#I can fake normalcy sometimes but today is not one of those days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honalele · 3 years

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Morning Routine

The peaceful song of birds and the gentle wave of sunlight flooded into Michael’s small bedroom window as day broke his deep ocean-swelled sleep. He opened his eyes to the familiar wooden ceiling and watched the sky-blue painted ceiling fan circle slowly above him. The hypnotic effect it had made him want to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but there were things that needed to be done.

Michael sat up, but he paused and placed his face in his childhood yellow baby blanket. He’d been waking up with worse and worse headaches after the incident. The pain was like a dull buzz at the front of his forehead. It was bad in the morning, but it faded with the day. He pulled his face from the blanket and took a deep breath. He threw one leg over the side of the bed, and then the other.

He looked around the large accustomed room with all of his happy childhood memories scattered across the floor in forms of toys and trinkets. He stood up and sluggishly walked to the door. It opened to a massive hallway with big windows and lots of empty frames where family portraits used to be. Michael stuffed his hands in his pajama pants pockets and watched the floor as he walked into the foyer. The ceiling was so tall it could’ve touched the sky. The walls were so distant, they could have been separate countries. The floor was so empty, sometimes it felt like no one else lived in the house. Such a big place could make a person feel so small.

He made his way to the grand staircase and placed a hand on the beautifully finished railing before bouncing up the steps. Despite the complexity of the place, he’d spent nearly his entire life locked up here. At first his parents forced him to stay indoors against his rebellious will to venture out and see more of the world, but now he stayed on his own accord. The only time he went outside was to visit the garden in the backyard.

When he reached the second floor, Michael started for his parents’ bedroom. Tall windows lined the hallway, letting in all of the colors of the outdoors. As he came up to the door, he paused at the handle. His fingers were shaking. Michael noticed the dark panic that attempted to creep up on him in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and took a long breath, forcing that feeling back into its dungeon deep down. He opened his eyes and saw that his hand was steady enough to open the door.

Unlike his room, his parents’ was simple, open, and clean like the rest of the house. There was just a bed and a chest. It was like the entire house was occupied by ghosts.

Michael silently closed the door behind him and quietly made his way to the bed where his father, Ranboo, laid sprawled out in all of the blankets, still asleep. Michael carefully went up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake.

His father’s eyes slowly opened, drowsy and glazed with sleep. Michael took a seat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to stretch and yawn until he was fully sat up. Dad looked around the room with that blank expression on his face before memory slowly started to fade back. Michael softly took his father’s hand and looked into his eyes.

“Good morning.” He said. Dad didn’t hold his gaze.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but who…?” His voice was as uncertain as his expression. Michael could tell that his dad was embarrassed about not being able to recognize the person sat in front of him.

“I’m Michael. I’m your son.” He said. It took a moment for realization to settle across his father’s face.

“Right. I’m sorry I-”

“It’s ok, just breathe with me ok?” Michael interrupted his father’s anxious spiral. They held each other’s hands and breathed together. Michael told him where he was, hold old they were, their daily routine, and that they were the only members of the house.

“What’s in that?” Dad asked as he pointed to the chest that sat at the foot of the bed. Michael turned to look at it and paused before answering.

“It’s there if you want to open it, but you don’t have to.” Michael tried to sound unbiased, but he really didn’t want his dad to open the chest. He hated days that they went through the chest. He waited silently for his father’s response, the suspense wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“No.” Dad answered softly after the long thoughtful silence. A wave of relief washed over Michael. At least today might be easier than the others.

The two sat in bed and talked for a while before deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. Dad continued to hold Michael’s hand as they went through the halls and down into the foyer.

“I remember that.” Dad said, looking up at the chandelier. “I paid one of my friends to build that. Flush or Fish or something.”

“Foolish?”

“Right. Foolish, yes.” His dad smiled. “He actually built this entire mansion. It took him a long time and it cost me a lot of gold to-” Dad cut himself off when he looked back to Michael, “but you probably know all of that, don’t you?” He said with an awkward smile. Michael swallowed the angst rising in his throat and pulled himself closer to his dad without a verbal response.

The two of them made it to the kitchen. It was big like everything else in the house. All of the windows faced the backyard where a beautiful garden full of flowers and sculptures could be seen. There was a big table in the center of the room with three chairs. Michael didn’t have the heart to throw out the third one. Luckily, his dad didn’t question the arrangement, instead he headed straight towards the cupboards.

“I may not have the best memory, but I do know how to make killer waffles.” He said cheerfully. “That is, unless we had them yesterday?” He turned around to ask Michael the cautious question. Michael shook his head in response and his Dad’s eyes filled with joy. “Great, get ready for the best waffles of your life.” He chirped. Michael sat at his chair and tried to hide his smile. They’d been having waffles for breakfast the past five days, but Michael wasn’t about to complain. His dad’s waffles really were the best.

Dad asked Michael to set the table while he prepared the food. It was almost like they were a normal family again, but the thought of happy normalcy made the pit of guilt in Michael’s stomach roll and ache, so he tried to set aside those feelings and just get through the day.

After his dad finished making the waffles, the two of them sat at the breakfast table and shared old stories with one another, even though it was mainly Michael telling the old stories and correcting his father on his.

“So what Tommy would do was; he’d go into either Phil or Techno’s house completely unannounced, and then all you’d hear were the sounds of dozens of chests being open.” Dad smiled the whole time he told the story. Michael hadn’t heard this one in a while and the way his dad talked about Tommy made him laugh.

“I can’t believe Mr. Innit used to do stuff like that.” Dad nearly choked on his orange juice at Michael’s comment.

“Do not call him ‘Mr. Innit’.” He said out of breath from laughter which made Michael burst out into laughter as well. The two continued to laugh until it naturally died down a few moments later. Dad smiled at Michael and for once, Michael felt safe.

But then his dad’s eyes shifted to the empty chair across the table. Confusion washed across his face as he looked at the chair.

“If it’s just the two of us, why the third chair?” He asked. Michael looked down at his plate and poked at some of the left over waffle bits with his fork.

“It’s just for guests.” He said. He hated lying to his dad, but they were having such a great time. He didn’t want it to be ruined. A moment of silence hung over them before Michael decided to break it.

“Want me to wash the dishes?” He asked as he stood from the table. Dad slowly pulled his gaze from the chair and nodded.

“Sure kiddo.” He handed Michael his empty plate and glass and Michael headed to the sink to wash them. As he cleared off the syrup and butter from the plates, he looked outside to the garden.

“It’s really nice outside, maybe we can water the flowers or something?” He suggested.

“That sounds like a great idea!” Dad called excitedly from the table.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I know my memory isn’t too great, but I feel like I haven’t been out of this house in ages. We should go somewhere and do something. Doesn’t Jack have a hotel?”

Crash.

Michael accidently dropped one of the plates. It fell to the ground and broke into several pieces that scattered across the tiled floor. Dad quickly leapt from his chair and raced across the kitchen to make sure that Michael was ok.

“I’m fine dad really, it was just an accident.” He tried to pull himself away from being examined like a toddler.

“Ok, sorry. I just don’t want you getting hurt.” Dad took a step back and then inspected the mess. “Looks like we’re going to need a broom and dustpan. Can you point me in the direction?”

“Yeah in that closet by the back door.” Michael tried to not sound too stressed, but his hands were starting to shake and he couldn’t keep himself from swaying.

While his dad searched for the cleaning supplies, Michael tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Just one day. Just one normal day.

“Umm, so anyway, what do you think about my idea? You know, visiting the Big Jack Manifold hotel?” Dad called from the closet. Michael went deeper into his nervous sway.

“Jack doesn’t own the hotel anymore. Mr. In- er, Tommy got it back.” Michael answered.

“Oh really?” Dad’s surprised face emerged from the closet. “All the more reason to go see it then.” He smiled. Michael flashed a fake smile back and fiddled with his fingers. Venturing anywhere outside the grounds of the mansion was a bad idea in it of itself, visiting the hotel area specifically would be terrible.

“CaptainPuffy actually stopped by a few times. She said that your memory’s improving, but that it’ll be a while before you start remembering things on your own. I don’t think we should go anywhere outside the walls of the mansion until we see that improvement. A lot of things have changed since… since your memory got worse. I think going out there now would be too much for you.” Michael fought the urge to bite his nails. He hated lying. Then again, what he said wasn’t really a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

“Ok, so we’ll stay here then I guess.” Dad walked towards him with the broom and dustpan in hand. He pointed to Michael with the dustpan. “You ok? You’re swaying.” He pointed out. Michael caught himself and stopped immediately.

“Yeah, just, loud noises.” He said and gestured to the shattered plate. Dad gave him an understanding nod and flipped the dustpan so that its handle was facing Michael. Michael took it and then knelt down to hold the pan in place as his dad swept up the debris.

“There we go. All clean.” He said proudly. Michael carefully stood with the pan full of glass. He gave dad directions to the bin and then dumped the poor plate’s remains inside.

“Any words?” Dad asked. Michael flashed him a confused expression. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of this plate. Though I may not have known it for very long, I easily get emotionally attached to things. This plate was like a brother to me-”

“Shut up.” Michael sneered and closed the lid of the bin.

“What? Are my jokes not cracked enough for you?” Michael shook his head in disapproval and took the broom from his dad, then started making his way to the supplies closet.

“At least he went out with a bang.”

“Stop.”

“May he rest… in pieces.”

“I am going to put myself up for adoption.” Michael couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Even though his dad’s jokes were absolutely terrible, he found them endearing. He hadn’t seen his dad act like this in months.

Michael put away the broom and dustpan and closed the supply closet door. He looked to his dad whose gaze was focused on the window above the sink. He was standing casually with his hands in his pockets. His shoulders were relaxed and he wore a closed smile on his face. He looked peaceful and sure of himself for once. He looked happy. An emotion Michael hadn’t seen on his dad in a long time. It was like looking at a completely different person.

Dad’s face turned to Michael and he caught him staring.

“Is something wrong? You look sad.” He asked. Michael shook his head.

“No, you’re jokes are just so bad, they could bring people to tears.” Michael said. Dad scoffed and gestured for his son to come under his arm.

“Exactly. Tears of joy.” He said and gave Michael a side hug. Michael gagged at the stupid joke and hugged his dad back, extra tightly. “So,” Dad said, “how about that garden work you were talking about? Watering the flowers?” He asked. Michael nodded excitedly. “Alright then, go get some shoes on.” He said. Michael cheered and beelined it out of the kitchen.

His room was just down the hall. He’d be in and out in no time. He made sure to lock the door behind him, there were too many memories cluttered about his room. Any one of them could trigger his dad’s bad memories.

Michael raced to the closet, but it was nearly impossible to find anything under the piles and piles of clothes. He decided to change out of his pajama bottoms and put some denim overalls on instead. He was able to fine one sandal, but failed to find it’s partner. Eventually he gave up on the closet and ran over to his bed. He searched underneath for the red sneakers he’d worn a few days ago. He remembered kicking them off right before going to bed. He shoved an old board-game of Monopoly out of the way and spotted both of them. He quickly grabbed each and threw them on without bothering looking for socks. Then, he raced out of the room and into the foyer.

“Dad, I’m ready.” He called. There was no response. Michael started snapping his fingers impatiently and walked over to the kitchen. It was empty. Panic started to settle in as Michael ran over to the back door. Perhaps his dad had already gone outside. He was hit with fresh air, sweetened by the scent of all kinds of flowers. But when he looked out onto the butterfly filled landscape, dad was nowhere to be found.

Michael slowly stepped back into the house and closed the door. It wasn’t like dad knew his way around the mansion yet, maybe he got lost.

“Dad?” Michael called as he ran through the foyer once again. He passed the trading hall and ran through the library. He checked every room on the first floor, but there was still no sign of him.

Michael went back to the foyer and looked up at the looming grand staircase. He felt his hands start to shake, but his breathing exercises were the last thing on his mind. It was like his soul had left his body and he’d become a walking corpse. He took one shaking hand and placed it on the railing before dragging himself up the staircase, step by step.

When he got to the top, he could see that his parents’ bedroom door was three-quarters the way opened. Michael froze right where he stood. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to calm down. He’d done this plenty of times before. He practically knew the conversation by heart.

He shoved his still hands into his pockets and walked over to the open door. He used his shoulder to bump it open wide enough for him to enter he room. And there was dad. Facing the opposite wall. Sitting cross-legged on the floor. The chest was open. Items and photos from his past were sprawled out on all sides, like pieces from a broken plate. Michael slowly walked towards his dad.

“I came up here looking for shoes, but I got curious so…” His dad’s voice sounded like its usual distant self. Michael peeked over his dad’s shoulder. He was looking at an old photo of him and his husband.

“His name was Tubbo.” Michael said silently. Dad didn’t respond. Pain pierced Michael’s heart and he shifted his gaze up to the ceiling to avoid tears. It never got easier. He took another deep breath before walking up to his dad’s left side. He picked up a red and white checkered picnic blanket and made room for himself to sit next to his dad. Then he placed the picnic blanket so that it was covering them both.

Dad didn’t move or acknowledge his existence. He was staring intently at the photograph. His eyes were watery, and Michael could already see the fresh wounds developing under his eyes. Michael wasn’t sure how much his father was remembering right now, so he started to explain things in a low and gentle tone.

“That picture was taken when you guys first met in L’Manburg.” Still no response. This was usually how it went. Michael just had to keep talking about dad.

He spotted the flag in a crumpled ball on the floor and reached for it. “This was the flag.” He said as he fanned it out. Michael slowly slid pinched fingers into the corners of the flag and started to fold it properly. He set it on the floor next to him and picked up another old photo. Tommy was in this one. The three of them were exploring abandoned Pogtopia, a place that Michael had heard of, but never seen. Then, his father reached forward and picked up a black and yellow striped flyer. The Bee ‘N Boo. Michael had memories of its grand opening, but he hadn’t visited the place in years.

“That’s a flyer for the hotel you guys built. You were going to run it together and compete with Tommy’s.” Michael explained. He watched his dad flinch as a tear fell down his cheek. Michael searched the clutter until he found a small bottle of golden liquid. Attached to the cap was a cotton white cloth. He carefully opened the bottled and poured some of the sweet smelling liquid onto the fabric.

“Here.” He said and gently pressed the cloth against his father’s cheek. Dad reached up and took the cloth from Michael, silently whispering a thank you before scavenging through more of Tubbo’s old belongings.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing to an old Walkman. Michael’s heart cracked as he leaned over to pick it up. His dad used to listen to it all of the time. He’d burst into Michael’s room unannounced doing stupid dances and singing along to the lyrics of random love songs. Sometimes he’d share the headphones with Michael and they’d sit on his bed and listen to his favorite mixtapes together.

“That’s dad’s old Walkman. You gave it to him as a present. You were always giving him things.” Michael felt warm tears crawl down the sides of his cheeks. “He listened to it all the time.” Michael opened the machine and pulled out the playlist that had been left inside. It had a sticker that read, “Ranboo’s Recommended” written in sharpie. Michael put the tape back in the Walkman and placed it on the floor. He felt like a vulture, picking at all of these mementos of the past dragged out like the entails of a ghost. He swallowed a sore lump and brushed off some of the tears.

He watched his father pick up a small black box and open int. Inside wear a pair of wedding bands. Dad plucked one from the box and examined It closely. He was quiet for a while before turning to Michael.

“How did it happen?” He asked longingly. Michael looked to the floor as guilt stabbed his heart. He knew this was coming. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with his father.

“It was an accident.” He lied. “I ran away from home after an argument. I went to some cliffs far north. Dad found me, but it was raining and the edge of the cliff was slippery.” More half truths. Michael hated recounting the story this way, but he’d seen what telling the truth did to his father. If he were to even mention the man’s name, his father’s eyes would rolled over to a dark purple and he would start speaking in a scary language that Michael didn’t understand. He was never violent in that state, but he was a danger to himself what with the crying and clawing. Michael couldn’t watch his dad go through that again. Lying was the only way to get through this.

Dad reached over and took Michael’s hand.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said in a reassuring tone despite the pain behind his eyes. Michael faked a small smile in response. Dad had no right to say that. He didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know that Michael was a pawn in god’s rigged game of chess. That he played bait to the vengeful villain. Guilt tore him apart from the inside like a rabies-crazed dog, still, Michael gave his father a nod of acceptance in response to keep up the illusion.

His father held his gaze for a few moments longer before looking back to the clutter of memories on the floor around them.

“I may not remember all the things we did, but I remember him. I remember his voice. His smile. His eyes. His laugh. I just don’t-” Dad cut himself off as his voice finally broke and he started to cry. Michael gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I just don’t know how I could ever forget.” He said as his body writhed in pain from the tears he couldn’t hold back. Dad held the cloth up to his face, but some of the tears trickled onto his hand, causing him wince in more pain. All Michael could do was hold his other hand.

They would sit here like this for hours. Day by day. Remembering all of the things they used to do together as a family. Dad would cry, and Michael would do his best to take care of him. Then, after all of the tears they would pack up Tubbo’s belongings and place them gently back into the chest. Dad would say that he’s too tired to do anything and Michael would nod in sympathy. Dad would stay in bed for the rest of the day and Michael would go back down to the first floor, all alone.

He would spend the day cleaning and gardening. Sometimes people stopped by baring gifts and pitied expressions. Sometimes dad would leave his room only to ask, “where’s the bathroom?” or “do we have coffee?”. Sometimes they’d talk for a bit before dad wondered back up to his room like a confused zombie. The sun would go down and Michael would make sure his dad was asleep before heading to bed himself. Michael would sit at the edge of his bed and cry before pulling the yellow baby blanket close to his face and falling asleep. The next day he would wake up to the familiar dull buzz of his morning routine.

#ranboo #ranboolive #dsmp michael #dsmp tubbo #tubbo and ranboo #tubbo #dreamsmp #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp #angst #dream smp angst #ranboo angst #ranboo fanfic #tubbo fanfic #beeduo

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crescentsteel · 3 years

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Keeping a Secret - Part 2

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)

[a/n]

Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)

When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn.

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)

AO3

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

What were you even thinking? Actually, why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.

History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.

Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?

Ugh.

You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately.

For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?

“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.

“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly.

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym.

“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.

“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”

He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”

You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net.

“Y/n!”

You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”

“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima.

“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”

You almost flinch upon hearing his name.

‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.

You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.

Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.

“Morning, manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.

Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?”

“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.

“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.

“Went to a disgusting party.”

You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”

“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.

“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well.

“And?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how horrible the experience was.”

You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.

“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.

“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”

“And?”

“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you.

“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.

“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him.

Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.

His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”

“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.

“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.

Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.

“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.

You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.

You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.

Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders.

A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be.

Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.

“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”

You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come.

The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates. The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.

You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.

“L/n and Tsukishima.”

You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this?

Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit.

You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else.

He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”

“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.

“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”

Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.

“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.

Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”

You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project.

“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”

“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time.

“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.

You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.”

You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.

As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.

You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.

Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.

You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice.

To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely.

What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed?

He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”

“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.

His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”

“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him.

That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly.

“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.

“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”

“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?”

The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is.

‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.

It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.

Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.

“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now.

He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.

“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.

“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?

“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”

He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?

He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.

He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.

“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”

He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.

“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”

You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more.

“Nothing,” he grumbles.

“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”

He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.

He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him.

With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other.

He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen.

He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his.

“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both.

It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.

Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.

Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.

He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.

“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”

You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well.

“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”

“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.

Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.

You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”

He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.

“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?”

“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.

—

As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.

He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.

When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area.

When he does find you, you’re not alone.

There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.

It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.

As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.

“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal.

Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic.

“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.

The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you.

You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you.

“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”

You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.”

He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.”

You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.”

“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.

“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”

You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.

“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”

Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts.

You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile.

“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing.

You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding.

“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.

“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds.

You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.”

You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement.

“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.

She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”

“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.

“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”

You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.

“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight.

“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.

You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad.

On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you.

You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there.

He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.

“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”

You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease.

He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.

Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.

He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour.

You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.

“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear.

He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures.

“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.

“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.

You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.

You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.

You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s — particularly his — personal space anyways.

He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.

He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.

On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat.

He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.

He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.

He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.

“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.

You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you.

Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?

He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep.

He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged - pls check your settings?)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @celestialarchiveshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #tsukishima kei #for the love of kami-sama #pls let the tags work

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imnotasuperhero · 4 years

Text

I would lie and say you’re not in my mind.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Type: Angst.

Summary: Reader finds herself alone, with no explanation as to where Wanda went. And life without her was a true nightmare she could only scape with not-so-nice coping mechanisms.

Wordcount: 2644

Warnings: Drug abuse, one suicidal thought and depression.

A/N: This is my submission for @jbbarnesnnoble writing challenge! I’m so sorry for the delay. Life and work got in the middle, leaving me drained to get some actual writing done. You can search this and other works with the tag #JBBNNMHAMChallenge which deals with different types of mental healt, as to raise awarenes about it.

A/N 2: Since it’s inspired in real events, I decided to twist this and give it a happy ending. People need to know there is hope. No matter how hard life becomes, you’ve got this and you shouldn’t suffer alone. Fight your fear and seek for help. I promise, life is worth living.

A huge than you to @marvelfansince08love for enduring her patience with my rants and mini meltdown about this monster. I could never thank you enough for puting up with my dumb ass, boo. I owe you a lot! <3

If you guys want more, I might have a plot for some kind of spin-off for this story. Just let me know. Also, criticism is welcomed.

"Miss Stark," one of the executives called your attention. "Your nose is bleeding."

Automatically, your fingers found your nose and yup, it was happening. Fucking hell.

Excusing yourself, you left the conference room with rapid steps to the closest bathroom, dismissing whoever you crossed on your way. You weren't new to this, after all.

Once you got the bleeding under control, you inspected yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was nothing like your old self. The circles under the eyes needed much more concealing and your smiles were forced. But at least you picked a black blouse today, which it'll do until you got a chance to go back home and change.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Julia asked sheepishly.

"No. I'm capable of handling the rest of the day," you mumbled as you finished the last touches to your make-up.

"Mr. Stark could find-"

"Mr. Stark will find out shit," you cut your assistant. "This is just a sneeze that caused a vein to pop. Understood?" You could see how the woman in front of you shivered slightly and you almost laugh at it. You've become so pity.

"Y-yes, Miss. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No." You inspected yourself in the mirror once again before walking out. "Go over the rest of my day and make sure you send the informs to Stewart."

Fortunately, the day progressed smoothly with very few bumps. And none of them were about you, so you took it as a victory.

Kicking your high heels after closing the door behind you, you started to strip while walking towards the bathroom. The weekend was finally here, which meant you could wind out and enjoy your own company. After the latest events on Beto's, you made sure to lay low for a while. You didn't need another clingy bitch hanging from you all the time. You were just a gal wanting to have some release. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the middle of your calming bath, the sharp razor you kept for emergencies caught your eyes. 'God, it'd be so easy.' You thought to yourself. Just a little line in the right place would do it. The consuming pain would disappear and you'd be free. Hell, maybe you'd find her again in the afterlife.

Before you could continue the line of thoughts, your phone rang with your dad's personalized ringtone. Something you made sure of for when you were doing not-so-nice activities.

"Hey, dad." You absentmindedly sank deeper in the tub. The bubbly water covering up to under your jaw.

"Hi, Peanut." Tony's voice soothed your damaged soul the littlest bit. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine," you answered nonchalantly. Lying has become second nature by now. "Living the life. How are you guys?"

"That's what I called you about. Pepper and I want you to come to spend the weekend here. We barely see you outside work so we thought it'd be nice to take advantage of the long weekend. Pleeeeaaase? With a cherry on top?" He finished in a child's voice and you felt your heart squeeze itself.

Truth was, you were tired of lying all the time. You were tired of faking and saying you were okay when you weren't.

"Okay," you sighed.

"Yay!" Yup, he was a child. "We'll get your room ready. We'll have your favorite."

You didn't know the exact moment you started crying, your dad going a mile a minute talking about his latest invention and how he'd love for you to help him figure out the last touches.

Hanging up, you finally let out the awaiting sobs. Memories of an easier -and happier- time plaguing your mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. Life without her sucked balls.

After drying yourself and throwing on a fresh pair of pajamas, you quickly fixed your bag for the weekend, knowing fully well you'll wake up with just the right spare time before you had to leave for your dad's.

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm went off, which would be fine if it weren't for Wanda appearing in your dreams. Promises of a better life and reaching milestones together, fanning the painful fire in your heart.

Walking to your stash, you retrieved the white powder, forming three consecutive lines on your nightstand. A small straw between your fingers ready to be used. You wouldn't be able to consume when you were at your dad's, so you better took your chance before it was too late. Odin knew you needed the boost.

Stopping at a random café a few blocks from your home, you quickly got yourself a black coffee and a muffin before hitting the pedal once again, changing the playlist to something more upbeat.

Soon enough, your mind drifted to the impromptu road trips you'd do with Wanda. Sometimes even a week-long trip. Just the two of you apart from the chaos of your lives.

Out on the road, it was only laughs, music, and fast food with the occasional make-out sessions. God, if you could, you'd live in the past forever.

Stepping out of your car, you couldn't help the smile that broke your face. Working in the same place as your dad didn't mean you've got to see him every day. And being honest, you were happy he offered you scape from her curse.

"Hi, dad." You answered once you reached him, returning his hug. And boy, didn't you felt safe in those strong arms. They never failed to soothe you.

After what seemed like hours of walking around your dad's property, you and Pepper came back to the house ready for a refreshing iced tea. But any trace of a nice calming bath dissipated away when you say your dad standing in the middle of the living room, his face stoic.

"What's this?" The quietness of his voice freezing your blood.

"I'm waiting, Y/N."

You cringed at your dad's voice. The disappointment showing in his eyes made you regret not checking before you grabbed a random bag for this trip.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what I think it is," he begged, showing you and Pepper the almost empty baggy between his fingers. And you ignored him. He already knew the truth, after all. "Say it," he growled.

"So the bleeding nose-"

"Screw you," you muttered, cutting Pepper mid-sentence.

"Hey! That's no way to talk to her,"

"You know what?" You walked to your dad, looking up to his eyes. "Yes, I'm an addict. Good job, Sherlock. Now you can get rid of me as you did with my mom. After all, you never wanted me in the first place, so why should it matter." You snapped with burning tears in your eyes. "There's no need to keep faking it anymore." You walked away, leaving them mouth agape, trying to process your words.

Plopping down on your bed, you couldn't help the feeling of failure igniting inside you. The tears in your eyes burning your eyes as they appeared, flowing down your cheeks as the sadness and emptiness became just too much to handle.

You didn't remember when was the last time you were genuinely happy. And it sucked that it depended on someone. It sucked and you despised it more than anything. But then again, Wanda was everything you'd need to live in this world. Always positive, with a smile so bright that could light up the darkest room. Her eyes? God, you loved losing yourself in those green orbs of hers in the afterglow. And now you had to live without all these little things that made you happy. All the little moments of joy were gone, tuning you into this sack of bones and flesh, with no expectations for life.

It wasn't till much later that night that you left your room, after ignoring your dad's callings.

Padding your way to the bar, you served yourself a whiskey. The burning on your troat a welcomed feeling. Your mind going back to her, as it was the normalcy since she dusted away, leaving you with thousands of questions and a hole in your heart that you knew well you could never fill again. How could you, when you knew she was it? how could you even try to patch it up, when you knew there was no one else like her?

One whiskey turned into 5 and you didn't know when you started to cry, considering you thought there were no tears left after all these years. But the strong hand on your shoulder made you snap from your pity party, hurriedly drying your tears. Crying was for the weak, and boy were you weak.

"I'm sorry," you drowned the last of your drink before looking up, mustering the best stoic face you could.

"You don't need to fake around me, Peanut. We're family," your dad poured you another drink as he got one himself.

"Look, what happened with your mother has nothing to do with you." He continued once he sat beside you. "And I would never leave you alone, Y/N. No matter how many headaches you give me." He joked but composed himself when you didn't react to it. "I- Pepper is pregnant. And we really want you in the baby's life. But.. Look, if there was a way to bring her back, I would. In a heartbeat. But Y/N, you have to understand, she wouldn't like this version of you. If not for yourself, do it for us,"

You wanted to speak, you wanted to answer him. But the lump in your throat was too big to swallow and the knife in your heart twisted when you saw your dad's eyes tearing up. And fuck did it hurt. To see him cry -for the first time- pained you like hell. And knowing you were the cause of those tears made you feel like you were the worst person alive.

"I-," you paused to gather your bearings, but your dad beat you to it.

"I know, Peanut," his arms surrounded you in that way that only him could.

"I promise you," he continued once you broke away. "One day, it will get easier. Those feelings will never fully go away, but it will get easier." He dried your tear-stained cheeks softly. "You are not alone. And she'll always be with you,"

And despite the grief eating you from the inside, you knew you had to live. For them. For her.

The next few months had been a true rollercoaster. You didn't know the abstinence would affect you so badly. And while others would have it much worse, you couldn't help the change of moods and the few tears you caused to those around you. Not to mention, the significant drop in your moods. But you also knew better. You've kept your word, and you hadn't touched it again.

Under Natasha's supervision, you got rid of every secret stash you had at both, your apartment and your office, and you deleted the number of your dealer. And even if sometimes it seemed like hell would manifest itself as Nat was your watcher, you couldn't be more glad because, admittedly, the woman had balls and she did knew how to bribe you, to the point that you'd even quit drinking even if it was more of a social addiction, in your case. That, mixed with Natasha's friendship and support -as well as those around you- and the birth of Morgan, your little sister had you believing once more, even if you knew you'd never get to be the same person you once were.

The little bundle of joy had come to this world with a few rays of sunshine for you, finally opening your eyes and making you realize that there was hope. Even if you never saw her again, life was worth living and you'd live it for her at your best capacity.

So when Pepper asked you to babysit Morgan for a few days, considering she couldn't bring a 2 months old baby with her, you accepted in a heartbeat.

But as you were awoken by a fussing Morgan, after an eventful night in which you barely slept, you realized this might've not been your brightest idea.

Inhaling deeply, you got up and walked to her room, picking her up from her crib and rocking her as you made your way to the kitchen. Babies were a fucking clock. Which only served to add to your decision of never having kids.

If you were on the verge of tears most of the time, wishing deeply for her parents to come back so you could have time for yourself, you knew you'd be mental if you had to live through this for the rest of your life.

Your ears catching the front door opening made you stop mid singing, turning around as you walked to the hushed words as you feed a calmed down Morgan just to stop dead in your tracks when you saw her. The only reason you stood still, was the baby in your arms.

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a sign that this was just a dream. That the image of your girlfriend was just a projection of your mind, like so many other times before during these 5 years since she disappeared from your arms. But the silence surrounding you all and 8 pairs of eyes inspecting you made you realize that this wasn't a dream.

The cries of Morgan took you all from your reverie and soon, Pepper was by your side, taking the baby from your arms before kissing the top of your head, something she always did whenever you felt unsettled.

"Peanut-"

"Is she real?" You questioned as you scrutinized a fidgety Wanda, who stood by the door, ready to run away if needed.

Natasha could sense your turmoil growing with every single second that passed and soon enough you felt a strong pair of arms supporting you, ready to catch you if you fell.

"She's here, Maliska. We brought her back," she spoke quietly, making sure you understood her words.

The wild thoughts on your mind got you walking towards her. The need to touch her and prove yourself that she was back, got your fingers itching. You could feel the blood running in your ears and you shaking steps as you got closer to who you thought was gone forever, leaving you empty and moving through life like a zombie.

The choke that broke through you when your hand cupped her cheek got you smiling as tears rolled down with every erratic thump of your heart.

"You're here," you whispered, afraid of breaking the spell you've found yourself into.

But you couldn't stay in that thought for long because an intimately familiar pair of arms surrounded you as Wanda threw yourself at you, hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

Feeling her hot breath against your skin was all you needed to finally give in and hold her with all you had, knowing that she was here; with you.

You didn't know how long you both stood there, holding each other and basking in the calmness that surrounded you. All your previous tormenting thoughts dissipated in that exact moment. Wanda was back and you found the hole in your heart start to fill itself.

"Hi, Printsessa," Wanda murmured against your neck, kissing her way up to your jaw, peppering your face with kisses before she finally kissed your lips. And boy, did your knees trembled.

After 5 long years, the lips you've got used to kissing whenever you pleased were once against yours, igniting all the love and hope and good things you got to feel once upon a time.

You can find the continuation, here (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @jumbojamba47 @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

#wanda maximoff x reader #I-#lkhfkjgfkjgaf #my writing #jbbnnmhamchallenge #mental health tw #feel free to scream at me

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maruzzewrites · 3 years

Text

(Every breathe you) Take #1

Hello! This is what was supposed to be the April’s Fool fic but I didn’t write it in time. It’s an Actor AU in the “universe” of EBYT. All nice and cool. Not real content warnings.

You looked down at your car’s clock. It was barely late afternoon, maybe he was in class. You let the phone fall onto the passenger’s seat, and continued to drive.

“Cut!”

The director shouts. Your shoulders go lax and the tension melts over your back, making you slump over the fake car seat. You stretch as everyone around starts to walk around, taking props and placing them outside the set. You climb out and look around to see your fellow actors, all gathered somewhere just outside the current scene.

You try to catch up with them, but you are stopped halfway. You almost trip over some cables on the ground when your manager calls you. She rushes to grab your arm, and you can see the burning desire to reprimand how clumsy you can be. She decides against it, yanking you straight and clearing her throat.

“You remember you got an interview today, right?” Her question is simple and, luckily, you do remember. Having an acting role is a new thing to you, especially with the role of the protagonist, and you did mess up a bit at the start. You are so used to minor roles or filling other positions around the set that you needed a bit to pick up the pace.

“Of course,” you answer. You see she is about to speak again, you even know about what: you need to plan what to say and what to omit during this interview. But you really don’t want to think about it, not with the filming being finished for the day. You will catch up later, “I will see you later. I need to do something…”

Before she can protest, you march away towards your colleagues. They’re now outside the building to allow some of them a quick smoke break, and they welcome you in their little circle without any problem. You look at each of them, and you find it hilarious how similar they are to their own characters – without the threatening auras, of course.

“So,” you cross your arms, “do you guys know what to say in this interview?”

“Excuse me,” One of the reporters raises his hand, a pen between his fingers. You look up at him and ask him to ask whatever he wants. He grins, “Thank you. So, can you tell us anything more about the idea behind this show?”

“Well,” you start and look around the other actors to see if someone wants to speak instead. No one even attempts, so it’s in your hands, “I was said it was supposed to be about normalcy and what it means in a dangerous place. The director has experience with people who are called not so legally to clean at strangers’ houses and wanted to show it more.”

The reporter thanks you for the answer, even seems to want to ask one more, but someone else jump on the occasion to inquiry, “Did you choose it because of the premise? It seemed like a difficult role for a new actor.”

You think about it a bit, “I liked the premise. It’s dark and I don’t know if I can fake falling in love more than being scared. These goons make it rather easy, too.”

You point at them with your thumbs; some of them chuckle, some of them roll their eyes, some seem more embarrassed than anything. You hope you haven’t offended them too bad – it’s not your fault they really look rather menacing at times.

“Means we are good actors,” Formaggio chimes in, grinning like a fox. He turns to you and points a finger, “You too. Sometimes I really think we are intimidating you. The first time you saw Risotto, you looked like you saw a ghost.”

Some of the people in the room giggle at that, while Risotto pouts a little at the observation. The poor man can’t help his appearance or his size, and you came to understand he is one of the calmest and nicest people in that group. To avenge him of this direct insult, you decide to tease Formaggio a bit, “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who looks like he belongs in an actual gang, here.”

The joke makes even the imperturbable Prosciutto crack a smile, along with the sneer from Illuso at Formaggio’s frown. You even see the next reporter barely contain a laugh when she raises her had to speak, “You seem to get along quite well. Do you find it interesting to work with your colleagues on this project?”

The question is general, but you figure you talked enough for all of them. When a second too much of silence lingers, Melone is happy to jump in, “I enjoy it quite a bit! I barely get the opportunity to work with people who are so funny.”

“Really?” Ghiaccio almost yells, before he can reign in his tone. His inside voice is still loud, but it borders a stage whisper, “Because you’re really annoying during breaks. You say the most inane things and we’re supposed to just take it.”

Melone smiles, affable, “As I said, funny. You’re all entertaining. I get why you would become actors!”

Someone in the public clears his throat and then stands up to speak. Doesn’t really wait for his turn, but no one seems to mind besides turning around in their seats to look at him. He asks, “How did you come to accept your parts? You seem like a very varied bunch.”

The others look at each other, then Prosciutto takes the stage, “Formaggio tried for the role before us, then told us about the auditions. I assume we were just the right fit for the characters.”

The reporter nods and then looks at you with expectation. You don’t have quite the same story to them, “I… I just wanted to try for a big role, for once. I was told I had the face for the story, even if now I knows it means being somewhat average.”

A bit of an awkward silence before someone – Melone, specifically – intervenes, “I don’t think you are average or plain. You just give a friendly vibe.”

You smile at him just when Illuso decides to speak up, “That’s a nice way to say homely.”

He gains a light punch in the arm since he is sitting right next to you, which makes him chuckle and pretend to fall over on his chair. Ghiaccio, sitting at his other side, shoves him almost violently when they are close to touching. Risotto tells them to calm down.

“Do you have anything to tell us about the future of the show?” A reporter takes advantage of the ruckus to ask before anyone else can. He looks at every actor for a handful of seconds each before elaborating, “Fans really want to know what’s coming up in the near future.”

You ponder on answering that one question. You don’t let anyone chime in before you take your decision, explaining, “I don’t think we can reveal too much, but what’s coming is probably obvious. You know about stories with gangs. There may be something surprising to it, maybe.”

The reporter nods and waits patiently. You just shoot him a kind smile and you can almost see the disappointment coloring his face. You were told not to speak too much about the future plot, direct orders from the director and your manager – who was very eager to let you know how much you needed to shut your mouth.

The reporter evidently knows when to drop it because he doesn’t prob further. The rest of the interview goes smoothly, with jokes and teasing, with answered questions. People are really curious about the show despite being so grim, but you appreciate the fans.

At the end of the whole thing, you wonder what you will read the following days in online articles from those reporters.

“Have you seen the new theories? People are really quick to take every ounce of info they can get from exclusives.” Melone scrolls his phone right before leaving it inside the pockets of his jacket, ready to put on his outfit.

You hum in response, too busy rereading the script for the episode. You hope you will finish quickly so that you go somewhere and eat with your colleagues – it’s been a while since your last lunch together. It may or not be because you end up giggling during the most tense scenes, during the first few takes.

Melone leaves you alone, wishing you good luck for the first scene of the day. You take a deep breath and replay it in your mind, trying to visualize it.

Going back home after a stressful day. After having to play a game of cat and mouse with dangerous men, wanting nothing more than a doll in their hands. You feel the tension harden your muscles, your shoulders and back stiff with anxiety.

You are a cleaner dealing with something too big for you, and you return to that house.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #la squadra #la squadra esecuzioni #reader insert #actor au #something short and sweet instead of the usual pain and anxiety

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creepypasta-mfs · 4 years

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hey! I really like your blog so far ! Do you think you could write hcs for Ben, Dark, EJ, and Jeff with an s/o? I know its not very specific, just anything u got eould be nice 😅

hi!! thank u sm 💕 i can definitely do that

BEN Drowned

× honestly not a bad boyfriend at all

× well, for the most part

× in the beginning, he's still an ass

× he might poke fun at the little insecurities you have, definitely your height if you're shorter than him

× he can sometimes take it a bit too far, but he'll quickly learn your limits

× the times when he does push things a bit too far, he does the most to make up for it

× need a hug? of course. A twelve page written apology? Duh. Want him to make an absolute fool of himself in front of the whole house to make it even? Consider it done

× as mentioned before, he's super secretive and guarded. Takes a l o n g time to break down those walls, but once you do he's open about everything

× "anyway, here's my auto biography of every traumatic event I've ever been through, there will be a quiz over this so please take notes"

× also pretty touch starved, so any physical affection you give out is greatly appreciated

× like you have no idea

× very awkward when reciprocating it though, he's has little to no experience when it comes to this, so just give him some time to adjust

× his idea of a date is just taking a long ass nap together and ordering food

× wake up from nap #1, eat copious amounts of chinese take-out, then move on to nap #2

× will appreciate you forever if you just sit with him while he plays video games

× also enjoys when you show genuine interest in it and ask him questions about what he's doing and stuff

× would prefer for you to sit behind him and draw patterns on his back and talk to him, or scratch behind his ears

× likes playing with your hair and having his hair played with, will braid it if you allow him to

× expect a lot of just lazing around his room, and having those sleepy, half awake conversations, those are his favorites

× over time he drops the snarky attitude and mean-ish teasing and becomes more soft and lighthearted, only around his s/o though

Dark Link

× so you've somehow managed to make this little ball of angst like you

× g o o d l u c k

× so used to only thinking of himself and doing things that only benefit him, having to take another person into consideration is a big change for him

× really caught him off guard when he realised he actually c a r e d about somebody

× like damn this has never happened before

× doesn't really understand what "romance" is

× he tries his best, but can only really show his feelings through gifts

× what do you mean buying them a whole new wardrobe isn't equivalent to saying "I love you" ??

× isn't good with his words, but he makes an effort

× "your face.. It looks,.. Nice today? Did I do that right??"

× will probably start petty, completely not serious fights with you when he's got nothing better to do

× I hope you have a lot of patience, because he knows exactly how to get on your nerves and loves seeing you frustrated

× only when he's the reason though. Anyone or anything else that causes you any trouble best be prepared to catch these hands

× is surprisingly supportive when it comes to any interests you might have

× tries to show you that he listens to what you like and don't like, so he'll buy you things related to your hobbies

× those super expensive paints you've been wanting? They're yours now. Want to learn to play this instrument but don't have the money for it? Now you do

× giving gifts is his thing, but attention and affection are definitely his love language

× he's so conflicted because he wants you to spend time doing the things you like, the stuff he's gotten for you, but at the same time he needs you to focus on him and him only, ya know?

× is not above pouting and fake crying to obtain your undivided attention

Eyeless Jack

× a h h h h

× he probably low key panicked when he figured out he caught feelings for you

× has very little memory of ever feeling anything like this so he has no clue how to react

× you'll have to guide him through everything, especially when it comes to physical contact

× he's just so big and doesn't know his own strength, and you're so small and fragile, how does he avoid crushing you??

× he's going to need a lot of reassurance and positive feedback before he's able to fully trust himself to initiate affection on his own

× definitely searches the internet for advice on being a good significant other

× his search history

- how to be a good boyfriend

- definition of affection

- how to care for your tiny human

- how to know if you're in love wiki how

× lmao he's absolutely hopeless

× will lend you his clothes anytime, without you even asking. And he'll definitely want you to lend him something of yours, doesn't matter to him what it is

× likes that your scent rubs off on his clothes and vice versa, its very comforting

× won't outright ask for it, but likes scratches

× this has also been done to death, but will purr if you scratch the spot just behind his ears or between his shoulder blades

× has issues when it comes to verbally expressing his appreciation and love for his s/o, but he shows it through making sure they have everything they need or want, checking to make sure they've eaten that day, have had enough water, etc.

Jeff the Killer

× little gremlin boi

× will find amusement in scaring the hell out of his s/o

× stands over them in their bed at night, will wait as long as he needs for them to wake up and have a mini heart attack

× doesn't ever mean any harm though

× acts very distant in front of other people but very touchy when alone with them

× just likes putting his hands on their face to feel their skin, likes comparing how tough and scarred his skin is to the smoothness of theirs

× playfighting is his favorite past time, doesn't matter what his s/o is doing at the moment, they better be prepared to throw down at any time

× will give them obscure fighting tips that they will never need at any point in life

× "Street Smarts with Jeffery Woods"

× likes taking walks with them at night in the woods, even if there isn't anything to talk about. Just likes spending time with them peacefully for a little while

× often thinks about how things would've been different if he hadn't went about things the way he did, and wonders if they would've even met if he hadn't

× sometimes feels bad that they can't ever really have a normal relationship, but it is what it is

× tries to keep his life with his s/o and his "hobby" separate, sees them as innocent and doesn't want to "taint" them

× does everything he can to keep himself in check, doesn't want to scare them in a serious way

× another one of his favorite past times is snooping through your stuff shdhshhd

× if you have a diary dO NOT LET HIM KNOW, he will find it and he will read it

× will want to know if you've written about him in it, and if you have and he reads it he will never let you live it down

× it will be an eternal ego boost

× goes out of his way to be more gentle towards his s/o, don't let that go unnoticed

× tries to simulate any form of normalcy in the relationship as he can, and actually enjoys doing little domestic things with them even if its just something small like cleaning or cooking

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter One (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: For the 75th Hunger Games, tributes will be chosen from each district's living victors.

Denali and Rosé, two women with a shared past, are the only living victors for District 12. They’ll grow a lot closer than they planned in their effort to survive.

A/N: Bringing my love of fantasy AUs to Rosnali! It's been a while since I've done a multi-chap, but I'm excited for this one! You can probably read this without knowing the books/movies, but it's helpful if you look up the basics if you're confused. There will be blood, violence, and injury throughout, but nothing more graphic than the books/movies.

Thank you so, so much to Writ for supporting this idea and helping me with it, and FaceTiming me to scream with your reaction. I love you <3

I really hope you enjoy, and please leave feedback if you like!

Read on AO3.

The blood is everywhere.

It stains the grass, trickles down Rosé’s pants, burns in her nose. It’s sticky on the side of her face. It pours from the fresh gash across her shoulder. It’s caked under her nails. It soaks the bodies on the ground.

The bodies.

One is still clinging to life, wheezing through the hole in his chest.

Rosé made that hole.

Rosé waits, not releasing her blood-soaked grip on her blood-soaked sword, until he gives one last wheeze and the cannon goes off, announcing her as winner of the 59th Hunger Games--

“Rosie, wake up. You’re having a nightmare again.”

Rosé shoots upright in bed, soaked with new sweat and old blood.

“It’s just us here. You’re safe.”

It’s her sisters in front of her, just her sisters. No bodies. No blood. No sword in her clenched fist. She sucks in a deep breath as her sisters watch in worry.

Rosé’s the only one who officially lives in the Victor’s Village house, but more often than not, Jan or Lagoona or both will come over for dinner and occasionally stay the night with her. She knows it’s mostly because they love her and want to, but it’s partly so they can make sure she eats and sleeps. She was the one who taught them to braid hair and jump rope, who used to check for monsters under their beds, and now they have to watch her eat and put her to bed and tug her out of nightmares. But Rosé doesn’t even care, because she loves her sisters more than anything and it feels so normal to have them around. She’s able to laugh and smile and forget, and she just pretends not to see the concerned looks her sisters exchange on her behalf.

They both stayed tonight, because they know what tomorrow is.

Rosé nods as she comes back to herself, holding back the apology on her lips because she knows they’ll just brush it off.

“Are you okay to go back to sleep?” Jan asks.

Rosé shrugs. If she looks at her hands too long, blood stains appear, but that’s not something she wants to worry them about. She hates still having the dreams, clear as if they happened an hour ago, not sixteen years ago. Plus it’s almost four, and she needs to be up in a few hours anyway--

“Let’s make cookies,” Lagoona says, coming to the same conclusion.

It’s what they did as kids, helping their parents with the bakery after school and on weekends. They’d line up at the counter, and Rosé would cream the butter and sugar, Lagoona would add the rest of the ingredients, and Jan would scoop the dough on the baking trays. Their mom always says there’s nothing a cookie can’t solve, and maybe that’s true of failed tests and middle school heartaches.

It’s a little harder when you had to kill people to stay alive.

Rosé tries, goes through the motions with her sisters, grateful that she has them. Wishing she could be better for them. She tries to hold herself together with sugar and butter, erase the blood on her hands by replacing it with melted chocolate. She’s calmer by the end at least, the tightness in her jaw loosened.

She notices that the lights are on in the house across the path. There’s only one other occupant in the Victor’s Village, and she’s not sleeping either.

---

Denali has long been awake when Reaping Day comes. She’s always up early to go for her morning run. She doesn’t need to run for her life anymore, but she runs from the memories just the same. It’s a normal thing to do, like when she used to wake up early every morning and hunt, and she likes convincing herself she’s normal.

Normal people don’t sleep with a knife in their hand and a bow at their feet.

Running. Always running.

She wishes she didn’t have to come back from her run today. The reaping starts in a few hours, and she’ll be paraded across the stage, one of two victors for the district. And then she’ll get assigned some poor kids she’s supposed to mentor, and no matter what tips she gives, what favors she tries to get from rich sponsors, it won’t be enough. Those kids will never come home. Not like Denali did.

Her right knee is screaming when she stumbles in the door. She’s gone too far on it today. It had been mangled in the final fight in her Games--dislocated, muscles torn, bones shattered. The doctors fixed it up enough for her to walk painlessly, but her punishing runs are sometimes too much for it.

She makes breakfast but can’t bring herself to eat it. She never ate on Reaping Days as a kid, worrying that if the impossible happened and her name got called, she would puke in front of the whole crowd, which in her teenage mind was as bad as getting called. And then she was seventeen and the impossible did happen, and instead of being free from this once she passed eighteen, the Capitol’s rules of her serving as mentor meant she’d never really be free of the Games. Not even winning them had been enough to escape.

Donut yips at the door, and Denali realizes someone’s knocking. She pets her dog--she always wanted one as a kid, and it’s another attempt at normalcy--and opens the door to see Kandy and Kahmora on the other side.

“We’re here to cheer you up before today’s shit show,” Kandy says bluntly.

Denali manages a smile. She doesn’t see her friends very often--they’re busy with work, and her house and whole life are so dull she doesn’t blame them for not wanting to spend time here--but they always make it a point to visit on Reaping Day, and Denali is so used to the loneliness that it’s both nice and strange to have friends over. They’re the sole reason Denali has extra coffee mugs, which collect dust in the cupboard 364 days of the year.

“What do you think Manila will wear this year?” Kahmora asks, her way of avoiding the unavoidable.

Denali wouldn’t mind if she brought up the Games outright. She’s become something of an expert in them, rewatching old footage over and over, looking to lessen the Games’ power on her, or give her something that would help a tribute. If you know every second of every Games, if you’re prepared for anything, then you can’t get hurt.

“It can’t be worse than that pink coat from last year,” Kandy says.

“At least you’re not dressing her,” Denali says. It’s the first joke she’s made in months, and her laugh sounds hollow. Fake.

But they both laugh, continuing to talk about what Manila will wear to pick tribute names, and Denali can pretend she’s normal, even if normal people don’t have their back to the wall and eye on the door, ready to run if needed.

It’s fine.

She’s fine.

The reaping will be over soon, and in a few weeks, the Games should be over. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll be lucky enough to succeed and bring a kid home this year.

---

The doorbell rings minutes after Jan and Lagoona leave, and Rosé knows the time is officially here.

Denali gets her every year and they walk to the reaping together. It’s nice, not having to do it alone. Almost like having a friend, though Rosé doesn’t actually know what to call their relationship.

Denali was best friends with Jan, and Rosé remembers her climbing trees and making jokes, practically another sister to Jan. Hell, Denali was practically another little sister to Rosé. She could remember helping Jan and Denali with their math homework and teaching them to weave friendship bracelets. Rosé didn’t see her much after she got back from her Victory Tour--but then again, she didn’t see anyone much after that, didn’t really leave her room. And then five years passed and suddenly she had to mentor a seventeen-year-old Denali who was so much stronger and fiercer than the kid Rosé remembered, determined to be the best and win the Games. Rosé knew Denali could win, and did what she could to make it happen, giving tips and begging sponsors, and Denali came home. Their district hasn’t had a winner since.

“At least the weather’s nice,” Denali says as they head into town.

“Yeah.”

The weather. Rosé had helped Denali learn fractions so she didn’t tear her notebook out of frustration, had helped her perfect her grip on a knife, had included notes of encouragement with Denali’s parachutes in the Games, and they’re talking about the weather. It’s like this every year, every time they have to mentor, the bare minimum of small talk and work talk. It’s like their past is so fragile they’re afraid to bring it up, that even the slightest mention of what they share will shatter the glass, and the images of them inside it.

The Games are the biggest thing that unite them, an experience and horror they share. But the topic is an ocean between them, one they hesitate to stick their toe in with each other, one they have their own ways of dealing with. Denali thrashes through the ocean; Rosé sees her go for a run every morning, and then walk her dog later, and then do yoga after that, careful activities that let her stay above the tide, fighting the forces that want to pull her under. Rosé just lets herself drift in the waves while trying to avoid that she’s in the water at all, and hopes she has enough air not to drown when the water swells.

“Your--your hair looks nice,” Rosé says. Whatever pointless things they talk about, she’s always nice to Denali, still has it in her to do that much. And her hair really does look nice, twisting down her back in a long braid.

“Thanks.” Denali’s cheeks flush pink. “Yours does too.”

“Jan did it for me.” She touches her waves self-consciously. It’s been a while since her hair’s been this nice, and she kind of likes it. She’d do it more often, but what’s the point when she sits at home all day?

“She was always good at hair stuff. She used to do all these braids for me at school when we were bored.” Denali stops suddenly, biting her lip like she knows she’s upset the balance, bringing up anything besides the safety of the weather.

“Yeah, well, I taught her how to do them in the first place,” Rosé says lightly, not wanting Denali to worry she’s done something wrong. She hasn’t, really; she hasn’t directly brought up the Games, at least. And it’s not like Rosé has ownership of mentioning Jan, not when she and Denali were so close and still see each other from time to time.

Denali smiles, and they talk about weather for the rest of the walk.

---

The stage is set, the dry grass ready to be trod on by the anxious steps of teenagers. Manila is poised at the microphone, warming up her throat. Her feathery yellow dress is blinding, as is the smile she flashes when Denali and Rosé reach the stage.

“That dress should come with a warning,” Rosé mutters, and Denali snorts. Rosé’s been a little more talkative this morning, even if everything comes out through clenched teeth, and Denali welcomes it.

“Our two lovely victors!” Manila says cheerfully, shaking both their hands.

“The only victors,” Denali says dryly, but Manila still laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.

“Yes, well, lovely victors just the same. Take a seat. The crowd will arrive soon.” She ushers them into the plain black chairs they sit in year after year, watching terrified kids trickle in.

The twelve-year-olds come first, and they look so young. Denali thinks they look younger every year. They struggle to stay in a straight line, tripping over uneven grass and bumping into each other, the fear radiating off them.

She risks a peek at Rosé. Her fists are clenched so tight her knuckles are white, and she keeps her eyes on the stage floor, like she can’t bear to look at the kids.

Denali remembers being in their shoes, standing on the same grass. Sometimes she remembers her first reaping clearer than the one when she got picked. Everything was a blur after her name got called, and watching the footage of that day is like watching a movie of someone else, because she doesn’t remember walking up to the stage. Doesn’t remember any of it.

But her first reaping exists in perfect clarity.

Denali holds her breath as Manila reads the slip of paper clutched in her neon orange nails. She’s only feet away from the stage, and it feels like Manila can see through her, like she knows she’s reading Denali’s name and knows exactly where to find her.

But Manila doesn’t read Denali’s name.

She reads her best friend’s name instead.

The whole row of kids gasps, like they can’t believe the reaping came so close to them--came to their very row--but is leaving them untouched. Kids are already giving Jan a wide berth, like they don’t want her bad luck to pass to them. In the back of her mind, Denali wonders if she should worry about that too. But she won’t leave her friend.

Jan is frozen in place at Denali’s side, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. Denali doesn’t even think she’s breathing. The purple bow in her hair is crooked, which she would never allow, and Denali knows things are bad.

Denali wants to tell her it’s okay, wants to help her, but how can she? Everyone knows a twelve-year-old tribute is as good as dead, and Denali doesn’t know if she can pretend otherwise.

“Jan…“ Denali tries.

Jan cuts her off with a sudden breath, nodding to herself and preparing to move. But before Jan can take a step, someone sprints to the stage in a blur of red hair.

“I volunteer,” the redhead says breathlessly. “I volunteer as tribute.”

The crowd erupts into whispers, but all Denali hears is Jan scream as she recognizes the volunteer.

Rosé McCorkell. Jan’s older sister.

Jan lurches toward her sister, trembling so hard that Rosé grabs her waist to keep her upright.

“No, no, Rosie, please!” Jan is sobbing, her face a mess of tears, fighting to break her sister’s grip.

“Jan, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Rosé says softly, though Denali can see her legs quiver for a second. “I’ll come home, I promise. I love you.” Rosé rubs Jan’s back, soothing her as she cries, and though it almost feels too personal for Denali to witness this, she can’t look away from the firm set of Rosé’s jaw, the determination on her face.

Rosé fixes the bow in Jan’s hair, kisses the top of her head, and walks up to the stage.

Manila’s voice, unchanged even after all these years, pulls her into the present.

“Now since this is the Quarter Quell,” Manila begins, “things will be a little different this year.”

Something tugs in Denali’s stomach, her heart picking up speed, all her senses on high alert. The Quarter Quell is always something different; maybe double the tributes, or half of them. But the uncertainty is bad enough, straying from the careful routine Denali expected. Something’s not right; her body senses danger. But her body is always sensing danger. Maybe she’s just being paranoid.

“To honor the Games’ history and glory, this year’s tributes will be chosen from each district’s living victors.”

Rosé’s sharp intake of breath tells Denali she’s figured it out. When Denali realizes, she doesn’t breathe. She doesn’t move. She’s seventeen again, hearing her name at the reaping, the words repeating over and over as she walked numbly to the stage.

Two tributes for each district.

Two tributes from each district’s living victors.

Their district only has two living victors.

For all the rewatching Denali’s done, all the times tracing every twist and turn of the Games, she never prepared for this. Already, her legs are burning with the urge to run like she did in the arena, running from the enemy with a constant look over her shoulder. She can’t run from this. She couldn’t as a teenager and she can’t now, when the Capitol could kill her for it.

Though she might not survive anyway.

It’s too much for her mind to process. The world becomes a formless blob and all she can hear is her heart pounding in her ears. Pounding not only in fear, but anger, anger for her and all the victors. Anger at a system that praised them for winning and said they’d have peace afterward, but never really let them be free from the Games. They did their time. They survived the Games, emerging covered in blood and sweat and tears, scars on their bodies and in their minds. Reliving the Games through mentorship each year is bad enough. How could anyone make them do this again?

Manila is handed the huge glass bowl she always uses, but instead of a mountain of slips, only two pieces of paper lie at the bottom. There’s no escape.

“Our first tribute--”

“What’s the damn point?” Rosé asks, rising from her chair, and honestly, Denali doesn’t know how she’s standing. Rosé’s face is pure white, and she quickly hides her shaking hands behind her back. She has the same look in her eyes as when she volunteered for Jan: the look of an animal who sees the hunter and knows the arrow is coming, but stands their ground anyway, brave and defiant to the end. “It can only be us.”

Manila takes a flustered breath, cheeks flushed even through her thick makeup. “Well, tradition and all--”

Denali rises too, locking her wobbly knees. “Fuck that. Rosé’s right. No sense drawing this out.” Her mom always made her drink cough syrup in one bitter swallow as a kid, and Denali would rather get the misery over with.

Rosé gives a nod of approval, and Denali blushes. Part of her still sees Rosé as Jan’s older sister, as her mentor, someone Denali desperately wanted approval from. But approval or not, she agrees with what Rosé’s doing--taking some power from the Capitol, defying the rules and going into this with their anger known, instead of sitting by and letting a piece of paper and fanfare dictate it for them. If they have to do this again, they’re doing it their way.

Manila clears her throat and takes the microphone again, instantly silencing the crowd. “Well, then. I present your District 12 tributes for the 75th Hunger Games--Rosé McCorkell and Denali Foxx. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The words wash over her as they did eleven years ago.

Denali’s going back into the arena, and Rosé--her old mentor, her old friend--is coming with her.

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of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years

Text

Summer Day

Commissioned by the awesome @wombatking! I really hope I did your prompt justice! Commission info is here!

There were always going to be bitter days, but time with Samantha was usually less so.

Cassie woke at exactly 6AM without needing an alarm, and knew that this morning was going to bitter. The afternoon was her date with Sammy, so that would probably be alright; but she woke angry, and when Jenny, the carer her mom had hired, came in to help her get ready for the day, she couldn’t help scowling.

“Bad morning?” Jenny asked sympathetically, pulling back the blankets and checking the bed bag.

“Yeah,” Cassie muttered. She couldn’t take her anger out on Jenny, because she was nice, and knew her job, and never made Cassie feel bad about her lot in life. “Do I have any sores?”

Jenny checked her arms and legs quickly and thoroughly before starting the stretches. “Nope, and none beginning. We’ll check your back in the shower.”

Since today was going to be special, Cassie wished desperately to fuss, like she had before the jump. But Jenny didn’t fuss, and when Cassie got snappish, Jenny raised her eyebrow and said dryly, “Wow, I didn’t know it was your wedding today.”

Cassie stopped snapping, blushing. Who would want to be long-term with a quadriplegic person? she had once asked Jenny angrily. Who would want to tie themselves down to this?

Jenny had just shaken her head and replied, You never know.

That was before Samantha had told Cassie very firmly that unless something truly divisive came up, she was going to stick by her.

Cassie’s mood improved when Jenny and her mom helped her get dressed. Mom was still weird about this stuff, and cried over small things like Cassie never winning dance awards anymore, but she was mostly over herself. Cassie was forcing herself to be, if not cheerful, then at least calm, and that had seemed the help the whole house.

Today, she wanted to wear pink. So Jenny brought out her pink clothes and when Cassie had decided on an outfit, Jenny and mom helped her dress, like a life-size doll. It was embarrassing, but it got less so as the weeks passed. Almost a year, now.

Cassie really couldn’t believe it, but here it was. Almost a full year.

“Do you want help with your hair, baby?” Mom asked, looking worried.

“Nah, it’s fine. Sammy’s gonna help me.” Cassie couldn’t decide if it was humiliating or fun, that Samantha was so good at doing her hair. On the one hand, it felt nice, because Samantha was so gentle. On the other… well. Cassie looked down at her arms and willed with all her might for the left one to move. It didn’t. As usual.

At least Dad had sprung for a nice chair. A motorized one; the physical therapist had called it a “sip-and-puff” which Cassie would have found hilarious if she weren’t bound to it completely. But she was getting really good at driving it without having to think too hard about how to turn a corner or how to go up the little lip at the bottom of the front door. Mom still hovered, but Jenny, an experienced nurse, didn’t bother.

Meals were always soured by the fact that she needed help. Before, she could shovel a bowl of cereal in her mouth in a few minutes and be out the door; now she had to eat at the pace Jenny set, and couldn’t even feel if she was hungry or full. Well, it was nice to never feel hungry; but at the cost of not feeling anything else? Not worth it.

Still. She ate, and managed to get Mom to talk about things other than doctors. Then she went and practiced with that new software, Dragon, since she would still be expected to turn in essays in school. She refused to be home-schooled. She had nothing against home-schooling; but the thought of being stuck in this house, only allowed out with Jenny or mom like a dog on a leash, made her angry. She was going to do as much as she could to cling to normalcy.

Noon hit and her phone buzzed a text alert.

Jenny picked up her phone and gave her the mouth-stick that she still wasn’t that familiar with, and Cassie eagerly unlocked the phone and opened messages.

Sammy: I’ll be over soon! Shoes are on!

Cassie hit the heart emoji three times and then send. Jenny smiled as she took the stick back. “Soon?” she asked.

Cassie nodded, grinning. “Can you help me get my shoes on?”

Samantha was getting used to the giant van instead of Cassie’s mom’s dinky sedan, but it still made her stomach twist.

Oh well. She smiled as she parked and got out. She had brought those butterfly hair clips that Cassie had been eyeing at the mall on their last date, and a new pinky-peach lipstick. It would match her favorite heels.

Samantha knocked smartly on the front door. Cassie’s mom answered, plastering on a fake smile. She still didn’t approve of Samantha, but honestly, that was her own problem. Samantha just smiled and said, “Hello, Mrs. Shapiro. Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

All awkward conversation was stalled by Cassie zooming out of the living room and halting sharply just a few feet away. Samantha closed the rest of the distance and hugged her, delighting in the soft scent of eucalyptus from Cassie’s hair and ignoring the stiff plastic smell of the chair. “Got you a present,” Samantha said as she let go, and took the packet with the lipstick and clips out of her packet. The look of delight on Cassie’s face made Samantha’s tummy flutter.

“Oh gosh, they’re so cute!” Cassie gushed. “Aren’t those the ones we saw at the mall?”

“Yep. I doubled back when I brought you home.”

Cassie laughed and Samantha smiled wider.

Cassie was one of those people who had a vanity in her room with all her makeup and hair stuff there. Samantha was glad of it these days; more room to maneuver. She was still so excited that Cassie trusted her to do her hair, and Samantha took care to make sure she never regretted it. It helped that Cassie’s hair was absolutely gorgeous, thick and strong, gold like wheat in the sun or watered honey or—

“Are you going to braid it or keep brushing it until the beach closes?” Cassie asked, bringing Samantha back to the present.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

Cassie smiled at her in the mirror, and Samantha smiled back, shyly.

A few gentle curls at the side of Cassie’s face, the rest braided and gathered into a flat bun, and the butterfly clips in a vague ring around Cassie’s head, like a crown. Samantha had often thought of Cassie as a kind of royalty, and the accident hadn’t changed that thought. Makeup next. Samantha had been a disaster with it before Cassie first helped her with highlight and glittery eye shadow; now she knew exactly how to do Cassie’s makeup, and there was definitely a tenderness and level of trust in applying lipstick that made Samantha blush.

“You’re so cute,” Cassie murmured affectionately when Samantha lifted the applicator.

“And you’re the most beautiful,” Samantha retorted quietly, blushing harder.

Cassie laughed. “How long until this dries?” she asked. “I need to kiss you thank-you.”

Samantha shrugged. “Not long, I think.” She licked her thumb and gently corrected some eyebrow pencil. “There. Good. Gosh, you’re beautiful.”

“You said that already,” Cassie replied, grinning and blushing.

“Well, you are, so there.”

They were going to visit the beach. Not the sand, the chair wouldn’t work on sand; but the dock, definitely. They would get ice cream and judge old men on their dress-sense and maybe meet up with that nice older lady who wrote Harlequin novels and was so absolutely filthy that she put Samantha and Cassie’s classmates to shame. She was fun, though. And Samantha would get to see Cassie smiling at the sunset.

Cassie’s mom asked worriedly if they were sure they didn’t want her or Jenny to come to. Cassie frowned and said “No, we’ll be fine.”

“Call if you need anything,” Cassie’s mom insisted, then got out of the way.

Samantha helped with the ramp and securing the chair in the van, then leaned up and kissed Cassie quickly before getting into the driver’s seat. Cassie giggled and Samantha blushed.

The whole drive, they talked about Samantha’s latest research hole, butterflies and moths. Cassie laughed more than she did in public. That made Samantha happy.

There was a handicap spot open at the beach parking lot. Samantha swooped in quickly, and when a little old lady slammed her horn at Samantha, she ignored it and just got to work helping Cassie out. The horn-blaring stopped when Cassie came into view.

“Mean old tart,” Cassie muttered.

“She just didn’t know,” Samantha replied, and slid Cassie’s sunglasses on her face. “Better?”

“Yeah. Let’s go!”

Cassie enjoyed the fresh air and smiled at the happy children, and ignored the stares. Samantha walked close, less out of obnoxious hovering and more out of shyness. She was getting more outgoing, but sometimes she just wasn’t really very extroverted. That was fine, though Cassie desperately wanted to hold her hand.

“Ice cream first?” Cassie asked brightly, smiling up at Samantha. The other girl smiled back, blushing. She’d only braided back the front locks of her hair, leaving the rest fiery and wild, and it showed off her adorable freckles.

“Yeah, that works,” Samantha said. “And then we can check if there’s anything new at Gigi’s giftshop.”

“Oh, yes, perfect!”

They strolled down the boardwalk, talking. Samantha had started researching all kinds of bugs, but was also researching plants, and Cassie loved to watch Samantha’s face light up as she talked about specialized relationships between insects and plants. They reached the ice cream shop without incident, and Samantha bought two bowls of vanilla ice cream, one smothered in chocolate and the other smothered in caramel. They claimed one of the few tables and Samantha fed Cassie her ice cream slowly, both of them giggling. With helpers at meals, Cassie felt a deep resentment; when it was fun with Samantha, who legitimately only saw her as a girlfriend, not someone to take care of, it was a lovely time.

Little kids were staring. Cassie ignored them, and focused on telling Samantha about all the advancements Jenny had told her about. How her uncle had bought her speech-to-text software, and she was getting better at it, and how eventually her mom was going to replace the creaky shoddy temporary ramp with a nice solid one with proper tread. Samantha was encouraging, and never got uncomfortable or tried to turn the subject. This was Cassie’s life, now. There was no point pretending it wasn’t.

They were just starting to talk about the coming school year (gosh it was so cute when Samantha put her chin in her hand like that and just looked at Cassie) when an older woman walking by asked, in truly confused tone, “You’re going to school? Like that?”

Samantha tensed, her fingers curling and her face going hard. Cassie smiled at the lady sweetly, putting as much anger into her eyes as she could.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“Well, you—I—” The woman realized she had well and truly fucked up, and flushed, looking guilty. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, and hurried away.

“Bitch,” Samantha muttered at the woman’s retreating back.

Cassie didn’t reply.

Gigi’s giftshop wasn’t as crowded as usual. There were new gewgaws on display, though; pottery, mostly, probably made by Gigi’s siblings’ children. There were some very nice stone-chip bracelets, and Cassie insisted on purchasing two matching ones. Samantha blushed and was very tender, fastening the bracelet around Cassie’s unresponsive wrist.

They went to grab snacks as they slowly went down the boardwalk, looking out at the ocean and the beach. It was getting cold; people were packing up and leaving. They paused by the rail, to watch the sunset. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat at the fiery sky touching the dark ocean with brightness. The raw glory of another day by the ocean seized her throat, reminding her that there was more to this world than one small human body, one small human life. The reds and oranges looked like Samantha’s hair. The blue waves looked like her favorite necklace, the once Cassie had made for her three days before the accident. Cassie looked up at Samantha, and caught her staring at Cassie with the tenderest expression. A bit excited, a bit reverent, a bit hopeful, a bit sad—and so loving that Cassie felt like crying.

The sunset played golden on Samantha’s cheek and woke the amber highlights in her hair.

“You’re really beautiful,” Samantha said softly.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Cassie replied, just as softly.

Samantha didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay over at Cassie’s and cuddle and watch dumb Netflix shows. But her own parents were expecting her for dinner, and Cassie admitted that her mom was going through a weird phase of keeping mealtimes strict, and she wouldn’t have planned for a fifth person at dinner.

So they drove back to Cassie’s, talking softly and sparingly. Samantha greatly enjoyed the quiet times, just being near Cassie with nothing to do or say. She wasn’t sure if Cassie liked those times, but she snatched them when she could.

It was very selfish of her. But she told herself it wasn’t as selfish as forcing her company and talking on Cassie when she was quiet of her own volition.

“I want you to stay the night,” Cassie said very softly, when Samantha had parked the van.

“Our parents will be annoyed,” Samantha pointed out reluctantly, turning in her seat to look up at Cassie. Her curls had straightened from the dampness of the sea air, but they still looked adorable on her, as did the mulish look. “And I didn’t bring any pajamas.”

“You can borrow mine,” Cassie replied. “And mom and dad can get over it.”

Samantha thought for a moment, looking into Cassie’s face. And she realized that Cassie was more important than the scolding she’d get from her own parents.

“Okay,” she said. “But I’m not explaining to your mom why I’m still here. She’s scary.”

Cassie laughed. Samantha couldn’t stop a grin. “Fair enough! Let’s get inside. What do you want to watch after dinner?”

#writing #commission #there was so much to the prompt that I couldn't fit in I'm mad it was all so AWESOME #romance

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ceealaina · 4 years

Text

Title: In My Dreams I Turn You On - Chapter 2 Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Mutual Pining Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony’s crushing hard on his new massage therapist, but doesn’t want to be a sleazy businessman. Bucky’s crushing hard on his latest client, but doesn’t want to take advantage of him in a vulnerable position. So they handle it like any sane adults - pretend it’s not happening and refuse to discuss it. At least they both have terrible friends to help them through it. Word Count: 11,067 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

And that makes a bingo!

Tony tried to resist, really he did, tried to be logical about it all. Look at the facts: James was exactly his type, as much as Tony had ever had one. And he’d had his hands all over Tony’s body — professionally, but for someone as tactile as Tony was, touch was touch. It made sense that he’d react to that, especially since it had maybe been awhile since he’d had someone in his life in that particular capacity. Tony had thought, or at least hoped, that with a bit of space and a good night’s sleep, he’d move on.

But when, nearly a week later, he was still thinking about James’ laugh, thinking about how loose and relaxed he had felt afterwards, when he was still trying to keep his mind from drifting to blue eyes and a low husky voice when he jerked off at night… He caved. Telling himself that he’d probably built James up in his mind, that if he saw him in person again he’d be able to find a flaw, talk himself out of his silly crush, he booked another massage. And then he may or may not have slipped into the system to ensure that it was James who was assigned as his therapist.

He jerked off beforehand this time, just in case. It had been awhile since he’d been laid. Maybe last time he’d been a little touch starved, and his body had just felt good and his brain had run with it.

Tony had always been very good at mental gymnastics.

But the second he walked in the door and spotted James, he knew all his planning had been for nothing.

James was leaning casually against the table where he kept all his supplies. He had one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, which pulled the fabric of his pants tight across his gorgeously thick thighs, and made Tony want nothing more than to straddle them right here. James was peering down a chart in his hand, tongue poking out between his teeth adorably, but he looked up with a smile at the sound of the door.

“Hey Mr.-- uh, Tony.” He gave him a brilliant grin, a little flustered, and Tony honest to god felt his knees go weak.

“Hello, James,” Tony replied, and then immediately wanted to kick himself because his voice had dropped to a lower register, and really, could he sound like more of a sleazy businessman? He smiled, hoping to offset the creepiness, and he could feel his face stretch into something ridiculous and manic. Oh god, is that what his smile always seemed like? He suddenly couldn’t remember what felt normal for his face, or his hands for that matter. Clearing his throat, he tried to come up with something — anything — normal to say. “‘Sup?”

That… Was not it.

If James had noticed what an absolute weirdo Tony was being, he didn’t comment, just smiled at him brightly. His smile was somehow even more gorgeous that Tony had remembered.

“Nothing much,” he told him, like ‘sup’ was a perfectly normal, non-90s way of greeting someone. “Headed up to Boston over the weekend. Birthday trip?”

“Really?” Tony latched onto the fact like a dying man. Boston he knew. Boston, he could talk about with something almost resembling normalcy. “I went to school in Boston.”

James arched an eyebrow at that, and Tony hid a wince because duh, Stark, everyone knew that.

“What, uh… What did you do there?”

“Um…” There was the faintest hint of a blush staining Bucky’s cheeks “Well. We had a whole bunch of stuff planned, but then we accidentally spent an entire day at the Museum of Science, so…”

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You’re a nerd.”

A second later it occurred to him that most people probably wouldn’t take that like the compliment it was, but fortunately James didn’t seem offended.

“Little bit, yeah,” he admitted, rubbing at his lower lip to hide what Tony personally thought was an absolutely adorable smile.

“What did you see? Did you get to the new exhibit on advanced AI?”

James huffed out a little laugh. “Tell you what,” he offered. “We’re cutting into your ninety minutes, so why don’t we get started and then I promise I’ll regale you with science stories while I work.”

Tony had honestly forgotten why he was even here for a moment. He blinked at James a moment. “Am I dreaming right now? A massage from— from you.” He stumbled a little awkwardly over the words. He’d been about to say ‘a gorgeous man.’ “And we get to talk science? Sounds fake, but okay. Also, I would just like to point out that I am kind of the boss. If we want to take more than ninety minutes, I’m pretty sure we can do that.”

James snorted. “I like how you assume I don’t have anything else going on after this.”

“Do you?” Tony asked, before he could stop himself.

James shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted, grinning. From what Tony could tell, he seemed genuinely amused and not ‘you technically employ me so I’ve gotta laugh’ amused. “I’ve got another appointment, after you, and then that’s it. All free and clear.”

There was a long moment then, both of them looking at each other in a way that, to Tony at least, felt heavy. Expectant. It would be so easy to just ask if he wanted to grab dinner, or coffee after.

“Professionalism,” he managed to get out instead. “I like that.”

James grinned back at him, and Tony told himself that he was imagining the slight tinge of disappointment to it.

***

True to his word, once they’d gone over Tony’s problem areas, and he was settled comfy-cozy beneath the sheets, and James had returned to the room and gotten started on Tony’s back, he told him in perfect detail about his time at the science museum. He hadn’t been kidding about being ‘a little bit’ of a nerd; the way he’d get distracted on tangents, practically yelling in excitement until he remembered where he was and tamped it down again, was making Tony all kinds of nostalgic for being at MIT with Rhodey.

He could feel himself falling a little harder with each passing second.

Tony resisted the urge to jump in, to go into science teacher mode, because he’d gotten feedback in the past that that was a bit of a turn off. He didn’t point out that he’d actually been a consultant in the museum’s collaboration with MIT on the AI exhibit — James probably would have read that in the exhibit info, and if he hadn’t then Tony bragging about it wasn’t going to endear him in any way. But he couldn’t stop himself from fishing for a bit more information.

“So,” he managed, when there was an appropriate lull in the conversation (thankfully not cutting James off mid-word, like he had when he’d gotten a little too over enthusiastic about nanoparticles). “Who’d you go with? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Your... more intelligent than the average bear?”

He could feel his neck heat, was glad that the room was dark, that he was lying face down so James couldn’t see the truly ridiculous facial expressions he was probably making right now.

James made a faint noise that Tony couldn’t quite interpret. “Uh. No, nothing like that. I mean, Stevie’s dumber’n a bear sometimes, but no. Just some friends.” There was a brief hesitation, and then, softer, “Besides, you’d have to have one of those to take them with you.”

Tony felt a stupid grin cross his face, even more relieved that he was facing the floor. “Yeah, that, uh… That’ll help,” he managed.

The rest of the session passed entirely too quickly, and before he knew it James was taking a step back, telling him to take it easy and drink lots of water today. Tony hummed out a vague agreement, staring a little dazed up at the ceiling. James huffed out a soft laugh and then hesitated for the briefest of moments at the doorway.

“It was nice seeing you today, Tony. Hope I’ll see you again soon.”

And then he was gone, leaving Tony blinking helplessly at the ceiling. He stayed there for a long time after he left.

“Fuck.”

***

There was really no going back, after that. Tony set up a standing appointment for every other Friday, and it very quickly became the highlight of his week. He also didn’t think he’d jerked off this much before in his entire life, but that was neither here nor there. Because the thing was, yes, James was hot as shit. But he was also ridiculously easy to talk to, and after just a couple of weeks, Tony felt like he’d known him forever, the same sort of instant connection that he’d felt when he’d first met Steve.

Except, of course, he and Steve had fallen into an easy friendship while with James he just kept thinking of all the ways he wanted to take him apart, so maybe Rhodey was a more apt comparison.

Tony knew he was driving his friends crazy. He’d started getting JARVIS to mark off his calendar with racquetball, just so he wouldn’t have to endure the looks that Pepper had started giving him when he told her he was going for another massage appointment. Not the usual ‘oh my god, are you kidding me’ looks that she got whenever he was doing something else gross — those he could have handled — but soft, sympathetic looks, like she thought he was in love or something. Perish the thought. Steve, on the other hand, had flat out banned Tony from talking about James anymore under threat of not hanging out until he either stopped going, or pulled his tits up and asked him out. Tony still managed to work him into every conversation. Pining was hard.

Rhodey, at least, was a little more understanding. He and Sam had been roommates first, danced around each other for months without even knowing if the other one was into men before Sam had tripped and Rhodey had fallen and they’d ended up with their mouths on each other’s dicks. And then it had been another few months of “it’s just sex,” and “it doesn’t mean anything, Tony, really, shut up about it,” until they’d finally admitted that it was, in fact, a lot more than just sex. So Rhodey understood. Tony was still driving him absolutely bananas, but he at least understood.

***

Tony didn’t know it, but Bucky wasn’t doing much better. Almost from the moment one session would end, he’d be counting down the hours until the next one. Every day that they didn’t have an appointment, he’d get a — frankly embarrassing — thrill low in his belly, wondering, imagining if he might run into Tony somewhere in the building. And on the days when he did, when he and Tony would make eye contact and Tony would give them that smile, like just seeing Bucky had saved him from a terrible day? Bucky knew it was probably just a reflex, born of being trained to be the consummate businessman since he was a kid, but it never failed to make his entire day, leaving Bucky smiling like a fool the whole day long.

He was kind of a ridiculous romantic like that.

It would be easier, maybe, if he thought it was completely one-sided, if it was just a hopeless crush on his part that he could wallow in and then get over. But try as he might, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it wasn’t entirely unrequited. He’d caught Tony giving him a look once or twice, when he thought he wasn’t looking, eyes lingering over his ass or thighs. But more than that, he’d say things sometimes, something innocuous that could almost be taken to mean something else. It wouldn’t be such a big deal, except then he’d get this look on his face. If Bucky blinked he’d miss it, but for just a second his eyes would go wide, and he’d have an ‘oh shit’ look on his face, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip. And then there’d been that long moment, their second appointment. He had been so absolutely sure that Tony was going to ask him out, had held his breath as he waited.

And then the moment had passed and Tony hadn’t said anything at all. But Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t imagining it, that he wasn’t the only one who could feel how instantly they had connected, how ridiculously well they got along.

Bucky had a tendency to flirt as natural as breathing, always had. It had gotten him in trouble once or twice as a kid in school, when he’d been caught kissing girls under the slide on the playground. It was hard for him to tamp that down, when he had Tony on the table, not to make everything sound like an innuendo. Not to turn on the charm, to up their banter, to do everything he could to get that smile out of him and make him laugh until he was just as smitten as Bucky was. He was just so easy to get along with. Maybe it was just the years long crush talking, but Bucky couldn’t help thinking that Tony saw him. He seemed to really get him, to understand him on a more-than-professional level. They had the same stupid sense of humor, the same style of arguing, and Bucky could listen to Tony go off on science tangents for literal hours. And sometimes he’d share things, stories from university, or about his best friend, or the most recent thing he’d done to exasperate his phenomenal PA, and Bucky couldn’t help thinking that these weren’t the kinds of stories that he shared with just everyone. He just wanted to take him out for dinner and learn everything about him, every secret he had. But like, in a sweet, totally non-creepy way.

And as an added bonus? Good lord, Tony was gorgeous.

Bucky had always known that, logically. His crush had to come from somewhere. But he was infinitely more gorgeous in person. Sometimes it was really hard not to let his voice drop into something low and wanting and sexy when the lights were dimmed low, and Tony was almost naked on the table, making those noises when Bucky got close to his ass, and all he could think about was dropping to his knees and sucking Tony off until he screamed.

Just the thought had Bucky twitching as he lay in bed, trying to will himself to just go to sleep. He normally tried not to think about it too… vividly, in his day to day. It felt like an invasion of privacy, imagining Tony like that, especially when he frequently dealt with him while the other man was in a pretty vulnerable position. And, irrational though it may have been, there was a part of him that worried that, if he let himself imagine it too much, he might just forget one day, greet Tony with a hot and heavy make out session, or something even worse.

At night, though…

Bucky shifted on the bed again, squirming a little as he felt his cock thicken in his shorts. It felt okay at night, when he was lying here in the dark. LIke he was a step removed from it. It was too easy to picture Tony, to imagine that there was something there, that he could just have him, whenever he wanted. It went against every bit of his sense of professionalism, but the idea of fooling around under the guise of giving Tony ‘therapy’ sent a delicious thrill through his stomach, made him groan as it thrummed in his balls.

“Shit,” Bucky breathed, palming absently over his dick through the silky material. It was fine, he was a grown ass adult who was in complete control of his physical reactions. He wasn’t going to jerk off thinking of Tony (again). He wasn’t. He just had to adjust himself, and…

Bucky hissed out a low breath, eyes rolling back as he gripped himself. He couldn’t resist dragging his thumb up the length of dick, hips jerking when he rubbed just underneath the head. Then he grit his teeth and pulled his hand away, willing his cock to calm the fuck down. He’d just jerked off this morning, he was fine. He huffed loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face. There was an itch on his thigh, and reached down to scratch at it, squeezing his eyes shut like he could somehow force himself to sleep. Instead, his mind offered up the image of warm, brown eyes, Tony’s face scrunching up as he laughed at something Bucky had said; apparently he daydreamed about Tony so frequently now that picturing Tony was automatic. It was just so easy to imagine him, the way his tongue would always dart out, swipe over his lips before he’d suck the lower one between his teeth. It killed Bucky every time.

He shivered, and abruptly realized that scratching the itch on his thigh had turned to dragging his blunt fingernails back and forth over the hyper-sensitive skin, a light, thrilling, tease. He groaned out loud, tugged at his hair in frustration which backfired spectacularly when it made his cock twitch.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes,” he said to the empty room. “Pull yourself together.”

He sat up enough to flip the pillow over to the cool side, flopping back down and turning onto his side so he could shove his face into it, spreading his legs a little to accommodate the weight of his dick. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on deep breathing, but inevitably his thoughts turned to Tony again. It wasn’t even the top of the list of things that Bucky adored about him, but the man was stupidly beautiful. Picturing his smile, Bucky could imagine himself stepping closer to him, the way Tony’s eyes would drag down his body, catching on his thighs the way they always did, when he thought Bucky wouldn’t notice. As easy as if it had really happened, he could imagine himself moving closer still, Tony’s eyes going wide and dark when Bucky got up in his space, lips parting on a soft breath. Every once in awhile, after a long day, Tony’s normally coiffed hair would be reduced to a mess of curls. Bucky was picturing it like that now, imagining carding his hand through it the way he always wanted, tugging just a little until Tony gasped, head tipping back to look up at him, eyes soft and wide and hungry for it.

Bucky’s hips jerked involuntarily, and he whined as the motion ground his dick against the mattress, sending a sharp shock of pleasure through his body. God, he just… He wanted so bad, wanted Tony’s hands all over his body, wanted to get his own hands on that gorgeous ass and haul Tony right up tight against him, the two of them grinding against each other, so overwhelmed they couldn’t so much as undress. Wanted to take Tony to bed, spread him out, take his time kissing every inch of his body until he was gasping and pleading, wanted Tony to do the same to him in kind, to feel those calloused fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He’d known all along, really, that this was inevitable, and he pushed down the guilt as he shoved his hand into his shorts, eyes nearly crossing as he closed his fist tight, the pressure sending tingles all the way down to his toes. He wasted no time with teasing himself, jerking off with a steady, firm grip, trying to emulate how he thought Tony, with his technical mind, might set about taking him apart. His hand moved faster at the thought, imagining Tony watching him with a serious expression, cataloguing every shift of his body, every twitch of his face, figuring out how to take him apart in the best possible way. Tony, leaning in close, biting at his lips, crooning at him to go ahead and come, and Bucky… Bucky would…

His balls drawing up tight, Bucky turned his head back into the pillow as he came, biting down against the fabric so that he didn’t actually let Tony’s name slip past his lips like he desperately wanted.

After, when he’d kicked off his shorts and cleaned up with the tissues he kept on the bedside table, and lay sprawled out on his back, still catching his breath, he couldn’t help thinking of the afterward. He and Tony laughing goofily, still a little orgasm high. Tony pressing up against his side for cuddles, the way he’d fit perfectly under Bucky’s chin. For a brief moment, his arms actually ached with the desire to just hold him.

Worse, he was pretty sure he wanted that comfortable intimacy even more than the imagined amazing sex.

He was a goddamn mess.

***

“Fuck,” Bucky whined, pillowing his head in his arms on the table.

“Dude.” Sam’s hand grabbed the back of Bucky’s t-shirt, yanking him upright. “What are you doing? We’re in a bar, you freak. Quit embarrassing me in front of the ladies.”

“What ladies?” Bucky grumbled. “You’re gay, Sam. You’re married. To a man.”

Sam just shrugged at him, like he was missing the point, and Bucky huffed.

“You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t know you’re alive. You and Rhodes moved in the first night you met.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because we were roommates. He was fresh off a tour and needed a place? Mutual friend set us up? And then we spent the next few months dancing around each other before we finally admitted we had feelings for each other? Any of this ringing a bell?” Sam shook his head, stealing Bucky’s beer. “Jesus Buck, how much have you had?”

“Uh… A few?” Bucky offered, because he couldn’t actually remember how much he’d had to drink, waiting for Sam to show up, but now that it had been called to his attention, he was definitely feeling it.

Sam just shook his head, obviously trying not to smile. “You got it bad, huh?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Bucky burst out, waving an arm in the air and narrowly avoiding clipping a server and sending their tray flying through the air. “He’s…” Bucky tried to think of a way to describe how wonderful Tony was, but he’d signed an NDA, and was drunk enough that he couldn’t figure out if it applied here, so it was probably safer not to describe him at all.

“Gotta admit man, never thought you’d go for some corporate schill.” Sam was blatantly laughing at him, and Bucky glared.

“He’s not!” Bucky tried to keep the whine out of his voice. “He’s perfect. He… He’s brilliant, and funny, and so kind. He knows everyone’s names, literally everybody. And… And his body?” He leaned in close, conspiratorial. “Okay, you can’t repeat this, but his first session, he got hard, man. Like, hard. His dick was perfect. I just wanted to drop to my knees and—“

“Jesus.” Sam made a gagging noise. “Too much info, Bucky, come on. I may be gay, but that doesn’t mean I wanna picture you having sex.”

“Whatever.” Bucky heaved out a sigh again, and this time, when he pillowed his head in his arms, Sam didn’t try to stop him. “I am so fucked.”

Sam’s hand settled on his back, smacking him in a way that Bucky was pretty sure was intended to be comforting. “It’s okay, man. It’ll get better.”

***

Bucky woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a numb left arm. For probably a too long moment, he thought he’d just slept on it wrong, cut off circulation and hadn’t woken up enough in the night to roll over.

And then awareness cut through the hangover as he realized that he couldn’t have lost circulation because he didn’t have a left arm. Cursing under his breath, he pulled himself to a sitting position, wincing at the bright sunlight that was filtering through the window -- drunk Bucky was a dick, who hadn’t bothered closing the curtains. The prosthetic was completely dead, and he couldn’t help glaring at it like he could somehow will it back to life through sheer force of his irritation. This had happened once or twice before (the arm going dead, not the willing it back to functioning part), but it was a pain in the ass to reset, and he squinted at it as he tried to remember the proper sequence. It was entirely too early in the morning to be dealing with this shit, and he kind of wanted to punch his past self in the face for drinking this much on a work night.

Eventually he dragged himself out of bed and into his kitchen, knocking back a glass of water and a couple advil and digging through his junk drawer until he found the instructions he’d written out the last time this had happened. He sat at the kitchen table as he opened the hidden control panel and followed the instructions, rubbing his face and then leaning into his right hand, half dozing as he waited for the reset to complete.

And then he yelped and nearly jumped out of his chair when, instead of the normal return of sensation that he’d expected, there was a sharp, jarring buzzing feeling, stretching from his fingertips right up through the nerve connectors that let him use the arm with a thought. “Aw, fuck,” he grit out, the sensation making his teeth clench and his head throb. There was an emergency shut off button -- he’d always pictured the arm going rogue and trying to murder people -- and he practically slammed it now, slumping in relief as the arm went back to being dead weight.

“Well, fuck,” he mumbled out loud. “That’s probably not covered in the instruction manual.” He sighed, weighing his options. There was no way he’d be going in to work today; even if he could get an appointment with the prosthetics team, it would likely take up a fair chunk of his day, and until he got in, he didn’t think anyone would be thrilled with a one-armed massage. Which colossally sucked, because it was his standing appointment with Tony today, and he’d been looking forward to it all week.

For a minute he was tempted to go in anyway, maybe get his other appointments covered but meet with Tony, ask him about it personally. Even if he hadn’t worked on it himself, the man was a genius. He’d probably have some idea of what the problem was. But Bucky knew he wasn’t really going to do that, tempting as the thought of Tony working on him personally was. He’d be cheating Tony out of massage appointment, for one thing, and while he’d gotten to know Tony well enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually mind, it just felt like a little too much of an abuse of his position for him to really be comfortable with it.

Of course, when he finally got through to the prosthetics department, and it turned out it was going to be a three week wait before he could even get in to see somebody, and who knew how long after that before the damn thing was actually fixed, he was kind of regretting his decision. But hey, maybe Sam was right and this was the ‘getting better’ that he had been talking about. Some space from Tony would probably be good, really, let him adjust to his feelings, maybe give him the chance to accept that it was never going to happen and move on.

He kept trying to tell himself that, but he couldn’t shake the ache at not knowing when he’d even have the chance to see Tony again.

***

Tony’d had the morning from hell -- board meetings were awful on a good day, and when he had to spend the entire time arguing with a bunch of old men who didn’t even understand what they were talking about, it made them even worse -- but that didn’t stop him from humming to himself from lunchtime on. It was probably a sign of just how far gone he was, but knowing he was seeing James in just a few hours kept his mood up. He’d been talking with one of his work contacts at JPL the night before, and he’d mentioned some new developments that he knew James was going to lose his mind over. He was practically bouncing by the time he finally headed off for his appointment, all but bursting into the room.

“Hey, so, guess what I just hea… Hi.” He blinked, bemused, as he was met with Louise instead. Recovering quickly, he offered her a bright smile. “Hey Louise!”

She grinned back at him. “Hey, Tony.” Her eyebrows arched. “Long time no see.” There was something knowing in her gaze, and Tony shifted a little.

“Yeah, uh… I guess my appointments got switched over to James, when he started working here.”

“Mmmm. Lucky you then, huh?” Louise gave him a wink. “He’s a gorgeous boy.”

And sure, of course he was, but that didn’t really explain why he wasn’t here. Louise didn’t offer any further comments on James though, just set about beginning the session, and Tony just went along with it. He was missing some social cues sometimes, but he was pretty sure demanding to know what happened to his other massage therapist would be rude at best.

Still, despite the small talk, and Louise’s story about her trip to Prague, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about James, wondering where he was and if everything was okay. He lasted about fifteen minutes -- thankfully managing to catch an appropriate break in the conversation, before he couldn’t wait any longer and had to ask.

“So, uh…” He closed his eyes, even though Louise couldn’t see his face anyway, and hoped that he wasn’t as obvious as he thought he sounded. “Where is James, today?” He was struck by the sudden fear that he’d made him comfortable enough to want to quit, or at least not face Tony again, and felt himself tense up. “Hope everything’s alright?”

If Louise felt his back go tight, she didn’t comment. “Nah, everything’s fine,” she assured him. “Just a sick day.”

Immediately Tony’s mind went to the frankly adorable image of James, curled up on his couch with a blanket, coughing and sniffling his way through his Netflix queue. He felt the inexplicable desire to take care of him, and was wondering if it would be overstepping to send him get-well flowers, or maybe soup from that tiny hole-in-the-wall diner over in Alphabet City, when he realized that Louise was still talking.

“He mentioned something about his prosthetic not working. Said it would be a few weeks before he even gets in for an appointment, so it’ll probably be awhile before he’s back.”

And okay, if Bucky’s arm was acting up, that was… Well, embarrassing was what it was, since it was a Stark Industries product, but more importantly, that was something that Tony could fix. He was barely conscious for the rest of the massage, mind already whirling a mile a minute as he thought of all the ways he could improve the prosthetic, how he could tailor it, increase the sensation, bring up the response time. He didn’t know what James needed specifically, but it would be easy enough to bring up the schematics for the most recent improvements, see what more could be done -- especially if he stepped in personally.

He’d had an informal business dinner that evening, but he cancelled it as soon as Louise left the room, almost forgetting to get dressed again in his hurry to get back to his personal lab. The second he’d had JARVIS bring up the necessary schematics, he’d been beset upon by ideas, had worked through night, pausing only for a couple hours sleep on the cot he kept down there before he was back at it again.

It was… Sometime the next day when Pepper came in, arching an eyebrow at the pants and rumpled shirt that he was still wearing from the day before. “Well. Someone’s been busy.”

Tony hummed out a distracted answer, and Pepper stepped closer, her other eyebrow shooting up when she realized what he was working on.

“Really, Tony?”

Tony did look up then, eyes wide as he tried to hide his guilty expression. “What?” he asked, a little defensively. “It’s a matter of professional pride.” Pepper didn’t answer, and Tony huffed, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “The prosthetic stopped working! This is an SI product, and we have to stand by our products, and -- DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, PEPPER!”

Pepper just sighed sympathetically and then leaned over, kissing his temple. “Just don’t work yourself too hard, okay? I know how you tend to throw yourself into things when you’re personally invested, and…” She pressed her palm flat against his chest, right over his heart so there’d be no mistake of what she meant. “Just take care of yourself, Tony. Make sure you eat. Get some actual rest,” she told him, heading for the door again. “And maybe take a shower!” she called back over her shoulder. “You kind of stink.”

Tony had rolled his eyes, refusing to let her see how genuinely touched he was by her obvious concern, and though he did shower and even ordered an entire pizza, he still worked through the weekend. By Monday morning, he had a working prototype, one that was specifically tailored to James. And while he’d been supremely tempted to track down James’s address and show up with the arm as a surprise, possibly while wearing a trench coat and nothing else, he was pretty sure that was the lack of sleep talking, and quite likely a good way to end up calling Rhodey for bail (again). Forcing himself to keep a respectful, professional distance, he had instead taken it over to the prosthetics department, explaining the updates and laying out how they should be applied to all the prosthetics moving forward, and then politely suggesting that, since he’d used him as an example, they should trial it on James, and push up his appointment. Preferably to today.

Then he’d gone up to the penthouse with plans to collapse into his bed for the next twelve hours.

If he was being totally honest with himself, there was a tiny part of Tony that had thought James would maybe call, that he’d want to thank Tony personally and in the process admit to some reciprocated feelings. But the day passed without so much as a word, and the one after that as well. By Wednesday, Tony caved and called Fred in prosthetics, who assured him that Mr. Barnes had in fact been fitted with the prosthetic arm on Monday, as… suggested, and had seemed inordinately pleased with it.

So that was that.

Tony tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, that maybe James wouldn’t have known just how much of an overhaul the arm had received, or even realized that Tony had been the one to do it. Tried to tell himself that it wasn’t a rejection, that it hadn’t changed anything between them. Or hell, maybe it was a rejection. Either way he had to move on with his life. He was going to Rhodey and Sam’s that night for tacos -- because they were that married couple -- so he could focus on the people he knew loved him back.

Of course, this newfound resolve lasted long enough for him to let himself in the front door of the house and throw himself on the couch, ignoring Rhodey’s attempts at beating whatever video game he was playing in favour of shoving his head in his lap. “Rhodeyyy,” he whined. “I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he just love me?”

“Oh jesus,” Rhodey muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shove Tony’s face off his knee.

“Rude. You’d think you’d have more sympathy. I very clearly remember more than one occasion of having to pour you into bed after getting drunk and crying over your ‘unrequited’ love for Sam.”

Rhodey gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh boy. Here we go again.”

Tony ignored that, snuggling in closer. “This would be easier with you, Honeybear. Even if you worked for me, you’ve never taken me seriously anyway, no abuse of power, right? Let’s start dating again!”

Giving up on his video game, Rhodey rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’m with Sam now!”

“That’s fine! The more the merrier!”

“Oh my god,” Rhodey muttered, laughing despite himself.

“I built him a new arm, Rhodey!”

“What’s going on now?” Sam asked, walking into the room with a round of beer and an arched eyebrow, and the impeccable timing of a man sensing that his husband was in need of rescue.

“Don’t ask,” Rhodey told him, not quite cutting off Tony as he launched into a very detailed overview of his long and tragic love story. Rhodey covered his mouth. “Tony’s pining again,” he added succinctly, before scrunching up his face when Tony licked his hand in retaliation.

“Ah,” Sam laughed sympathetically, sliding the bottles across the table as he settled into the armchair. “Your physiotherapist, right?”

“Close enough,” Tony muttered, finally pulling away so he could sit up and drink the beer without spilling it all over himself -- never let it be said that Tony didn’t learn from his mistakes. “Point being, I’m in a position of power. If I make any kind of a move I’m gonna be that guy, which is the last thing I want. And then it’s all. ‘Does he really want me? Did he say yes because he thought he had to? Is that gonna define our whole relationship?’ That’s if he even feels that way.” Sam was eyeing him suspiciously, and Tony finally sighed, giving him a somewhat dirty look. “Okay, what? Are you making fun of me too?”

“No, I’m not making fun of you,” Sam assured him.

“I am,” Rhodey muttered, just loud enough for Tony to hear. Sam ignored him.

“I’ve just got the strangest sense of deja vu right now. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Probably because it’s the only conversation Tony has lately,” Rhodey offered. “And I’ve recounted it to you so many times that you feel like you were there.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “Hey Rhodes? Fuck you.”

Of course, Rhodey couldn’t take that lying down, and they very quickly devolved into a wrestling match, with added effect of Sam worrying so much about the two of them destroying the antique vase inherited from his grandmother that he completely forgot to try and parse out why the conversation had seemed so familiar.

***

At least, he forgot about it until the next day, when he was meeting Bucky for lunch. He’d barely sat down when Bucky came bursting into the restaurant, looking around wildly. He spotted Sam and nearly knocked over an entire (thankfully empty) table in his rush to get to him.

“Holy shit!” he yelped, apparently uncaring of the dirty look that earned him from the elderly couple a few tables over. “Guess what he did!”

Sam blinked at him, utterly lost. “Guess what… Who did what now?”

Apparently too overwhelmed to properly explain, Bucky started waving his left arm wildly through the air, catching his water glass and nearly sending it flying. “He built me an entirely new fuckin’ arm, Sam.”

For the briefest of moments, Sam thought he was having an entire out of body experience. “He… He built you an arm,” he repeated weakly. Bucky was too busy gesticulating and waxing poetic to notice as Sam’s mind melted for a minute. “Of course he did. Because my idiot and Rhodes’s idiot are the same fuckin’ pair of idiots.”

And then, because he wouldn’t be a real friend if he didn’t try to get the maximum amount of possible entertainment out of this, he grinned.

“Hey, Buck? Why don’t you come with me ‘n Rhodey to the SI gala tomorrow night? Rhodey’s got a… contact. I’m sure we could get you an extra ticket. And hey, maybe your hunk of handsome’ll be there, huh?”

The way that Bucky’s face went pale, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t even comprehend the idea, was absolutely priceless.

@tonystarkbingo

#tonystarkbingo2020 #tsb2020 #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #mutual pining #sam wilson #james rhodes #fic #my fic

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sandersstudies · 5 years

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Are you super confident in yourself? (I hope this doesn't sound weird! Someone complimented you and you said "I am" and I was hoping, if you're really confident in yourself, you could tell me how to be that confident?)

I would say I’m confident about some things and insecure about others - I don’t think that’s bad, it’s mostly just human. However, I used to be much more insecure because I was often made fun of and it really hurt my self-esteem. It took me a very long time to be more confident. There’s no real secret to it. For me, there were a few different things that helped a little in different ways:

1) One way to start is to just fake it until you make it. Think, “how would a confident person do this?” This one is something I still do for job interviews and phone calls and such. Often, we feel like being confident will be inauthentic, awkward, or unnatural for us. Once we pretend to do it once or twice, it feels much more normal. If you must, imagine a character or person you admire doing what you’re about to do.

2) Focus on the positive. What things DO you like about yourself? Those are things you can be confident about RIGHT NOW. They might be very tiny things. Maybe you know how to make the perfect cup of coffee, or can always get dogs to like you, or you’re like the world-champ of Candy Crush. What are some positive things associated with your zodiac sign or Hogwarts house that make you say “hey, that’s me!” (loyalty, bravery, cunning, intelligence, kindness). What important values do you believe in, and how do they affect your behavior in positive ways? What have other people complimented you on? Learn to accept the compliments others give you (refusing compliments can be a tough habit to break, but remember that accepting and/or returning a compliment makes the OTHER person much happier than when you say “no, I’m not” or “that’s not true.)

3) (Not to be confused with #2) Focus on the neutral. It’s impossible to flip a switch one day and start believing yourself when you walk around banging pots and pans like “I am awesome! I am amazing! I am super-cool!” It’s important to start with statements that validate your normalcy. “All humans are worthy of basic respect, and I am a human.” “I am a person, this is my belly and these are my toes.” If you’re a creator, it’s important to apply this to your work. “This is what I made today.” “I have created something.” Neutral statements are always better than put-down statements about yourself. Give your life a little objective narration instead of saying mean things to yourself.

4) Don’t ever be mean or narcissistic about your confidence. A lot of people feel rude or un-humble when they try to be more confident, which of course makes them less confident. Just remember the pledge my campers say: “I promise that I will not hurt anybody’s body or hurt anybody’s heart. I promise that I will be awesome and let everybody else know that they are awesome too!” I actually found that when I was more confident, I was also more enthusiastic about my praise toward others. What a win-win!

5) Try not to let folks get to you. It’s hard! When people think your style is weird or you talk too loud or you like silly things, it’s difficult to brush off! You’ve just got to remember that their opinions are just that: opinions. People like that are spending their time hurting somebody for being themselves or doing something they like, and that’s majorly not cool of them. Is that really somebody whose opinion you want to listen to?

6) Learn a skill or try a new activity. Learning how to cook or sew or play an instrument or speak a second language are great confidence-boosters because you can see your progress with time. Trying a sport, theater, or debate can help you make new friends as well as increase your confidence in a kind of “performance.” Theater was my primary activity from kindergarten on, and it gave me a space where I was allowed to be unabashedly confident, which was incredibly important for me.

And finally (and most important) remember: even if you aren’t confident, you’re still a cool and valid person! It’s totally okay to be insecure sometimes, confidence isn’t a requirement for respect. :) You’re awesome and I love you!

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fairygal11 · 3 years

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The Fate of America Rests in our Hands

Today is the big day America. The day that determines the fate of our country. It determines the future of America. Our dreams, our futures, our generation. It will determine the timeline of our entire lives upon the results of the Election. My name is Megan....Megan Ryan and I speak from my heart. I am a 32 year old with Mild Autism (Aspergers). An otaku, introvert, a hardworker with a big heart who cares about her family, friends and loved ones out there. I've never voted before-NOT A SINGLE ONCE in my entire life, but this year I voted because I can't stand to see what our Country has become under this....this Tyrant of a President this year. Before this crisis started with COVID, everything seemed normal for January and February, just the usual normal life and enjoying the best Anime Milwaukee Convention weekend of my life despite having a small ear infection and seeing My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising in theaters. It was normal until....March when COVID struck and was a menance at a mild level. We thought it might go away, but we were wrong-Due to the rise in cases, everything began to shut down including jobs over time even my library. We were temporarily laid off until late Summer when we got COVID guidelines and services were returning to normal with some major changes to how we did things at the library, but we adapted and worked together to help the community and keep the patrons safe-we even ensured that the books were quarantined and purified before they were checked in and shelved. But before going back to work, you cannot imagine how hard it was on me during those long 5-6 months being off temporarily because of the virus. A lot of reflecting, refocusing and rediscovery of myself: Physically and Spiritually. You know this was my 5th year at my library, a major milestone for me and I had plans in mind to celebrate it: Anime Milwaukee 2020 and My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising were the only celebratory I was able to do and go to. The others I had in mind: Midwest Gaming Classic, participating in Independence First's walkathon again, go to the Maker Space Festival, the usual festivals like Summerfest, Germanfest, State Fair, seeing Lupin the 3rd the first in theaters, kickstarting the Anime Club at my library with Alex and Courtney, getting the PS5 (Accomplished to get-when I celebrated my first year of working I bought a PS4 with my anniversary money so the PS5 reflects that kinda thing in a way). But my biggest milestone and greatest thing I wanted to do.....was asking my best friends like Nadia, Cory, Alex and a few others if they wanted to hang out, grab a star bucks or play a video game at a geeky bar or tavern like the Sword and Shield Tavern (Which sadly closed down due to COVID and I never got a chance to see it or be there). I'm not much of a talker in reality, but I try my best to improve my conversation skills and form proper sentences then having it juggle about because sometimes I see the lines in my head, but they don't come out the way I want them, but I take my time to get them out the best I can. I guess at times it also depends on the environment: At home I'm normal speaking, at a convention or a place of interest I can speak like an extrovert. I guess it kinda varies-like I'm an omnivert. Anyway during those months I kept busy like watching shows (even those to catch up on), baking calzones and different pastry recipes that were easy and simple to make, exercising and recovering when I accidentally got Runner's Knee from overexerting myself, reading as many books as I can even getting a lot of kindle books due to libraries being closed for the time being and did a lot of writing-even took some zoom classes like SOcial Skills, Mindfulness and Creative Writing. I had to keep myself busy somehow and figure out how to get some normalcy-some balance back into my life. Try to figure out a way to keep to my routine or rebuild my routine when you don't know what to do when your locked down in your own home and dealing with your inner demons and struggles, when you feel like you have not much energy then you always did...when you feel isolated even if your home with your family. So many emotions swirled around, so many different thoughts-It felt as though for awhile...I was in the abyss, but I always had a rope of light to help me out. A Light of Hope that I kept in my heart so I didn't fall into despair....telling me to not give up and keep going forward and keep fighting. Keep finding a way to keep your light glowing. Don't let the darkness gets to you...don't let the world and the COVID monster get the best of you because your a survivor. I even began to apply for self-care to myself both physically and mentally-For there were times I worried about what would happen if the libraries don't open or if they start cutting people if things got very worse? There were so much that filled my head at the time even worried about the safety and well being of my loved ones out there if they were alright. There was a lot I went through, but I survived and grew during those Lockdown times and you wouldn't imagine how happy when I learned the library was opening back up and letting people come back even myself. I returned in August and started learning the new procedures in the back room, at first it was a little tricky, but then I got the hang of it-course I kept the instruction sheet to keep on hand in case in my notebook. I feel as though I've grown a lot through this crisis: Physically and Mentally. I learned that it's okay to take my time and I shouldn't rush, it's okay to feel how you feel and let it be known, that you shouldn't be afraid to let people know how your feeling. I had that fear of having people worry about me-I know when I wear a mask on my face as I follow the guidelines to protect those around me, underneath the mask, there is a smile, but at times it can be sad. Sure, I can get overwhelm, but I have to give myself a breather to calm down and clench my Tourmaline stone I keep with me in my pocket to remind me to calm myself from whatever unsettling thought is trying to invade my mind-even when it comes to all of this.....So I want to apologize if I ever had a slight puffy red eye or ever worried anyone out there when I felt a little overwhelm at time and needed to take a breather. I do my best to be strong for those around me, I do my best to be there for those I love, I do my best to help in anyway I can and I do my best at what I do at home and at work. Doing my best is all I can do, but I put all my best into what I do and making sure I don't overdo it. Anyway, I've chosen to vote because this is very important for not just me, but for everyone out there....I chose to vote so I can help make a better future for us. I cannot stand to see anymore lives taken from this world-The young and the old, 200,000+ in the USA and growing and many across the world? Do you know how many dreams that is? TOO MANY that were taken too soon and unfulfilled due to that MONSTER OF A virus! And what about the people who couldn't see their loved ones when they were infected? How many people were unable to see them for one last time? How many were unable to see the birth of a new life brought into the world? How many have been unable to see their loved ones or grandparents, but only through zoom or a video chat program? How many milestones and celebrations were stolen? How many events were cancelled because of the virus? How many jobs were taken and the cut offs that ruined the lives of the employees that worked at those jobs for so many years only to be laid off completely? How many holidays were ruined? How many trick or treaters missed the chance to trick or treat this year? How many will not be able to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas together this year? HOW MUCH MORE IS TO BE TAKEN FROM US!? HOW MUCH MORE YOU ORANGE DEMON!? YOU DEMON IN A FAKE HUMAN SKIN! Because of that TYRANT in office who did nothing to curb it back in January or did anything to keep it under control and look where its got us......He believes fiction then Scientific Facts. He thought it would go away...AND HE SAID RECENTLY TO IGNORE COVID. You can't ignore Covid-because its like a broken pipe, you can't just duck tape it up and leave it be-CAUSE sooner or later it'll burst and flood the basement of a foundation and cause it to sink. That's what TRUMP did to America-HE PUT DUCK TAPE on the COVID pipe, only for it to blow up and flood our very country.....You can't ignore a problem and expect it to fix itself, it'll only get worse. And I don't care what anyone says: I DON'T CARE WHAT THE TROLLS SAY! I don't care what TRUMP'S BRAINWASHED minions say! I DON'T CARE WHAT THOSE SHEEPLE SAY! I have a RIGHT TO SPEAK MY MIND because I'M NOT AFRAID TO SPEAK MY MIND OR LET YOU KNOW WHAT I feel in my heart! I know what's right or wrong and I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IS HAPPENING in politics and I don't like politics very much or never got involved with them, but what I've seen and heard from A PIG-MOUTHED man is a pile of fertilizer-WHAT HE IS DOING with his court of corruption of Republicans is wrong! HE DIDN'T DO nothing, he didn't solve problems, he didn't help anyone out there, he's all talk and no bark! He's a bully! And if there's one thing I can't stand above else is a bully....AND I am taking a STAND AGAINST THIS BULLY by voting for the RIGHT PRESIDENT who'll clean up his mess. If your like me, America, please think carefully when you vote today. Your future along with the future of your loved ones, children, grandparents, yourselves and family.....THEY REST in your very hands. Do you wish to have a president who will do all he can to restore our country or do you want a president who'll continue to destroy our land until its nothing like a Mad Max wasteland and were fighting over supplies? This is our home, our country. WERE THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, NOT THE DIVIDED States of America. We shouldn't fight each other, we should stand together and take back our country from COrruption and chaos that Trump has sparked over these months. Were all human beings, no matter where were from-This isn't the time to be divided, but united to do what's right. For the future of AmericaFor the future of our childrenFor the future of our generations to come before usFor our dreamsFor our freedomFor ourselves Election Day 2020 is very important for us all. Look in your hearts-Do you want a bright future for yourselves with Biden or a dystopian future under a Dictator like Trump?..... Thank you for reading this and I apologize, but I really needed to say this to let you all know how I feel deep down about this whole Election Mess.

#ElectionDay #ElectionDay2020 #Election Day #Election Day 2020 #Trump #Donald Trump #Joe Biden #JoeBiden #Biden #DonaldTrump #Fate #Vote #FutureofAmerica #DoTheRightThing

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capsicles-best-girl-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 1 Part 3 ,,The Golden Trio”

Summary: You, Steve and your bf Barnes out for some bonding time over grocery shopping. 1510 w. Warnings: none Steve has changed since the day you two met, but not as much as James or to be fair any ordinary person. He seemed to be stuck with his childish appearances. Looking much younger than he actually is, unhealthily skinny and pretty much your height. But all those features were only fate’s mean tricks. As you were perfectly aware Mrs. Rogers was much more than that. He was kind, honest, empathetic and brave. You didn’t know a guy who had gotten beaten up so many times and still would be the first one to start a fight in the name of justice or some damsel’s in distress honor. But that’s just him. Aaall him. He fought the world for its every unrighteousness. That’s what made him so special. And you loved him just the way he was. You two bonded over the deep need of making the world a better place. You were best friends and both felt like together you can make the impossible possible. At some point you developed a name for your little group. Y/S/N, Barnes and Rogers - The Golden Trio. Bit cheesy but to you it souned awesome. Your female friends many times mentioned this, as they called it “situation”. At first they pointed out that a woman-man friendship is impossible – first strike, Golden trio was doing just fine. After you proved them wrong, they started ranting about how unhealthy and strange the relations between the three of you are. Dating James and remaining friends with Steve as they too, remain being best friends? Oh no! That’s just sickning and horrible! Their talking didn’t bother you. Well maybe from time to time... you had those moments of... believing them. Wondering if the friendship you had was true and genuine after all those years. In the end you befriended two best mates and then “decided” one of them is just going to be your husband. The fact it could somehow hurt Steve made your insides flip. Those thoughts would always fade away when you saw Steve like this. Peaceful and smirking at you from the distance. You waved your hand and sent him a bright smile, as your boyfriend yelled: - Ay comrade! - Hello lovebirds, you’re almost late! – blonde said, as he disapprovingly shook his head, arms crossed on his chest. It wasn’t hard to figure it out that he was just playing with you - What means we’re on time douche! – James exclaimed as he fixed buttons in his jacket. - Boys will you ever grow up? - you said inbetween kissing Steve on both of his chicks. -Y/N and you’ll never learn that we only age and not grow up? – boy you just kissed said with pride in his voice. - I’m with him on this one honey. - Buck winks. You didn’t even bother to say anything and shook your head as a sign of giving up. In silence The Golden Trio started walking towards the marketplace. It was tradition of yours, since you were kids. As children your families (not all of you were in a position to use the term parents) wouldn’t let you hang out in the city in order to keep you safe. The only place they had no problem sending the three of you to was the market. Every Monday you’d meet in a specific place and at a specific time to walk there together. Each one with clearly defined, parent-approved shop list. Trying to get everything was quite a challenge at the time and so that’s what made the trips fun. It cost you much effort and learning few manipulation tricks. But that made it even more enjoyable, not mentioning the fact it was the only place outside besides the backyards of your houses, that you were allowed to be in. Now it’s just one of the things your “squadron” does to create even an illusion of normalcy in all the craziness happening. What’s more important, it was so deeply scheduled into your lives it didn’t let you to lose contact and made keeping in touch easy even when you had been busy. Every other attempt at going out was much more difficult to plan. With years passing by this tradition became significant to each one of you, more than you expected. Everyone in the market knew you, people would ask about your health, mood or any other convenient trifle. That place always made you feel like the war was just some old story and humans have come back to loving and respecting each other. __ - I think it’s time to head back. We have that Stark show today pals – you grudgingly reminded after realizing you spent there more then 2 hours . - Yessss and Y/N got you this hot date Jo. She’s also a nurse right babe? – said Bucky - Shhhh you idiot, that was supposed to be a surprise. I hope you don’t mind, love? – you asked Stevie, serving him this innocent face of yours and at the same time trying to hide the fact you were blushing a little bit. - Aaah umm no. It’s ee very kind of you Y/N. I’ll try my best to look like my dear friend here. – Rogers pointed at his other best friend who reacted with a cocky smile at this statement taking it just as a compliment. But you were no fool. You knew blondie here was only playing it cool. The joke and the smile were fake. And you knew why. What he said was more truthful than any of The Golden Trio members was willing to admit. To be honest Mrs. Buchanan was not really aware of seriousness of Steve’s words. Not as much as you were. That sweetheart really wanted to look like his mate. (You were always really observant, even as a child) You knew that Stevie was anxious about dating and truth to be told, you think you’d feel the same being in his shoes. It was all about his stupid appearances. You never heard him complain. Not a single time. But it was obvious he felt insecure. Short, skinny boy with barely any muscle. His body practically hasn’t changed since he was 15. As if it wasn’t enough , there was asthma and a long list of other disorders and potential threats to his fragile life. Although all you saw was his bravery and the golden heart. No matter what, he was always ready to sacrifice himself for any other human being in need. Sometimes it didn’t even had to be a human. That was his beauty, which for you shone through his shell of an ugly duckling. Sadly you didn’t know how to show it to other women. Everytime you mentioned him to one of your friends, same thing happened. They obviously got interested… woman love soldiers aaand well, you didn’t lie saying Steve had been in many divisions. They just didn’t have to know for how long and why he changed them so often. But what you were trying to do was make them fall in love with his heart, mind and soul, before rejecting his “body”, when finally meeting him in person. In the end they all left with some stupid excuses. It made you feel like shit. Not your efforts failing but the fact you caused your dearest friend so much pain even though you were doing your best. He trusted you with your “choices”, but at some point it was YOU, who felt like you can’t be trusted anymore. So setting him up on dates ended. However this time you couldn’t resist. Jo seemed so different and you’ve put all your hopes in that woman. Also Stark’s show was a perfect first date. If something doesn’t go as planned they can just focus entirely on the spectacle, subtely signalling their not interested. - Sooo see you at 5pm? By the Schuman’s shop? Get some flowers and we’ll bring the slave! *you punched Barnes in the shoulder for saying that* - I mean the girlll. She lives close by. You two could come and visit for breakfasts! - he said with a grin - Oh yes, those famous scrambled eggs. You never cooked me those. – Shit. He dodgeg again. Dating was still a problem, huh - Yeah well they’re not that bad – you said trying to hold back laughter. - NOT BAD??? – James pinched you on your shoulder causing you to jump in place. - Arghh… It hurt you asshole. No fun and games any time soon for you mister-i-am-the-best-chef-ever. – you puffed rubbing the hurting area. His confidence quickly turned into a begging face. - Y/N/N! Please… I was just playing with you. – he whimpered. - Don’t Y/N/N me now. I definitely ain’t playing with you sir! – you answered feeling how your ego grows from acknowledging how much power you had over him. - By love. See you at six. – you hugged him goodbye and started walking, not paying attention to whether James follows you home or not. - See you around lovebirds. – Rogers said smirking at his taller fellow. T.B.C

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junker-town · 4 years

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The 10 dumbest mistakes from NFL Week 11, ranked

Cary Edmondson-USA TODAY Sports

Jon Gruden went to the locker room too early, the Broncos’ poor clock management proved costly, and yep, even the refs don’t know what PI is.

If NFL Week 10 was defined by the unexpected, Week 11 was all about a return to normalcy. And just like Warren G. Harding’s presidency, this week did not lack any drama whatsoever.

It started on Thursday, when a brawl between the Steelers and Browns turned into Myles Garrett getting served an indefinite suspension for hitting Mason Rudolph with his own helmet. It continued on Saturday, with Colin Kaepernick deciding to hold his own workout rather than meet the NFL’s weird and unreasonable demands.

So yeah, the week was already A LOT before we got to Sunday. Luckily, that’s when the NFL decided to chill and give us some good old-fashioned goofiness. Most of Sunday’s dumbest mistakes were of the light-hearted variety, a nice reprieve from the more serious NFL happenings leading up to it. (The rest? All we can say is the refs are at it again.)

Overall, it was an enjoyable Sunday of football. Well, except for anyone who tuned in for the rock fight between the Bears and Rams on Sunday Night Football. We’re sorry. Next time, just watch Watchmen instead. That’s what we should’ve done.

Our poor viewing choices aside, here are the other lapses in judgment around the NFL in Week 11:

10. The Ravens tried a fake field goal (not well, mind you)

John Harbaugh has Lamar Jackson at quarterback, which means he’s got way better options on fourth-and-4 than a fake field goal carry from a tight end. And yet, Jackson stayed on the bench as the Ravens failed to fool Houston with a fake field goal from 55 yards out.

John Harbaugh called a fake FG, he lost.pic.twitter.com/pLP3VPMrXl

— Dov Kleiman (@NFL_DovKleiman) November 17, 2019

Mark Andrews lost two yards on the ill-devised play, making it just the fourth time in 14 attempts the Ravens had gone for it on fourth down and failed to convert.

Luckily for the Ravens, they didn’t end up needing those points against the Texans after going on to cream them 41-7.

9. Jon Gruden thought the first half was over when it wasn’t

The Bengals missed a field goal near the end of the first half against the Raiders. Apparently, Oakland head coach Jon Gruden thought that was the actual end of the half.

Not exactly! There were four seconds left on the clock and Gruden’s team had to run a play. But Gruden had already jogged off into the tunnel by himself:

Jon Gruden pic.twitter.com/1PajXimWQc

— Keith Albertson (@KeithTVGuy) November 17, 2019

Gruden eventually realized the half wasn’t over, and jogged back out. Derek Carr took a knee, and Gruden turned right back around to go into the tunnel again: Little things like the game clock are of little concern to the man!

Obviously, that’s an exaggeration. Mistakes happen. Fortunately, the potential negative effects are ... dunno, Carr going crazy and throwing a Hail Mary instead of a kneeldown, because what else do you do when your coach is gone? Think how surprised Gruden would be if he left briefly, came back, and his team had another touchdown! Or the other team had one ...

OK, that’d be unlikely. But admit it, you could totally see the Raiders doing that.

8. The 49ers had yet ANOTHER touchdown called back

Trailing the Cardinals in the second half, the 49ers got a touchdown out of tight end Ross Dwelley to take the lead.

Or, uh, they would have taken the lead if the touchdown counted. Instead, it was called back due to a holding penalty on Weston Richburg. The 49ers are very used to this kind of thing, as they have now had seven (7!) touchdowns called back due to penalties this season.

No, really. They had three of them in Week 1 against the Buccaneers, one against the Bengals, one against the Panthers, and one in each game against the Cardinals this season. Two were offensive pass interference calls, four were holding calls, and one was an illegal formation.

It’s worth noting that the holding on Richburg was questionable:

Seems like a ticky-tack hold on Richburg on that play. Not sure I would’ve called it. #49ers pic.twitter.com/8Hvd7a2Cvk

— Akash Anavarathan (@akashanav) November 17, 2019

And there was another one on him later in the game that made no sense (and it came immediately after the Cardinals got screwed on a bad call, so ... balance?), but still. This is officially a trend for the 49ers.

They would go on to beat the Cardinals in a game that went down to the wire, and it’s because it went down to the wire that this trend is problematic. The 49ers haven’t lost any of the games in which they’ve had a touchdown called back, but there have been some close calls. Eventually, sloppy play in and around the red zone could bite them.

7. Taven Bryan cost the Jaguars by not falling on a fumble

We can only imagine the dreams that 300-pound players have about scoring touchdowns. It had to be what Jaguars defensive tackle Taven Bryan was thinking when a fumble bounced across the turf right in front of him. Instead of falling on it and securing a possession for the Jaguars deep in Colts territory, he tried to scoop it up. You can guess how that scenario ended.

Yann gets strip sacks.@YannickNgakoue | #DUUUVAL pic.twitter.com/DNCKnml4TT

— #DUUUVAL (@Jaguars) November 17, 2019

The mistake by Bryan erased a chance to take over just outside the red zone late in the first half. The Jaguars forced a punt one play later, but got the ball on their own 23-yard line — essentially making it a 50- to 60-yard error. Nick Foles throwing an interception on the very first play of Jacksonville’s ensuing drive didn’t help much either.

6. Sam Darnold showed he needs to learn when a play is dead

A big reason the Jets drafted Darnold with the No. 3 overall pick in 2018 was because he thrives in chaos and keeps plays alive. Sometimes, though, he does that a little too much.

The Jets were in control from start to finish against Washington, so there was no reason for Darnold to force a throw into traffic when a screen play fell apart. Especially a throw downfield when he had a defender in his face.

we see you @JonBostic#NYJvsWAS pic.twitter.com/Q6Sfoan7dA

— Washington Redskins (@Redskins) November 17, 2019

The Washington offense stalled immediately, but was still set up close enough to kick a 44-yard field goal and get on the scoreboard. The interception was Darnold’s 10th of the year in only seven games.

His four touchdowns showed why the future can still be bright for Darnold, but the turnovers have to stop eventually.

5. Kyle Allen’s first of four INTs was a horrible decision all around

Sunday was not Kyle Allen’s day. The second-year Panthers quarterback threw for 325 yards, but he also had zero touchdowns and four interceptions in a 29-3 loss to the Falcons.

The first of those picks came in the first quarter, and well, it set the tone for the whole game:

Terrible decision for Kyle Allen to throw this INT. pic.twitter.com/zOWVS13REv

— Billy M (@BillyM_91) November 17, 2019

It’s the first quarter and you’re only down 3-0. Next time, just throw it away.

The Falcons’ defense came into the game with just two picks, while Allen now has nine interceptions in the last four weeks (cc: Cam Newton).

4. O.J. Howard launched himself back into Bruce Arians’ doghouse

Howard had 565 receiving yards in 10 games last season, but he’d fallen out of favor with his offense under new head coach Arians this fall. He’d been held out of the end zone and had only 2.2 catches per game until Week 10, when he emerged for a season-high seven targets, four receptions, and a touchdown.

Any argument that made about his place in the Buccaneers’ lineup was quickly undone on Sunday.

Demario Davis with an off-the-back INT @demario__davis pic.twitter.com/4Jp1cyIBN7

— The Checkdown (@thecheckdown) November 17, 2019

The Saints turned this opportunity into a touchdown one play later, giving them an early 13-0 lead. Howard didn’t see a target the rest of the day.

3. The officials failed to call PI on Marlon Humphrey ... twice

Deshaun Watson got bold facing fourth-and-2 at the Baltimore 33. He launched a pass to his single-covered All-Pro wideout, then waited for DeAndre Hopkins to make a play. Except he couldn’t, because cornerback Marlon Humphrey was draped all over him.

Humphrey definitely interfered with Hopkins. It’s being challenged but won’t hold my breath they overturn it. pic.twitter.com/ajhRLAJgFW

— Steve Gallo (@SteveGalloNFL) November 17, 2019

Officials didn’t see any pass interference on the play, so Houston coach Bill O’Brien threw a challenge flag in hopes they’d reconsider. As is tradition, they did not, and instead of getting a first down at the 1-yard line, the Texans ceded the ball to the Ravens at the 33.

Hopkins voiced his displeasure with the non-call after and will likely face a fine for doing that — even though he’s very, very right.

2. The refs flagged a Cardinals linebacker for getting tackled

Pass interference is a disaster in 2019. Not because officials are any worse at figuring out whether or not they should throw the flag, but because there’s now an option to challenge and it’s mostly pointless. In almost all cases, a replay review doesn’t overturn the call on the field (the Hopkins play on this list is a perfect example).

That’s probably why Kliff Kingsbury didn’t challenge the very silly defensive pass interference call on linebacker Joe Walker.

This was called pass interference on the #AZCardinals #redsea #NFL #AZvsSF #NFLSunday pic.twitter.com/ZUwmaUC74P

— GlendaleCardinals (@YotesGlendale) November 17, 2019

His crime on the play was getting tackled by 49ers fullback Kyle Juszczyk, apparently.

Kingsbury actually pulled off the rare successful challenge of pass interference earlier in the game. If he pulled it off again, he would’ve received a third challenge, but that was a risky proposition early in the third quarter with so much game left to play. The decision paid off when Jimmy Garoppolo threw an interception a few plays later.

1. The Broncos wasted so much clock at the end of the game

Minnesota came back from a 20-0 deficit to take a four-point lead against Denver with 6:01 left. The Broncos returned the ensuing kickoff to the 40-yard line, leaving them with more than enough time for a 60-yard drive for a game-winning touchdown.

Somehow, though, the Broncos ran out of time despite the Vikings never touching the ball again.

In the first four minutes of the drive, Denver ran 11 plays (two were erased by penalties) and got 30 yards. That’s rough clock management, but hey, the Broncos still had one timeout and only needed 30 more yards in the last two minutes. That’s when they had the great idea to go even slower.

Just look at the huge 20-30 second chunks of clock disappearing between plays after the two-minute warning.

The last play of that time suck was a clutch first down by Brandon Allen, followed by the Broncos casually allowing nearly 20 of the last 30 seconds of the game tick off the clock.

Broncos should have had more than enough time to run one more play, but look how much time they wasted after the 4th down conversion.... pic.twitter.com/dX0uSCruDk

— Zach Bye (@byesline) November 17, 2019

In the last 10 seconds, the Broncos threw three passes to the end zone and all of them were incomplete. The running game wasn’t an option because Denver wouldn’t have time to stop the clock. There also wasn’t time for a fourth-down try.

An argument could be made for trying not to score too fast, but it’s a significant problem if you aren’t leaving yourself time to score at all in the first place.

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prompt-master · 7 years

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Faker

#be more chill #bmc #fanfic #boyf riends #not really but #Jeremy x chrstine #im not proud of this one sigh #you can ask for a rewrite fam

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miraculoustails · 7 years

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So remember that huge sense8 gush post? Yea, well here comes another. Except this one has a different focus. That post was about how amazing the characters were. This post is about the impact it’s made on me, and surely so many others

First off, since this show is about people connecting, it’s extremely diverse. There’s people of all nationalities, genders, and orientations. Their culture and their cultural problems are brought to light in this show.

We see a gay man, an actor, trying to make his way through the world

He’s constantly judged and beaten down. He lived in fear his whole life, hiding behind “girlfriends”. He constantly denied being gay, even in the moment when it was extremely obvious he WAS gay. He was terrified. Then his fears were brought to life. He was kicked from the agency, he lost his followers and fans, he was scorned and mocked... You see the struggle of trying to be yourself in a world that is judgmental and against you. You see Lito fight against the hate, stand back up time and time again. His friends constantly pull him back onto his feet when he can’t anymore. You find him slowly gaining confidence in himself. He learns it’s ok to be gay, and he shouldn’t have to live in hiding. His character is so empowering, showing love trumps hate. His character and his development can bring hope in the hearts of sense8 fans. His character can give others courage to be themselves and fight against the world’s hate. Not to mention, he’s a scared, yet brave, gay person ON AN ACTUAL SHOW. The show isn’t solely about gay struggles, it’s just shown as a part of his life. It shows this is who he is, and it empowers others.

Next, we see a man from Kenya.

Capheus inspires those around him. He’s a literal ray of sunshine. He yearns for good to be done. When there’s a water riot, he’s there, picking people back up onto their feet. His situation shows the struggle of poverty and wealth. There’s such a sharp contrast constantly made throughout his story. You can start to imagine what the people in third world countries have to go through every day. It’s horrible. Getting clean water is so expensive. There’s so many horrible ways that business people can cut corners and earn money over useless products. It shows the injustice, and the constant danger due to the missing justice. You see Capheus working INCREDIBLY hard just to get his mother the meds she needs. He’s the justice his home needs. Yet... despite this horrible situation he was brought into by no fault of his own... he’s still happy. He’s still optimistic, he still believes in people and the world. He longs for right, he always sees the good. His character shows viewers how despite any hardships in your life, you can still have hope. His character shows you can find good almost anywhere, and if you can’t, you can make it. He gives courage to sense8 fans, showing them they can get through the rough patch, and they can find happiness in it. He shows there’s always hope and goodness around no matter how horrible the situation.

Then, we have this beautiful woman

Nomi is such an amazing character. She’s played by an actual trans actress. Do you know how rare that is??? Most TV shows just hire someone cis to play the character, and don’t write the character well. But Nomi? Her whole story just gives me life. Her struggles and the discrimination are so realistic that it brings me pain and support all at once. Her parents are accepting of her for the longest time. They call her by her dead name, taunt her, and mentally abuse her. They tell her she ruins everything, and sometimes she fears they’re right. She worries she only screws everything up. Luckily, her girlfriend is always there to support her. A gay transwoman. The representation is just so beautiful. You’ll be lucky if you get someone that isn’t straight, or someone that isn’t cis, in TV shows. Nomi however, haha. She’s neither straight nor cis. She’s a gay transwoman. Her sister’s wedding comes along, and we see her struggle with her parents. We see that look of pure, overwhelming joy when her dad finally accepts her. We see that hope that parents can change, and they can come to accept you. We see the judgmental stares, all the questions from family friends. Yet she braves through it all. She’s so strong and it’s amazing. It shows the sense8 fans they can be strong enough to fight the discrimination. It shows all the fans that are trans, that they’re valid and they can get through the hate. You not only see the hate, but you see the trans fetishization. It’s shown multiple times, and it’s shown that it’s not ok. Nomi’s just such an amazing character.

And here we have this precious woman

Sun, precious precious sun. At some points you just want to give her a hug, tell her everything’s gonna be ok, and fight anyone trying to harm her. But then when she’s defending herself... WHOOO BOY. She’s this perfect mix of child-like innocence, and destroy-everything-in-her-path strength. Her character shows her as this strong independent women, battling the stereotype that Asian women aren’t able to take care of themselves. But that isn’t the only side to her, she’s also seen as this happy child. She loves her dog, and at one point would even go to jail for her family. She’s just a girl who wants to be happy, and cuddle with her dog all day, but instead she’s thrust into this constant hell. She always has to watch her back and lay low. Her brother murdered her father in cold blood. The brother she tried so hard to raise, and blames herself for how he turned out. She just wants love, but she’s so so so so strong and she can survive by herself. She shows that people aren’t just one sided. Her character shows people have layers, it reveals how injustice can seep in through cracks and destroy lives. Her character shows you can be strong and weak at the same time, and it’s ok.

And let’s not forget, our amazing friend here

She’s this strong woman who tries so hard to have some sense of normalcy. She’s in love with someone, but because of the culture where she lives, she pretty much needs to marry Rajan. She tries and tries to love Rajan and hopes it’ll work out. She does the best she can, but who can help love. You see her torn between what she wants and what her life is. You see this woman who’s supposed to be dainty but is hardcore and wants things she doesn’t believe are good. Her character is just A+. Her character shows the struggle of fitting in to her society, yet how she wants to carve her own path. You see the struggle between her heart and brain. It shows viewers that society’s one big hellhole that usually doesn’t let you have what you want. You can fake normalcy, you can fake happiness... but you can’t deny the fact you’re uncomfortable. It shows viewers they’re not alone in the struggle between what society wants, and what they want. Who they are, and who society paints them to be.

For the next three, I don’t really have much to say. Also, i’m making this very late at night and I just wanna post it at this point. But I will mention one aspect involving Will (hah, will Will... get it?? Ok sorry i’ll shut up now).

I’m really glad they added the affect drugs have on you. They showed how he kept wanting more even after he didn’t need it. He was so dependent on it, and he was willing to go back to it. But he didn’t. He kept fighting the urge to not depend on it. And it can really give hope to those viewers that have trouble stopping an addiction.

If anyone wants to add anything about Riley, Will, or Wolfgang, please feel free. I can’t think of anything super influential about them at this moment. But let me just say, this show gives me so much hope, even when I don’t realize it. It has so much positivity, diversity, and representation. I was having a particularly bad day today, and being trans was really taking a toll today. But I turned on this show and just bam. I felt happy, I felt like I wasn’t alone. I knew others struggled, like Nomi and Lito, to be accepted by those around them. I knew people like Sun and Capheus had to fight injustice every day, and they stood tall despite it. I knew Kala was living in a society where she couldn’t follow her heart, and also where she trapped herself. I’m heartbroken hearing that it will not get a season 3, because this show is so supportive and amazing. Not only that, but the story’s constantly action filled and extremely entertaining. I will definitely miss sense8, but i’m so glad it exists. I hope one day, media will have this much representation throughout all their shows. I’m specifically hoping for maybe some more a-spec characters. And I hope that day comes soon. Who knows, maybe sense8 can be a starting point to shows not just having characters with one layer and one side gay character. I’m truly grateful for this show

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