A small label on the blender, Cerulean. Before his thoughts can spiral too deeply into the name of the blender, it's a loud whirring sound in the video, making him flinch once more.
Nobody touched the blender, it seemed to have powered on by itself and a wide smile grows on your face, the same one he saw in the other video he’s seen of you, when you escaped the Hydra facility. You giggle girlishly as the man leans forward and shoves his hand into the powered blender, blood splattering out of it immediately, spraying across your face and your smiling teeth and tainting the blue of his shirt and lab coat.
Four men crowd you, holding you by the head, by the neck, by the shoulders, gripping your chin even though you barely moved through the duration video and the shot switches to black before powering off completely.
Bucky finally peels his eyes away from where the video was playing to look at you, and you look terrified.
“Sam,” You try to start.
“Mind. Control.” He says.
“Sam -” You try again.
“You hid mind control from us!” He yells.
“I can explain!
“You better, and I’m only giving you thirty seconds to do so.” He snaps.
“It - It was fight or flight! I don’t even know how I did that! I barely remember that video at all! I’ve only ever been able to do that one other time! Sam - Sam -” You stutter, “They injected me with all kinds of shit, kept me awake for days on end, fed me, starved me; they did anything to manipulate my body in order to manifest powers. You have to - to - to believe me, I don't know how I did that -”
You’re getting hysterical. You can not fuck this up. You can’t be on your own again. You can’t be living in fear all the time anymore, you can’t go back to that. You can’t be away from Bucky, you can’t lose Bucky, can’t lose Bucky.
“Sam, that’s enough.” Bucky finally speaks up.
“Buck, I know she’s your little girlfriend, but -”
“Sam, do you hear yourself right now?! Look at her!” You’re on the verge of hyperventilating and overall losing it.
Bucky doesn’t pay Sam attention long enough to hear anything he’s going to say before ducking down to where you hold your head in your hands.
“Can’t… can’t be alone again… no, no, no,… can’t” You mumble to yourself.
Sam takes a deep breath, calming himself in order to assess the situation before him, “Hey. Hey!” He snaps, catching your attention and making you look up, tears in your eyes.
“I may be angry at you for keeping this from me… but you’re not going anywhere. Do I wish you would’ve told me so I wouldn’t be surprised by some ominous video this morning? Yes. But we’ll figure it out. We’re a team and I’m not abandoning you. So stop the crying so we can deal with this. Because you need to tell me everything.” Sam tells you with seriousness in his voice, the Captain coming out.
You take a deep breath and wipe your tears, preparing to tell them everything you can remember.
…
You’re exhausted. You cried. A lot. Trying to sift through thousands of memories you spent so long trying to repress because you never wanted to remember them; you never thought you’d need to.
You tell Bucky that don’t feel like being around anyone the rest of the day, and you’re glad he accepts that, letting you have your alone time and leaving you with a promise for breakfast the following morning.
Meanwhile, Bucky calls up an old friend, someone he hasn’t talked to in years. But it’s the only person he can think of that might be able to help you get a hold of your powers.
He sits on his couch in his apartment, phone against his ear as the line rings, before an accented voice finally answers.
“Hello?”
“... Hey.”
“... Bucky? Is that you?”
“Yeah. It’s me. How soon can you be in New York? From wherever you are? I need some help.”
Morning comes too soon for you, though.
“Agent 51?”
“Oh… my god. What do you want?” You groan, loving F.R.I.D.A.Y., but hating her voice so early in the morning, with only seven minutes to spare before your alarm was supposed to go off anyway.
“Your training has been canceled this morning by Captain Wilson. Instead, he has requested that you meet him in Conference Room B.”
“Ugh, at what time?”
“As soon as possible, Agent.”
“Holy shit,” You sigh, accepting that you won’t be able to sleep anymore, “Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” You hope that Bucky somehow knows your training is canceled and brings you breakfast in the conference room anyway as promised yesterday.
Making your way to the conference room with your coffee in hand for the second time in the span of two days - which you hope doesn’t become a routine - you might add, you make sure to rub a hand across your head, smoothing down any hairs sticking straight up at weird angles now that the hair is growing back. It’s only maybe an inch or two long, but not long enough to do anything to it and not short enough to ignore.
Entering the conference room, you see Sam, Bucky and some… woman, her back turned towards you. You close the door timidly behind you and Bucky turns around to greet you, styrofoam box in hand and the smell of bacon and toast hits your nostrils. Knew it.
“Brought you breakfast, baby.” He tells you with a smile, walking up to you to plant a soft kiss on your lips in Good morning.
“Ugh, ew.” Sam spews. The woman giggles at his reaction and you’re brought back to the stranger in the room.
“Who are you?” You ask, not really wanting to beat around the bush considering that Bucky just kissed you in front of somebody you don’t know, something he’s never done before.
The woman turns around and you take in her features. High cheekbones and big green eyes, she’s very beautiful but very… young. Like, really young. Younger than you, for sure, but not a teenager either. She wears what seems to be casual clothes, her nails painted dark with rings crowding her fingers. Her most striking physical detail, though, are the long waves of bright orangey-red hair, flowing across her shoulders.
She smiles at you sweetly, and you feel calm as she introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Wanda.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel#AHHHHH im so excited for this#new character: unlocked
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Scott Lang x reader
Chapter 1
This is going to be a series I’m not sure where it’s gonna go but we shall see! This is quite an angsty chapter but expect light heartedness after this. Smut. If I’m feeling frisky I might bring in more mcu men for the reader to have a relationship with but I think it’s just gonna be Scott. Atleast for now. He’s insanely underrated. anyway hope you enjoy :)
You grumpily hiked up your tights and felt them rip at your thighs. For fucks sake. Leaning over to straighten them over your toes just made the hole larger. Brooklyn baby had come on your Spotify playlist, which was rich seeing as you were dressing sexy in hopes of impressing a divorced 51 year old. How sweet.
‘That’s what you’re wearing?’ Tony’s voice interrupted your music video moment.
Tony knew about your ‘crush’ on Scott. He wasn’t supposed to. No one was. Somehow you’d let yourself spill everything to the playboy at one of his parties. You’d told him how your heart had raced so much the first time you met Scott Lang you had to excuse yourself and check for pains up your arm. You told him about how much you wanted to fuck him. Be held by him. How he’d almost become a priority and you knew how fucked that was. How obsessed you were becoming. How any attention from him felt important. It was embarrassing but time made you less guilty. Impatience made you flirtier and boredom made you stupid.
‘Yes. What do you think?’
Tony had arrived just as you had gotten your skin tight dress to go over your tits. No easy task. You gave him a quick spin in your revealing outfit and heals. A slight mischievous grin formed on your face. He knew what you were doing.
‘I think Scott might have a heart attack.’
That made you laugh excitedly.
‘You’re not supposed to want that Y/N.’ Tony’s tone was warning you but he couldn’t help but smile at your so called ‘antics’. He couldn’t help but route for you. Despite the age gap. He’d dated many younger women in his time and you and Scott would make a hilarious endearing couple. To say the least.
‘Well,’ you sighed, fiddling with your bra strap before looking up at him. ‘I’m not wishing him anything bad. He’s my friend. I just want him to have a good time tonight.’ Was he your friend though? The two of you spent time together alone sometimes but he didn’t know a lot about you. Not as much as you knew about him.
‘Oh how noble of you.’ Tony smirked.
You knew how you sounded. Maybe you’d be happier if your type was young men. Men/boys like the ones that smiled at you on nights out and went to University and hadn’t grown up in the 70s. No. That just wasn’t you. It was naive and the whole thing made you feel younger and older, braver and more anxious at the same time. Scott had such a strong affect on you. He was everything you admired in a person. Intelligent. Caring. Hilarious (he’d made you cry laughing several times). Honest, loyal and sexier than anyone you’d ever interacted with. When you’d first met him he smiled at you so brightly you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it. Everyone liked him. How could they not?
All you could focus on as you finally went downstairs was how much you wanted to talk to Scott and be near him.
‘Don’t get too drunk and pass out on me okay?’
You ignored Tony’s unreasonable request and scanned Stark Tower for Scott. Wanda looked gorgeous in her classic red stood beside a tipsy smiling Clint. There was a Thor, already requesting drinking games, and two soldiers shamelessly flirting. Lucky. Nat was pouring herself and Bruce a drink whilst Vision stared at one of Tony’s odd abstract paintings. Where was he?
‘Who’re you looking for?’
Oh. You must have said that last part out loud.
‘You got a drink yet?’
Scott. You instantly smiled. It was so childish. He’d asked you two questions and you were just stood gazing. Scott moved closer to you looking for an answer. He smelt of the Earth and oil. It took a lot for you to not just sink your face into his clothes and fuck he looked good too. As always. ‘I was looking f- you know I’m a bit cold..’ you trailed off not sure what your plan had been in the first place.
Sometimes speaking to him was easy, on those days you’d think of him as a friend, but if you thought a bit too much you’d go over the edge and turn pretty useless.
As if he hadn’t noticed before, Scott took your appearance in. He seemed slightly shocked at first but not as taken aback as Tony assumed he’d be. Bit disappointing. Maybe you hadn’t looked as ‘sexy’ as you’d hoped. You caught his gaze pause at your legs and hips. A slight smile crept up on you - you had a feeling Scott Lang wasn’t a chest man. Not that it really mattered. One glance didn’t mean much, Tony had stared at you inappropriately more than once and Banner.
‘I mean- you aren’t really wearing a lot. I have a jacket if you want something warmer on..’ just like you Scott trailed off. Wearing his jacket sounded appealing but being kissed by him would be so much better. Deep in inappropriate thoughts about the ‘friend’ in front of your face, you sighed. God this would all be easier if you were atleast tipsy. You were especially anxious that night which you just hated because Tony’s parties were normally when you let loose. Thor had had to peel you off the floor last time while you mumbled something about how ordering fast food was more nerve wracking than ordering from sex shops.
‘Y/N!’ Thor’s booming voice cut between you and Scott as did his massive frame. You didn’t mind. He was like a huge teddy and just as inviting. Scott greeted him but you could sense his discomfort. The former criminal wasn’t overly fond of people he didn’t know much about. You were an exception. He knew enough to know you weren’t a threat and enough to like you. Thor on the other hand- well Scott had seen him lift Nat, Wanda and you onto his shoulder pretty easily. He’d also met Loki and had a tendency to judge people off their family. One of his bad habits.
‘Starks got these drinks but they’re not just drinks... they’re full of colours. Rainbows Y/N,’ he slurred his words but the man was so excited about colours it was adorable, you happily humoured him.
‘No way! rainbows!’
‘Yes yes! I don’t know what’s in them.’
‘Yeah maybe it’s just vodka.’ Scott raised his eyebrows and then walked off grumpily. You didn’t blame him, Thor tended to take everyone’s lime light, but he could have been nicer. It wasn’t as if the two of you had been chatting for long, or about anything serious. He saved that for his ex wife and you could only imagine how those interactions went.
Then you realised what day it was. Shit. Scott had told you his anniversary was coming up so he might be more serious that usual. The poor man was probably ripping his hair out wondering where he’d gone wrong. All you could do was selfishly hope he didn’t want his ex wife back. You couldn’t even remember her name despite him reminding you. What you did know was that a loud party was either, in his mind, the best place for him to be or the worst and going off what you’d seen so far you suspected the latter.
‘Have any of you seen Scott?’ You paved your way through the dance floor where you cracked a smile at Sam’s dad dancing and Nat’s horrified expression. No one had.
‘Bruce?’ You looked at the scientist with worried but hopeful eyes. ‘Have you seen Scott anywhere?’ Not only did his seem worried too but he actually looked as if he felt sorry for you. Why? Maybe he suspected things. Out of everyone Tony invited, Bruce was the most diplomatic and the most observant and you were not exactly subtle (Tony liked to remind you of that).
After pleading with Bruce to let you know where he was you went to the roof and found Scott. He was sat on the edge, his legs dangling over like he was Parker. Did not bode well.
‘Scott?’ Your breath seemed to clog before it reached your lungs when he turned around to meet your eyes and say your name. It never seemed to feel old hearing it. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. You straightened your short dress, the cold air reaching deep into your skin. Damn this man and his dramatic going-outside-when-sad routine.
At first you brain told you to leave before you overstayed your ‘uninvitedness’ (if that wasn’t a word your brain had invented it) but your instincts told you to stay. You were stood rigid on the opposite side of the roof to Scott. But he was close enough for you to see his face clearly. Pretty. Pretty but sad. The same could objectively be said about you.
‘I thought you might want company.. but I can g-‘ before you could finish Scott smiled his usual welcoming smile. It told you to stay. You approached him as if he was a frightened deer and it felt strange to do so. After all he had fought Thanos and many powerful beings whilst your arguments seemed to just be with technology.
‘Company’s good.’
You paused as you thought about whether or not to sit down beside him. Sit and you risk falling to your death. Sit and you risk saying the wrong thing to an emotional Scott and wanting to jump to your death. Stay stood up and feel too far away. He seemed to sense your predicament.
‘Sit. You’re not gonna fall.’
But what if you did?
‘Y/N I won’t let you fall. I haven’t bumped up your life insurance.’ You laughed, slightly too much as usual. It was finally dark. Normally darkness didn’t sit well with you. It made you nervous and anxious for everything you hadn’t done for the next day. It made you overthink. Why did the night do that to you and everyone you knew? But from Stark Tower’s roof you could see the entire city and it’s bright unnatural lights. They weren’t as pretty as fireflies or that one scene in Tangled that made Bruce cry but it was still nice.
‘I don’t even understand how life insurance works to be honest.’
Scott widened his eyes at your comment but he was facing the view of New York. Not you. You focused on it too and fought the urge to talk about it. ‘I forget how young you are sometimes.’ That was a stinging thought. His eyebrows were knitted together and his dark eyes were blank. His lips were slightly agape making his expression a mixture of realisation and sorrow. He was probably thinking about his ex wife as he looked at New York’s views. There was a long weighted pause where both of you remained still and watched the city.
‘She was-‘ just as it felt like Scott could fully open up to you he stopped himself. His eyes met yours (finally) and he suddenly cracked his sorrowful expression into a wide but brief smile. ‘Should we go back?’ You didn’t answer. ‘I don’t loveee the idea that the cake might be gone.’ He stood up and stretched his hand out for you to grab. You took it after a moment of hesitation. ‘There was cake?’ Both of you had returned to your childish selves. Enough maturity and worrying. It was meant to be a fun night! You looked down at your dress remembering why you’d dressed so ‘sexily’ in the first place. How could you still be so naive ?
Scott was sad about his ex wife. His 45 year old ex wife. You must have seemed high school aged to the man. Why just why couldn’t you fancy someone younger and more available? Sigh.
#marvel#marvel fandom#scott lang x reader#scott lang#scott lang fluff#angst#marvel x reader#ant man#paul rudd#tony stark#marvel mcu
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Northstar Reading List (updated 12/31/21)
Uncanny X-Men #120 & 121 - First appearances. Reprinted in many, many formats, but I'd personally recommend grabbing the X-Men: Alpha Flight collection. It’s relatively cheap used at this point (and even cheaper digitally!), and it has a fair chunk of early appearances in it.
Alpha Flight v.1 - The obvious. The entire Byrne run is collected in three volumes, but the first trade is OOP and stupidly expensive. As such, this is one where I suggest searching eBay and back-issue bins for single issues, or buying the first trade digitally. There’s also an omnibus of the entire Byrne run out, but it’s on the pricey side. The first run of Alpha Flight has it's ups and downs (*ahem* Mantlo!), but I'd generally recommend the whole thing. You can skip issues #51 - 80, though, as Northstar spends those two years written out of the series.
Crystar #11, Marvel Team-Up Annual #7, and Marvel Two-In-One #84 - Contain veiled references to Northstar's queerness (the one in the annual is barely veiled, but the other two require some squinting, IMHO).
Alpha Flight/X-Men - This is the one by Ben Raab and John Cassaday. It's pretty bad. Nothing at all noteworthy happens to anyone.
X-Men/Alpha Flight: The Gift - This is the one by Chris Claremont and Paul Smith and is generally excellent. Establishes Northstar and Rogue's friendship. Collected in the Asgardian Wars tpb, X-Men: The Gift, and the X-Men: Alpha Flight collection.
Marvel Fanfare #28 - Northstar's past with the FLQ-wannabes comes back to haunt him. More reasons why James Hudson should have stayed dead come to light. Uncollected.
Marvel Comics Presents #92 - Starring Northstar, Joe Madureira’s baby-pictures, Northstar’s 90’s mullet, and a terrorist named after lube. Recommended for being utter crack. Not collected or reprinted, so if you want this one in dead-tree format, you’ll have to go checking the back-issue bins.
Northstar #1 - 4 - Uncollected. Limited series, mostly noteworthy for managing to avoid direct mention of Northstar's sexuality while being insulting about it at the same time.
Alpha Flight v. 2 #6, 8, 12, 13, 15, 17-20 - Uncollected. Northstar attempts suicide, pontificates at fishermen, chases Aurora, and does little of note for the rest of the series.
Uncanny X-Men: Eve of Destruction - This would be the collection in which Northstar is on his book tour and literally makes his would-be murderer eat his own gun. Bonus KO'ing of homophobic teammates included.
Uncanny X-Men: Hope, Dominant Species, Holy War, Day of the Atom - Chuck Austen. Starts off OK by the standards of early-2000′s queer rep, quickly devolves into a great-big pile of Do Not Want, as Northstar's main function seems to be playing BFF to the stand-in for Austen’s wife and briefly crushing on Iceman like a tongue-tied teenager. Don't you just love it when misogynistic straight guys write queer dudes?
New Mutants v2/Academy X: Choosing Sides, Haunted, and X-Posed - Northstar's stint as a teacher. Mostly background appearances and his funeral issue. Establishes his mentor role to Anole/Victor Borkowski. Collected in The Complete New Mutants: Back To School and New X-Men: Academy X: The Complete Collection.
Wolverine: Enemy of the State - Northstar as an angry gay zombie. *sigh*
X-Men: Supernovas - In which Northstar and Aurora get brainwashed again, given a powers upgrade, then returned to default settings.
X-Men: Divided We Stand - Anthology collection in which Northstar's relationship with Anole is pointlessly sacrificed on the alter of angst.
Uncanny X-Men: Sisterhood Arc thru Schism - Northstar rejoins the X-Men. Seen with a man later confirmed to be his boyfriend. Forms a completely unexplained BFF relationship with Dazzler. Mostly used as wallpaper, absolutely fuck-all in the way of character development.
Nation-X #2 - Northstar's boyfriend is finally given a name (Kyle). He visits Utopia (which apparently makes Northstar giddy as all hell). Two men are implied to have sex -- with each other! -- in a Marvel comic, and yet the world does not end. Collected in Nation X and Astonishing X-Men: Northstar.
X-Men: Hellbound - Team Gay goes to Hell. OK, OK, fine...Northstar goes to Limbo on a team mission. Brainwashed again, nothing much happens in terms of character, but there’s some half-decent snark. Collected in X-Men: Second Coming - Revelations.
Chaos War: Alpha Flight - The band gets back together. Kyle gets a mention. Last decent Alpha Flight story to date in which Northstar has any real presence. Collected in Chaos War: X-Men.
Alpha Flight v.4 #0.1 - 8 - For once, Northstar isn't the one who winds up mind-controlled; apparently, he dodged and his sister and boyfriend took the hit. Decent art, Kyle gets a last name (Jinadu), Northstar doesn't get jobbed wrt to his powers, and there are multiple PDAs between Northstar and Kyle. Unfortunately, that's all the good I can say about this misogynistic trainwreck of a nostalgia book. There were supposed to be two hardcover volumes, but sales tanked so badly on the first that the second was canceled. There's currently a softcover collection out for the whole run.
Astonishing X-Men #48 - 68 - Moves to New York with Kyle, joins up as part of a team with Karma, Wolverine, Gambit, Iceman, Warbird, and Celia Reyes. Lots of significant moments for Northstar and Kyle, the most publicized being the wedding that took place in issue #51. Collected in Northstar, Weaponized, X-Termination, and Unmasked. Northstar does not feature heavily in the latter part of the run.
Amazing X-Men #1 - #19 - Aids in the search for Nightcrawler in the afterlife. All part of the wacky adventures that come with being part of the JGS staff. Collected in The Quest for Nightcrawler, World War Wendigo, and Once and Future Juggernaut. Alpha Flight guest-stars in World War Wendigo, issues #8 - 12. Northstar has a spotlight story with Anole and Nightcrawler in issue #13.
Secret Wars Journal #4: Normally I don’t include AUs because Northstar never has anything to do in them but show up and die. But this one has a bit more substance, plus Kyle actually gets to have an action scene for once! Collected in trade.
Iceman #9: Northstar shows up at Iceman’s going-away party. Attempts to salvage his ego by insisting part of him “always knew”. No one is fooled. Available in trade.
Uncanny X-Men (2018) #1 - 10: Wallpaper for ensemble fight scenes. Few lines, no character development. Collected here.
Age of X-Man: The X-Tremists #1 - #5: Northstar is part of the dirty tricks squad that keeps Nate Grey’s mutant utopia running. Essentially, the X-Men version of Section 31, but with more sexual repression. Issue #4 is Northstar’s spotlight. Excellent character work, despite the manipulated setting. Collected in trade.
X-Factor (v.4) - Northstar leads a Krakoan investigative team whose job is enforce the Resurrection Protocols by determining whether missing mutants have been killed or not. Brings back Leah Williams from The X-Tremists as writer, someone who’s previously shown an excellent grasp of Jean-Paul’s character. First trade is out, the second (and final) is due September 2021.
The Trial Of Magneto #1 - #5 - Because Marvel is greedy and stupid, they abruptly cancelled X-Factor after deciding to bloat a pitched B-arc of Williams’ into a full-fledged mini that, despite the forcibly recycled title, actually focused on the murder of the Scarlett Witch. (Want to know why we can’t have nice things? Marketing departments.) Most of this mini is focused on Wanda and Magneto, but Jean-Paul’s adopted daughter, Joanne, who died in infancy, is revealed to have been a mutant and was added to the resurrection queue. Currently collected in trade.
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Part 51 - Lesson to learn
Warning!: Injuries...
"DESTINY !! YOU ARE BACK MY SOULMATE !!! MY LOVE !!", someone yelled.
You froze in sheer panic.
"Oh no...", Scarson mumbled.
________________________________________________________
You pulled back from Serafina and stepped back to Loki and the others.
"Who was that ? Also a friend ?", Loki asked.
"No. That is Leondra...the crazy Bitch that is claiming that she and I are Soulmates...That we belong together."
"Soulmate ? But isn't there always a tattoo, that will just be activated if, what it says, your Soulmate says to you as very first word ? And the other needs to have the same effect ?", Frigga asked.
You nodded.
"She doesn't have a tattoo, nor had I one. She just claims it, because she fell in love with me and...yeah. She is crazy."
Loki growled at that and pulled you close to himself, possessively.
"Mine.", he said.
"What ??", you asked.
"You belong to us now and you are my friend ! She will not get you. Mine.", he explained.
Somehow you felt angered and aroused at the same time. You hate men, when they treated you like an object, but at the same time you liked it if it came from Loki. You’re supposed - to - be true love. You almost purred. Almost.
"I am not an object Loki.", you softly growled.
"I know. I just don't want to lose you. You are my one and only best friend, even if we have huge arguments and yell at one another that we aren't anymore. I can't risk losing my only best friend."
Okay, now you were touched deeply.
Then suddenly a big, fat, ugly woman came running in front of you. She was dirty, she smelled and her mouth was AGAIN covered in chocolate. Disgusting. Her clothes were torn and her boobs hung out. They didn't even look like boobs. They looked like fat on the chest. Very disgusting.
"Leondra...", you growled.
"Hey ! Why so mad ? I missed you, my love ! Now we finally can marry !"
Loki choked on his own air, Serafina looked at her, as if she didn't hear right, Scarson looked like he wanted to stab Leondra, Thor and the rest looked in shock and soon Laufey laughed his arse off.
"Oh boy !! EHEHEHE !! That was hilarious !!!", he laughed out.
Everyone looked at him as if he was mad.
"You know that she didn't joke, right ?", Scarson asked him.
Now Laufey stopped and stared at him.
"I didn't...WAIT ! FOR REAL ?!?!?! BUT I THOUGHT YOU ARE ALREADY IN LOVE DEST ?!?!?!"
"I AM YOU FOOL !!!", you yelled angered and ashamed.
"And that is-"
"NOT YOU, BITCH !!!", you yelled at Leondra, outraged.
"That is no way to talk to your future wife, Dest~", Leondra purred.
You looked at her disgusted. Then your eyes turned red, full of anger, hate and rage.
"You are filth in my eyes. Why should I ever want you ? You are fat, ugly, have fat as breasts, what you can't even call breasts, you smell, you are dirty, you are crazy, you are a slut, you always try to control everyone and everything, you are commanding, you always have disgusting chocolate all over your disgusting face and the color of your hair is also disturbing. Tell me one reason why I ever should lay my eyes on you."
Uff ! That must have hurt her ! You must have hurt her now. Everyone looked at you in total shock. Loki mostly. Never had he heard you say such evil, mean, hurtful words to anyone until now. Your former friends tho...looked unfazed. Not the first time you offended her. Scarson even SMILED at you.
"Because we are destined to be together !! Since birth you belonged to me !! You are my other half !", she yelled now, lightly angered.
You scoffed and then laughed darkly.
"You and I, destined to be together ? Man are you sick in your head. There is no us and there never was an us before too. Slut. I like men more than...that thing in front of me. You are a woman and disgusting as fuck. Even a corpse would be more beautiful than you. I rather kiss a corpse and Thanos, than you. Even if my life depended on it, I would never even touch you with a 1000 m long clamp."
Leondra looked at you in even more anger. Then she stomped her foot on the floor and showed you her demanding position.
"YOU ARE MY FUTURE WIFE AND YOU WILL MARRY ME NOW !!! UNDERSTAND ?! YOU BELONG TO ME !!! YOU ARE MINE !!! YOU CAME BACK JUST FOR ME !!! NOW GET HERE AND LET US KISS AND SEAL OUR MARRIAGE !!!"
She pointed her fat finger next to her and waited that you moved there. You and your former friends looked at her unfazed, Loki looked very angered, like the rest of the Frost Giants and Frigga looked shocked. The warriors three looked impressed, Thor looked ready to hit her with Mjolnir and Sif looked very mad at Leondra. Loki's hands on your shoulders turned into a grip of iron. He will not let you go, just because that slut demands it.
"NOW WIFE !!!!", she yelled.
You flexed your fingers then they tightened into a fist. A very tight fist. Your face was still very emotionless. Heiko, Mimi, Darko and Rachel slowly went nuts with anger and rage. You also believe that the new formed personality, Villana, is in a little rage and anger too. Loki went even more enraged, like Laufey and the other Frost Giants.
Leondra stomped over and wanted to grab you, pulling you away from Loki, but you avoided her filthy hands. You glared at her.
"Don't touch me, Bitch.", you growled.
"I do what I want !", she yelled.
She again tried to grab you, you again avoided them.
"Leave her alone you disgusting creature !", Loki roared in rage.
"Shut up you pathetic being !! A Frost Giant has nothing to say here !!", she yelled back.
Everyone, besides you, Loki, Frigga, Thor and Laufey gasped in shock.
"King Laufey, is that true ? Prince Loki Odinson is..."
"Silence !", Laufey yelled outraged at his most trustworthy guards.
Now you lost a little bit of your cool.
"First off you little excuse of a living being, Loki is no such thing ! He is no pathetic being ! He has a say in this, because he is a Prince and my most best friend ! I have sworn to protect him from evil as I was 5 years old ! Now second, you will not command me around ! And third, I AM NOT, NOR WILL I EVER BE, YOUR WIFE, JUST BECAUSE YOUR SICK MIND IS TELLING YOU THAT !!", you roared outraged.
Then Leondra touched your hand and squeezed it very hard, hoping to make you scream in pain and surrender, but you didn't feel it, even if you would have, you wouldn't have cared. Loki saw your anger and knew that one of the others are already plotting Leondra's death (Personalities of yours !).
Then he heard a loud cracking sound. His eyes widened and he looked at your hand, Leondra held. It didn't look right anymore. Your bones were not at the right places anymore. Leondra dared to break your hand.
"DESTINY !!!", Scarson yelled in shock and panic.
He also saw your hand. Laufey was next and he lost his cool, but Frigga held him in place, with magic, just like she held Loki in place. Loki would have long time ago pounced on Leondra.
You gave her a twisted smile and tore your arm away, snapping your hand off of your arm. Everyone gasped in pure horror, besides you of course.
Leondra took a few steps back, letting your hand fall to the ground. You went out of Loki's arms and went over to her. Your eyes were pure black and your smile was everyone's worst nightmare. You picked her up and made her look into your black eyes.
"I said...don't touch me.", you hissed out.
"What is so difficult to understand on my feelings towards you ? I hate you. You are disgusting. I am no lesbian, nor will I ever be. I do not obey someone as unworthy as you. The only ones that can command me around like that are, Frigga, Thor, Loki and Laufey. Because they are my friends and we just joke around with such things. You ugly, filthy Bitch are NOT worth my time. Understood now ? I rather kiss a corpse than you. You are nothing but filth in my eyes.", you growled out, angered.
Then you laughed like a Maniac.
"Everyone needs to feel the same towards you, don't they ? EVERYONE NEEDS TO OBEY YOU !!! EVERYONE IS YOUR PERSONAL SLAVE AND TOY !!! EVERYONE IS JUST YOURS TO FUCK WITH !! AND THE ONES, WHO DO NOT OBEY YOU, MUST BE TAMED !!!! RIGHT ?! THAT IS YOUR SICK MIND, BITCH !!! WELL FLASH NEWS !!! I AM NOT SOME OBJECT !!! I AM MY OWN PERSON, MY OWN MASTER !! I AM NO ONES TOY !!! I DO NOT LOVE YOU !!! I DO NOT FEEL PAIN !!! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LOVE YOU !!! THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF THE OLD ME, SLUT !!!!!!", you screeched out.
Leondra looked at you in fear. You gave her a very twisted grin and took the same hand she had broken from you. You held it and at first Leondra thought you just joked, but then everyone heard a very loud crack.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!"
You laughed.
"Do you feel the pain, little one ? Do you want me to stop ?", you asked mockingly.
"PLEASE !! PLEASE STOP !!! IT HURTS !! DESTINY, PLEASE !!", Leondra begged with tears in her eyes.
"Too bad. I will not."
With that you squeezed harder, more cracking was heard. Leondra screamed louder in pain.
"PLEASE STOP !! I WILL BEHAVE !!! I WILL LEAVE YOU ALONE !! I SWEAR !!!", she begged.
"Oh fine....", you pouted.
Then you ripped out her hand. She screamed louder at that. Laufey looked at you in pleasure. The rest looked rather in terror at that. Laufey chuckled as he saw Loki's shocked face. He slowly went over to him and whispered.
"She just makes show. Destiny will regenerate Leondra's hand any second now. She is no cold hearted murderer."
Loki looked at Laufey and then back at the scene.
"Wouldn't surprise me, if Dest lets Leondra bleed out. She was a huge torment...", Loki whispered back.
"Bullshit, Loki. I know her. Do not worry.", Laufey chuckled lightly and pulled Loki in his arms, softly.
"Just watch, son.", he whispered to Loki lastly.
And Laufey was right. As much as you hated Leondra, you wouldn't let her die. Not today. You regenerated her hand and had back full control over yourself. Leondra fell to the floor and laid there, still crying.
"You better keep your word or else I will kill you, Leondra.", you growled out, still on edge.
Then you turned around and everyone pretended to never have been shocked and scared of the scene. Never mess with you. That was a lesson for everyone.
"Is everything ready to be teleported now ? We just have 30 minutes left.", you told them impatient.
Everyone stared at you in pure shock and Thor was off checking everything to make sure. Laufey and Loki quickly did the last bookshelf and then nodded. Then Thor came also back and nodded.
"Everything is ready to be teleported."
You nodded and then snapped your fingers, teleporting away, but where to ?
Part 52
Masterlist with all Chapters of this Story click here !
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On September 6, 2019 I posted my very first Mindhunter fic to AO3, two whiskeys straight. At the time, I had no idea I was about to spend the next year of my life writing for this pairing, religiously re-watching the two amazing seasons we’ve gotten (so far!), and enjoying perhaps one of the best fandom experiences of my life. I thought I should mark the occasion by reminiscing on all of my 51 works I’ve produced in the last year, and thanking some of the people who have encouraged and inspired me.
TOTAL WORDS WRITTEN: 679,747 (holy shit!! This number doesn’t include what I’ve written on my current WIP which just crossed the 70k threshhold and doesn’t look to be wrapping up anytime soon lol)
TOTAL SERIES (3): The Summer of 81, Fragile (Handle With Force), In Your Eyes
TOP 5 WORKS BY HITS
1. The Summer of 81 series (lumping these 4 fics into one position since it would take up too many spots lol) 2. The Golden Boys 3. All This, And Love Too, Will Ruin Us 4. Full Windsor 5. Neon Dreams
TOP 5 MOST RE-READ FICS BY BOOKMARKS
1. Two Whiskeys Straight 2. The Golden Boys 3. Messy Suits You 4. Neon Dreams 5. All This, And Love Too, Will Ruin Us
TOP 5 MOST LOVED FICS BY COMMENTS
1. The Golden Boys 2. Red Bordeaux, 1971 3. Two Martinis Dry 4. All Our Lies 5. Two Whiskeys Straight
TOP 5 MOST UNDERRATED FICS (in my personal opinion but also by hit count)
1. The Quality of Memory 2. At The Speed of Light 3. Last Resort 4. Deconstruct 5. Every Time We Kissed (There Was Another Apple To Slice Into Pieces)
I would love to hear from everyone what their absolute favorite fic is! Or if you can’t choose, your current favorite. I definitely have my own prejudices when it comes to my fics, and some of my favorites didn’t even crack the top 5
MY PERSONAL TOP 5 THAT DIDN’T MAKE OTHER CATEGORIES
1. Our Own Private Hells 2. Near Misses 3. Four Hundred and Seven Hours 4. Lake Michigan 5. Porcelain & Pink 6. (yeah, yeah I know I said top 5) An Excess of Dangerous Curiosity
Enough about me, though! I’ve read some fics in this fandom that have truly blown me away. I’m still going to be thinking about some of these in five years whether I’m still writing for this pairing or not.
TOP 5 FAVORITE FICS BY OTHER AUTHORS:
1. Vacancy by arbitrarily on AO3. As far as I know, this is the only MH fic this person ever wrote, but it was literally my gateway drug to the pairing. Everything about this fic is amazing - the prose, the pacing, the characterization, the visceral imagery, and the brutal, almost unbearable emotion. 100/10 recommend.
2. All The Sins (You Never Had The Courage to Commit) by @mormon-hair. I’ve been reading fanfic for a long time, but this is the first one that actually brought me to tears. It’s a crime boss/ undercover FBI agent AU that I was not expecting to evoke such strong emotions from me, but by the end I was rooting for them to be together so strongly that I actually shed a few tears.
3. Moons, Junes, and Ferris Wheels by moonrocks. I thought about this fic for a solid week after I read it, then I re-read it probably five more times. The ending was not at all what I was expecting, and even though there’s no clear-cut resolution I kind of love the fact that it’s left with so many questions as the show itself often is.
4. The Lesser Key of Holden Ford by @vivarocksteady. Holy shit this fic blew my socks off!! It is not for the faint of heart. There’s demon possession, the forces of evil, and religious guilt all working against Bill and Holden before they finally get to admit their true feelings to each other, but goddamn was it fucking worth it. I’ve read this one a second time also and will probably re-read again in the future.
5. Weak Hearts and Blank Spots also by moonrocks (and including the subsequent sequels) This series stole my heart. I waited impatiently every week for the update and tried to be the first person to comment every time because I loved it that much. It’s just my type - lots of angst, mutual pining, and hurt feelings before Bill and Holden manage to get together.
6. Honorable mentions: A Sudden Red by by mormon-hair, Stripped Down to the Bone and Flirting With An Addiction I Can’t Shake Off both by @bambikieren. (and their current project But to the Dead, the Truth which isn’t complete yet, but I’m loving so far)
I’d also just like to do a quick shout-out to all the people who have contributed to my success in this fandom whether currently or in the past, left comments, encouraged me, given me prompts, or just been all around awesome:
@citruslucy @lovesight @rominatrix @loveislove5887 @ashtheironbat @randomwriter23 @buster-kitten @heymikkimouse @amygirl90 @crownofstardustandbone @queenielacy @lowkeystandom @this-sentiment @heyitshamderson @thesummerof-83 @winderwaven @woollenpharaohs @nerodeniro
There’s so many other people who I have interacted with over the course of the last year that I can’t remember, or I just don’t know their tumblr urls, or they aren’t on tumblr at all. If I’ve left anyone out, just know I’m collectively imagining all the good times and kind words this fandom has given me. I’m also thinking about the people who have read all of my fics religiously, but were too shy to comment or reach out - hey, I love you guys too and I do notice when I see kudos or reblogs/likes from people I have never spoken to.
The last year has been crazy, confusing, and sometimes scary with everything that’s going on in the world right now, but this fandom and pairing has been a comforting presence, a little escape from the fray. I feel as if I’ve become a better author in this year of record-breaking writing, and I’ve put out some works that I’m still going to be proud of in five years time. Here’s to rest of this ride, for however long it lasts! Cheers, friends 🙌🥂💛
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Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]
Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut
Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC
Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut
Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 3,498
Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland
AN: I have nothing. Nothing except for...I’m sorry... T_T
Chapter 58: Killer
“I’m not Buddha but I’m a butcher.
I’ll cut away your skin like a...”
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Namjoon slowly slid the black cotton mask from his mouth and nose, waiting in the shadows of an alcove outside of the building. The small group of men he had with him, former Golden Jackals, huddled in the darkness. They were able to overtake the side entrance hours ago, before the crack of dawn. He made sure that no one of merit within the Jade Fangs would approach the designated area. Even if they did, Namjoon would have made it a point to subdue them completely. He would leave their bodies for the crows out in the muddy fields if he had his way.
But no, this was the moment where they would turn the tides. This was the beginning of the end.
We finish this today…
Lifting a cigarette to his lips, the orange glow of the flame licked at the end of the stick as a light crackling sound emitted itself from the contact. A few hushed conversations were going on beside him, to which he vaguely tuned in. They were out to prove themselves to the fallen brothers and sisters still imprisoned in the world they were forced to live in when adventuring into the light. But it was a life they deserved; a life they fought so hard for. Whether they lived or died after today, it would all be relevant to their future.
Pulling out his watch, Namjoon immediately flipped open the latch that covered the face. He was old-fashioned, so to speak, and a bit of a sentimentalist. Jimin teased him once about still carrying a pocket watch in this day and age, but how could he let it go?
It was a graduation gift Jungkook bought for him just before he moved to attend University in Seoul.
Time seemingly crawled; all of them were prepared to launch their first assault against the Jade Fangs. Namjoon already planned to be the first to cause the strike. He would need to ensure that the blast counted for something, otherwise it was all just going to get mucked up in the end. He would not have any screw-ups. Not while he was in charge of the first wave. Their offense was cut in half with Jungkook and Jimin pulled from the equation.
Pulling his ball cap down further on his head, he slipped the watch back into his pocket. Namjoon took one final drag of his cigarette, the smoke cloud billowing in his face and partially clouding his vision. However, in the shadows it seemed as if he were a dragon on the verge of breathing out a tremendous vortex of flame. One of the men approached him, nodding quickly. Namjoon grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The gas line had successfully been cut.
“It’s time,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.
In sync, all of them slipped their masks over their faces. The cigarette fell to his feet and sparked with the faint light of its embers before finally dying out altogether. They could hear the approaching footsteps growing in time and Namjoon pulled out his hunting knives. As soon as they were in the right position, he disappeared and then reappeared at the front of the room which was in full view of the four different ways that many of the others could enter what was now to be viewed as their battlefield.
Now he had to wait for the show to truly begin.
Yoongi and his team were situated near the back of the factory, hiding in the thick brushes and reeds that were in desperate need of attention and care. Changkyun felt it wasn’t time to tidy up the landscape and that allowed for the perfect amount of camouflage. Namjoon already texted him earlier, telling him that he was in position with his team. Taehyung and his group were hidden within the factory, away from prying eyes. Once all the pieces were lined up, it would be his job to tip the first domino.
He couldn’t fucking wait.
Yoongi felt a dark smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. To think they’d spent the better part of three days planning this out. It almost seemed far fetched and he would never have gone along with something like this. Not until Namjoon convinced him just how solid this counterattack would be. Because they were using Changkyun’s ego against him. He may have broken them by taking their brothers from them and left them feeling demoralized from how thoroughly they’d been ruined. But what Changkyun failed to see was the very thing Hoseok kept hidden away from the Jade Fangs all these years. The thing that he made sure they all kept hidden from them.
Their very own malicious nature.
He felt a buzzing in his pocket and he pulled out his phone, eyeballing the screen. It was time for him to make his move. Slipping out from his hiding spot, he made a point to make as much noise as possible. He wanted to be found. He wanted his path impeded.
His men would remain hidden.
The shuffling of feet reached Yoongi and he was soon surrounded in a semi-circle by Jade Fang lackeys. Pushing his way through the small throng was Kihyun, a curious expression painted over his features. Yoongi pulled out a cigarette and lit the end, slipping the lighter into his pocket. He watched Kihyun place himself in front of him, his back to the window of the factory.
“You should really quit while you’re ahead, Yoongi-ah,” said Kihyun, a baseball bat draped over his shoulder, “those things’ll kill you.”
“My smoking habits should be the least of your concerns,” he replied, cigarette poking out from between his lips.
Kihyun laughed, shaking his dark chestnut bangs out of his eyes. “I thought the meeting agreement was for Hoseok to come. Why are you here?”
Yoongi scoffed. “Did you really think, after everything you guys have done, that we’d trust Hoseok to come here alone with just one of us?”
“And let me guess…” He watched Kihyun as he took a step forward. “…you’re watching the back in case we try to do something underhanded?”
“Nope.”
He tried not to relish in the frown that Kihyun gave him. The heavy thudding of his heartbeat only elevated the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Every square inch of him felt as cold as ice. But he could feel the fire pouring from his eyes.
Yoongi looked at Kihyun, his eyes shifting ever so slightly to the left. He saw the window slowly opening – silent. He would thank Taehyung later for oiling all the windows and doors on every side of the warehouse except for the front.
He pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke at Kihyun. Flashing his gummy smile, his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back slightly.
“I’m in the back so I can blow it up.”
And with a quick flick of his wrist, Yoongi threw the cigarette through the open window.
The explosion that soon followed knocked them all back.
Taehyung’s back hurt.
He’d been perched in the rafters for hours – having arrived at the factory long before anyone else appeared. There was an almost methodical madness to how carefully he oiled all the door hinges and window panes that didn’t come from the front of the warehouse. He was wired from both adrenaline and caffeine, knowing full well that today would be the day that everything would end. He knew his brothers were on edge, both from the planning and from the unpredictable nature that he exuded constantly.
But he had to be. Taehyung knew that if they knew what truly ticked around in his mind, they would do everything in their power to keep him from coming along. They would have left him behind.
And he’d be damned if that happened.
There was a single skylight in the factory situated dead in the center of the roof. Taehyung’s team already made short work of the lackeys that tried to come to the roof earlier that morning. No upper tiered members of the Jade Fangs were on rooftop duty. Taehyung already made a mental note of where everyone else was.
Hyungwon and Jooheon were patrolling the left side of the building; the side where Namjoon and his team were. One of Taehyung’s team was already deep inside of the factory, following the blueprint that Namjoon gave him, taking him straight to where the main gas line was. Once he finished cutting the line, he was to head to the boiler room.
Kihyun and Minhyuk supervised the back side of the factory, in case they were flanked. Yoongi was there with his group. He was the “gunshot” that would start the race. He was the only one who would be able to catch them off guard. Besides, he knew that Yoongi was also a bit of a pyromaniac and wouldn’t have been satisfied if he wasn’t the one to set off the explosion.
Which left Shownu, Wonho and Changkyun on the inside. Hoseok and Seokjin were sent in not as bait, but as a distraction. Then it would be time to bring the entire building down on top of their heads. Blood would be spilt. Lives would be lost.
Taehyung would eviscerate them all.
The building shook violently, causing Taehyung to grip onto the metal rafters. He leaned forward; one knee pressed into the beam beneath him. Shouts of confusion were heard from below him and he flashed a manic grin where no one could have the pleasure to see. Screams of pain resounded as glass shattered from below, his eyes searching for Seokjin. He was already making his way around a set of crates, having swiftly dispatched several Jade Fang members during all the chaos.
More glass broke and metal doors were slammed wide open. Dozens of Golden Jackal members flooded the factory, tangling themselves in a fight. The glass covering from the skylight also shattered, raining down into the factory. Several ropes dropped from the ceiling and Taehyung stood to his full height as his team descended from the open hatch. Some dropped to the ground while others swung from their ropes, landing on top of unsuspecting lackeys. Blood spewed as knives plunged into bodies from both sides.
Taehyung ran, jumping out as far as he could and stretching his arms out. He grasped onto a rope, swinging around until his leather gloved hands allowed him to slide down. He shoved his body around, changing his trajectory in mid-air so he was heading straight for the manager’s office.
His legs extended out as he watched Shownu scrambling to his feet. Taehyung crashed his heels directly into Shownu’s chest, knocking him back. As he straddled the older man’s hips, he quickly unsheathed the large hunting knife from his back – aiming it straight for Shownu’s chest.
He grunted when Shownu used his arms to block the blow – their forearms crashing into one another. Taehyung’s arms shook violently as he tried to force them down, watching the blade getting closer and closer to Shownu’s throat. He could feel the capillaries in his eyes exploding, his vision blurring momentarily, before a scream erupted from his lungs.
Releasing one hand from the hilt of the knife, Taehyung punched furiously at Shownu’s rib cage. The older man attempted a counterattack, using his knee to slam into Taehyung’s back. The force of the blow caused him to fall forward and he felt Shownu’s fingers closing in around his throat. Taehyung continued to punch him even as he felt the air being choked from him.
He punched him one more time, using his fingers to dig into Shownu’s side. He buried them, like he was digging through mud for shells. He twisted his fingers and pulled, tearing through the fabric of the other man’s shirt.
Turning his head and leaning forward, Taehyung snapped his teeth into Shownu’s knuckles. He bit through the skin, blood spraying into his mouth. The older man screamed but he could barely hear it over the noise of battle being waged all around them. He pulled his hand from Shownu’s side, gripped his other hand, and put all his weight down.
The blade slowly buried itself into Shownu’s chest.
Hoseok’s knee crashed into the ground as Changkyun struggled to maintain his own footing. The two men glared at each other just as the noises from outside became more and more prevalent. Hoseok smirked as he saw Changkyun race to the window, peering out to the factory floor below. He managed to get back onto his feet just as the Jade Fang’s leader turned to glance over his shoulder at him. Hoseok took pleasure in seeing the snarl forming on the man’s face.
“You,” he snapped, turning around to face him again.
Hoseok dusted off the backs of his pants, his arms going up into a defensive stance as his hands curled into fists. “Yes. Me.”
Changkyun quickly raced to the other side of the room, his hand sliding under the table. Hoseok narrowed his eyes when he next turned around, a knife held in his hand. He scoffed. Maybe he would have been surprised if Taehyung hadn’t already told him what was hidden there.
“So, you expected me to come unarmed, but then have a knife hidden away?” Hoseok shook his head. “I’m so fuckin’ disappointed in you right now.”
“Shut-up!”
Changkyun ran at him, his arm striking out to slash at Hoseok���s neck. But he was faster because he was thinking clearly. He wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from accomplishing what he wanted to do on this day.
He dodged, side-stepping Changkyun at the last second. Reaching up to his lips, Hoseok pulled out the small razor he had hidden in his mouth. Ducking the next blow, he slung his arm upward and slashed over where Changkyun’s right eye was. A stream of blood sprayed and Changkyun moved to cover one hand over his eye as a trail of crimson leaked from beneath his palm.
Dropping the razor, he closed the distance between them as Changkyun attempted another assault. But with his depth-perception thrown off, he swung blindly. Hoseok slammed his elbow into his chest, aiming a backfist to his throat, and used his other hand to quickly disarm him. Before the knife could fall to the floor, Hoseok was already snatching it out of the air.
Spinning around on his back heel, he roughly slammed his back into Changkyun’s chest – forcing his body to bang against the door. Hoseok pulled his arms forward, then swung them back. A sickening squelch noise followed as he plunged the knife directly into Changkyun’s gut. He felt the younger man struggling against him, but he put all his weight backward – his shoulder blades pressing into his chest so that Changkyun wouldn’t be able to wriggle himself free.
“H-Hyung,” he heard Changkyun choke out, his hand reaching out to grasp onto Hoseok’s shoulder, “don’t do this. We…we can help each other…”
Taking a step back, Hoseok buried the knife further into Changkyun’s stomach – watching the blood forming a small puddle by his feet.
“…you can fucking die is what you can do.”
Seokjin swore under his breath, eyeballing the small cut on his leg. He hadn’t meant to get caught off guard, but there was so much happening around him. Things got less hairy when Namjoon’s team managed to make it inside. Even in the middle of all the craziness, Seokjin was glad they weren’t having to deal with guns. This would have ended bloodier than it needed to.
His eyes darted in every direction and he barked orders when he needed to as Taehyung’s team swept down from the ceiling. Namjoon was in the thick of it with his people and some of Yoongi’s squad managed to make it inside. There was a hint of worry when he hadn’t been able to locate Yoongi, but he knew he had to trust his brothers to be able to take care of themselves.
If he couldn’t at least do that, then what good was their bond?
The door to the manager’s office flew open, the loud bang rattling throughout all the noise of the fighting. Seokjin’s eyes followed the sound and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hoseok stumbling out of the door. He nearly tripped on something, seeing Taehyung catching Hoseok at the last second before he could fall. The two of them exchanged words before Taehyung jumped from the catwalk, his arms grabbing for the ropes so he could swing down to the main floor to join the fight. From what Seokjin could tell, Hoseok hadn’t sustained any injuries.
There was movement in Hoseok’s blind spot. Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was one of their people or a Jade Fang member. Not until the very last second.
“HOSEOK-AH!”
Their eyes locked momentarily, but there wasn’t any time. Running from his hiding spot, Seokjin scooped up a discarded knife. He slid to the center of the bottom floor and flung his arm out and upward. Hoseok jumped out of the way just as the knife buried itself in Changkyun’s throat. They watched the Jade Fang’s leader fall backward, presuming that he would not be getting up a second time.
A grateful smile passed over Hoseok’s lips, but soon snapped to surprise as he looked back at Seokjin.
“HYUNG!”
Suddenly, Seokjin felt his body flung to the side. His head hit the ground and the rest of him followed suit. The pain erupted seconds afterwards, his hand reaching up to grasp at the area where his nerves were screaming at him. Fingers caressed something cold and slender. When he pulled, his pain receptors went off like alarms and he screamed, looking around at who was responsible for the assault. As he craned his neck around to see, he spied the rod-like object poking out from his side. Something dribbled from his mouth and he didn’t have to guess to know that it was his own blood.
When he searched around in desperation, his eyes locked with Minhyuk who was holding a crossbow – watching him already reloading the next bolt.
Bodies moved around him in a blur – all of them screaming and fighting for their own lives. They were distracted. None of them realized what was happening.
No one except Hoseok.
Seokjin grinned, crawling to his knees. He could hear Hoseok’s feet thudding along the metal stairs, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He was ready to face this head on. However, what he hadn’t expected was Minhyuk to shift his aim.
To Hoseok.
Eyes wide, Seokjin quickly scrambled to his feet and lunged forward in Hoseok’s direction. He knew his brother wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him. He was too focused on getting to Seokjin. But by doing so, he was putting himself in danger.
Seokjin knew he had to block his path.
It was like he could sense it. He jumped up and out to the left. Pain blossomed over his back and all feeling from his legs down seemed to disappear. He collapsed into the ground, dirt filling his nostrils, and he cried out in agony as he dug his fingers into the concrete. Soon, he could feel the texture of his own blood mixed with the dirt under his fingernails.
“HYUNG!”
Seokjin couldn’t see, but he knew it was Taehyung’s voice. He blindly reached out, grabbing for what he assumed was Taehyung’s ankle. “H-Hoseok-ah,” he choked out between coughing up blood, “…get him out of here.”
“B-But Hyung—”
“DO IT!”
He felt the ankle leaving his grasp and Seokjin prayed that Taehyung would listen to him. Hoseok had to get out of there. They all had to go. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was going to make it. Not now; not when he was coughing up blood. Something was internally damaged. He was most likely hemorrhaging already.
Curling onto his side, he grasped at the bolt protruding from him and gripped onto it as hard as he could. As he pulled, visions of Anastasia flashed through his mind, giving him pause. For a moment, he forgot about the pain; he forgot about the world around him.
All he could see was the woman he loved standing in the far corner of the factory as she held their beautiful son. He stretched his arm out, reaching for them as if he could touch them. Tears leaked from his eyes as he smiled – the world blurring and getting just a little bit darker.
…I’m sorry, Ana, he thought, the weight of his arm starting to get heavier, …I’m not going to be able to keep this promise…I love you… He felt his elbow hit the concrete, followed by his head.
I’m going to see my brothers now. Forgive me…
Everything grew quiet around him.
#bangtanidx#hyunglinenetwork#bangtangarmynet#btswritingcafe#thekpopnetwork#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts fanfics#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfics#bts x ot7#bts angst#bts x angst#bts romance#bts x romance#bts x mafia au#bts mafia au#bts x crime au#bts crime au#bts x drama#bts x slow burn#bts slow burn#bts make it right#make it right bts#bts thebiasrekkers#thebiasrekkers bts
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Starting Over Chapter 51
How does someone get ready to meet a Master of the Mystic Arts? Well, if Bucky Barnes is in control of your preparations, you first are pampered into a state of utter contentment after being brought to the very edge of heaven, but that’s ONLY if you have Bucky as your tour guide. Once he felt certain that I was in better shape than I woke up in, and while I was a gasping mess again, I can assure you that I felt far more content than I had when I woke up - he pulled me into the bathroom and helped me shower.
“Let me help you out, Mrs. Barnes,” shaking my head, I gave him my hand, but he took more initiative than that, scooping me up and lifting me from the tub so I didn’t have the slightest chance of slipping.
Laughter bubbled out of me, even as I tucked my face into his bare neck. “You’re ridiculous,” he didn’t put me down, not until he carried me into our room and I was going to complain that I was wet and we didn’t have towels in our bedroom, but I missed him grabbing a couple before he left the bathroom. When he set me down, holding up a towel to start drying me, after wrapping one around his waist to keep from distracting me - I reminded him of just WHY he was ridiculous. “We’re not married YET, Bucky Barnes, so you’re jumping the gun on calling me that -”
He was grinning down at me as he dried my hair, so at peace that it made my heart beat faster. “YET being the important word in that sentence, Brooke.” Leaning down he stole a soft kiss, before continuing to dry me, moving the towel to my neck and shoulders. “I like how it sounds, don’t you?”
The smile that spread across my lips told him more than my words ever could. And that kept us on task - drying and dressing, Bucky did let me take control over my hair and makeup, then with a promise that Dr. Stephen Strange wasn’t nearly as formidable as I might be afraid of, then together we headed to the shed to get into the car and drive into Greenwich.
“Greenwich?” I buckled in and had a travel cup of juice while he had his cup of coffee. “There’s a magical power base in Greenwich Village?”
Bucky chuckled and we were off.
“OK, so give me a head’s up,” I finished my juice and so far our little bean was letting me keep it. “What am I about to walk into?” Bucky was driving with more confidence than I would through the streets to get us to my appointment with the doctor/magic person.
Squinting out of the windshield he considered my question. “Sam says there are the Big Three,” I turned so I was facing him as he drove, listening to the wonders of what Sam Wilson had to say on this subject. “Androids, Aliens, and Wizards.” Bucky’s dimple came out and he glanced over to see if I was paying attention, seeing my rapt pupil stare, he went on. “Now I disagreed, because that’s ridiculous for so many reasons, not the least because Dr. Strange identifies as a sorcerer, I think.”
“Yeah, I can see why that would be problematic to Sam’s well thought out logic,” my dry tone had his teeth coming out to join his smile.
“He’s arrogant, and a bit of a know-it-all, but he was one of the best neurosurgeons in the world before his accident,” I nodded, that made sense, most people who had that kind of press let it go to their heads. “He gave it all up to study with a master, and ended up in charge of protecting the Sanctum here,” he was parking in front of a beautiful building in Greenwich Village. “He might come off a little -” he turned off the engine and turned to face me. “The important part, Brooke, is that he might be able to figure it out - whatever is causing you so much pain and trouble when you’re sleeping. And with our little addition,” his hand fell to my flat stomach and mine covered his automatically. “I just want you to have some kind of peace, sweetheart.”
I met him halfway for a kiss before he got out to help me out of the car. Then with a very deep breath, linking our fingers, we climbed the steps so I could finally meet the good doctor.
Dr. Stephen Strange did not answer the door, instead a man dressed as I imagined a Tibetian monk might have opened the door and introduced himself as Wong. Before I could say a word, or Bucky could, a man wearing a cape and bearing an incredible resemblance to a magician my dad hired for one of my birthday parties descended the massive staircase with a flair that I thought many an actor would envy. The doctor was in, I presumed.
“Ah, yes, Sergeant Barnes,” he greeted Bucky with a pleasant voice, somewhat warmer than I was expecting. “And this must be your lovely fiancee, Brooke Ashley. A second congratulations is in order, I believe, since you are going to be adding to your family as well.” He offered his hand and I tried to close my mouth - how had he? “I apologize, Miss Ashley, I like to prepare for my appointments ahead of time.” His hand was cool and enveloped mine easily. “Now, while Wong keeps Sergeant Barnes company, why don’t you and I take some time to chat privately.”
He took me into what looked like a library, but it wasn’t only filled with books. Offering me a comfortable chair, he sat across from me and the silence descended as he studied me. I looked around with interest, wondering if he’d allow me to photograph the Sanctum sometime, it was gorgeous - the way the light came through the windows and struck -
“We can discuss your photography at a later time, Miss Ashley,” my head snapped back so our gazes locked. “I think you’re here for a more delicate reason.”
Great, the therapy part. “Yeah, my fucked up mind is filled with nightmares that I can’t possibly be having because those of us who got Snapped into nothingness shouldn’t have any memories of anything since NOTHINGNESS.” I sighed. “And they’re getting worse.”
Dr. Strange, leaned forward and stared straight into my eyes. “I don’t think you believe that, Brooke, and I don’t either.” My eyebrow rose. “Well, not the part about them getting worse, that’s a common side effect with your current condition,” he waved it off, like that part wasn’t important at all. Bucky had warned me - arrogant and I think he might have wanted to say brief and impatient.
“Are you saying that we weren’t all just GONE?” I stared at him, a challenge clear and heavy on every word. “That isn’t what every other person seems to think.”
“You’ll find that I’m not like every other person, Brooke.” At least he wasn’t intent on calling me Miss Ashley. “And I’m not insinuating that ALL of us were somewhere defined and definite, but I do think that you were. I think that you were somewhere very unpleasant, Brooke, and I think that it’s because when Thanos snapped his fingers, instead of you being Snapped out of existence, you slipped through the cracks into a -” he stopped. “It’s difficult to explain, so let me show you -”
Whenever a mystical magical guru with a medical license offers to “show you” anything, ask for some sort of guarantee that you won’t experience a more extreme form of vertigo than you ever have in your entire life - and also some sort of contract that stipulates that he won’t hold you responsible for the vomit that you WILL end up liberally applying to his lovely cape, that may or may not have a mind of its own.
What he showed me was how layered time was, how vast and infinite the universe, dimensions, and choices could be, and how easy it would have been for someone like me to slip through a crack when the huge purple turd tried to go halfsies with the population of EVERYWHERE. While he admitted it could take time to pinpoint where I’d been, if we even needed to, he felt that unlocking the mystery to break me free from the pain of whatever I’d witnessed or experienced while trapped there for five years might be simpler.
The cape had whipped itself off and flapped away, clearly upset that it was wearing my breakfast juice after my stomach had gone on a magical ride that I hadn’t had fair warning about, and we were reseated in the chairs facing one another.
“The easiest beginning,” Stephen, as he gave me permission to call him, offered as I took a deep breath. “Would be meditation. Clearing your mind of any fear or worry about what you MIGHT see when you go to sleep.” I nodded, thinking that I’d tried it, but not with the knowledge that I was actually RIGHT about the five years I’d been gone. “Don’t try to replace it with butterflies and rainbows, just empty your mind, allow your consciousness to replace it with whatever YOU need to - trust yourself to heal yourself.” It sounded a bit woo woo silly, but why not? “Two nights,” he held up two fingers as if I couldn’t count it myself. “Just two nights, Brooke, and then come back.”
We found Wong and Bucky in the foyer waiting for us. Bucky looked relieved to see me, as if I’d have gotten lost or sicker - but then he noticed the loss of the cape.
“If you send me the dry cleaning bill for,” I offered to Stephen, but he waved it off. “Are you sure?”
“We have a way to clean it up,” Wong assured me, and I bit my lip. Mystic magic freaked me out a bit, but if it helped I’d be a believer. “Do you need something to help with the nausea?”
I didn’t actually say yes or no, he was handing me a bag of tea, explaining that it would help if I drank it every morning and when I was feeling ready to throw up everything I’d ever thought to eat. “Thank you,” he smiled, patting my hand and telling me that he’d see me in a few days.
Bucky helped me into the car, and as we drove away from the curb he asked me how it had gone.
“Aside from covering his cape in vomit?” I shrugged. “He says that I wasn’t where most of the other Snapped went.” Bucky nodded, glancing at me to get me to keep going. “He thinks that I slipped through some crack and went into a different dimension or timeline?” It wasn’t clear, but at least I wasn’t crazy. “I’m going to try meditation for the next two nights, a mind dump, basically.”
“Makes sense,” he offered, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips when I gave it to him. “Wong swears by that tea, by the way.”
“Does Wong have that much experience with morning sickness?” He chuckled and shook his head. “At this point I’ll try anything, I’d like to keep SOMETHING inside of me for more than a few hours.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “But I guess now it’s been confirmed, right?”
I smiled at how excited he sounded. “Yes, Bucky Barnes, now it’s been confirmed.” His grin grew. “All that’s left is dinner with Connie so you can announce our engagement.” His Adam’s apple bobbed so I knew he swallowed hard. “Do you want a cup of my anti-puke tea for courage?”
#bucky barnes/oc#the falcon and the winter soldier#alternate universe#Smut#fluff#Family Fluff#FLUFF AND SMUT#engagement#pregnancy#dr. strange#humor
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AM Conversations : chapter 55
A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA
(FINAL CHAPTER)
CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47 || CHAPTER 48 || CHAPTER 49 || CHAPTER 50 || CHAPTER 51 || CHAPTER 52 || CHAPTER 53 || CHAPTER 54
NOTES:
-one chapter is her pov, the next is his.
-5.2k
-im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it.
-there WILL be smut. but not only smut.
-this is a romance, comedy, smut story.
-for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.
- if you want to be notified the sequel is posted, message me!
- note for this chapter: i mean, this is it. this is the end. not really because you all know theres a sequel but its still super big to me. ive been writing for 22 years and its the very first time i finish a real story. im super proud of this story and it has over 220k words, which is something i’ve obviously never done before. im also super happy to post this last chapter on the same day Niall’s second album comes out. idk why i just think its cool lmao!
i would appreciate so so soooo so much your comments for this chapter but also what you think will happen in the sequel or what you want to happen in the sequel. also, anything about the characters, the storyline, the ending... honestly, whatever comes to your mind about this story, good or bad, comments or suggestions... please send it to me! thank you!!!
okay so here it is. :D
Chapter 55 : Her FINAL chapter
OLIVIA
I ended up rushing outside and walking as fast as I could. It took me a few seconds to realize it was pouring outside but it didn't really matter. Nothing really mattered. I was crying but I was still walking fast, letting the tears fall down my cheeks and the sobs getting out of my mouth without shame. It was only after about 10 minutes of walk that i realized I didn't even take my car but when that realization came to me, I still didn't give a fuck.
I was mad at Niall for hurting me and mad at myself for making him the center of my universe for so long. I was so lost without him. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I didn't know who I was, who I wanted to be... I didn't know how to breathe or how to live. I was so pissed at myself for giving one person so much power over me and I hated it. Niall could live without me, he could breathe, he knew who he was and what he wanted, and he had proved it only a few minutes ago. And that made me realize that I was completely wrong about love. It isn't to make one with the person you love. Your lover shouldn't be your other half. Even if the thought sounded incredibly romantic, when you took the time to think about it, it was ridiculous. I was someone without Niall, I just didn't know who yet.
That simple concept made my heart jump in my chest and I started running. I ran fast, feeling my backpack hit the bottom of my back with every step. I ran as fast as I could until my throat burned, until my legs hurt. The sound of my feet on the cement as it echoed on the walls of the houses around seemed to go in rhythm with the beatings of my heart and when I'd run in a pool of water, I heard it splash on me until the bottom of my sweatpants were soaked. In fact, when I stopped running, I was completely drenched and totally out of breath. I stopped because the person I was looking for was standing only a few meters away from me. He was panting too, I could see his chest raise up and down quickly as he tried to catch his breath and my eyes roamed on him until I noticed locks of his hair stuck on his forehead because of the rain. He was soaked too and I swallowed hard. Seeing him so vulnerable made me realize that's probably how I looked too. I felt my own hair stick to my face and my shirt to my back.
"Olivia."
He had talked a bit louder than usual, trying to make his voice reach me despite the distance and the noise of the rain hitting the paving of the sidewalk where we were both standing.
"I was... I was going to see you." he explained, still panting. "I just... I needed to talk to you. I was sitting on the couch and I just... I rushed out."
My legs had brought me to him while his were also bringing him to me and that thought made me sob. I brought my hand to my mouth to stop it until I saw him start crying too. He was literally weeping in front of me and I wanted to run to him and take him in my arms but I was motionless, like stuck in quicksand.
"Olivia, I got a girl pregnant." he added even louder in-between sobs.
I kept staring at him and swallowed with difficulty again before my lips parted.
"Niall broke up with me."
I don't know how long we stayed just away from each other, standing in the rain but at some point, I felt a shiver run across my back and after half a second, I was in his arms. He held me close, his arms wrapped around my neck and his forehead leaning on the top of my head. He smelled good, he felt great and when he cried again, I squeezed him tighter against me.
The rain kept falling over us but neither of us cared. We just held onto each other while everything was falling apart around us and we were each other's only hope. He brought me inside after a while and let me borrow some clothes, leaving me alone in his room to get changed. I took my clothes off and used the towel he gave me to dry my body. I quickly put his sweatpants and shirt on and started rubbing the towel in my hair as I walked very slowly around his room.
It was modern and classy, just like him, and I always liked the nice and soft carpet he had picked. I let my feet brush on it as I reached the other side of the bed, suddenly curious. There was a bunch of pictures in his room, pictures of his family and friends but there was one small frame that was turned face down on the bedside table. I took it and stared for a few seconds at the smiling faces of Louis and Eleanor, feeling myself tear up again. Two love stories were now ruined and over and I didn't understand what exactly had happened to us.
I sighed and put the frame back exactly where it was before going to the bathroom and hanging the towels behind the door. I came back to the room and smiled slightly as I pushed a pile of dirty clothes on the side and went back to the living room. Louis had made tea and mine was waiting for me on the coffee table. He was sitting down and I noticed he had changed too. His hair, unlike mine, was almost dry already and when he felt my presence, he turned to me and made a quick head movement to incite me to get closer. I breathed in and joined him on the couch, taking the mug with both hands to warm myself a bit before bringing it to my lips.
"Lady grey." I whispered, the left corner of my lips rising a bit.
"With a cloud of milk and no sugar." he added. "Your favorite."
I turned to him and tilted my head.
"Sugar ruins tea." I pointed out as he answered my smile.
"It does, darlin'."
I loved Louis. Everything was so simple with him, even more than with Harry. Perhaps the fact that Louis and I were only friends helped too. I was never only friends with Harry, and I was never only friends with Niall. There were always some romantic or lust feelings involved. I stared at Louis and blinked a few times before taking a few more sips of my tea. The hot beverage warmed my whole body but couldn't get rid of the persistent ache in my heart, unfortunately.
"Do you think it'll always hurt like that?"
"Yes."
It was not the answer I expected and he probably read it in my face because he moved a bit to sit better and face me. I was desperate for human contact and I just wanted to cuddle him but I waited, the fingers of one of my hands playing nervously with the fabric of the couch.
"He's your soulmate just like El is my soulmate." he explained and I could swear I heard his voice crack. "It'll hurt forever."
I swallowed again but felt a tear run down my cheek without wiping it off.
"What are we gonna do, Louis?"
He looked down at his lap and sighed loud. We were both sad and lost and we had no idea what to do with our pain. I moved a bit closer and grabbed his hand on the back of the couch. Immediately, he squeezed my fingers with his.
"I don't know, Liv." he admitted, shaking his head. "And I don't think we'll find out tonight."
I nodded, keeping his hand in mine, as a bunch of thoughts invaded my mind. Would I see Niall again? Would I even be able to be around him without crying or hurting? That didn't seem likely. How would I react when i'd see him with an other girl? Whether I still kept him in my life or not, i'll know about the girls he dates since it'll be all over the net. Niall is discreet, it's true, but he can't hide forever. Plus, we have a few common friends, including Louis.
"Why didn't you fight?" I heard, taking me out of my thoughts. "That's not you Olivia, you always fight for what you want."
I sent him a sad smile and shrugged, running my thumb on top of his hand as I stared at it.
"I saw his face, Louis. It was not a random decision. It was well-thought. It's something he had in mind for a while. I couldn't have done anything about it."
An other moment of silence and I licked my lips.
"Is it Briana?" I wondered in a low tone, looking up only to see him nod slowly. "Is she gonna keep it?"
"Yes."
My heart jumped in my chest. "When did you find out?"
"A week ago."
I raised my eyebrows up in surprise, a bit hurt that he hadn't told me before but I also knew I was the first person he told and that made me feel special. I shouldn't make this about me, it was selfish of me, but it felt good nonetheless to have someone who trusts me, loves me and wants me in his life.
"What are you gonna do?"
Louis sighed again and moved on his seat without letting go of my hand.
"The best I can." he shook his head, still avoiding my eyes. "I'll be the best father in the world."
His answer made me smile and I tilted my head, staring at him. There was something about Louis, something strong and rough. He was a hard-shell with a soft core and it was probably the only thing we didn't really have in common.
"There's no doubt you'll be the best father on the planet."
His lips curled as he kept staring down and I started thinking about Niall again and that time we had talked about having kids. I felt something stir in my stomach and swallowed again to get rid of the nauseous feeling hitting me. I didn't want a family with anyone else and I closed my eyes, trying to mourn the perfect life I've always wanted.
"I wish I had kissed him one last time." I whispered, feeling more tears coming to my eyes. "I missed that chance. I miss how he tastes, how he smells. I miss him."
"You would always hope for 'one last time', Liv. You'd always want an other 'one last kiss'."
He was right but I didn't tell him, instead, I looked down and sniffed before licking my lips.
"I don't even know why he broke up with me. He just said he was not ready to commit, that he knew we'd last forever and he was not ready for that. To me, it makes no fucking sense. When you love someone, you don't care about the other people you could sleep with, you don't care about your freedom because you are free." I tried to explain, getting a bit worked up. "I didn't stop him from doing anything, did I? Was I a crazy, jealous, controlling girlfriend?"
This time, I looked up when I felt Louis move closer. His eyes found mine and he blinked a few times, letting go of my hand to cup my face. I could feel his breath on my face and my lips parted.
"Some people are ready to do anything to prove to themselves that they're not trapped." he let out slowly and in a low tone. "It's on them. Not on you."
My eyes roamed on his face and my heart skipped a beat. I loved that man so much and he deserved so much better than all this pain. I felt his thumbs brush gently on my skin and nodded slowly. Louis always said what he thought when you asked him for an opinion and he always told you things you didn't want to hear but needed to. That, we had in common, that's why this friendship was so real and raw, and also why we got along so well. We were also not touchy or easily offended, which helped.
He moved back a bit and I felt his fingers brush my face as they slid down.
"I know we'd normally get drunk off our asses, but i'm too tired to get pissed. Tomorrow?" His eyebrows raised up and I just nodded. "You can take my bed, it's more comfortable. I'll take the guest room."
"No Louis, it's fine I can-"
"Shut up, princess." he cut me quickly, frowning even more this time. "You take my bed and that's it."
I felt my lips curl and just nodded. He winked at me and smiled before getting up and I followed him slowly to his room. I watched him grab the covers and gripped his elbow quickly.
"Louis, I'm not disgusted by your sheets, you don't have to change them."
He sighed and looked at me for a few seconds before nodding.
"If you're hungry, you take anything in the kitchen, if you need meds or anything, it's in the bathroom. Basically, take anything you need okay? It's all good with me."
I nodded and he pushed the covers before I sat in bed. It took me a minute or two but I finally lied down and brought the blankets on me, feeling tears coming to my eyes again. I didn't want to be alone, it scared me like hell, and if I was about to cry all night, I didn't want to do it by myself.
"Goodnight, Olivia." he just said, turning the light off as he walked out.
Something jumped in my stomach and I sat up quickly.
"Louis!"
He turned around to look at me and our eyes met. I held my breath and licked my lips, unsure if he could see me in the dark but I could clearly see him because of the lights from the hall, illuminating him.
"Please, stay, okay?"
It seemed like I waited an hour just looking at him, waiting for him to reject me but in the end, he nodded and walked away. He turned the lights off and I watched his shadow walk back into the room. My eyes followed him as he got around the bed and under the covers with me. I turned his way and moved closer without touching him and he did the same as we remained silent. I blinked a few times until I got used to the darkness and finally sighed loud.
"Can we spoon?"
"We can spoon."
I turned around, untwisting my shirt and he waited until I stopped wiggling to wrap his arm around me. I closed my eyes and for a few seconds, I imagined I was in Niall's arms, in his bed, but the fantasy was hard to keep. The truth was, it didn't feel the same because Louis was not Niall. No one was Niall.
"I wish I was with El right now. I wish she was the one pregnant with my child." Louis whispered, probably trying to convince himself that the girl he was spooning was the girl he was in love with and not his best friend.
"I wish I was with Niall, right now. I wish he loved me more than his freedom."
"I don't know how to deal with the pain, Livi." he whispered, his voice cracking despite how low it was. "I don't know how to get back up and move forward."
"I wish I could help you but I don't know either."
"I just want to ease the pain." he let out quickly. "At first, getting drunk and high worked but the more I do it, the less it works. I could beg you, Livi, help me."
My heart started aching and I shut my eyes tight as I swallowed.
"I've always dealt with pain the same way, and it's a very very bad way, Louis." I confessed, shaking my head. "It's toxic."
"Tell me."
I rolled on my back and he stared down at me, his hand now laying on my stomach. I wanted to move it away from me but the way his pinky brushed against the skin of my stomach did something to me, something it really shouldn't do.
"I don't know, Louis."
"Does it work?" he asked, and despite how dark it was, I could see hope in his eyes.
"Mmhm." i just answered, now daring to talk.
"For how long?"
My lips parted and I shrugged. "A few hours, it depends."
"I'll take a few painless hours." he insisted. "Please."
Slowly, I reached for his hands under the covers and slid it up on my stomach. I couldn't believe I was doing that and I knew I risked a lot. I risked the only strong friendship I had left. Whether we did anything or not, it could make things awkward between us and that thought was scary as hell. I had lost Niall, I couldn't bare to lose Louis, too. Right before his hand reached my breasts, I pushed it away and shook my head. I was not ready to risk that.
"Forget it, it's a bad idea." I closed my eyes, trying to get my heartbeats back to a normal pace.
"Fuck no."
My heart skipped an other beat as it jumped in my chest and I felt his hand move back to my stomach. His fingers brushed on my skin and I felt my eyes flutter. I didn't know why, but I wanted this.
"That's how you deal?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Fuck the pain away?"
"Pretty much, yes."
"You said you slept with nine persons in your life but it wasn't true, right?"
Slowly, his hand traveled my stomach and I just shrugged slightly.
"Only nine that mattered." I explained in a whisper. "The others don't count. It doesn't count if I don't know your name."
"You know my name." he murmured, moving his face a bit closer. "Do you want to make it ten?"
I sent him a smile and chuckled very low. Fuck yes I wanted it, but the fact that he did too was laughable.
"You can close your eyes and pretend i'm someone else." I just let out, licking my lips again. "I won't be mad, I know i'm not your type."
"Who said that?"
I brought my hand to his face and pressed my palm on his stubble.
"I've seen the girls you fancy." I shrugged again. "It doesn't matter, it's just to push the pain away for a while, yea? We'll be best friends again tomorrow, right?"
"And we'll never talk about it again if that's what you want."
I laughed a bit, feeling suddenly nervous, and moved my hand in his hair. I felt my fingers slip in it as I pushed his head my way gently.
"I heard i'm not so bad of a lay so, just leave the lights off and you'll be fine."
This time, he's the one who laughed.
"Are you gonna imagine i'm Niall?" he asked, making me frown.
"No!" I let out a bit too loud. "I want to forget about him for an hour, that would be counterproductive."
"Then why do you think i'd want to imagine someone else?" he asked again. "You think so low of yourself all the fooking time, Olivia."
By then, his hand had reached my breasts and I noticed it was under my shirt. He ran his hand on one and I felt my inner thighs throb so hard I almost whimpered.
"Okay, we can try, and if it doesn't work..."
"It's already working."
My lips parted slightly and my eyes roamed on his face. He moved closer but it's only when his lips pressed on mine that I closed my eyes. Slowly and gently, his lips parted mine and I never thought I needed affection as bad as I did. It had been only a few hours since Niall broke up with me but I felt so lonely and craving this intimacy with someone was not something that should surprise me. Louis was not anyone, anyway, and sharing that with him, although a bit awkward, felt better than I thought, even if I had never really thought about it before that night.
I thought he'd be more the impatient, rough and cheeky kind of guy but his hand traveled so slowly on me it took everything in me not to beg him to go quicker. I felt his fingertips brush against my nipple and my whole body started throbbing. I was desperate to be touched, desperate to be loved, desperate to feel alive.. and Louis was doing just that.
I sucked my stomach in when his hand ran down but spread my legs when he slipped his hand in my sweatpants. My back arched immediately at his touch, his whole hand pressing on my pussy until I felt two of his fingers slip inside me. This time, I held my breath and tensed as his mouth left mine. He brushed his lips down my neck and I slipped my hand in his hair. He smelled good, he tasted good, and I tried to suppress the image of Niall that quickly came to my mind without much success. I started tearing up and swallowed hard but when Louis brought his lips back on mine, I relaxed suddenly.
"I know you like it rough and hard but this is not what we need tonight, is it?" he whispered, his lips brushing against mine as he talked.
I shook my head and brought his closer, crushing his lips against mine. It should have hurt but it made me lust him even more and I let my hand travel to his neck and down his chest until it reached his sweatpants too. I heard him groan low and it made me feel dizzy. I pressed my hand on the front of his pants and felt him grind against it as my lips parted again and I started panting. I was excited and impatient but I didn't know if it was because of what I was about to do with Louis, or if it was because I knew I wouldn't feel pain for a while. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
I felt him move my pants down and helped him, pushing them with my feet at the bottom of the bed. I took my shirt off quickly as he did the same and after I pushed his pants down too, he quickly moved on top of me. I spread my legs and ground up without thinking, feeling his hard cock press on my inner thighs but I held my breath when he started kissing down my neck and chest. He gave a special attention to my tummy and it surprised me a bit but I couldn't seem to relax at all, feeling suddenly insecure. I wanted to tell him he didn't have to do that, that we could just make out and fuck, but his lips pressed on my pussy and I let out a curse word. I thought he'd go fast but he moved his lips and tongue so slowly on me that I felt my eyes roll back. I slid my hand under the blanket and found the back of his head only to press his face more on my pussy. I started seeing spots behind my eyelids and I knew I was getting close. I felt one of my legs start shaking and gripped his hair tight when an orgasm hit me hard.
"Oh my god!"
He didn't stop, he kept moving his tongue on me for a while, even after I relaxed, and I enjoyed the post-orgasm attention. He finally got back out of the covers and kissed me again, his mouth leaving an aftertaste of my orgasm on my own tongue.
"Mm, lay down okay?" I whispered, allowing our mouths to part briefly. "Your turn."
His kisses were getting more passionate and impatient and when he let out a low "No", I frowned.
"No?"
"I can't. Not now." he whispered again, kissing me harder. "You taste fookin' good, you know that?"
That confession made me smile and made my heart jump at the same time. I lost my smile when I felt him push himself slowly inside me and wrapped my arms around his chest as I moved my knees up.
"Oh god, fuck me." I whispered, feeling him smirk against my mouth.
"That's the plan."
I chuckled and he pushed himself completely inside me, making my head move back as I whimpered. I was impatient and I ran my hands on his back as I ground up again to feel him deeper.
"You feel... so fucking good."
He didn't answer, he just kissed me harder his elbows leaning on the mattress on each side of my head , and I brought my hands behind me on the wall to move in motion with him as he started thrusting in and out of me, slowly at first but quicker and harder until I felt close to an other orgasm.
"Oh fuck i'm gonna cum again." I murmured, bringing one of my hands to his hair again.
"Do it princess, cum for me, I want to feel you clench around me."
His words and his voice made me reach my peak immediately and I started shaking beneath him, my lips parted as his reached for my neck. He started biting me, amplifying my orgasm as I felt him reach his. His thrusts became unsteady and rough when he tried to push himself deeper before he just stopped moving. I could feel his body tremble slightly and when he finally relaxed, I kept my eyes closed. I was on the verge of tears and I was not even sure why.
Louis rolled away from me as we both lied down on our backs, watching the ceiling. I was suddenly scared that it had changed something between us, something that meant that we could never go back to that friendship we had.
"It worked. I'm not in pain right now." he admitted as I shut my eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again.
"I'm okay too."
He found my hand between us on the mattress and squeezed my fingers tight. I didn't know if this was a good idea but it did serve the purpose and for now, that was going to be enough.
"Why didn't you want me to blow you?"
He chuckled and finally turned his head my way. It took me a few seconds but I did the same and when our eyes met, I realized he was smirking and it made me smile.
"You said it only stopped the pain for about an hour, yea?" he asked, making me nod and frown. "I'm keeping it for round two. If you're willing, of course."
I let my eyes roam on his face again and I smiled more, bringing my hand to his cheek.
"I am."
--
Surprisingly, we ended up having sex a few times on that night, in-between a few hours of slumber and cuddling, and when I woke up, I turned around in bed to hide my face from the sun only to realize he was not in bed anymore. I kept my eyes close and my heart started aching again but I breathed in deeply and finally sat up and rubbed my eyes. I was still naked and searched the bed for my clothes before I actually found them on the floor, and quickly put them back on.
I walked to the kitchen with a yawn as I pulled on my hair without much success. Louis turned to me and smiled when our eyes met.
"Nice hair, princess." he chuckled. "That's what your sex hair looks like... Interesting!"
"You're such an arse I swear." I grimaced, amused, as I let myself fall on one of this chairs. "Are you really making breakfast?"
"Bacon, eggs, and toasts." he explained, putting a plate in front of me. "Nothing too fancy."
I let out a laugh when I noticed he made eyes with the eggs and a mouth with the bacon, making him smile more.
"You're an idiot, Tommo." I just said with a chuckle. "But thank you."
"For the breakfast?"
"And for last night."
He stopped moving completely but stared down at his plate and suddenly, I felt extremely guilty. I had ruined things between us just like I was scared I had and I swallowed hard. I couldn't lose Louis, I couldn't handle losing him.
"Shit, you regret it, don't you?"
He looked up and his eyes met mine before he frowned and shook his head a bit.
"Olivia, we had sex five fucking times. You don't regret five fucks that happened on the same night." he pointed out, making me breathe out the air I wasn't even aware I was holding. "I just thought we wouldn't talk about it anymore, I thought that's what you wanted."
It took me a few seconds to answer and I just licked my lips.
"It happened. I don't regret it. And I sure as hell won't forget it." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm just scared it'll change things between us."
"It won't. You're my best friend. That won't change."
I sent him a small smile and nodded, feeling a bit relieved. I knew I would be sure that nothing had changed between us only after a few days of hanging out like we used to but I trusted Louis and I knew he'd tell me if he thought things were different now.
"What are you gonna do now?"
We had both heard and asked this question a lot in the past 12 hours but I just sighed again, shaking my head.
"I'm just gonna... survive for a while I guess." I explained, taking a sip of my coffee. "And then i'll just... i'll work on myself. There are so many parts of me I noticed when I was with Niall, so many things I felt, so many flaws I have... that I need to work on. I think that's what i'll do. Work on meself."
When I looked up at my best friend, he was smiling. Not smirking the way he usually does, but sincerely smiling and it made me smile too.
"I know I always call you 'princess' but... you just turned into a 'queen' now."
I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Why? Because of what we did last night?"
"No, silly!" he chuckled and rolled his eyes too. "But what you just said? That's wise. It's actually inspiring me."
"Then let's both do that." I suggested. "We need to take care of ourselves, do things we like, work on us and... and find out who we really are. Who we are without them, as a whole... as complete human beings."
He tilted his head and his eyes became smaller as he studied me.
"Let's do that, queen." he agreed with a nod, making me grin even more. "Love you."
"Love you too."
#niall horan#niall horan fanfic#niall horan fan fic#niall horan fan fiction#niall horan fanfiction#niall horan smut#niall horan fluff#niall horan story#niall horan writing#my fanfics#amc#some tags i cant add without spoiling this lol#oh god im so excited to post this ndjhsgajhsdgukadshxf
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You’re Like an Angel (Joe x Reader)
Prompt: You and Joe (You Were Never Really Here) have been casually dating for awhile. He’s let a few comments slip about his past, but nothing too revealing. Soon enough, you experience first-hand just how troubled and damaged Joe really is.
Any dialogue or thoughts in italics is stuff Joe is remembering from his past.
Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of death and blood. Mentions of abuse and trauma. Bad coping mechanisms and suicidal thoughts.
A/N: I’m not sure how many will even read this fic since the movie isn't that popular. But I spent some time on this one. So, maybe give it a read? I tried to keep Joe in character as much as I could.
60, 59, 58, 57, 56,
Joe's fingers gripped the pill bottle like it was his only lifeline. His eyes ran over the dosage information before flickering up to the cashier. He could see the young man's mouth moving, but no words were coming out. The boy held up a white baggie containing the rest of the medication. He scanned the barcode of each bottle like Joe was his only customer for the day, and he wanted to make it last.
Other New York residents piled behind him, but he kept his eyes trained on the cashier's movements. He could feel the glares of everyone else bore into the back of him as they waited.
Stand up straight.
Joe's fist clenched around the orange bottle, the words of his late father ringing so loud in his ears he didn't hear the small crack of the plastic. His other hand carelessly brushed over his tied-up hair before wiping off the beads of sweat sticking to his face.
Stand up! Only pussies and little girls slouch!
Joe slammed his hands onto the table in front of him, his breathing coming out in ragged puffs.
"What?" Joe asked the cashier whose mouth hadn't moved since the outburst.
"I- I said your total is 18.50."
He dropped a twenty onto the table and ripped the bag from the guy's hand, rushing to get away from the prying eyes of other shoppers. He was out the door before he was handed the change.
55, 54, 53, 52, 51,
"Mom, I'm back," Joe said to his mother as soon as he came through the front door.
"Joe, come here, come here," she said from her spot in the recliner.
"What is it?"
"Look at the TV," she pointed. "Our song's on."
'A, You're Adorable' played quietly in the background of a children's commercial, as his mother hummed softly to the lyrics.
"Yeah, it is," Joe agreed before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up. "Let's get you to bed."
"Janice loves this song. You should tell her we heard it."
Joe froze at the mention of his exes name. Janice. Before her, he had tried to date several women, all of which ended up leaving him. For years, he found himself to be incapable of maintaining a long-term relationship. Every girl he kissed, touched, or felt connected to—they all thought they could change him—fix him. He knew he was incapable of being fixed. Janice was different; she was there for him until his plan to escape the outside world, and all it's horror eventually pushed her away. It was his fault.
"Mom, I don't talk to Janice," Joe sighed. "C'mon, let's go to bed."
While he helped his mother up the stairs and into her bed, his mind drifted to you. He hadn't mentioned anything about you to her yet because he knew it wasn't serious. You both had been on a couple of dates, and even had a couple more planned, but the odds of it lasting weren't high. So, Joe kept his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was another woman for his mom to question him about.
50, 49, 48, 47, 46,
Once Joe was back in his bedroom, he pulled out his phone and sat at the end of the bed. His fingers searched his contacts for your name, while his other hand grasped his knee. The line only rang once before you picked up.
"Hey, I didn't expect to hear from you tonight," you said on the other end.
"I didn't expect to call tonight," he retorted.
"Okay," you said. "Your call wasn't unwanted, though."
The line went silent. Joe wasn't sure why he called at such a late hour; if he was honest, he really just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.
When he didn't respond, you spoke softly into the phone. "How was your day?"
"Good," he lied, letting his hand run over his beard. "How was yours?"
"It was okay, just busy."
"Tell me about it," he said before laying back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and let the recollection of your day soothe him for a moment's notice.
"And then, to top it all off," you said, finally nearing the end of your story. "I'm at the store, right? I turn around and see a dead girl lying on the floor."
Joe's eyes snapped open. "You saw what?"
"I saw a little girl pouting on the floor," you repeated. "I have never related to anyone so much."
He exhaled. His psyche was playing tricks on him once again. Images of dead bodies struck his mind like lightning. Kids upon kids laid lifeless in transporting vehicles—all the people he couldn't save from the savagery of sex trafficking and other violent crimes.
"Joe? Is everything okay?"
What pained him even more were the kids who screamed for help as he stood watching, helpless against the gun to his head. Jobs would go wrong, and he was forced to admit to himself, once again, that he failed.
Help me!
Please help me!
Don't let them take me again!
They'd cry out to him in such anguish, but he could only watch. He was as useless then as he was for his mother during his father's spells of anger.
"Hey," you said. "Are you still there?"
"I've got to go," Joe hastily hung up the phone, not waiting for your response. He threw the phone onto the bed and got up to pace around the room. With every step, a new face plagued his mind—tears dripped from the kids' eyes as they begged him to keep them safe. He rarely did.
45, 44, 43, 42, 41,
Joe moved to the closet where his arms tugged on an old, mucky box full of plastic bags until they all came floating out onto the floor. He slid his back down the wall of the closet until he was sitting—bags all around him. With shaky hands, he pulled a loose sack over his head, clutching it hard enough around his face to cut off his oxygen.
"Where the hell is Joseph?"
His father's voice rung out through the household. Joe carried his little feet across the floor as fast as he could, hoping to get to his hiding place before his father caught sight of him. At nearly 10 years old, Joe could identify at least three spots in the house where his father never searched for him—cabinets, under the bed, and his closet. He often opted for the closet, where he'd pull grocery bags or plastic dry-cleaning holders over his head to drown out the noise of his mother's wails.
"Stop! Stop it! You're hurting me," she'd cry out. Little Joe pushed his hands up against his ears so tightly, they'd be red for hours after the incident.
He was scared of his father back then, and so he let his mother take all the abuse. Had he not been hiding, he would have been the one facing his father's wrath.
"You're weak. Weak, weak, weak," he repeated to himself like a mantra. He knew it was only a matter of time before you figured that out and left him like the rest.
40, 39, 38, 37, 36,
When morning came, he awoke from a thud sounding out downstairs. He stayed in bed a minute longer, wishing his blanket would swallow him whole. Without any luck, he pulled back the covers and went downstairs to find the source of the noise.
Stepping foot into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was his mom's head lying still against the hardwood table. A broken bowl of cereal was turned on its side, leaking milk that ran from the dish to the end of the surface. His eyes followed the droplets as they hit the ground, joining a stream of red liquid to create a pink puddle on the floor.
Joe's breath came out in fast shudders as he approached his mother's figure. He pulled her face up to see a plastic piece that was missing from the bowl lodged in her neck. His fingers grasped the broken part, yanking it out in one quick motion; he watched as blood shot out in spirts, covering his clothes before he could make a move to back up.
He turned around after laying his mom's head back on the table and walked slowly out of the room. He kept his steps light and his ears peeled for any trace of movement in the house. His head snapped towards the living room when he heard what sounded like a vase fall. He rounded the corner to see a tall, slim-figured man dressed in black, looking through a pile of receipts on the coffee table.
While passing the cabinet, Joe grabbed his hammer that he kept locked away, and with one quick swing to the head, the intruder was left bleeding out on the floor.
"Fu-fuck," the wounded man choked out. "Don't kill me. Don't kill me."
"I think I already have," Joe said, bending down to lay the head of the hammer on the man's stomach. "Why did you kill my mom?"
"I was told to! I- I only work for somebody, man. I don't know anything about her. I don't have anything against you."
"Who sent you?"
The man kept quiet as quick and panicked gasps left his mouth. Joe ran the end of the hammer over the man's stomach, light enough to tickle him, before pulling it back and slamming it into the guy's stomach.
"Who fucking sent you?"
"Carl. C-Carl.”
"Carl, who?"
"Carl Alcott," the dying man coughed out.
"The club owner? Fuckin' fuck," Joe dropped the hammer, and his hands slammed into the ground with force. He knew that exchange from a week ago was going to come back and bite him in the ass. Influential people don't like to be messed with.
"He's- he's- comin' for," the man's words ran together as his breath started to leave his lungs.
"For me?"
"No- no," he said. "For- for your girl."
35, 34, 33, 32, 31,
As soon as intruder took his last breath, he stuffed his body into a trash bag along with his mom's and drove them to the lakeside. As he left the city and got further into the country, his mind started to wander to you.
For your girl. Your girl.
His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight with shaking arms, he was swerving in and out of the lane. His tires screeched every time he raced around the corner, desperate to get the remnants of the bodies out of his backseat.
When he went on dates with you the few times before, he had briefly opened up about his past. He thinks he can recall saying something about a rude father, or his time in the marines and the police force. He may have even let it slip that he's seen piles upon piles of decaying corpses. He never once mentioned his new work in fear of scaring you off.
As soon as he dropped his job in law enforcement, he sentenced himself to a lonely life. The small number of friends he had, plus any relationship he conjured up, fell apart. He abandoned any wish to be happy since he couldn't protect any of the people who came near him; his mother was a testimony to that.
You were something else, though. He had bumped into you on a whim, not expecting your smile and personality to slam into his heart as it did. He agreed to one date, trying to escape the bleakness of his everyday life. But for some unknown reason, he kept coming back for more. One date turned into two, three, and four; before he knew it, you were basically his girlfriend—without the title, of course.
When he pulled up to the lakeside, he dragged both bodies out to the small bridge that ran from side to side. He attached each of them to a cinderblock and pushed them one-by-one over the edge.
"I hope you rest easier here than you did in life, mom," he said into the air.
He wondered what it would be like to attach a block to his own foot and drown with the rest of them. He wondered how that would feel—how you would feel.
He couldn't do it though. His suicidal story that he contemplated often was pushed aside in the past because he couldn't leave his mother. Now that she was gone, it appeared to be the perfect moment. But, again, he had somebody holding him back.
You were being threatened with the ultimate price, and he'd be damned if he let you suffer for something you had no part in. He was determined for once in his life to save someone important to him; he would not let you be another statistic in his head.
30, 29, 28, 27, 26,
He arrived at your apartment after going back to his and changing into a blue long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and charcoal vest. He knocked three times against the door and waited.
"Joe," you said, looking surprised to see him on the other side.
"I came to see if you wanted to go out right now, like a little date."
"Oh, sure," you smiled, and Joe couldn't help but offer you a small smile in return. "Let me just grab some money."
"I've got it. You know I've got it."
"You paid the last date," you reminded him. "You said I could next time."
He sighed, running his hand through his long locks. If he was going to get through this meal with a good conscience, he had to be the one to cover it. He knew your relationship was coming to a stop tonight. For your safety, he decided it was time to end the connection between you two—even if it'd hurt like hell.
"Please, just let me pay," he said.
"Okay," you agreed before shutting your door and joining your hand with his. "You look good today."
As soon as he got to his car, he pushed your body gently against it before capturing your mouth with his.
"I was going to tell you that," he said in between kisses. "You always look good—so perfect. And you’re all mine tonight."
You hummed against his lips, moving your hands up from his soft belly to his strong arms. "Not that I don't love this, but is everything okay? You're not usually this…"
You trailed off, and he backed up only slightly, letting your hands fall from his arms so he can intertwine them with his own.
"I'm fine, sweetheart," he assured you while pulling open the car door for you to get inside. Once you were secured, he went around and got in himself.
You smiled at him as he took off driving. "Where are we headed to?"
He took his eyes off the road for a second to smirk at you. "I'm not telling you."
"No fair," you pouted jokingly. "At least give me a hint."
"Not a fucking chance," he laughed—a real genuine sound—which is something he never does. You chuckled along with him before comfortable silence fills the car as you drive to the destination Joe picked out.
25, 24, 23, 22, 21,
He parked his car in a small parking lot and got out to open your door, mumbling something about 'keeping your eyes closed.' When you're told to open them, you're met with a worn-down diner that looks to be in the middle of nowhere. The windows are tended with the words 'Maggie's Place' scrawled across the glass. The building is painted red and white, with checkered lines running down the sides—a design that was quite popular in the '60s.
"Wow," you said, not knowing what else to say.
"I know it's not a fancy date restaurant, but my mom used to bring me here. This place is important to me."
"No, it's perfect," you told him, honestly. "I love it."
He nods in relief before leading you inside. You're quickly seated by a young waitress who looks to be no more than 17. Joe ordered a coffee while you looked over the menu for something you'd want.
After you're done ordering, the waitress turned to Joe. "Is there anything else you'd like, sir?"
He stared blankly at her, trying to remember where he'd seen her familiar face. "What?"
"Would you like anything else?"
He shook his head and watched as she slowly walked away, staring at him the whole time she's departing. He knows that's not likely to be accurate; she probably left to the kitchen without a single glance back. His mind, however, sees her gaping at him—just like the other girls he couldn't save.
He exhaled. "What the fuck are we doing? What are we doing?"
"What do you mean?"
Your voice broke his delusion, and he snapped his head back to your face, which is sporting a concerned look.
"Nothing, nothing. Sorry."
"Don't apologize," you said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?"
"I don't know," you shrugged. "Whatever has been on your mind since I met you. You know, you hung up on me last night?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Stop apologizing, Joseph."
"Don't call me that," he barked at you, his fist clenching the side of booth tightly.
You snapped your mouth shut at Joe's harsh tone. He had been angry before; you'd seen it first-hand but never directed towards yourself.
"My father used to call me that," he muttered, his words still sounding loud in the otherwise quiet diner. "I don't like it."
"I won't do it again," you promise. "How's your mom?"
He paused, fully prepared to go with a lie. As he met your eyes though, he couldn't will himself to deceive you further. Instead, he shook his head while taking in a deep breath through his nose.
"Actually, she passed away."
Your eyes widened. "What? When?"
"This morning."
"Oh my God, Joe," you breathed out, your mouth opening and closing, trying to find some way to console him. "That's- I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," he said softly. "She'll be happier now."
"How—if you don't mind me asking—did it, you know, happen?"
Memories of earlier flooded his head--the blood oozing from his mother's body like a river; he could almost see it on his hands now.
"In her sleep," Joe mumbled, hoping that was satisfactory enough to stop the probing. He didn't want you to find out, especially during your last date—not that you knew it was the last.
"I know she meant a lot to you," you said, placing a comforting hand on his. "She would have been proud of you for putting yourself out there with me. I'm just sad I never got to meet her."
"She would have liked you," Joe admitted with certainty. "Probably a little too much. She'd have you singing 'A, you're adorable' in no time."
"A, you're adorable. B, you're so beautiful, C, you're a cutie full of charms," you sang, playfully.
"D, you're delightful and, B, you're exciting and, F, you're a feather in my arms," he sang back, smiling towards the end.
The waitress soon delivered the food to your table. You and Joe ate in silence, with a few comments made here and there about the food or something that popped into your heads. After paying the bill and leaving a rather sizable tip, he drove you back to your house.
20, 19, 18, 17, 16,
Neither of you wanted the date to finish, especially Joe, who knew he wouldn't see you again.
He dropped you off, but before leaving to walk into your place, you asked, "do you want to come in?"
He nodded. "I have something to talk to you about, actually."
"Oh, well. I wasn't inviting you in to talk, but we can do that too," you joke.
The joke falls flat—Joe was too busy worrying about how you were going to take the break-up. Not seeing him chuckle, or even offer a smile, you became concerned.
He followed you inside to your living room, where he sat on the couch while you went to the kitchen to grab a drink. He was on his feet in seconds when he heard the sound of a glass shatter on the floor. When he got to you, you were standing in the middle of the room. A man with a different build, yet dressed similarly to the one who murdered his mother, stood behind you—a gun pressed up against your skull.
Joe quickly looked you over to see if the man had hurt you yet. Besides your trembling body and sporadic breathing, you looked to be physically fine.
"Let go of her," Joe spoke calmly.
"No, I don't think I will," the man replied.
"J-Joe," you stuttered. "What's going on? Who is this?"
"Stay calm, baby," Joe spoke softly to you. "It's going to be okay."
The man behind you laughed. "Oh, Joey. If only you would have been in here sooner. Just like all those other times, huh?"
The room fell quiet; all that was heard was the air leaving your mouth.
"The laws of man, they don't apply," the gunman sang while smiling. "When blood gets in a woman's eye."
Stand up! Only pussies and little girls slouch!
Don't let them take me again!
Where the hell is Joseph?
For your girl.
The memories wouldn't stop screaming in his head—every bad thing said to him from birth until now. The urge to leave and hide in his closet was unbearable; his hands scrambled to his ears, trying to stop the voices that were getting louder and louder.
"Joe," you yelled out as the gunman took advantage of his opportunity and started to drag you out of the kitchen. "Joe!"
You struggled against the larger man's clutch, trying to get an edge on him. He nearly got you to the front door before you heard a loud blast echo through the house. The guy's grip on you loosened, and you watched as he dropped to the ground.
15, 14, 13, 12, 11,
Joe's arms slide around your frame before you even notice he's there. You keep still, gawking at the body lying at your legs. His blood was seeping through his shirt, already creating a pool of red by your shoes.
You felt strong arms pulling you away from the scene, and only then did you look at Joe.
"What- what," you stumble, glancing between him and the man on the floor. "Why did-why?"
"Come on," he said softly. "Don't look at him."
Too shocked to resist, you let him lead you outside to his car. He sits you inside, placing a kiss to your forehead.
"I'll be right back," he told you. "I'm going to clean up. Y/N, listen to me. Do you hear me?"
You nod faintly.
"Please don't go anywhere," he kisses your forehead again, lingering a little longer before going back inside to wrap the body and clean the floor.
You watched him come back out fifteen minutes later, a human-shaped trash bag in his arms. You fight the urge to open the door and run for your life. You're not sure what Joe was planning to do with the man—with you.
He shoved the body in the trunk and made his way to the front seat. The silence that loomed over you both this time was not one of comfort like all those other drives before. No, this one was full of tension and emotional turmoil.
"Are you okay? Do you want a soda?"
You stayed quiet, not answering his questions. You rested your head on the window, watching as the city buildings got fewer and fewer. Joe decided it was best to take you to a small park in a country town far outside the New York City limits.
You listened to the radio, soft music by Rosie and the Originals played in the speakers.
'It's just like heaven being here with you.
You're like an angel, too good to be true.
But after all, I love you, I do.
Angel baby, my angel baby.'
10, 9, 8, 7, 6,
It was nearing dark when Joe finally parked the car. Neither of you knew what to say or how even to start the much-needed conversation. So, you decided to take the plunge.
"Are you going to kill me now?"
Joe gaped at you like you'd just asked him what his name was—like the answer was obvious.
"Of- of course not," he stammered. "Fuck, Y/N. I would never do that."
"You just shot someone, Joe! And who the hell was that? Why were they holding a gun to my fucking head?"
"Calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down," you cautioned, taking off your seatbelt so you could turn towards him. "What do you do for a living? How do you know people like that?"
"I rescue people," he said, and you scoffed. "I know that doesn't sound right, but it's true. I rescue missing people, usually kids."
"So, what? You're a cop?"
"Not exactly," he trails off. "I- I was sort of. Then, one day I was at a crime scene. I found a truck full of Chinese girls. They- they all had been kidnapped to be trafficked. I found them, but it was too late."
He paused, his voice cracking on his next words. "They were already dead."
The air in the car was getting heavy. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as Joe recounted the events that led him to his current occupation.
"The man who killed my mom," he started. "Carl Alcott. He's coming for you. I don't mean to scare you, but he knows you're with me."
"Okay, so we'll leave."
Joe faltered. "You want to stay with me?"
"I do. That might seem crazy, but I do."
He considered it for a moment before shaking his head firmly. "No. You can't. This can't go on. We have to end this here before it gets too serious."
"I just saw you shoot someone," you reminded him. "It's already serious. I'm coming."
"No, Y/N! I refuse to let you be another person that I couldn't save. You have to leave alone—move very far away. You need to change your number, your bank information, everything."
"I'm not leaving you," you stated.
Joe grumbled, his mouth twitching in anger and pent up emotions. "Everyone always has! My father beat the shit outta my mom, and I just hid from him. I was too late to save those girls, and I've had too many children be ripped from my sight because I couldn't save them. I'm weak. I can't save you. I'm weak."
His whole body shook as strangled sobs escaped his lips. He brought his hands up to cover his face before he moved them down to tug off his vest and shirt. He was desperate to get out of the material that was making him feel too claustrophobic in the small car.
Once both of his tops were discarded to the back seat, you finally reached across the middle console and pulled Joe into your arms loosely. He clenched your shirt as his father's words,' only pussies and little girls slouch,' played through his mind like a broken record.
"It's okay. Let it all out," you said against his ear, rubbing a soothing circle over his back while still being mindful of his bruises and cuts. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving."
"You- you should."
"Maybe so," you said. "But I don't want to."
"You can't fix me."
"I don't want to; you're perfect the way you are. I only want to try and make you happier."
He retracted his head from your shoulder to meet your eyes. "Why?"
"I- I think I could fall in love with you," you admitted, shrugging slightly. You saw the onset of panic flash through Joe's eyes, so you quickly kept talking. "You don't have to say it back. I just wanted to tell you that."
He wiped his face of any tears and sighed. "I think I could fall in love with you too."
A smile tugged at your lips for first time since the date, and he again felt himself smiling right back.
You watched him put back on his seatbelt, and you swiftly copied his movements. "Where are we going to go now?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"I think we should probably do something about the body in the trunk."
He looked at you and laughed. "I think you're right."
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
It didn't take long to dispose of the gunman; after all, it wasn't Joe's first time. Before long, you were set out across the country to go wherever your hearts desired.
In the midst of the drive, his hand found yours across the console. And for once in his life, he didn't feel the need to run his car off the road.
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Coda: S15E3
Cas walked to his truck, parked right outside the front door of the bunker. He had sustained himself on nothing but hope and prayer for the last ten years, but he knew no matter how much he hoped he would, Dean wasn’t going to follow. Cas gave the hunter ample time to stop him, but the look was there––that same disheartened look Dean always wore when Cas disappointed him. Only this time, Cas knew there was no coming back. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to come back.
In time, he would reach out to Sam, let the hunter know that he had to leave, and he knew Sam would understand. Cas also knew that no matter how upset Dean had been with him, he was going to take his anger out on his little brother. He would apologize for that too. But they would get along just fine without him––they always had. Sam and Dean Winchester never needed him. He thought they did, convinced himself in the beginning that he was there for the cause. That he believed in the righteous man and his little brother that drank demon blood. He’d even convinced himself that they grew to care for him, but as Cas climbed into his truck he knew it was over. He couldn’t be a punching bag for Dean any longer. He made mistakes, failed in epic proportions, but he had always stayed true and loyal to the Winchesters. Even when he was working with Crowley it was with them in mind.
Save Sam and Dean––Cas thought it was his calling. His one mission from God. Maybe it was, maybe God only sent Cas to save Dean because he needed a broken angel to rebel. Naomi was right, he came off the line with a cracked chassis, but was that by design?
As Cas pulled away from the only place he’d ever considered home he wondered if Chuck planned for him to rebel. Planned on Metatron stealing his grace and leaving him weakened. So many things had happened to him since he raised Dean from perdition, and he wondered how much he actually had a choice in. Unlike Dean, Cas wasn’t just angry about this, he was also perplexed. Maybe only having free will for ten years made it harder for him to understand Dean’s anger. Being an angel programmed to follow orders and protect God’s will was all he’d known until two boys from Kansas asked him to make a choice. One demanded it actually. And hasn’t that always been their relationship? Dean demanding one thing or another from Castiel. Pushing him to his limits and beyond.
Cas felt the phone in his pocket buzz and was surprised that Sam was calling him so quickly. But maybe Dean had already gotten too drunk or smashed up his bedroom and Sam needed someone to talk to. Cas almost pulled over to take the call, but instead slammed his foot on the gas––his truck gave a growl, but it was nothing like the Impala. Tears welled up in his eyes and he blindly threw his phone into the passenger seat.
He would add this missed phone call to the ever-growing list of apologies he would make to Sam, but for now, Cas needed nothing but quiet and the open road. He was bitter that this is his biggest takeaway from Dean. It wasn’t love or compassion, kindness or understanding, no what Cas learned most from his best friend was there isn’t a problem in the world that you can’t run from.
He reached for the tape in his glove box but stopped himself. Listening to the mixtape Dean gave him would only cause his heart to break further. He had never known if Dean crafted those songs just for him, or if this was just an old tape he had laying around and passed off to Cas as another teachable moment.
They had a lot of those teachable moments. Dean was constantly trying to get Cas to conform, never quite comfortable with his otherness. And Cas had tried, he tried to make Dean accept him, tried to make Dean love him, but even as he lay dying in the barn a few years ago Dean could never say it. Maybe he never felt it, though Cas didn’t want to believe that. He had to believe he mattered. He made a difference. Sure he fucked up a lot, and made bad choices, and kept things from the brothers, but he only ever did that to protect them. Couldn’t Dean see that?
As the distance grew between Castiel and Lebanon, Kansas, he thought about everything they had been through. From that first trip up from hell, the seals breaking, when Cas took over Claire Novak’s body, the first time he went against heaven for Dean, and every wrong turn he’d made since then. He thought about Naomi’s mind control and the thousands of Dean’s he’d killed, but how the real Dean’s words pulled him back from the edge. He’d asked that day what broke the trance, and Cas, still being dumb and naive, thought Dean would understand that it was him, those words so close to expressing his love––as close as Dean had ever come to telling him that he loved him. Why didn’t Dean see that? Or it was possible that he did know exactly why Castiel was able to overcome mind control and he just brushed it off. Not everything was about them. Dean had a lot of problems he needed to sort through, and his willingness to accept love and understand his place in the world was his biggest area of concern.
That’s what made Cas so confused, for years Dean thought of himself as nothing but a tool, an instrument to be used to fight evil. First at John’s will, then Alistair’s, then Cas’, and finally Chuck’s. Why was it so hard for him to wrap his head around this? Had Dean finally learned that he deserved good things? Castiel felt like he might have been the first person to ever tell him that, and it took him ten years to believe it, but that could be why he was so angry. He'd finally accepted that he mattered, that what he did was important. Just because Chuck was behind the why didn’t make it any less true.
Humans on this plane still felt things, they still mourned loved ones, felt pain, and fear. Dean saved countless people from going through those things. Just because God trapped them in this maze doesn’t mean the work he did to keep the maze running was for nothing.
What felt like hours, but could have only been minutes, dragged on as Cas drove aimlessly. He had used the last of his Grace to stop Belphegor and felt like he might need to sleep, if only for a short respite from thinking of Dean. He was mad, and hurt, scared, and lonely. His mouth was dry and that meant he needed water which meant he would have to urinate, and that was the final straw. Cas couldn’t hold back any longer. One perfect tear slipped down his cheek before he was able to pull to the side of a dark abandoned road. He didn’t even know what direction he chose, or if he was still in Kansas anymore.
The reference that he actually got and used made him choke out a sob. He’d finally done it right and Dean was nowhere to see.
Years of pain and arguments washed over him, causing him to gasp for air. This had happened to him once before when he was a human, and one of the nice people at the homeless encampment told him it was a panic attack. It had to be that, he couldn’t breathe or stop the tears from streaming down his face. His heart physically ached as if it were slowly cracking, but was beating too quickly for that to be true. His arms felt numb and he was thankful he already pulled over when this happened.
He loved Dean with everything he had and it wasn’t enough. He’d never been enough and it didn’t matter to Dean that he never stopped trying. If Cas were honest with himself he would say that nothing had been the same between them since he worked with Crowley to open up purgatory. And Cas just spent countless years following Dean around like an abused puppy begging for love. All he ever wanted was to be loved. Maybe Sam loved him out of some misplaced obligation, but never from Dean.
Anger welled up inside of him, taking the pain he felt and wrapping it up like a wounded bird. This was another lesson he learned from Dean, embrace the anger and shove aside the sadness. It wasn’t his fault Mary was dead, it wasn’t his fault he had to stop Belphagor, it wasn’t his fault Chuck trapped them there and watched them like some campy TV show. Dean had said that every time something went wrong he was there, but damn it, so were they. Sam and Dean had fucked up just as much as he had and he was always there with open arms and forgiveness. Something Dean never gave him––not really. They would move on and there would sometimes be a half baked apology, but they never worked anything out. They just pushed forward and kept fighting because that’s what you did, you never gave up. Well, Castiel was tired of living like a Winchester and he was ready to give up.
He wanted to lay down across the bench of his truck and sleep until...forever really. It would be so easy to close his eyes and let exhaustion take him, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind––that sounded an awful lot like Dean––told him he would have a sore back and a cramped up neck. So, one last time, Cas decided to push forward. There had to be a motel close to wherever the hell he was.
He reached across the seat, grabbing his phone. With the last of his energy he would search out somewhere to stay. At least this time he had his own credit cards and vehicle. How many times would Cas have to be a human without a home because of Dean?
Cas was expecting to see one missed call from Sam, but he was shocked to see several missed calls and a list of texts. His eyes burned and felt swollen, but the tears had finally slowed and he swiped their last traces away with the back of his hand. As he stared down at the illuminated screen, Dean’s name on display at least twenty times.
Missed Call 11:47 pm Dean
Missed Call 11:47 pm Dean
Missed Call 11:48 pm Dean
Missed Call 11:51 pm Dean
Missed Call 11:59 pm Dean
Dean 12:04 am >> Cas pick up the damn phone.
Dean 12:07 am >> You sorry sack of shit, you don’t get to leave this family.
Missed Call 12:10 am Dean
Missed Call 12:15 am Dean
Missed Call 12:16 am Dean
Dean 12:20 am >> Come on man. At least tell me where you’re going.
Dean 12:20 am >> Cas, please.
Missed Call 12:21am Dean
Missed Call 12:21 am Dean
Missed Call 12:23 am Dean
Dean 12:30 am >> Please come home.
Missed Call 12:32 am Dean
Dean 12:37 am >> I’m sorry.
The anger in Cas deflated. He wasn’t ready to forgive Dean or go back home, but his heart began to piece back together thinking that maybe he and Dean could salvage some part of their relationship. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to feel used and hurt. He didn’t want to admit that the words Belphegor spoke got to him. But he wasn’t going to back down just because Dean said he was sorry. Sorry wasn’t going to make up for blaming him, for sending him to Hell with Jack’s body being inhabited by a demon. Dean wasn’t sucking it up and moving forward about his loss of Mary, why was Cas expected to move on so quickly after his child had died.
Cas 1:04 am >> Prove it!
#supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#supernatural coda#supernatural 15x3#Spoilers Season 15#S15E3 Coda#Destiel#Destiel fanfic#pre-slash#not implied but toally slash#Cas makes Dean work for it#but they get back together#just not in this fic
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Three Days ~ 51
~*~Sebastian~*~
I love stupid drinking games. One of the reasons Marvel press is fun is because of the dirt we have on each other from drunken nights and hours of waiting. Both result in otherwise inappropriate questions. This was just an organized version. When Boone said you never had fun with who you were sitting next to, I started counting people between and wrote a dare to make out with the person three people to your right.
Eli went first because it was his invention. Plus, since everyone did the never have I ever and could jump in with the truths, and the point wasn't to win, it didn't matter who went first. Straight in he pulls out, "Never have I ever had a threesome."
Me, Boone, Eli, and Alissa drink. I didn't know about Alissa. Will didn't drink, but he did laugh, "Bunch of whores."
Alissa shrugged, "Everyone experiments."
Kirk looked at her, "Not everyone. About half."
Emma was next, "Last movie that made you cry? Easy A Star is Born. I cried twice during. Sat threw the credits crying. Then absolutely sobbed in my car for another ten. Then went to see it again the next day and cried just as much."
Everyone shared theirs. Mine had been a month ago when ET was on late-night TV.
Alissa got two squares, so she got a question and a dare. Angry sex or makeup sex. Me, Eli, Kirk, Boone, and Emma were in for the angry sex. Alissa had to take off her bra and hang it from a light.
Boone had to share his worst sexual experience. That led to some funny shit. Eli had a woman throw up on his dick. He claimed the tour bus gave her motion sickness. Emma's was a guy who said his own name when he came. Mine was in the back seat of a car, missing a stroke when the cop banged on the window and thinking I’d broke my dick.
Angie pulled, "Never have I ever sent nudes." All of us drank. Will's truth was his virginity story. Kirk's ended in tears, but he wasn’t the one who cried.
I got a double color. Least favorite sex position and why. Sixty-nine because I can’t fully enjoy either and I wind up focusing more on my blow job and do a shitty job taking care of her. Emma's was reverse cowgirl because there's a problem with angle of entry and an unflattering view of her ass.
"There is no unflattering view of your ass." That just popped out.
Angie agreed with Emma, "She's right. Because in reverse cowgirl your ass is going to connect with his body and jiggle. Gravity works much better to smooth things out in doggy style."
Will smiled, "The jiggle is a feature, not a bug. But I do agree with the dangerous angles." All the straight men cringed.
My dare was to switch places with either person beside me, have the next person sit on my lap, with my hand on their inner thigh until my next turn. I ended up feeling up Angie in my lap. If I’d gone the other direction, I’d have Eli in my lap. My way was better.
Kirk read, "Never have I ever had phone sex."
Emma didn't drink, but she did glare at the woman in my lap. I raised an eyebrow, "Opposed or opportunity?"
She smiled as she said, "Opportunity."
I hummed, "You'll be in Georgia and I'll be in Canada next Sunday."
"I know."
"A lot of distance."
I started to say something about getting to be the teacher, but Angie swatted me and pointed a finger at Emma, "Any erection he gets is going to poke me in the ass, so stop what you’re doing."
You get the idea. Conversations about sex, preferences, and dislikes. Some basic shit with movies and music. Some good questions, so not so much. I learned Emma loves lazy morning sex, but not lazy evening sex. She learned I like it when she takes my hand because that's her wanting the contact.
Everyone had to answer how many times they had sex in the last week. That wasn't fair. Not because I'm embarrassed by the number, but because it’s a lot to remember. I said, "Seven?" Emma pointed up. "Eight?" She nodded.
Angie and Alissa exchanged a look, "No wonder her parts we still tingling the day after he left."
Will got a dare to explain in detail his last sexual experience, pick someone else to share, and then everyone had to vote. Wonder who he was going to pick? I prepared myself. Will and Alissa had a perfectly acceptable Thursday night with three position changes. She orgasmed during position two, switching to three to finish him. He told a good story that made his wife blush. He finished and looked at me. What did I say? I knew he’d picked me. Only he didn’t. He pointed to Emma.
Emma threaded her fingers together, turned her hands out, and cracked her knuckles.
What followed was a rather detailed accounting of our shower this morning. The physical part anyway. With just the physical description I realized just how much we talk during sex. I was filling that part in as she wove the story. Specifically, her asking if she should finish me and how her question nearly did. She didn’t share that part and her eyes darting to mine gave me a thrill.
As soon as she stopped talking everyone pointed at her, including Will. He nodded in my direction, “He alludes to a four-letter word starting with “W” and you’re blushing, but not one hint of pink from the erotic shower story?”
She took a sip of her drink, “I don’t like to lose.”
Angie raised her hand, “How did you not fall over? Showers are so slippery.”
Emma stood up and put her foot on the futon, “Tiled bench on the wall and a cut out shelf to hold onto to.”
I saw her put her hand on Eli’s shoulder and covered my face with my hands, “Somebody make her sit down.” I shook my head, “So fucking thankful Angie isn’t in my lap anymore.”
I heard Kirk laugh, “I think she’ll do fine with phone sex, Seb.”
His words got my attention. I dropped my hands, “Oh shit!”
A perfectly innocent question, “What’s your favorite thing about your birthday?”, took a turn. Angie had answered buying her favorite cupcake and two new ones from a bakery close to her school. Emma answered how it was her guilt-free day to be pampered and do whatever she wanted. Will smirked, “Birthday sex.”
Heads nodded with agreement. I shook my head, “Birthday sex means anal.”
Everyone laughed and Will shoved me. Hard.
Alissa crossed her arms over her chest, “Do not even act like that’s the only day you get it.”
Eli snorted, “I never get birthday sex.”
“You’re not getting non-birthday sex tonight either.” Beside me, Angie crossed her arms over her chest too.
I half expected Emma to cross her arms in solidarity. I was struck with a drunken laughing fit. Others joined in.
Eli was not one of them, “How’s your birthday, Seb?”
“My birthday is in August.” See how I dodged the question.
Kirk started laughing so hard I thought he might piss himself. “Eli never gets birthday sex. Will has bonus birthday sex. I have lots of birthday sex.” He looked at me and pouted, “And poor Seb doesn’t know what he gets for his birthday.” He let out a very loud snort, “Straight people and anal.”
Emma pulled, “Pick a stripper or lap dance song.” I was fascinated by the way her eyes shifted from up and left to up and right and the way she chewed on her lip as she thought. She was thinking hard.
Eli elbowed her, “It’s not that hard of a question, Emeliana.”
She flipped him off, “Don’t Let Go, En Vogue.”
I have no idea what anyone else said. I was too busy finding the song on Spotify and creating a playlist. Will elbowed me. I looked up to see everyone looking at me. “Oh, not doing either. Naked is fine. Naked and dancing . . . nope. Too many body issues for that.”
Eli looked at me strangely, “Damn, if you’ve got body issues the rest of us are fucked.”
Emma smacked the back of his head, “You damn well know that outside and inside don’t necessarily match.”
He rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry. Fuck, that hurt.”
My text alert went off. It was from Will, who was sitting next to me. “Keep her.”
The questions and stories went on. The “game” ended when Eli reached the Candy Castle after skipping a big chunk of the board going through some sort of wormhole involving dots on spaces. I think he made it up.
We all did a celebratory shot and Emma pulled Angie off the couch, dropping down next to me. Alissa squished in between Emma and Will, so when we put our arms around the women, we brushed hands. Us, being us, we held hands for a few minutes. Long enough for Angie to take a picture and text it to Emma and Alissa.
I don’t even know how long we sat talking and sharing laughter. It was a good night. The kind of night you want to remember and never want to end. I would have never imagined a guy who’d dressed me over ten years ago on a TV show would be part of a couple who bridged my world and the world of a woman I met in a grocery store. A woman I adored more every day.
Everyone seemed to decide the party was over at the same time. We shared an Uber with Will and Alissa back over the Williamsburg bridge, dropping us off first. Inside the elevator Emma attacked me. Damn woman lacks self-control. I was going to wait until we got into my apartment. Instead, I found myself trapped in the corner, a hand on the back of my neck and one on my crotch. Sloppy, sloppy kisses were a preview of what was sure to be equally sloppy sex. We zig-zagged down the hall, fell through the door, and started shedding clothes on the way to my bedroom. She pushed me onto the bed and we fought with my jeans, laughing the whole time. Finally, we figured out my shoes had to come off first. I slapped at the nightstand drawer a few times before finding the handle and managed to get the condom on. Emma had much better luck with her shorts. I’d already pulled the drawstring on our way, so I gave her a head start. She straddled my hips and sank down on me.
I groaned loudly, “You feel so fucking good.”
Emma’s fingers pressed into my stomach, “You too.”
I used my thumb on her clit while she rode me. At least, I think I did. I was in the general vicinity. Precision with fine motor skills is one of the first things that go for me. I tried. It felt good, but I wasn’t getting any closer to an orgasm. I held onto her hips and rolled us over. Luckily, it only took two or three strokes to realize I wasn’t inside her anymore. We laughed as I got us back on track. A lot of groping and messy kisses later I pulled out and rolled onto my back. I looked over at her, “This isn’t gonna happen for me.”
She convulsed with a laugh, “Me either.”
While we laughed, I took her hand and held it against my stomach. “I don’t think you’re a real couple until you’ve had a sex failure.”
“And I have no confetti to throw.” That started us laughing again. “Hey, your dick’s not broken and nobody yelled their own name, well, any name.”
“It could be worse.” I let go of her hand, lifting my arm for her to cuddle up. “Let’s go to sleep and forget this ever happened.”
“Not a chance.” She kissed my chest.
I pulled my head back and glared at her, “I don’t like you anymore.”
Emma kissed me very softly, “Yes, you do.”
I smiled, “Yeah, I do.”
~*~*~
About seven I sprang up in bed finding it hard to breathe. Night terror. Emma was sleeping soundly and I didn’t want to wake her. I picked my underwear off the floor and went to the other room. I sat in my favorite chair, focusing on my breathing to pull myself out of this. The racing heart and hyperventilating had me feeling dizzy and with numb extremities. Middle of the night panic is the worst. If I’m awake I can usually catch it quickly and do what I need to manage. In the middle of the night, I’m a couple of steps behind. Takes a little longer to calm down. When I left the calm place I visualize and opened my eyes I was better. The panic had passed as it always does. It would take a little while for the adrenaline to metabolize. I padded quietly to the bathroom, not wanting her to wake up and see me like this, to brush my teeth and wipe away the sweat. Back to the kitchen, I grabbed the biggest bottle of water I had. My journal was in the office. I swung by for it before heading back to my chair. My rule for this is to just write. Thinking or trying to figure out what was going on never worked. I would look back later, but for right now it was just stream of consciousness.
I heard Emma in the bathroom about an hour later. Putting my journal on the coffee table, I turned in the chair to be able to see her. When I’d gone to the bathroom, I’d moved our discarded clothes to the bedroom. She must have found them because she was in my shirt. Talk about something to put an instant smile on my face. I reached out a hand for her, “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Emma took my hand, letting me lead her to sit on my lap. She pressed her lips to mine before laying her head on my shoulder. “I missed your warmth.”
Kissing her head, I hugged her closer and made an instant decision to tell her. “I’ve been up for a while. Had a night terror. Fucking hate waking up in that panic.” Now, as I say it aloud, I realize even more than the panic, I hate feeling weak and out of control.
Emma lifted her head, her green eyes meeting mine with soft concern. She ran her fingers from my temple, around my ear, down my neck, over my beard, and finally to rest on my chest. “What do you need to take care of you?”
I smiled and kissed her. Fuck. I should have woken her up because the last ten seconds had done more to calm me than everything I’d done in the last hour. “I’m ok. Meditated, water, journaling.” I pointed to my journal.
“Any luck identifying the trigger?”
I shook my head, “Na, just wrote. I see my therapist on Thursday. She’ll tell me.”
She laughed, “Will she? Mine won’t tell me anything.” She imitated a voice I didn’t know, “I’m here to help you find your answers, not give you mine.”
“Good point.” I kissed the bare slope of shoulder not covered by my shirt.
“It’s been years, but I remember the after felt like bugs crawling through my veins. And the shaking.”
I held out my hand, watching the slightest tremor, “Not so bad.” Her fingers laced with mine, steadying more than my hand.
“Why don’t you go for a run and burn it off?”
“Thought about it, but didn’t want you to wake up to a note and think something was wrong. Too much to write out.” The thought of her thinking this had anything to do with her was enough to get my heart racing again.
“If there’s a next time, I’ll know.”
I like that she didn’t automatically tell me she wouldn’t have wondered.
Before I could voice my thought, her hand was on my face and she kissed me, “Seriously, Bastien, go for a run.” She nodded toward the door.
“And leave you here?”
“I will be right here when you get back.”
There’s a comforting thought. “Ok.” A run sounded good. Usually, I’d head to the gym early and hit something cardio and I’d be back to normal before the rest of the guys got there. She stood up and took my spot when I went to put on some clothes. I pulled my running shoes out of the closet and sat on the couch to tie them. “I won’t be too long.”
“Take as long as you need. I’ll shower. Maybe switch around some of your drawers and cabinets.”
“Sounds good, enjoy yourself. Still want me to show you around today?”
“Absolutely.” She put her hand over her stomach, “You’re going to have to feed me.”
“I can do that.” I kissed her and headed out the door.
I put in my earbuds, cranked up the music, and just ran.
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