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astraljedi · 1 year

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Bewitched (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC

Author's note: This is a re-upload of an old fic/idea I posted months ago and rewrote. If you have any requests for anyone in the dagger squad, request are always open! Also, this is pure fiction, this isn't going to be 100% accurate and it's just for fun. Enjoy!

This is basically an enemies to lovers fic. It will contain a lot of smut, angst, mention of death, and spoilers for the Top Gun movies.

Warnings: Just some cursing and fighting. Spoilers for both movies.

Many people knew who Sadie was and the well-known family name she carried. When Sadie was a child, she was her dad's little shadow. Tom always had a feeling that Sadie would follow in his footsteps just by the way her face would light up every time they arrived at the base. How she always paid attention to him when he explained anything about the planes and the power they carried.

And on the weekends, after Sadie had all her homework done, her parents would let her join her Godfather, Pete, to work on his project plane. In the end, if the hard work paid off, Pete would take her on a quick little joy ride while the sun sat. Sadie cherished those moments with Maverick, he wasn't able to be with her every weekend working on the planes because of work, but when he had the chance, he wouldn't hesitate to let Tom know he would stop by to pick her up.

Even though most people knew Sadie from her father and her close relationship with Pete, she built her current reputation by herself.

Sadie was determined, carefree, and maybe too charismatic. She was the type who would make anyone feel welcome and part of a team. She wasn't all about letting someone feel left out of the group. And everyone loved her; it was impossible not to. But, like her godfather, Sadie could be reckless, and, Sadie always craved the need for adrenaline.

When Sadie got called in for TOPGUN, she wasn't surprised. She knew the type of pilot she was and that her hard work was paying off. The little girl who always hid behind her father's figure would've been jumping in excitement like a lunatic. She wanted to make that little girl proud.

"I'm going to TOPGUN," Sadie announced to Pete suddenly while at his garage one Saturday morning. Maverick was visiting for a few days before he had to leave again for a mission to Iraq. But she needed to see him and deliver the news in person before leaving later that day. Maverick's eyes widen, immediately pulling her into a hug. "I hope you and dad could be there for my graduation."

"Me too, kiddo."

On Monday, Sadie arrived, and there were a few people with their claimed seats chatting away in different groups. "That's Iceman's daughter over there." Sadie turned her head to see a dark-haired woman pointing her out to the two other guys in the group.

"I heard a rumor from someone that she broke into the control tower after hours and threw a graduation party after the ceremony." One of the boys mentioned.

"C'mon, Coyote. Do you believe those stupid rumors?" The woman spoke again, chuckling at Coyote. "But, if it's true and I had her last name, I would've done the same or worse."

"I also heard some captains and other lieutenants are placing bets on who will end up top of the class," Coyote began. "You think you can beat Iceman's daughter, Hangman?" Coyote said, mocking Hangman.

"Oh, please." Hangman scoffed. "We all know she's here because who's going to turn away Iceman's daughter?"

"I'm here because of the same reason all you are. I'm a damn good pilot." Sadie interrupted, standing in front of Hangman. "It's okay to admit you're intimidated, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."

Hangman chuckled, causing the little wooden toothpick between his lips to fidget. "I like you already," Hangman announced, patting Sadie's petite shoulder before grabbing a seat on the table next to her. "Let's see if that ego stands a chance up in the air."

"Hi, I'm Phoenix, by the way." The black-haired woman introduced herself, extending her palm to Sadie's. Phoenix completely ignoring Hangman's last comment about Sadie.

"I'm Hex, and you must be Coyote." Sadie chuckled at Coyote.

"Why do they call you Hex?" Coyote asked timidly, grabbing a seat next to Hagman.

"You'll find that out later," Sadie smirked. Phoenix patted the empty chair, gesturing to Sadie to sit down right next to her.

“It’s nice having another woman here, too much testosterone in one place”. Sadie looked around the class full of unfamiliar faces, except one. She recognized that face from a picture Maverick had framed in the garage of Bradley’s graduation from the Naval Academy. Her dad mentioned something about his relationship with Maverick, but she never had the whole story. She did ask Maverick once about him, curious why he had Bradley's picture in his garage but never talked about him. Maverick gave her a vague answer, but she didn't push more on the topic once she saw his eyes flooded with tears.

“That’s Rooster over there, he’s tense but he’s one of the good ones,” Phoenix whispered, noticing Sadie’s staring. “You’ll like him.”

Rooster looked up from his hands, a bit nervous, only to meet Sadie’s stare. Embarrassed about getting caught, she turned her attention to the front of the class to the empty podium. “I’m not sure about that,” Sadie muttered to herself as the class was ordered to stand.

After the little introduction from their instructor, the teams headed out to grab the rest of their gear and head out to their planes. The first day was nothing but relaxing. Phoenix and Hex were paired in the same group against Hangman for the first round of dog fighting. But with no surprise, Phoenix and Hex managed to take down Hangman's plane and his ego with it. "Oh, I like flying with you, Hex," Phoenix confessed once they were on land again.

"Hex, you'll be the target this time against Rooster and Hangman after the next team lands." The instructor informed Sadie, looking up from his clipboard. Hex nodded, heading back to her plane.

"Give 'em' hell, Hex!" Phoenix shouted at her before Sadie made it back to her F18.

Up in the air, Hangman and Rooster were bickering, Hangman teasing him about his call sign and whatnot. "Hangman, do you see her?" Rooster asked, trying to change the subject while looking around for the target.

"Is she even here?" Hangman groaned impatiently. He was still bitter from the previous round.

"Been here the whole time, boys." Hex chuckled as her plane flew up vertically between the two planes. A little trick she picked up from Maverick.

"Jesus!" Rooster shrieked, not expecting her to come from below them.

"Are you guys done gossiping? or do you need a little more time before I take both of you down?" Hex gloated, disappearing from their sight again. Hex lays low and far from them. Hex preferred to stay low on her target; she liked to sneak up on them. Especially when they only looked up and to their sides.

"Gloating doesn't look good on you, sweetheart," Hangman replied, signaling something to Rooster. "How about a bet? Whoever loses, buys the winner's drinks for the whole night."

"It's a deal, blondie," Hex didn't hesitate at the chance of a good bet. Increasing her speed, Hex flew away above the pilots, catching them off guard again. "You just made a deal with the devil."

Hangman increased his height and speed, leaving Rooster behind without a word. And that was Hangman, who never knew how to work as a team. Rooster increased his speed, following Hangman but staying below him. "Hangman, she's on your nose." Rooster was a team player; he liked playing it safe and sticking to the rules. And now, he was stuck with the most competitive duo on the air.

"Oh, I see her," Hangman smirked, his fingertips leveling the lock on her plane. "I don't drink the cheap beer, by the way," Hangman said, a bit too cocky. When Hangman was about to lock, Hex increased her speed and lowered altitude just enough to pass underneath Hangman's plane by the hair, leaving his aircraft shaking unexpectedly. Hangman cursed loudly, losing his focus from the turbulence. Hangman cursed under his breath, ascending the plane, and leaving Rooster behind.

Before Rooster could react, he lost her from his sight once again. Rooster looked down; all he saw was the blurry terrain underneath them. It was a bit too quiet. Hex tried to maintain the same speed as Rooster, camouflaging herself upside down from his plane. "Rooster, I think you should do a little maintenance underneath your plane." Hex chuckled, Rooster's eyes darting back down. Hex flew from underneath him and switched to the top of his plane, upside down still. "Bye, Rooster." Hex waved at him. Rooster glared at her, his cheeks turning red from the growing anger, recognizing the little trick she was pulling off.

Rooster was about to increase his altitude, but Hex swooshed underneath him twice. Hex spun around his plane, putting him in a trance. After the third spin, she pulled the brakes, jerking her plane right behind him while he was still looking for her underneath him. Hex centered the target on Rooster's plane and locked it successfully on him. "And that's a hit."

"Fuck!" Rooster cursed loudly, hitting the cockpit's glass.

Hex couldn't help but smirk; she got under his skin. But, she didn't forget about Hangman, how he completely flew away and left his wingman alone. Leaving Rooster with his loss, Hex increased her altitude again and searched for the remaining aviator.

"Rooster, do you have a sighting of Hex?" Hangman asked through the com but was met with silence instead. "Rooster?" He called again while Hex successfully slipped underneath his plane as she did with Rooster.

"He's dead, Hangman." Hex said, switching her plane right side up. Hangman didn't even have a clue she was so close to him. Hex mocked him. The plan was going smoothly, and Hangman didn't suspect a thing.

Hex spun around his plane twice the same way she did with Rooster. Hangman pulled the brakes as she aligned her plane to his nose before she dipped underneath him swiftly and settled behind him. The dial tone from the lock blared like crazy through Hangman's plane and the radio back at the base while he was in a complete daze about what had happened. He didn't even have a moment to react to her maneuvers. "By the way, I don’t drink cheap beer, Hangman."

After landing back at base, everyone else was already changing from their gear into their casual clothing to head out for the afternoon. Some were tired, but others were ready to head out to the bar after a long day. Especially Hex, she was craving those beers Hangman owed her.

Surrounding the pool table at The Hard Deck, Hangman handed Hex a second beer while the group chatted about Hex's trick during the exercise. "So that's why they call you Hex," Coyote announced before taking a sip of his beer.

"It's like getting them under a spell, bewitched," Hex added, taking a sip from her beer, which tasted like a sweet victory. Sadie looked around the bar searching for Rooster and spotted him on the porch that led to the beach behind the bar. "I'll be right back."

Phoenix and Coyote watched her walk outside where Rooster was moping around the patio outside. "Was it just me that sensed tension between those two earlier?" Coyote speculated, looking at Phoenix.

"I sensed it, but I didn't want to say anything," Phoenix confirmed his suspicions as they watched Rooster and Hex’s interaction from inside the bar.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hex asked, her palms gripping the neck of the beer bottle.

Rooster gulped down his beer and didn't turn around to look at her. "I'm fine," Rooster stated dryly towards her.

"Why are you mad?" Sadie probed, stepping in front of him to catch his eyes. His tall figure shadowed her, hiding from the curious eyes of her new pilot friends in the bar. His eyes were blank, lost and he didn’t dare to look at her. He kept his eyes glued to the waves behind her. "Rooster, please."

"I don't like you, and I don't want to get to know you. Can you get that through your brain?" Rooster snapped, slamming his beer bottle to the wooden table at his right. "You are a dangerous pilot! Eventually, you'll get someone killed with your stupid tricks."

"What is wrong with you?" Hex raised her voice, pushing her index finger to his hard chest. "I came out here because I truly wanted to be friends, especially if we're going to be here for the next nine weeks in training," Hex added, pushing him again. "You can mope around and play the victim or grow a pair of balls and act like a decent person because newsflash, buddy, you're going to see and hear about me for the rest of your life,"

Rooster was stunned as he watched her walk back inside the bar. “He’s such an ass.” Sadie cursed, taking a sip from her beer as the group of pilots stared at her confused.

“I can handle nine weeks”, he tried to convince himself. Rooster hoped he didn't have to see her again. She acted so much like Maverick; she needed to be reckless and always have the last word, like him.

For the following weeks, Hex avoided Rooster around the base and at the bar. She didn't even look at him, but he looked at her the whole time. Her presence pissed him off. He worked hard to get where he was, even when Maverick backtracked his career for about four years by pulling his papers. And she, the one who had everything handed to her, also had to have TOPGUN.

Needless to say, the following weeks were going to be long for the whole team.

There wasn't a doubt that Sadie would end up being top of her graduating class at TOPGUN with her astounding skills. She wanted her father and Maverick to be proud of her, but without them, she wouldn't have found her true calling. Also, she wanted to see Hangman's face when they announced her name instead of his.

Unfortunately, Maverick was still deployed and couldn't make it to her grad ceremony, but he managed to deliver some flowers back to her parent's house. But deep down, she knew it wasn't the best for Maverick to be present, especially with Rooster graduating third in his class. Or would have it been better?

#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Imagines #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Fics #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw fanfiction #Rooster Bradshaw x reader #Rooster bradshaw x Female Reader #Rooster Bradshaw x female OC #Rooster Bradshaw x oc #Top Gun Imagines #Top Gun Fics #Bradley Bradshaw fic #Rooster Bradshaw fic #Rooster top gun #Bradley Bradshaw imagines

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

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bahamas (v)

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: hinting at sexual content

______

Rafe found Colin the next morning, lanky limbs sprawled out on the couch with a blanket haphazardly tossed on top of him, his arm hanging off the edge of the couch as he slept. “Yo.”

“Mmph.” Colin grumbled in reply, stirring. He blinked a few times as he realized Rafe was standing in front of him, looking confused. “Hey.”

“Hey. You got kicked out?”

“James and Julia, they…” Colin trailed off, gesturing toward their rooms. “So I let Allie have my bed, and I’m out here.” A small scowl settled onto his face as a wide grin grew on Rafe’s. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” Rafe laughed. “You are down bad, brother. Down bad.”

“Do not breathe a word of this to anyone, or I’ll tell Sophie you’ve been pining after her since high school.” Colin sat up, stretching. “I mean it.”

“Oh, she already knew that.” Rafe shook his head, grinning. “But don’t worry. Secret’s safe with me. You think Allie will remember? Did anything happen?”

“Nothing. Literally nothing.” Colin shrugged. “Does Sophie know about Julia and James?”

“What about us?” Julia asked, James and Allie trailing right behind her as they came down the hall for breakfast. “That we fucked?”

Rafe winced. “Can you not?”

“She doesn’t know?”

“No. And I’d like to keep it that way.” Rafe pointed at everyone, serious. “If any of you tell before we leave tomorrow, I’ll strangle you and leave your body here. I swear.”

“Dibs on telling her when we leave.” Colin said quickly, grinning.

“Be my guest.” James shrugged.

“Okay. Now. You two need to promise to not hook up again, I swear, you’re aging me by years. I’m tired of navigating your sex lives and you both know you’re not good together.” Rafe instructed, arms crossed.

“That’s fair.” Julia nodded, turning to shake hands with James. He nodded too, shaking her hand then kissed the back of her hand just to make her grin. She rolled her eyes, tugging her hand away.

“Thank you. Now. Breakfast?” Rafe gestured toward the kitchen.

“Where’s Sophie?” Allie yawned, stretching as she followed them all in.

“Definitely hungover and she was definitely drooling on the pillow.” He smiled fondly as Sophie came into the kitchen, hair in a messy bun and pillow marks still pressed into her cheek. “Morning, sleeping beauty!”

“You talkin shit on me?” She asked, leaning into his side as he looped his arm around her.

“He said you looked like shit.” James grinned. “He was right.”

“Shut the fuck up, James, I’m still mad at you -”

“Just because your boyfriend prefers my kisses -” He stepped around the kitchen counter, trying to avoid as she came closer.

“Oh my god! I forgot about that! I can’t believe you -”

“Look, he technically kissed me first -“ James gasped, looking way too delighted with himself. “Oh my god! Sophie! We’re spit sisters!”

As she grabbed the wooden spoon from off the counter, Rafe plucked it out of her hand from behind just as quickly. “Whoa! Hey. Can you two please be civil? James, stop antagonizing. Soph, quit arguing with someone that isn’t me.”

Colin wrinkled his nose. “Really? That makes you jealous?”

“It’s our thing.” He frowned, pulling Sophie into his arms again from behind, satisfied when she leaned back against him.

She tilted her head up to catch her lips on the underside of his jaw. “You’re too possessive.”

“Bold of you to talk.” Julia snorted.

“Whatever. What’d I miss?”

Everyone shared a look, Rafe glaring at everyone behind Sophie’s back, until Allie shook her head. “Nothing, we all just woke up too. I think we should go surfing today, it’s our last full day.”

“Only you three can surf.” Julia replied, pointing at Allie and Rafe and Sophie.

“We can teach you.” Rafe suggested, only for Sophie to snort.

“You can’t surf for shit, Rafe.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. I haven’t gone in years, but yeah, we can try.” Sophie pulled out her phone, starting to google board rentals until Rafe poked her in the side.

“I know how to surf.”

“Okay, so your concussion sophomore year of high school wasn’t from a wipeout? Because I’m pretty sure I can still find the video on YouTube, actually, thanks to Wheezie uploading it -”

“Hey, Sophie, no -” He grabbed at her phone, scrambling to get it away, but she just tossed it to James who caught it easily with a grin and pulled up the Youtube app immediately.

“Is it saved? Under...oh, here.” He laughed as Rafe struggled against Sophie’s arms.

“Everyone knows Kooks can’t surf, baby.” She murmured to him, grinning when he scowled and bumped his forehead against hers.

“What’s a Kook?” Colin asked.

“The kind of people Rafe grew up with.” Sophie let him go, moving to his side.

“Didn’t you grow up with them too?”

She laughed, shaking her head right away. “Ha. No. I only went to school with them starting in eighth grade. I’m not...no. That’s not me.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Rafe interjected, careful. He’d never directly told James and Colin about the environment he grew up in, but they picked up on a lot of things - they didn’t have to go through etiquette classes, or own mansions or attend literal balls every year. He also hadn’t told them about how Sophie wasn’t like that at all, figuring if she wanted to share more, then she could do so on her own terms.

“So you’re a pog?” James cocked his head and Rafe winced, hating the direction the conversation was going in.

“Um...it’s pogue, but no? Not quite?” Sophie answered with a shrug. She’d never found herself fitting in with the rest of the kids on the Cut, especially once she started going to the private academy, but then again, the kooks weren’t exactly her world either. She lived in a weird in-between, working side by side through high school with the pogues, serving all the kook kids, then partying with the kooks on the weekend. It was a strange balance. “I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“I thought there were just two. Rafe, when we came to visit summer after freshman year, didn’t your dad say that we needed to stay away from that one side of the island with the pogues -”

“I don’t remember.” Rafe interrupted quickly, then spared a glance at Sophie and hated the way her face fell. “I don’t think he said that. Can we figure out what to do today?”

Oblivious as ever, Colin furrowed his brow. “No, I think I remember that too, he was joking a lot about it -”

“He wasn’t joking.” Sophie muttered, suddenly sullen as she felt a pit form in her stomach.

“It doesn’t matter.” Rafe replied, firm, and shot both the boys a pointed look.

Julia and Allie had been subjected to Sophie’s worries about money and fitting in with Rafe time and time again, and knew exactly how she felt at the moment. Allie took Sophie’s phone back from James, pulled up the browser, and cleared her throat. “Alright. Three board rentals for $30, I figure we can all pair off? Pick them up at eleven so we have time to eat breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Julia chimed in, slipping past Sophie and squeezed her shoulders in a reassuring gesture before opening the fridge. “James, can we do omelets again? Colin, you’re on toast duty?”

“But I -”

“Colin.” Julia sent him a glare and threw the loaf of bread toward him, narrowly missing his head. “Toast.”

“She gets one embroidered apron in a PR package and suddenly she’s queen of the kitchen.” James quipped, bumping Rafe out of the way with his hip and pulled out the pan, spatula, and whisk, prepared.

“Exactly, I’m glad you understand.” Julia grinned.

Rafe moved closer to Sophie’s side, leaning down to murmur in her ear. “You good?”

“M’ fine.”

He rolled his eyes and took her hand, pulling her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the foyer. “Soph. Talk to me.”

“I said, I’m fine -”

“And I know damn well that means you’re not actually fine -”

She huffed and caught a glimpse of the giant chandelier behind him as she looked up to meet his gaze, and was finding it harder and harder to conceptualize the place as his house rather than just a vacation home of a friend’s. “You haven’t told the boys about The Cut? Pogues, kooks, all that? That I’m not like you?”

“Of course not, Sophie, that doesn’t matter to me.” He frowned, taking both her hands in his. “Besides, I didn’t think it was my place to share.”

“Oh.” She sighed, stepping forward and dropping her head to his chest. “Sorry, I just - I’m trying to be chill.”

“You have been. We’ve been good.” He nudged her chin up, catching her eye. “Haven’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah, just - I took a wrong turn this morning, found myself down some hallway and in some office, and there was this giant painted portrait of your family behind the desk, and -” She forced herself to take a breath. “It’s a lot. You looked like fucking royalty.”

He nodded slowly in understanding. “Oh. Yeah. That’s my dad’s office, uh...there’s a reason I didn’t give everyone the full house tour.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish smile. “The guys would give me so much shit for that.”

“You’re not, like...embarrassed of me, right? Like how I grew up?” She asked before she could think, uneasy as her stomach twisted in knots.

“Sophie.” He frowned, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “You really have to ask that?”

“No, sorry, no. I know you’re not. Just - agh.” She screwed up her face in concentration, frustrated. “It’s me. I’m sorry.”

“Just try not to stress so much about it, okay? You’re the only one worried about it.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Thanks, Rafe, I’m cured.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed at her shoulder gently, making her smile a little. “I want you to be comfortable with me, angel.”

“I am!” She flexed her hands, frustrated. “That’s the thing. I am, with you. Not...you.”

He furrowed his brow. “Now I’m confused.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

James rounded the corner, yelling out before he reached them. “Yo! You two done making out yet?”

Sophie sent Rafe an exasperated look before crossing her arms, turning to James. “We weren’t -”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. C’mon, your breakfast is ready and I know Rafe throws up if he has to eat cold eggs.”

“It was one time -”

“One time is enough.” James shuddered, thinking back to freshman year. Rafe had gotten a little too cocky with the pledge masters during their hazing and was forced to eat five cold scrambled eggs in front of the whole pledge class, after he’d already had his fair share of alcohol to drink, and it didn’t end well. He extended his hand to Sophie, grinning. “Sophie, doll, breakfast awaits.”

“I hate you.” She replied with a straight face, but took his hand anyway and let him pull her back to the kitchen.

He laughed, glancing back at Rafe following them and winked at him before kissing the top of Sophie’s head. “Love you too. I need a wingman tonight at the bars, you got me?”

“I thought that was Colin’s position.” She shoved him away, taking her plate and sitting at the bar with the rest of the group.

“Yeah, well, Allie’s the only one that’s been getting some this entire trip, so -”

“But -” Colin started, only for Julia to stomp on his foot under the table, hard. She forced a grin, thankful Sophie was oblivious.

Sophie furrowed her brow but nodded, pouring herself a glass of juice. “Yeah. I got you.”

“Excellent. You know what, everyone should get laid tonight. If they want to.” James declared, shooting a meaningful glance at Colin.

“If you lay a finger on Julia again, I’m cutting off your balls in the middle of the night.” Sophie replied calmly, staring James down over the top of her glass as she took a sip.

Julia pretended not to hear, keeping her eyes intently trained on her plate. She’d considered Sophie’s feelings for the briefest of seconds last night, but then James was kissing down her neck and his fingers were slipping under the waistband of her shorts and - yeah. It may have slipped her mind. She was a little preoccupied.

“Sophie.” Rafe reprimanded, affronted. “Be nice.”

“Yeah, be nice or you’ll be the only one not getting some tonight.” James teased, smirking when Sophie gave him the death glare across the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys fight like siblings.” Allie mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Let it go already.”

“Thank you.” Rafe affirmed, shaking his head. “I need everyone to be packed tonight, we’ll need to be on the plane tomorrow by 9am.”

“I thought the beauty of having your own plane meant we didn’t have a schedule.” Colin asked.

“...No. You can’t just fly it whenever, you have to tell people. And my dad needs it later tonight, he’s going to New York.”

“I didn’t realize he went there that often. That’s kind of nice though, right? You’ll be able to see him more when you and Sophie move?” Julia asked unknowingly. Sophie had told both the girls that Ward was an asshole, but didn’t say much more, just that Rafe still worked for him a lot. (She figured anything more was Rafe’s business and he could tell them if he wanted.)

Everyone else stayed quiet and Sophie froze, halfway to shoveling a forkful of omelet into her mouth. Rafe was stiff and his smile was forced as he nodded, not daring to look in Sophie’s direction. “Yeah. He does business there sometimes, so. I’ll see him around.”

James pushed away from the table, making everyone wince as the chair squeaked against the floor. “Okay, I’ll dry if someone else washes the dishes. Then I vote we hang out at the beach, last chance before we get to go back to Ohio - and I’m pretty sure it’s only forty-five degrees today back home.”

Julia looked around, confused at the abrupt topic change, and mouthed to Allie - did I say something wrong? - only for Allie to shake her head surreptitiously, glancing toward Sophie.

“Beach sounds good.” Colin nodded, standing and taking everyone’s plates to the sink. “Allie, can you confirm those board rentals?”

“Yeah, I got them.” She stood too, getting up to help with the dishes.

Julia frowned, lowering her voice so only Rafe and Sophie could hear. “Rafe, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.” Rafe shrugged it off easily. “Seriously.”

Sophie exhaled, nudging her knee against Rafe’s under the table before she got up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then ruffled his hair. “Love you.” She murmured as she grabbed his plate.

He smiled back, tugging gently at the hem of her (his) t-shirt before she busied herself in the kitchen with the rest of the group.

Julia watched the exchange with a furrowed brow. “Is she good?”

“Hm?” He replied absentmindedly, moving his gaze from Sophie to Julia.

“She’s okay? Earlier, with James and Colin asking…”

“Oh. Yeah, we’re good, I think. Probably just ready to go home to normalcy, you know?” He paused. “Are you gonna tell her about last night?”

“I probably have to...right?”

“Yeah. I think it’s better coming from you, rather than the boys.” He offered a teasing smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk her down from homicide.”

Julia groaned, covering her face with her hands. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“She won’t.” He promised. “You two are consenting adults, it’s maybe not the smartest decision you two have ever had, but. She can’t be that mad.”

“Have you met your girlfriend?” She raised her eyebrows back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her let go of a grudge.”

Rafe smiled, pointing to himself as he shook his head. “Ever?”

“You don’t count. None of those arguments were real.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious. You’d know.” She shook her head, smiling fondly. “Freshman year, this guy was being a little too touchy with me, hanging around a little too much at a frat party - she went and found his big brother and when he didn’t do anything, she threw a drink in the guy’s face.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “She what?!”

“Yeah. I know way too many incriminating details about her.” Julia nodded with a grin.

Sophie came back to the table, curious. “What are you two gossiping about?”

“Nothing.” He dismissed, waving his hand and got up, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “C’mon, let’s go get ready.” He mumbled something in her ear, making her blush.

Julia raised her eyebrows, watching as Rafe tugged her down the hall, hand in hand. “Don’t be late, you two!”

“Never!” Sophie called back, giggling.

______

After an attempt at surfing and hours of lounging in the sun, the group finally made it to dinner. Rafe had insisted they go to the nicer restaurant for their last day, making everyone dress up just a little more, and was happy everyone complied with the dress code he suggested when they had all packed.

When his phone pinged, again, he huffed and fished it out of his pocket. His dad had texted him five times within the last hour, making sure he would remember to be on the runway at a certain time, and that the airport security needed to be paid in cash, like usual, and that he left enough of a tip for the maids before they left, and - yeah. It was a lot. He was surprised when he saw a text from his screenwriting professor from the previous semester instead, with three words - check your email.

“Your dad again?” Sophie murmured quietly, resting her hand on his knee.

“No…” He trailed off as he opened his email and found that his screenplay had been one of two chosen to be produced for their final semester. He had a meeting next week with his professor to start working out logistics, casting and choosing a production team. “Oh. Wow.”

“What is it?”

He smiled, hesitant, and tilted his phone toward Sophie. “Um, the screenplay thing. Mine got picked.” He shook his head, in disbelief as he smiled wider. “Holy shit, mine got picked.”

“Rafe!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and smacking a kiss to his cheek.

James perked up, leaning next to Sophie to read the phone too. “You got it? For real?”

“I got it.” He confirmed, now grinning ear to ear. The phone was passed around the table so everyone could read the email and everyone congratulated him, making his cheeks turn red as he beamed. Julia ordered a round of shots almost immediately. He had made the boys read it over at least five times each, for proofreading before he submitted it, then once he gave a copy to Sophie, she’d made the girls read it too because she was so proud.

“This is the one where you confess your love to her like twelve times over?” Colin asked.

“Yeah, remember, Rafe, the characters hated each other in the first draft? And then you changed the girl’s name to Sloane one day, wherever the fuck that came from -” James added, oblivious to the growing smirk on Sophie’s face.

She leaned closer, raising her eyebrows. “When was that changed?”

Rafe’s blush spread to his ears now, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t remember. It’s not important, anyways -”

“I think it was barely September -“ James supplied helpfully, yelping when Rafe kicked him under the table. “Hey!”

Julia grinned. “You changed it to her middle name in only September? Weren’t you still fighting then?”

“I didn’t know -” He started to defend himself, only for Allie to roll her eyes.

“Oh, okay, you just happened to change it to that of all names. Sure, we believe that.”

Julia laughed once she caught Sophie’s eye and her extremely pleased expression. “She’s had a crush on you since high school, anyways -”

“I did not -” Sophie instantly retorted, ignoring the smug grin Rafe wore. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not. Jesus, Sophie, you two could have saved yourself all that arguing and just been together, you two are dumb.”

“Wait, you’ve liked me for that long?” Rafe cocked his head, oblivious.

“Oh my god, you two are blind.” Allie giggled, accepting the tray of shots from their waitress and passed them around. “Here, everyone - congrats, Rafe.” She lifted her shot and everyone else clinked theirs together, then took it at once.

The rest of the night was a blur for everyone, but especially Rafe. He kept taking other people’s shots on accident and sucked down any drink presented to him with a straw, but absolutely refused to hydrate normally (Sophie resorted to giving him vodka waters at the end of the night just so she could keep him upright). He kept an arm slung around her shoulders or waist the entire night, not letting her out of his sight for a single second.

“Baby, please stop leaning.” Sophie told him with an exasperated tone, pushing at his shoulder for the fifth time that night.

“I love you so much.” He replied, bright-eyed with a grin. “So damn much.”

“Okay. Stand up straight.”

“I am.”

James ambled back to the two of them and ducked in between them so Rafe’s arm was around his shoulders instead, taking the weight off of her for a moment. “Jesus, Cameron, lay off the drinks.”

“He’s fine, he’s celebrating.” Sophie smiled, patting Rafe’s cheek affectionately.

“Enabler.”

She shrugged. “So be it. Where have you been?”

“Trying to talk with some girls.” He supplied, nodding his head toward Colin with the same group. “Apparently they’re more into nerds.”

“The one time in your life you’ve failed to score.” She teased, batting his hand away as he went to flick her.

Rafe leaned into James, resting his head against his. He had a few inches on him, making it just comfortable enough. “James. Guess what.”

“What, bud.”

“I’m gonna marry Sophie.”

“Yeah, dude, we know.”

“No. Tonight.”

James snorted. “Yeah, okay. I feel like you’re gonna be out within the hour.”

Rafe ignored him, eyes scanning across the crowd. “Where are our girls?”

Sophie beamed, loving how he’d adopted her friends as his own. “I think Julia’s just getting guys to buy her drinks and Allie’s hovering around so she can benefit.”

“Julia definitely had some guy’s tongue down her throat earlier.” James confirmed. “I told him to fuck off.”

“Does she need help?” Rafe frowned, handing his drink to Sophie and straightening up like he was going to go hunt for her.

“No, she’s fine.” James nodded toward Colin, Julia and Allie all coming back toward them.

Sophie looped her arm back around Rafe’s waist, taking his weight again, and intercepted a drink that Allie offered to him. “No more. You guys having fun?”

“Yeah, a couple guys might be coming over to join us later.” Julia informed them casually. “Rafe, you good with that? I won’t show them any of your fancy shit.”

“Uh...yeah. That’s fine.” He cocked his head. “Wait, a couple? Just for you?”

“No, me and Al.” At Colin’s affronted look, she shook her head quickly. “Not at the same time!”

“Wait, no, we’re busy tonight.” Rafe shook his head and smacked a kiss to Sophie’s temple. “We’re getting married.”

Colin widened his eyes. “You’re what?”

“We’re not!” Sophie amended quickly, pinching Rafe’s side. “We’re not. He’s hammered.”

“She doesn’t wanna marry me ‘cause she’s scared of my dad.” Rafe informed them, his expression a little too serious for it to be a joke. “It’s true.”

“Okay. I think you need to go home.” She pursed her lips. “Are you guys staying, or…?”

“Family sticks together!” Rafe exclaimed, looping his arm around Colin. “We’re all going home. Did someone pack a white dress?”

“Rafe, we are not getting married.” Sophie sighed, exasperated. “Not tonight.”

“But I have the ring.” He protested, making the whole group stop in their tracks.

Julia nearly choked on her drink, mid-sip. “You what?!”

Rafe held up his hand and slid his pinky ring off his finger, the only one that barely fit Sophie’s thumb. “See? I have a ring.”

“Oh my god.” Allie breathed out, shaking her head. She stepped around him and strode forward out of the club, knowing he’d follow. “Hey! Come on. We’re going home.”

Sophie just stared at Rafe blankly, not following the rest of the group until James gave her a little shove from behind. “Chill out, Flint, I’m not gonna let him propose like that.”

She shook her head to get herself to snap out of it, laughing weakly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“No panicking.”

“I’m not - just. Jesus. Okay. He says that so easily.” She mumbled, walking out with James behind the group.

He laughed, nodding. “Of course he does. It’s Rafe. He loves hard.”

“Yeah.” She smiled to herself, twisting her ring on her finger. “He does.”

Once they all made it home, after some convincing on Allie’s part with the taxi driver and a little extra cash thrown in from Rafe, James and Colin helped wrestle Rafe into their bedroom. (They made the mistake of looking the other way once and he took off across multiple lanes of traffic, convinced he needed to go rescue the kitten that was on the other side of the road - it was actually a crumpled paper bag.)

“Okay. He’s your problem now.” Colin brushed off his hands for emphasis, swatting Rafe’s hand away as he went to tug on Colin’s shirt. “There’s no way he’s getting anything up, so sleep is probably your best option.”

Sophie blushed, running her hands over her face. “Great, I needed to hear that. Helpful.”

“Fuck you, Colin.” Rafe slurred, flipping him off.

“Mature.” James commented, kissing the top of Rafe’s head, then Sophie’s, before turning to leave. Any other time it would be weird, but she’d gotten used to his drunk affectionate state. “Night buddies!”

“Night! Love you!” Rafe called after him and Colin as they left and shut the door behind them. He turned his gaze to Sophie, smiling goofily at her. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, baby.” She replied, glad he was compliant as she tugged off his shoes and socks, and shirt too. “Can you take off your shorts for me?”

“You can take ‘em off.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, having to shove a little, but finally succeeded to strip him down to his boxers. “Okay. Will you come brush your teeth?”

Without a warning, he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, meeting her in a full-force kiss, hands roaming.

“Hey!” She squealed, shoving at his chest out of instinct. “Watch the hands, Rafe.”

He immediately dropped them to her sides, nudging his nose against hers. “I love you.”

“Love you too. I’d love you more if you would brush your teeth.”

“Dental hygiene is that important to you?” He skimmed his palm up her back, teasing his fingers along the zipper down the back of her crop top. “You should be naked right now.”

“Cameron.” She warned.

“Not my name.”

“Rafael.”

“Sophieeeee.” He whined, pouting. “Say my name for real.”

She rolled her eyes and kissed along his neck, resisting a laugh when he so easily melted to putty beneath her. “Rafe. Asher. Clifford. Cameron.”

“Sounds like I’m in trouble.” He mumbled, unzipping her crop top and hummed in satisfaction when she slipped her arms out of the skinny straps, letting him toss it aside. “I don’t like that.”

“Baby?” She murmured, sucking a small spot at the base of his neck before returning to kiss his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not nice.” He frowned. “Be nice to me.”

“No.”

“You have to be nice to your boyfriend, angel, it’s the rules.”

“I’ve never heard these rules.” She countered, pushing him back against the bed. “I don’t think I got the rulebook when we started dating.”

“Because you hated me when we started dating.” He argued, flopping back against the mattress. “Are we gonna have sex?”

“Can you stay awake long enough?”

He nodded enthusiastically, reaching up to palm her breast. “Yeah. I got you. I’ll make you come, like, five times.”

She snorted, tugging off her skirt and pushed it aside. “I don’t think you’ve ever made me come five times. Maybe three, but that’s it.”

“What? No. That’s not right. You definitely have - like, in Nice or something -”

“Nope. I would remember.” She rolled off of him to pull off her underwear and toss it on the floor, then laughed as he rolled on top of her, frowning.

“I totally have, Sophie, come on. You’re lying. I can get you off.”

“Yeah, but not five times. That’s so long, Rafe.” She argued, grinning as he ran his hands down both her arms before pushing them above her head, one large hand encircling both her wrists.

“I’ll show you five times.” He argued, glancing around the room, unfocused. “Where’s some string?”

“You are not tying me up with string, Rafe, pay attention.” She arched her back a little, practically shoving her chest in his face to get him back on track. He nodded, dropping his hand down to her hip and skated his teeth across her nipple, loving the moan it elicited from her. She curled her fingers into his hair, sighing when he left open-mouthed kisses across her chest.

He hummed, his head bobbing a little and his eyelids fluttered as he felt her nails rake across his scalp. “More.” He mumbled.

“Yeah?” She replied, scratching his head a little more and had to bite back a laugh when he rested his head on her chest for a moment, then pressed lazy kisses against her skin. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

“M’not, just...resting.” His breathing slowed and he reached one hand up to cup her breast, though the way he did it felt more like he was holding it for emotional support than to turn her on.

“Rafe.” She whispered, squirming underneath him. “Get off.”

“Shh.” He nuzzled a little closer, relaxing his full body weight into hers. “Nappin.’”

“Are you fucking -” She sighed, pushing him just enough so he rolled onto his back. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

“No, no, I’m ready.” He mumbled without opening his eyes, gesturing loosely to his lap. “See.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged on a pair of underwear and a big shirt of his that she’d packed, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re not even close to hard.”

“No...what’sit you say?” He squinted one eye open to look at her. “Have at me?”

She just laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll be back.”

“Sophie, baby, Sophie.” Rafe repeated, grabbing at her arm. “You gotta stay.”

“I’m just getting you water, Cameron, I’ll be right back. Promise.” She slipped her arm out of his loose grip and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiling at the way his lips turned up in a dopey smile back. “Stay here.”

“Okay. Be safe!” He called out.

She shook her head and went out to the kitchen, grabbed two water bottles and returned to the room not five minutes later to see him fast asleep, snoring softly with his phone in his hand, screen still shining bright. She rolled her eyes and pried his phone away, then paused as she saw the screen - he’d just donated $5,000 to the local animal shelter in Columbus. This wasn’t an entire unusual occurrence - she’d seen a couple emails in his inbox here and there thanking him for a donation, but never this much. “Holy shit. Rafe.” She nudged him, trying to wake him up. “Rafe.”

“Mm?” He grumbled, rolling back over.

“Did you mean to do this?” She showed him his phone screen. “Five thousand?”

“Uh huh.” He reached over and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to pull her into bed. “Come sleep.”

“You’re sure? You didn’t mean, like, $50? Or even $500?”

He pouted, lip wobbling a little as his eyes began to water. “Baby, all those animals are in there on the cold floor, and they don’t have homes -”

“Oh, honey -”

“No, no, listen. They don’t have homes, and it’s not fair, but if they get more money they take away their adoption fee, and then they can have a home.” He stared her down seriously as a couple tears slipped down his cheeks. “They need homes, Sophie.”

She nodded, taking a seat at the edge of the bed and stroked her thumbs over his wet cheeks. “Yeah, sweet boy. They need homes.”

“I hope Josie’s okay.” He yawned, moving to rest his head on her lap.

“Josie?”

“She’s five, and she’s a very sweet yellow lab, and good with other dogs and people, and she’s been at the shelter since July,” he recited from memory. Rafe had checked the website at least every two weeks and had found himself attached to this one dog for reasons he couldn’t explain, even going as far as buying her toys from the shelter’s Amazon wishlist. He absolutely knew he couldn’t visit, because he’d be taking her home in an instant. When he’d been looking for apartments in New York for them, he found himself selecting pet friendly as a search option - just in case.

“Oh. Okay.” She murmured, a little confused as she stroked his hair. “I’m sure she’s alright, Rafe. Will you drink some water for me? Or at least take your contacts out?”

He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes until his contacts popped out, and set them on the nightstand. Sophie resisted a scowl. He slipped his hand under her shirt and held her tight, palm splayed flat against her ribcage. “G’night.”

“Night, baby. I love you.”

“Sophie.”

“Yeah, Rafe?” She settled in against him, pulling the covers over them both.

“Marry me.”

She laughed, rolling back over to nudge her nose against his. “No.”

He yawned, not bothering to open his eyes. “Please?”

“Later. Now we’re sleeping.” She kissed him softly, smiling as she whispered. “Sweet dreams, favorite boy.”

“Love you.” He mumbled back, barely coherent before falling asleep.

____

The next morning, he was all too smug as he woke Sophie up, blindly reaching for her in bed and pulled her close against his chest. “Baby.”

“No.” She grumbled, pulling the pillow over her head as she tried to wriggle away.

“Soph.” He tried again, holding her tight as he pressed kisses against her hair. “Sophieee.”

“I’m tired, Rafe, fuck off.” She sighed, frowning up at him as he grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the floor. “Hey.”

“Tired from last night, huh?” He smirked, trailing a finger down the center of her chest, down her stomach. “Sore?”

Sophie rolled over to look him in the eye, eyebrows raised. “Sore from what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“C’mon.”

She furrowed her brow at him, confused. “Rafe, you fell asleep holding my boob. You weren’t even hard.”

“Huh?” He cocked his head, sitting up a little. “But we...did I dream that? The navy lace?”

She laughed, loud. “I don’t own navy lace anything.”

“Well, shit, we gotta buy you something.” He ran his hand through his hair, still a little confused as Sophie smiled up at him and fixed his messy hair, sitting up to straddle him. “Really? We didn’t do a thing? I swore, you were, like, having the time of your life.”

Sophie shook her head, placing both hands on his chest as she shifted forward a little. “No. You left me high and dry. Glad dream-me could get something though.”

Rafe quickly picked up on her cues, his hands going to her hips to steady her. “I think I can help fix that.”

“I think you can too.”

Just as she leaned down to kiss him, James pounded on their door, thankfully being smart enough to not barge in. “Yo! We’re leaving in an hour! Do you want breakfast?”

“Fuck off!” Sophie yelled, rocking her hips against Rafe’s. “We’re busy!”

“Busy packing, I hope!” James called back.

“He’s packing!” She replied with a giggle, laughing harder when Rafe quickly clasped his hand over her mouth and shushed her.

“We’re not hungry!” Rafe yelled, pinching Sophie’s side. “Leave us alone!”

She squealed, batting his hand away and couldn’t help but laugh as James’s footsteps faded away. “What, I’m not allowed to brag about you?”

“We don’t have time for you to brag.” He replied, wrapping a strong hand around the back of her neck to pull her into a bruising kiss. “C’mere.”

“How much do you remember of last night?” She asked in between kisses, leaning back just enough to pull off her shirt.

“Not much.” He flipped them over, then leaned down to graze his teeth over her nipple.

“You asked me to marry you.” She breathed out, a little wary of his reaction. “Multiple times.”

“I did? I’m a smart man.” He replied with a smirk, trailing his fingers up her inner thighs.

“You are.” Sophie moaned quietly, then pressed her hips up. “Just get inside me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive, Rafe, please, I gotta shower and pack.”

He laughed, loud. “Sure we have time?”

“Rafe Cameron, I swear to fucking god -”

He laughed, cutting her off with a kiss. “I got you, baby. Always got you.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe

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ivyglow · 3 years

Text

I don’t want you like a best friend - Andre Burakovsky

A/n: Sooo, I wrote this as some kind of gift to my best friend because she loves Andre and she was trying to get me on his train (I guess she did?). She’s always hitting me with “no but you should definitely write about Tito/Andre”. Here’s your piece @skarsgardswiftie I hope you like it! <3 I love you sm Also, a huge shout out to @sebs-aston for proofreading this with such an attentive eye! You’re amazing, liv!

Requested: yes / no

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol

Summary: you’re friends with Andre, but things are about to change after you create a TikTok account and start doing challenges that may lead to news between you and your favorite hockey player.

When it comes to capturing a moment you’re usually the person your friends think about, not simply because you’re always carrying a camera -mainly because of it-, but because you’re great with what you do -either photos or videos-. That’s also why your Instagram profile has more followers than an ordinary girl would and it’s the only place people can find you -besides e-mail-. However, that changed when your best friend -Callie- convinced you to create a TikTok account. You, of course, hated it, but she had the perfect opportunity -you were a bit tipsy, all your friends around, sunny weekend and so it goes.

“Mikko, do you think I’m pretty?” You direct the camera to his face while looking expectantly.

Saturday evening rolled around, the hot weather forcing your friends either to the inside of the pool or under the sunshade and their hands busy with cold drinks. It was a happy day, everyone was around, and you were enjoying the vacation. You had met half of the Hockey team as soon as you moved to Colorado and Erik, your and your brother’s hometown best friend decided you needed to know his crew and the city around. Six months later and you knew pretty much everyone and everything.

“Of course I think you’re pretty” he gives you a confused look before you turn to Tyson giggling.

“Josty, do you think I’m pretty?” you ask and he looks straight at the camera “I would give you 5 out of 10 cause you’re bro.”

You laugh and turn to Andre this time.

“Andre, do you think I’m pretty?”

He seems taken aback by the question and unlike Tyson, he stares at you. “Of course you’re pretty.”

You keep to your task and last but not least is Nathan, he’s sitting at a table while working on some drinks and you take him by surprise by jumping in front of him. “Mac, do you think I’m pretty?”

He rolls his eyes playfully and turns his attention to you for some seconds before looking at his drink again, “I would one hundred percent date you if you were not my sisters’ best friend”

And then your time is over.

“So you’re a tiktoker now?” Erik sits beside you and Nathan just as you uploaded the video. He raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes lightly, “you know I hate TikTok, but it’s fun, so…”

“She’s gonna end up famous there too”, Andre announces leaning his body on the table and motioning for Nathan to refill his drink. Your eyes roam on his big hands grasping the red cup, his cheeks red from the sun, and the way you could see his dimples when he smiled at you, his hair messy in a cute way.

“Why do you think that?” now he has three pairs of curious eyes staring at him.

You almost chuckled when his point finger scratched his chin. His skin glowing, “I mean, you’re funny and cute…cute girls get famous on TikTok” he reasoned.

“Is this your best, Burki?” Erik asks and for the way his lips were tight against each other you knew he wanted to laugh.

“C’mon, let them be,” Nathan said after giving the blond American a new cup, and before you could ask what was the matter Callie was calling you at the door.

Your best friend started a rant about how she was going to get Chinese take-out for dinner and when you told her she should get Thai too -because it was Andre’s favorite- she started another rant about how you should tell him you’re in love and how it was cute the way you two functioned but also annoying. All you could do was savor your drink and mentally play a Taylor Swift song while she went on, “I mean it, y/n! Just tell him already…”

“Have you seen Andre?!” you whisper-scream to her and Callie sights rolling her eyes, “what about him?”

Swallowing the last sip of your drink you start to draw doodles on the glass with your fingers, “I’m just y/n, he’s Andre Burakovsky”. You usually were not insecure about your looks, but it was Andre, and the fact that he was a famous and good-looking hockey player made you question how in heavens he would like you back. Hell, you were not even sure how you two ended up in such a close friendship, he always being so affectionate and listening to everything you had to say. Your friendship seemed like the most you could take from the interaction. You knew he was ‘just Andre’ too when all your friends were gathered, but being ‘just Andre’ was as amazing as being Andre Burakovsky the hockey player.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, y/n, and I don’t mean considering only your looks, but everything. You’re funny, smart, and always so attentive with everyone, you listen to everything and always have nice things to say, don’t you ever doubt your value, you hear me?” Callie’s words make you sit up straight in the stall and your eyes water.

“In my defense, this is not me crying, this is tipsy me having an emotional moment”, you joke and it’s seconds before the two of you are laughing the way you used to during a John Mulaney show.

…

It was night when you unlocked your phone only to find a bunch of notifications from TikTok, some of the comments from fans about how happy the boys seemed, but most were about the way Andre looked at you when you asked the question. According to the most liked comment “this is clearly a friends to lovers, mutual pining, unaware love and slow-burn situation” which made you giggle but also replay the video a dozen times trying to figure out if there was really something there and you were the unaware one.

Needless to say, you weren’t able to reach a conclusion, but it felt different when you excused yourself to take a shower after spilling wine in your shirt and you felt Andre’s eyes on you all the way to the stairs. His hands on your shoulders felt heavier and the way he was attentive whenever you needed a refill or wanted a bite of food seemed more intimate and caring than ever.

Hitting the shuffle button, you chose your Taylor Swift playlist before entering the shower. The cold water cooled you off a bit, it was almost like washing out part of the alcohol in your system, but your tipsy mind kept finding evidence that Andre liked you back.

You went through your clothes finding a floral summer dress and sipping on your wine while brushing your hair. Your body was still feeling hot and at this point, you didn’t know if it was from the sun on your face or the alcohol in your system, but when you heard the first notes of “Dress” playing you knew you were going to do something stupid, especially because your cell phone was one arm away. If someone asked you where the idea came from you wouldn’t know what to answer, and usually thinking about how you didn’t have an answer was enough to make you give up on some stupid ideas...not this one though.

Reaching for your phone you unlocked it and walked to the body-length mirror in the room you were sharing with Callie. It took less than 2 minutes to snap a picture and send it to him and it took him less than 1 minute to answer it.

‘Woah’

‘You liked it?’ you sent back

‘Yeah, you’re looking good, cutie’ he answered just as fast, before sending a red heart emoji.

‘I don’t want you like a friend’

‘and I only bought this dress so you could take it off’

It was the exact line Taylor was singing when you reached the send button. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing and your body sobered up even more than before.

“Fuck!” you almost voiced. How would he look at you after this? Could you pretend you confused him with someone else? Of course not, he was the only Andre you knew! And everyone knew better you were not the bold flirty type.

That was it, your secret was spilled just like your wine on your shirt earlier, but now you wouldn’t be able to clean off the stain.

Would he believe it if you told him it was a prank to your new TikTok account?

You were lost in your thoughts before three knocks on your door startled you. And there he was when you pushed the door open. Standing with his hands inside his pockets and his hair still messy, he stared at you. It took maybe five minutes before he spoke, but it felt like an eternity considering his intense eyes studying you.

“You’re looking even better this close” for some reason his voice is low like he didn’t want anyone to hear and pop the bubble of the moment.

You feel your body getting hotter, pretty sure your face is turning even redder, so you reach your hands to both of your cheeks. That gets a giggle out of Andre and you instantly move them to your back, your eyes now staring at his bare feet.

All you wanted to do was bury yourself on a rabbit hole until Andre lost his memory, or you lost yours. You were thinking about the possibility of a secret society -Alice in Wonderland style- inside the rabbit hole that you could live in forever when Burki extended his hand, his palm facing you, silently asking you to put your hand in his. So you did. And it was only a blink of an eye before his body was closer, almost touching yours.

“You’re not that drunk, are you?” he questioned.

You shook your head no and he moved his hand to your waist as a message that maybe -and only maybe- he wanted to be close too. So you moved your right one to his large shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re not drunk…”

“I’m just a bit hot and bothered” and dying out of shame! You screamed inside your head.

“Oh sure you are”, he replied with a small smile playing at the corner of his pink lips. Your brows raised in confusion and before you could ask, he answered, “hot. You’re hot”.

“Does it mean you’re gonna take my dress off?” you have no idea when you got so bold, but Andre seemed amused with everything.

“No, not tonight. You’re not drunk, but you’re a bit tipsy, I don’t want to start things like this” his fingers are in your cheekbone and you lean into him. “I’m gonna kiss you though, can I?”

His lips, so different from his hands, were soft and hot. They found yours timidly, exploring the space while his body welcomed yours closer, he took his time before his fingers were in your hair and his tongue caught your lips.

It felt good.

Like never before.

For some seconds you wished to be able to capture the moment and save it forever. Repeat it in your head every day.

Andre played with the strings of your dress, slipping it off your shoulders and you got into your tiptoes to peck his lips one last time.

“So...I take you really liked the dress?”

“I actually like you, the dress is a bonus” he shrugs and you giggle before finding yourself wrapped in another kiss.

#andre burakovsky #andre burakovsky imagine #Colorado Avalanche #hockey imagine #mels writing #nathan mackinnon #tyson jost #erik johnson

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 16: Sit Rep

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, various other original supporting/secondary characters (This includes Sy’s Army Buddies of varying rank as follows: Kevin Kaufmann, Nate Banning, Chad Randall, Matt Styles, Jake Ryburn, and Travis Hodges. I apologize if I’ve mixed up their names anywhere. I just gave them last names and sometimes rank so they could be called something other than their first names for sake of variety! lol!)

Summary: Sy meets up with his Army buddies and they are eager to help.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, firearms, implication of abuse and violence

Author’s Note: Guys, we are getting closer! Our couple will be back together soon! I can’t wait and I know most of you feel the same! I hope the strike team members aren’t too muddled and confusing. If they are, I’m very open to your feedback and suggestions on how to clarify and improve! Thank you to everyone, long time readers, and new fans picked up along the way! I cherish you all, and would never have gotten this far in the story if it wasn’t for each and every one of you! I hope you enjoy the 16th chapter (18th installment…remember when I thought this would just be a few chapters of fluff with a smutty conclusion? Lol!) of The treatment of Captain Syverson.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy sat in his truck in the parking lot of Cade's. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was here. The altercations with Elliott, both inside the bar and outside, the friendships he'd started to build with the other fellas in Shane's work group, the simple way Shane pulled off the elegance of minimalism with her wardrobe and makeup, the ride home…and the night of lovemaking that followed. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have agreed to come tonight. He was gonna leave. His right hand reached for the keys in the ignition, a firm grip ready to set the engine roaring again, when he was startled by a rap at his window.

Tap-tappa-tap-tap his friend Kevin had just rhythmically knocked with one knuckle on the window. He was smiling and waving exuberantly, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

Sy's scowl softened into a sheepish grin and he knocked back tap-tap.

Kevin waited near Sy's front fender while he got out of his truck.

"How ya doin' Kevin?" he greeted his old friend warmly.

"Alright, I s'pose! You?"

"Oh…I'm makin' it, I guess. What are you up to these days? Still workin' at the plant?" Kevin had worked for the 3M factory over in Lebanon, Missouri since his last tour. Sy knew if he just got him talking about his life, Sy wouldn't have to give him details about his own, which he was going to avoid like the plague, if he could tonight.

"Yup, I actually just got a promotion. I'm a line manager now." And Sy could barely congratulate him before he started delving into the details as the two men walked into Cade's.

It was already busy, even for a Friday night. But the rest of the guys had already claimed a table between the dart boards and the pool tables, and were working on a couple of pitchers of beer. The two were welcomed warmly and only slightly teased about walking in together.

With the group finally assembled, they began taking turns giving report on their lives. It began with Kevin, who, having already begun with Sy, continued with a brief recap for the others. Sy exhaled with relief when Matt, who was seated on the other side of Kevin piped up to speak next, having recently proposed to his long time girlfriend. They were going to get to him last, if at all. He listened as well as he could as he battled the troubled thoughts in his head by bombarding them with beer. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Nate, who'd organized the gathering, had been observing his behavior with curiosity, and a measure of concern. He didn't let Jake finish talking about his latest dalliance into what they were all sure was a pyramid scheme disguised as direct sales. Even though Jake insisted it was not.

"Well, I'm curious as to why Sy's been so tight-lipped all evening. What's on your mind, Captain?"

"Nothin' Nate. Just enjoying a few beers with old friends." Sy lied, not convincing anyone at the table, least of all Nate, who had been one of his closest friends while they were stationed together.

"If I wanted to hear bullshit, I'd have let Jake keep talking about the Duraplex scam."

"It's not a scam, guys, it's real supplements for busy people!" Jake defended.

"Can it, Hodges. We aren't buying it, and we aren't signing up to sell it, either." Nate focused again on Sy. "Come on, man. You told me on the phone you had a lot going on. What is it? Female troubles?" He snickered, as did the other guys.

Sy looked into his glass, through the foam and into the honey liquid below it with a rueful grin. "In a sense."

He took a huge drink of the beer, five gulps, nearly emptying it, fortifying himself to speak.

"My girlfriend is missing." Everyone froze in position as they processed this.

Half a dozen questions hit his ears at once. Which he could have handled if he hadn't had almost a full pitcher by himself.

He shut them down, and began to tell them the story of how he met Shane and their sort of whirlwind romance. He paused for a moment to pour himself another beer.

"Never heard you talk about a woman like that, Sy." His friend Chad piped up.

"Never felt this way before, man. She's…she's the one."

"You said she was missing, though?" Nate asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sy continued, talking about their argument, reconciliation, and then his leaving for training, ending his briefing with the phone call he got from Shane's boss.

"That's fucked up, man." Matt said. "What are you gonna do about it?" His worry seemed genuine, as well, as if he was putting himself in Sy's shoes. Sy assumed because he had been in love with Tonya, his now fiancé since they were in high school, even though she didn't come around on him until he came home on leave one holiday weekend.

"I've already gone to the police with my statement and an idea for a prime suspect."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Brad Randall, who was a Sergeant for the Rolla Police Department, inquired.

"I personally have no doubts that she was kidnapped, and I am a hun'ert percent certain it was her shithead ex."

"And you don't think she's just…ghosted you?" Brad prompted. The thought put a painful tightness in Sy's chest, but it passed quickly. He knew she wouldn't do that. And not just to him.

"No way, man. She left her phone. She didn't tell work. She didn't even tell her parents. Shane takes her phone with her from room to room. She's glued to it. She'd never do that to her coworkers, who are practically family, and she'd certainly tell her parents if she was going to leave town for any amount of time. It's just…not her. I know her."

"And who's this ex? What's his deal? Why is he on the short list of suspects?"

"He IS the list, Brad. He was abusive when they were together. And a cheater. And a liar. And he tried to jump me right outside just a few weeks back. Ask Candace. She was behind the bar when he started getting in Shane's face up there. And I'd bet she saw what happened out in the parking lot, too." He gestured to the sporty blonde bartender with a high ponytail and a Cardinal's jersey when he mentioned her, and then pointed toward the windows looking out onto the dozen or more vehicles parked outside.

"Can we do anything?" Kevin asked, clamping a hand on Sy's shoulder.

"Nothin'. But I appreciate the offer, brother." And he returned the contact with a clap to the other man's shoulder.

Nate and Brad exchanged pointed looks, and Nate countered Sy's rejection.

"I wouldn't say THAT, Sy."

"What do you mean?" Sy looked at Nate as if he was pedaling snake oil…or Jake's supplements.

"I think…that we CAN do something. To help you find Shane."

"We all have military experience, and some of us have connections that could be very useful." Added Brad. "I'm on the Force. I can handle getting intel on the guy."

"I'm in to help with transpo." Matt Styles raised his hand to offer up the vehicles in his transportation service, Rydes with Styles. Sy hated when words were misspelled for the sake of gimmicks…but he had to give Matt credit for that one.

"And Travis and I still work at the base. We can arrange gear." Jake added as Travis nodded.

"And whatever else you need, I'm in too." Kevin concluded.

"No way, guys. You can't stick your necks out for me like that. I won't have it."

"Sy…You know I talked to Lopez after that last mission the two of you were on?" Travis met Sy's eye as he spoke. "He said you had your team carry out Kominski's body. And that you took on most of, and then all of his bodyweight, just so Freeman could cover everyone. Said you were hurt, yourself, but helped him, carried him, to your extraction point. Up several flights of stairs."

Sy had no response other than a blank stare. It seemed to say all it needed to, because Travis continued.

"Lopez is alive and the Kominski girls got to say a proper goodbye to David. Plus, that mission WAS a success because you got the target. I know it's still classified, but…I think we all know the significance of what you did by leading that mission. You didn't leave a man, living or dead, behind."

"And we aren't gonna let your girl get left behind, either. We're gonna take that sonofabitch out. Because what do we do?" Nate declared, ending with the call Sy had always used at the end of his mission briefs.

The whole table, including a reluctant Sy, recited “We embrace the darkness and the suffering.”

“And why do we do it?” Nate continued.

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace." Sy looked around the table at all of these men he had served with, fought with, watched comrades fall with, and fought against tyranny with. He thought most of them could have come up with their own story about his role in their military time, but the mission Travis was talking about outlined what he figured was the most significant sacrifice he had ever made for a teammate.

"Well…I guess we need to come up with a plan, then." Sy smiled and finished off the beer in his glass before laying it out for the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy had given them all missions tailored to their own strengths and connections. Brad would gather all the info he could on Elliott. Matt would reserve vehicles. Jake and Travis would procure tactical gear for the team, and Nate…Nate would provide weapons. Pistols and blades. Ammo. Holsters. Even flash grenades and smoke bombs.

Cade's was too public to talk about their plans, so Sy told everyone to rendezvous at his house the very next afternoon. They sat around the patio table on his back deck while they waited for everyone to arrive. Jake was late.

"Well, I guess 'direct sales' waits for no man, and we can't wait for Ryburn anymore. Styles, report?" Sy commenced the meeting.

"I have three Suburbans that are only a couple years old. They're black, discreet, and all glass is tinted within an inch of it's life. Even the license plate covers. I'll make sure they're fueled and ready." Matt stated.

"Aces. Richardson?" Travis spoke up next.

"Yeah, Jake had to go in for a late shift last night after we met, but I talked to him. He's gonna get vests for everyone, eyewear, comms, the whole works. All rated for Black Ops. He told me a bit ago he was following up on a lead and was hoping it would pan out. Said he had a hunch." Travis shrugged, not certain what his friend was up to, but not that concerned.

"Sounds good. Randall?"

"I made up some dossiers for everyone that includes everything I could find on Thomas. He doesn't have a ton of priors. Mostly drunk and disorderly's that were thrown out, because he got the right representation and the wrong judge. He must have someone backing him, because I have no job on file for him. No employer has run a background on him in ten years. Last known address is from six years ago, when he filed a change of address from an apartment in the Cottage Hills complex to…407 Oak Street."

"That's Shane's address." Sy interjected. "He must not have changed it since she kicked him out."

"It seems so. But it's so weird. I don't see any credit cards, online orders, not even a Netflix account on the guy. He's totally fallen off the grid since Shane. I did get into some social media accounts, but he hasn't posted to anything in the last 18 months."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was posting hot and heavy about this girl, Kara Hutch. 37. Lives over in Waynesville. But his last Facebook status just says, 'What a waste.' and 'feeling betrayed' and that was in February of last year."

"Hmm, do you think--" Sy was interrupted by the unexpectedly loud and abrupt sound of his front door flying open and Aika, with them on the deck, barking like they were about to be murdered. She was ready to kill whatever came through next. The men, all of them battle hardened veterans sporting conceal and carry permits, were out of their seats and in defensive stances in a fraction of a second. Aiming at an unseen enemy. A figure approached in the shadow of Sy's kitchen, arms raised and slowing as it saw several barrels aimed for its head and chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, guys it's me! It's Jake! Stand down!"

"Are you FUCKING INSANE, Corporal!?" Sy asked, reverting to Captain mode. "You just snuck up on and burst in on a group of soldiers. Do you comprehend how close you came to looking more like Swiss Cheese than a man, Ryburn?!" Sy scolded, fire in him rising, but more out of an angry concern for the friend they nearly shot.

"Sorry, sir, err, Sy. I was focused on getting here for my report." Jake said, out of breath.

"Travis already told us about the gear, Ryburn. You didn't need to bust in like that." Nate berated.

"Oh, guys. What I've got is way better than night vision devices. I might have an address for our guy."

"How in seven hells did YOU get an address?" Brad exclaimed, pride wounded as intel was his task.

"I know, dude, that was on you, but…I overheard a conversation when I was doing some work on equipment in the Air Traffic Control tower."

"What could you have possibly overheard in ATC?" Sy was incredulous.

"Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to keep screaming at me?"

Sy called Aika off and let Jake onto the deck, but the German Shepherd was still eyeing the corporal with marked skepticism.

"So I kept hearing this controller talking to the other girl at her station. She kept talking about her boyfriend…whose name was Elliott." Eyebrows went up all around the table. "Yeah, and he fit the description in every way. Physical appearance, textbook narcissism, the works. I went to the personnel office when I got done with the service call and told the attendant that the girl had helped me with my gear and I wanted to send her an email to thank her. She gave me a contact sheet on Sasha King. I looked her up on my lunchbreak, and found some photos of her with a guy I think might be Elliott." Jake showed Sy an image he'd saved to his phone. "Is this him?"

"Yup, that's the guy." Sy's blood was boiling again at the smiles on the couple's faces. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve a pretty girlfriend. He should die alone, starving for the love he deprived others. "You say you got an address?"

"Yeah, the gal in personnel printed me a full demo sheet. The only thing we don't have is a social." Sy noted the redacted 9-digit code in one corner of the document Jake had handed him. He read out loud. 3502 Highway D. St. Robert, MO.

"You boys feel up to a little recon tonight?" They all nodded, excitedly, patting Jake on the back, and high fiving him in congratulations on the invaluable find. Even Brad commended him on his detective skills and told him he'd have a job on the Force with him if he ever wanted a change. The corporal almost blushed.

The men went back into the house and through the front door to the driveway where they were all parked.

"Jake, you brought all the gear, too?"

"Sure did, Sy. There's vests, belts, NVDs and helmets to mount. There's plenty for everyone." Jake opened the back of his Jeep as if it were a buffet of delicious tactical equipment. Sy found among the gear a large case and opened it out of curiosity. A sound amplifier with headphones. That was going with him, as it appeared there was only one.

"I'll outfit everyone with guns and ammo later. But here are some tac knives, and three of each diversionary devices for each member of the team." Nate passed out packs with the blades, smoke grenades, and flash bombs.

"Okay, rendezvous at Matt's shop at 1800. We'll go over some procedures for the evening and get set up with the rest of our weaponry then. Okay?" General nods of ascent and "mmhmms" in confirmation of the plan came from the men. Sy continued, "Maybe get some rest between now and then. I don't know how long this is going to take."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy got to Matt's a little early. 1730. Nate showed up about ten minutes later and pulled in next to Sy, leaving the rear doors accessible to arm the team. The men got out of their vehicles and began double checking Nate's inventory.

"Nervous?" Nate said after exchanging the usual pleasantries.

"I didn't think I was. But just now, I got to thinking about what that…monster is doing to the love of my life. What he's putting her through, if he's even let her live. What are we going to come across when we get to this place?"

"You can't think like that. She's not Schrödinger's cat. You have to be positive here. This mission depends on your strength as a leader. You're gonna do great. And Shane is gonna be fine. We all will. Have a little faith, man." Nate patted Sy on the back in encouragement. Sy appreciated it. But he thought he might have to compartmentalize, instead. Think of this as just another mission. Forget that Shane was involved. Even if it wasn't healthy, it might at least be helpful.

Matt arrived soon after and waved at the two men as he pulled in on the other side of Nate. He got out and greeted his friends, all of them shooting the breeze and enfolding the others into the conversation as they got there. Kevin was the last to arrive, just before 1800, when the briefing commenced.

"So," Sy began, more timidly than was his usual way. "First, guys, I wanna say, I appreciate y'all so much for doing this. For putting in the time and the resources to help me and Shane. I owe y'all more than I can repay, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Within reason." He grinned and his friends chuckled.

"Now, we've got the comms set up. We'll be in each other's ears, so we can report in real time. I've looked up an aerial view of the farm on Google Earth, and there should be good cover for surveillance with the sound equipment and NVDs. I'll take point, Nate, you and Matt are with me. Kevin, you and Brad will flank the property on the left, Travis and Jake are going right. I'm hoping this will just be recon, but if I get wind of something I don't like, I may call for the strike. You guys will report anything you think looks fishy, and I will make that call with the intel I'm given. Now. When and if I make that call, we're gonna aim for disorientation and soft incapacitation. If you don't have to kill, don't. I don't know how much help this bastard has, but I know it would have taken several to take down Shane. It's not that I think any of them deserve to be spared, but…I don't want us to break up any families. We don't need the weight on our already heavy souls." War had changed them all, and Sy didn't want to make any more widows. "We good?"

Nods of approval from the men made Sy think he was looking at a military bobble head collection. He stifled a smile.

"Alright, lets get armed and ready, then Matt can take us to our chariots."

They were all mostly suited up, black or dark colors were the general uniform. They were ready for whatever might happen. As Nate handed out guns and ammo, the men examined their clips, loaded their guns, and put them in their holsters until needed…they hoped they wouldn't be.

When they were all set, they followed Matt to the huge garage he kept his fleet in.

Although, "garage" didn't quite do the building justice. It was actually an airplane hangar that Matt got for a good price when the local airline went under. He'd made a loft in it with a ramp so there was extra room for smaller vehicles like his town cars. The limos, SUVs, and the stretch Hummer were on the lower level. He had a separate space outside for the two party busses and the RV, protected from the elements by large carports.

Matt went to grab keys from the lock box as the men gathered near the Suburbans. Sy was getting angsty. Moment of truth was here.

"Okay," Matt jingled two sets of keys in his hands. "Who's driving?"

Kevin deferred to Brad without contest, but Jake and Travis were bickering over the question between them.

"Grow up or get married already." Sy chided. "Jake, you got the good intel for us yesterday. You drive."

Travis was mildly crestfallen, but Jake was stoked and he caught the keyring Matt tossed him.

"You wanna drive, Captain?" Matt offered Sy the last set of keys.

"No, Matt. You're driving our group. I'll take shotgun though."

And the seven men got into the vehicles as if they were mounting horses, headed into the sunset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the comms on the way, Sy addressed the team. "Okay, there's a large outbuilding near the road, guys. Pull off the driveway and park behind that structure. Hopefully they'll hide the vehicles from the main house. Bravo and Charlie teams, you let Alpha team get in place before you take your positions."

"Roger that, Captain." Kevin said in the headset.

"We copy." Travis answered for himself and Jake.

The first phase of the mission went perfectly. Sy, Nate, and Matt were in position, and Sy had set up the sound amplifier, aiming it at the house, headphones on. When the other teams were in position, Matt reported to Sy, since he was getting feedback using the earpiece and the headphones for the amp at the same time.

"Bravo and Charlie teams are in place, Captain."

"Great. Sit Rep?"

"All's quiet so far. Wait. Headlights coming up the drive." Each team tried to make themselves as small and low as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence. Sy had been getting nothing but crime show drivel from the TV in the house since he got here.

A petite but curvy brunette got out of the white Honda Civic and stomped into the house.

"Hey babe." Elliott's unmistakable voice rang in Sy's ear. And he was filled to bursting with rage all over again.

"What the fuck, Elliott? I've been trying to call you for hours! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, I was charging my phone in the bedroom. What's going on?"

"That Captain Syverson your little pet was banging? I found out today that he's back in town. Has been for a few days."

"Shit. Shit!!! SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, so…if he isn't already, it won't be long before he starts trying to find her."

"But…how could he? Even if he thought it was me, I have no official ties to this place, or even you!"

"Flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, but I'd get rid of her ASAP. This guy is NOT someone you wanna piss off, Elliott."

"I'll bring the guys in. We'll take care of it. Tonight."

Sy cussed in a loud whisper. He wanted to rip Elliott apart with his bare hands. Nate asked him what was wrong, but Sy held up a hand for him to remain quiet because he heard the scumbag inside on the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, change of plans, we need to do this tonight. Get everyone out here. Yes, immediately. There's a…potential complication. We need to take care of her before it becomes more. Yeah, she's weak, but I'm still gonna wait until you guys get here. She's still got some fight in her. She about took Jackson's eye out yesterday when he was down there. He's got some wicked scratches on his face. I think he made her regret it, though." Elliott laughed with evil mirth. Sy was furious. He reckoned God Himself might have a time pulling him off that degenerate before he made him unrecognizable as a human man. Once he started punching him, he might not be able to stop.

When Elliott signed off, Sy pulled the earphones down onto his neck. He looked at Matt and Nate.

"He's planning something with Shane and has called in reinforcements. It sounds like he means to take her somewhere else, and it didn't sound like it was gonna be pretty. I think we need to go in now."

"Shit. Okay." Matt responded. Sy put his earpiece in and called on the rest of the team.

"Bravo and Charlie, do you copy?"

"Bravo copies." Kevin reported back.

"Charlie copies. Go ahead, Alpha." Travis cleared.

"Listen, boys. We need to go in, and we need to make it quick. Here’s the situation. We have one male and one female assailant inside the domicile, and an undetermined number of additional combatants en route to reinforce the enemy's line. We have one target. A female prisoner, presumably in the basement, given verbiage used in the communication I intercepted. Alpha team will make our priority extraction. Bravo, you will subdue the male assailant and then maintain sentry position on the lookout for more unfriendlies. Charlie team, you will clear the second level of the house and subdue the female combatant. She is a soldier, so proceed with extreme caution. Once the area is secure, drivers, go and retrieve the vehicles. We are gonna need to get out of here quick, or else things might go tits up. I'm concerned we'll lose the advantage of numbers if we wait too long. Are we clear?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader."

"Roger. On your count, cap."

Sy took a deep breath. Thought to himself "Shane. I'm on my way, baby!" He saw red, then. And called for the charge, out of the darkness, and into the farmhouse. To an uncertain outcome.

Up Next: Chapter 17-Gait Training

#Sand Castle #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill x ofc

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emwritesfootball · 3 years

Text

Sotto Voce: Chapter Four | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,549 Warnings: 'audio' descriptions of semi-public sex, mentions of being tied up and multiple orgasms

- - -

She spends the next few weeks going through TheScottishLad’s audio portfolio. He’s got the standard scenarios, but they’re even hotter to her than the audio she occasionally listens to and she can’t explain it. John’s name is on her lips with every orgasm, but she quickly grows accustomed to her ‘new normal’. Her lust for him increases tenfold, but at least she’s got her new Scottish audio porn to get off to now.

There are a few she can listen to over and over again while still cumming as hard as the first time she heard it. Among them is the very first audio he put out because it makes her think back to all the times she’s worn one of John’s kits to bed and woken up in it the next morning, grabbing coffee and breakfast in it without him saying anything; it’s what she’s secretly always wanted to happen, and now every time she does it, she can’t stop thinking about the audio whenever she reaches for a mug and hears John’s sleepy voice behind her. Another one of her favourites is just five minutes of TheScottishLad stroking himself, his breathing and occasional grunts and groans go straight to her clit each time.

The audio titled ‘Mutual Masturbation’ is by far her favourite. TheScottishLad spends nearly fifteen minutes edging himself as he talks her through her own orgasm. She always has at least two orgasms when she listens to it, especially when he says, ‘Cum for me, love’ in the thickest Scottish accent she’s ever heard, her pussy spasming around the toy as she cums hard.

When she’s finally through all of his audio catalogue and is waiting weekly for content, it’s easier to figure out. It takes her longer than she should have to put the puzzle pieces together, but once she does, she can’t unsee it.

TheScottishLad is John McGinn.

Or, more accurately, John McGinn is TheScottishLad.

All of the weekly audio drops are based on something that had happened a week or two prior, and it blows her mind. She goes through TheScottishLad’s page again, her mind racing as she puts it all together. The week before his first audio, she’d worn his kit to bed and he’d caught her in the kitchen before she’d changed. The sexual tension had been palpable (to her at least), and now she knew he felt the same.

The bathroom audio - the first one she’d stumbled upon - was uploaded the week after she’d hung out with him while he was getting ready.

There are a few other similarities that match up with her theory, but she doesn’t have complete proof yet. Her first thought is to confront him, but she doesn’t want to be wrong or end up scaring him away.

After his most recent upload, she gets her idea.

***

TheScottishLad’s most recent audio somewhat corroborates her theory.

She hates that she presses ‘Play’ without a toy in her hand or any sexual frustrations she needs to get out; this is purely for research, and a part of her wishes it wasn’t.

“Look at you, all dolled up in your sundress,” is the opening line, and she gasps. “Your hair frames your face as your eyes meet mine across the room and you give me a small smile. I smile back, watching you blush as you look away, trying to focus on something - anything - else.”

She can picture it now. It’s almost exactly like last weekend's team get-together at Tyrone’s place. She was wearing a sundress and her hair had been styled to frame her face. At one point, she and John had shared a look across the room; she’d been certain she’d hid her blush from him well, but maybe she hadn’t. She pressed play again and TheScottishLad continued…

“We both know what’s coming next, but we have to wait. After all, we can’t fuck in my friend’s place.” A pause and he chuckles, the sound making her pussy clench around nothing. She tries to remind herself that she’s just doing research right now, but her body can’t stop betraying her.

“I mean, we could, but we run the risk of getting caught. Does that make you wet, love?”

“Yes,” she can’t help moaning out loud as she pictures John coming up to her at the party last weekend and whispering that question in her ear.

“‘I can’t take it anymore’ I whisper in your ear when I’ve had it,” TheScottishLad says and her eyes flutter closed as the fantasy comes to life. “I know you want this. I do, too.” He lowers his voice. “Meet me in the upstairs bathroom in five minutes.”

The audio continues, the sounds of steps and a door opening and closing setting the scene.

“It’s been five minutes,” the voice resumes, and she pictures John waiting in the upstairs bathroom at Ty’s place for her. “Where are you, naughty girl?”

The door opens and shuts again, and he whispers, “Finally.” The sounds of kisses fill her headphones and she imagines being pinned against the bathroom door by a needy John McGinn. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says in-between kisses, “but you were just as needy as I was, weren’t you?”

It keeps going on until TheScottishLad makes the girl in the audio cum quietly, and she has to stop it there. Her body is flushed from head to toe and she’s sure she’s breathing heavily. She wants John to make her cum like that, but she isn’t sure how to make it happen.

***

The next morning, she wakes up feeling more than a little sexually frustrated. Her mind had been racing all night and she’d been unable to get herself off no matter how hard she tried. All she kept picturing was John with every audio she played - even the ones that weren’t by TheScottishLad - and she knew she wouldn’t actually be able to cum again until John’s cock was inside her or she found out the truth; whichever came first.

“I found the best audio porn recently,” she blurts out as John’s making breakfast, hoping to shock him.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, seemingly unfazed as he stirs the eggs into a nice scramble. “Good for you.”

“I’ve never cum so hard in my life.” Now she’s really pushing it and she hates that he doesn’t really react.

“Better than with a man?” John turns off the heat, transferring the eggs to their respective plates and handing her one of them.

She shrugs, a smile playing on her lips. She’s got him right where she wants him. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It’s been over a year since I’ve fucked anyone - I’d probably cum from a kiss or the right touch.”

A flash of something unrecognizable flashes in John’s eyes but it’s gone a moment later before she can truly get a read on it. “Makes sense. Your body’s probably so sensitive at this point.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums in agreement, taking a bite of her eggs. “I’m sure the next guy I hook up with will end up making fun of me for cumming so quickly.”

***

Since her confession, all week she can feel John’s eyes on her when she’s preoccupied or her attention isn’t on him. She doesn’t call him on it and he doesn’t press her for any additional information after breakfast that morning.

A sick sense of glee fills her when she logs into the website to find that TheScottishLad has uploaded his new weekly audio. She’s almost certain it’s John now, especially, when the audio starts.

“Look at you, all tied up in my bed,” he chuckles, and she knows it’s him. He’s disguised his voice well, and anyone who heard him speak like this wouldn’t even put it together that it’s him. Except she has, and only because she’s paying attention and knows what to look for. “You’ve been a little tease all week, love, and I’m gonna make sure you regret it.”

A moan escapes past her lips as she thinks about being tied to John’s four-poster bed. She’s sat on it plenty of times as she’s watched him get ready for match days and training, and she knows how plush it is - and how good it would feel to be restrained and at his mercy.

“Don’t think I didn’t read between the lines earlier this week - I know exactly what you need. You told me you wanted someone to help take the edge off because you were sick of having to do it yourself. Don’t worry, love - you won’t have to do anything. I’ll make sure you get all the orgasms you need.”

John keeps speaking as he does various things to the girl in the audio, drawing out almost five orgasms before he stops. “Good girl,” he praises over the sound of the restraints being untied, the praise going straight to her already-sensitive pussy.

A wave of jealousy washes over her as she realizes that John might already have a girl he’s been using for these audios. The girl always seems to be silent, but her jealous brain can’t think of any scenario other than that.

The day after John’s audio drops, she decides to play one last game. She calls in sick to work on Monday, finally putting her plan to work.

#sotto voce series #my writing: john mcginn #john mcginn imagines #john mcginn x reader

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lucacangettathisass · 3 years

Text

JOUST (Chapter One)

SUMMARY: Following a mix up that would only be funny if it were happening to an anime character, my Japanese host family turns out to have only a son, who I will also be rooming with at his school, Shiratorizawa Academy. Christ knows how it could get any worse from here.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

TAGLIST:@youidiot91 @meemsx @squishyrobbie @total-insanity @oneshotofvodkaa @moons-and-stars-and-shit

NOTES: I really want to thank everyone who has shown an interest in this fic, it really means a lot! I can’t gaurantee an upload schedule as things are weird rn, but I’ll try to upload as often as possible. So, without further ado, here it is!

And if you want to be added to the taglist just lmk!

CHAPTER ONE

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,

Whiles, like a puffed and reckless libertine,

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

And recks not his own rede.

-William Shakespeare

And the rest is rust and stardust

-Vladimir Nabokov

The oddness of the situation truly didn’t come to me until after I had landed in Sendai Airport, which of the two airports I have been to, was definitely the bigger and nicer one.

After flying for essentially twenty four hours, I was eager to stretch my legs, and I had to hold back my groans of satisfaction as I was finally able to move my body outside of the confined space of the plane. I navigated myself through the crowd, taking great pains to avoid colliding with anyone, and apologising if I accidentally got too close, until I came across an empty patch of floor beside a wall, where I proceeded to stand. At that moment in time, anything seemed better than sitting.

Alone and away from the crowd, I dug into the Kuromi sports bag on my left shoulder, resting my My Melody carry-on against the wall, pulling out the folder I had made that contained the info on my host family, reading through it for the umpteenth time.

The Goshiki family, consisting of the father, Hideaki, his wife, Mayumi, and their son, Tsutomu.

That was the odd thing that had suddenly struck me. There was no mention of a daughter of any kind, or any other female relative that stayed with them. I had been too full of excitement and nerves to really think about it before, but now that I was, it did seem odd.

‘I wonder why a family with only a son would host someone from an all girls school.’ I tried to think of an explanation, but my brain was so fried from the flight that I could barely muster up anything. So I shrugged, put the file back, and went on to find the luggage check in.

When I arrived at the luggage carousel, I was surprised to see a family of three there, holding up a sign. A sudden, strong feeling came over me, and I looked up at their sign. It read Welcome Cody Smith, in tall, proud kanji. This was them, it had to be. So, seeing little other options, I approached them.

“H-Hello?” My voice cracked a little due to nerves, and I quickly cleared my throat, scrambling to remember the Japanese I had learned. “I’m Cody.” I bowed quickly, and as deeply as I could manage without completely falling over. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

There was a pause, and I felt my face heat up in the heavy silence. I slowly stood back up, looking over their confused faces.

“I-I’m sorry.” A middle aged man, who I assumed to be Mr Goshiki, said, rather awkwardly. “We...well we were expecting a uh…boy.”

I blinked, trying to quickly translate what he had said in my head, and process it. “Oh.” I said, because I really didn’t know what else to say.

“Hideaki!” His wife scolded, clearly unimpressed with her husband’s bluntness. She turned to me and smiled kindly, although even I couldn’t miss her blush. “It isn’t your fault honey.” She assured me. “Tomu, say hello.”

I turned my attention to the son, who struck me as having intense Rock Lee energy, and not just because of the bowl cut. He looked serious and determined, with a furrowed brow, like he was about to go into battle or something. He bowed, just like I had, but with...conviction, somehow, if that were possible. “I am Tsutomu Goshiki!” He declared, so loudly that a few people were staring. “And I am honoured to be your host brother!”

Startled, and even more sure of the Rock Lee comparison, I could only stare down at him, a boy who I knew was the same age as me, yet seemed to want to carry himself with the dignity and seriousness of a man his father’s age. “Oh. Um. Hi.” I only barely managed to get the word out, a little bewildered at what I considered to be an over the top greeting.

He remained in his stance, upper body perfectly parallel to the ground, as I continued to stare. I saw him lift his head a little, and his eyelids flicker. I tilted my head to the side a little so I could actually see him without my chest obstructing my view. We maintained eye contact for a few seconds, before he stood up right again, practically snapping his body into position with such speed and force that I actually felt a slight breeze. “Let me help with your luggage!” He said as a declaration again, as if this was something deadly serious. “Which bags are yours?”

“Uh, they haven’t shown up yet.” I nervously glanced around, noting all the looks from strangers.

“Calm down now Tomu.” Mrs Goshiki said, with a mother’s fondness, clearly used to this. “I’m sure Cody is tired.”

“Coco.”

“Hm?” Mrs Goshiki turned to me.

I started to blush again, and I looked down shyly. “I uh...I would prefer it if you called me Coco.”

“Oh. Alright then honey, sure thing.”

I looked back up at her and smiled gratefully. “Thanks.” I looked back at the luggage carousel, watching as one bag after another made its way around on the conveyor belt, waiting for mine.

“There you are.”

I walked up to the conveyor belt, hand outstretched to grab the bright pink, Hello Kitty suitcase.

“Let me!”

Before I could react, Tsutomu suddenly appeared, yanking the suitcases. “Is the other Hello Kitty one yours too?”

“Uh, yeah, but I can-”

Thunk!

I stood there, somewhat awkwardly, as Tsutomu stood there, one of my suitcases in each hand, looking so serious that it made the situation comical. “Allow me!” He said, already walking on ahead. “As your host brother, it’s my job to help you settle in and make things easier for you.”

Deciding that it would be more trouble than it was really worth to argue, I quietly followed, trying to ignore all the curious eyes. ‘I wonder if he would’ve done that if I was a boy.’

During the car ride back to the Goshiki residence, I listened as Tsutomu told me all about Shiratorizawa Academy. Since I was arriving only a month after the beginning of the school year, I hadn’t missed much, but I would still need to work hard to catch up.

(“It’s a really tough school.” He had said. “But you wouldn’t be sent here if you weren’t able to hack it, so I believe in you.”

“Thanks.”)

But he spent most of his time talking about the volleyball team.

Being utterly ignorant to all things volleyball, I had a hard time keeping up. I got that he was an outside hitter-whatever that meant-and that the Shiratorizawa team was considered to be the best in the whole Miyagi Prefecture. And, what’s more, their captain and ace player, Wakatoshi Ushijima, was considered the number one ace among high school volleyball players, and was even selected for Japan’s under 19 Youth World Championship team. Despite my lack of knowledge, even I was able to tell that that was a big deal.

“And this year we’re going to go to nationals and win!” Tsutomu said excitedly, and with such conviction that I wouldn’t be surprised if that alone won them first place. “Hey! You should see us practice!”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know.” I said, honestly surprised by the suggestion. “I don’t really know anything about volleyball so....”

“You can still just watch.” He insisted. “And I can introduce you to the guys so you’ll know more people.”

“Tomu…”

Tsutomu turned to face his mother, who was looking over her shoulder at us. Evidently, the use of the nickname was enough to get her point across.

I looked out the window, resting my forehead against the glass, watching a city I had only seen in pictures and video go by me.

I woke with a start, eyes wide, looking around so quickly that I banged my head. “Ow.” I looked up, and saw that I had hit the glass of the car window.

“Good timing.” Mr Goshiki said, the first words I heard him say since the airport. “We’re here.”

I blinked and nodded, stifling a yawn as I got out of the car. I went to the back to get my luggage, but Tsutomu already had it covered, taking my suitcases up to the impressively sized house. While I was reeling from his speed, Mr and Mrs Goshiki took my sports bag and carry-on respectively, leaving me standing in their driveway.

I had no other choice but to quietly follow them, up the path, and to the door, taking my shoes off immediately upon entering.

“You’ll mostly be staying in Shiratorizawa’s dorms.” Mrs Goshiki said. “But during the holidays and, if you like, the weekends, you’ll be here with us.” She went up the stairs, followed by her husband and son so, naturally, I went with them.

“This will be your room when you’re here.” She said, opening the door to a spacious bedroom. It was sparsely furnished, with only a bed, a small bedside table, a bookcase, and a reasonably sized vanity. “You can decorate it however you want.”

“Thank you.” I somehow managed to find my voice again. I turned to face the entire family and bowed again, a little deeper this time, hoping it would be enough. “You’re all very kind.”

Mr Goshiki chuckled. “It’s fine, you don’t need to bow.”

I straightened up, mumbling a small and embarrassed “Sorry.”

“We’ll leave you to get unpacked.” Mrs Goshiki said. “You’ve got your own bathroom through there,” she pointed to a door on the left wall, “and Tomu’s room is right across the hall. Hide and I will be down the hall on the right. You get yourself settled in while I prep dinner.” She gave me one last comforting smile and with that, the family filed out, Tsutomu closing the door behind him.

I let out a deep sigh, looking around the room, and back down at my bags.

‘Better not unpack too much if I’ll be staying in a dorm.’

About two hours later, there was a knock at the door, making me pause in my arranging of the closet in my new room. “Yes?”

“It’s Tsutomu.” His voice was a little muffled by the door, but I could definitely tell it was him. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Alright, be right down.” I got up and went over to the door, only to find Tsutomu was still there when I opened it.

“Did you need help with anything?”

“Oh, ah, no. I’m all good.”

Tsutomu looked like he was about to press the issue, but he seemed to think better of it, and simply went on ahead down the stairs. “My mum made ramen, don’t worry it’s vegan like you put on the form.”

“Cool.” I blushed, remembering filling out that field and now wondering why I did so, when I knew that it would no doubt be a hassle.

I followed Tsutomu into the dinning room, and the two of us joined his parents at the table, big bowls of still warm ramen in front of us. After a quick prayer we tucked in. I had no idea if Mrs Goshiki had any experience with vegan food before, but if she hadn’t, that made the ramen all the more impressive.

The noodles weren’t too firm, nor was the broth too rich. The mushrooms were perfectly tender, and there was just the right amount of vegetables and tofu to balance everything out. I already knew that I was going to find out Mrs Goshiki’s recipe and learn how to make it.

“So what made you decide to do this exchange?”

I looked up at Mr Goshiki and shrugged, swallowing down the noodles and mushrooms. “Just felt like something different I guess.” I idly swirled the broth around. “And, I mean, I’m interested in Japan, so I figured I would take my chance.”

“Really? Why Japan?”

‘Don’t say anime and look like a weeb don’t say anime and look like weeb don’t say anime and look like a weeb I swear to fuck if you do that shit I am shutting this whole operation down.’

“Mostly how different it is from New Zealand.” I said. “An entirely different culture in an entirely different continent, I don’t know, just the usual curiosity I guess.”

‘You live another day.’

Dinner passed with regular small talk, with the Goshiki family getting to know more about me and vice versa. I offered to help Mrs Goshiki with the dishes, but she insisted I ‘go right to bed and get some much needed rest’.

The only problem was, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, I was still wide awake.

‘I guess this is jet lag.’

I stared up at the ceiling, waiting for my eyelids to droop, and for sleep to take me, but alas, it proved to be as evasive as ever.

Sighing in defeat, I got out of bed, went over to the bookshelf, and got back under the blankets with My Melody, and began to re-read Hamlet, again.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x oc #haikyuu fic #tendou x reader #dark haikyuu #well kind of it will get dark but it isnt there yet #and i'll randomly choose a hq boy x reader tag with every chapter update so sorry now and in advance for that!#idk how else to tag it and get it out there rip

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i-was-a-teenage-eldritch-horror · 4 years

Text

“Do You Love Me?” Theory Debunked

Hi everyone! I have some free time this weekend and I’ve wanted to tear one YouTube video in particular a new one for a while now. It shows up in my recommended section like clockwork every few weeks, and I’m sure some of y’all have had it recommended to you, or maybe you’ve even watched it yourselves. Anyway, the rest is below the cut, and please watch the video before you read this post.

This video’s thesis statement is that Asuka and Shinji had sex during Episode 15. Despite how much I hate this video, I will give the uploader (assuming it’s them who made the video?) credit for actually interacting with Eva’s text and proposing something new. Also the formatting in this video is inconsistent as hell, so the exhibit numbers I use for this post may not match up with those used in the video.

Exhibit 1

Claim: Asuka and Shinji’s sex during instrumentality may be a replayed memory.

My rebuttal: No. Just, no. Yes, Kaji and Misato’s instrumentality sex was a replayed memory, and yes, the *very* brief scene where Asuka and Shinji appear to be having sex did take place on a blue futon, much like Asuka’s. But WHEN in Episode 15 would this have taken place? Asuka had her own room by that point (she had actually moved into Shinji’s room, and he had moved into the smaller storage room).

Coincidentally, I rewatched Episode 15 literally yesterday, so I think I have a pretty good memory of the timeline of the episode. After Asuka and Shinji kiss, Asuka runs off to wash her mouth. Pretty soon after that, Kaji comes back to the apartment with Misato, and puts her to bed. So...did they supposedly have sex after Kaji left, while Misato was asleep? If so, then it would have had to have happened at night, which poses an issue when you remember that during the scene where they appear to have sex in instrumentality, it’s very obviously daylight outside. So that begs the question: did they have sex that evening before sunset? That would mean that they had sex, and then several hours later, the kiss scene happens. I don’t know about y’all, but that timeline seems wacky to me. Furthermore, if they had already had sex...then why would Shinji react so awkwardly when Asuka brought up the idea of kissing? They would’ve already seen each other naked by that point, for fuck’s sake.

Exhibit 2A

Claim: During Asuka’s encounter with Arael, Arael throws Asuka’s ~relationship~ with Shinji back at her to make her answer for betraying her younger self’s promise to not become attached to anyone.

My rebuttal: Uh, Asuka’s promise to her younger self wasn’t that she would never grow attached -- it was that she wouldn’t cry again. Throughout the series, it’s made pretty damn clear that she’s attached to Kaji; so why, if her promise was to not grow attached, didn’t Arael throw up her attachment to Kaji back at her? Remember, Asuka knew Kaji long before she met Shinji, Additionally, in her encounter with Arael, Asuka even cries out for Kaji to help her. Also, many of the frames that flash on screen during the encounter are of the scene where Shinji tried to kiss her in her sleep in Episode 9; which in addition to Arael’s poking and prodding of her mind, seems like a pretty logical conclusion as to what Asuka’s referencing when she says she’s been defiled/violated.

Exhibit 2B

Claim: During Asuka’s encounter with Arael, one can hear moaning in the background, and the voice asking “do you love me?” is whispering, as if during a moment of intimacy.

My rebuttal: Let’s get the more obviously stupid one out of the way first. Let’s remember how old Asuka and Shinji are, shall we? They’re 13 and 14, respectively. Nobody, especially not the one being penetrated, is going to be moaning in enjoyment their first time having sex. Considering how many unhealthy sexual relationships are depicted realistically and respectfully in Eva, and the fact that Anno has gone on record stating that he did a fuck ton of research, including reading books written by women on a variety of subjects so he would write the women in Eva well, Anno has to know this. The voice asking “do you love me?” represents the fact that Asuka is vulnerable, and she does want to be loved, and the fact that the voice is whispering contrasts with Asuka’s normally loud and confident voice, revealing that the the voice she projects into the world isn’t who she really is. It’s about the contrast between Asuka’s outer and inner selves, not sex.

Exhibit 3A

Claim: In Episode 16, Asuka is abnormally cheerful the morning after her and Shinji allegedly had sex.

My rebuttal: It is not at all uncommon for Asuka, especially in the earlier parts of the series, to look cheerful and happy. This is literally the biggest reach I’ve ever seen in any Eva analysis ever, in fact it takes the fucking cake, which really says something.

Exhibit 3B

Claim: In the same scene, Asuka is disgusted with Misato for her relationship with Kaji, and says she’d never be involved in such an indecent relationship.

My rebuttal: The topic of conversation in this scene is Kaji. It is revealed in Episode 22 that Asuka had propositioned Kaji on Over The Rainbow, the ship that transported her to Japan. Kaji rejected her, telling her she’s still a child, and this rejection hurt and embarrassed Asuka a lot. This scene references Asuka’s attachment to Kaji, not her supposedly having sex with Shinji the previous night.

Exhibit 3C

Claim: Asuka isn’t embarrassed by Shinji seeing her in a bath towel.

My rebuttal: Are we forgetting that in Episode 10 she willing wore a bikini around him? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think a bikini is more revealing than a bath towel.

Exhibit 4

Claim: In Episode 16, when Shinji says combat is a man’s job, he says so because having sex with Asuka made him feel like a man. Is it purely Shinji’s sync ratio that’s making him feel manly?

My rebuttal: Yep. Also, not to wade into Shinji apologism territory, but after the hospital scene in End of Eva, the closest thing to explicitly sexual contact Shinji has with Asuka throughout the series, he feels awful about it, and not manly whatsoever.

Exhibit 5

Claim: In the ending credits, instead of “Fly Me To The Moon,” several sound clips of Asuka’s dialogue (”do you love me?” “hey, let’s kiss,” etc.) play instead.

My rebuttal: This literally means nothing. It happens in the credits, after the episode has ended.

Exhibit 6A

Claim: During instrumentality, Asuka’s chastising of Misato’s sexual relationship with Kaji implies familiarity with sex.

My rebuttal: No it doesn’t. It stems from her shame over her pursuing of Kaji and Shinji. She hates that she shares this trait with Misato. Remember, throughout the series Misato and Asuka don’t think very highly of each other.

Exhibit 6B

Claim: Asuka says “I wonder if I’ll do the kind of thing Misato does when I grow up?”

My rebuttal: This literally just affirms that Asuka is not personally familiar with sex. The uploader fails to actually analyze this quote.

#originals #asuka langley soryu #shinji ikari #misato katsuragi #ryoji kaji #evangelion #eva #nge #neon genesis evangelion

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years

Note

First of all!! Loved the MoU fic update! left you a comment on AO3 and all. 10/10 ratings haha.

Secondly, moving countries is great you should try if you ever get a chance. I've always wanted to do that and jumped in on the first opportunity I got to make that dream come true, and I recgozine how lucky I am to be able to do so. It's definitely not easy but I'd do it again if I could (in true sag fashion 😎 haha). Where would you want to live? You ever been outside the UK?

Hahaha you and I in a team would be a nightmare to play against I think. Oh come on you absolutely do not deserve people questioning your intelligence! I like to play dumb in addition to the taunting so people underestimate me, they never see it coming when I win. They never see the cheating coming either, my friends are always shocked when they find out, but I do it almost every single time! 😂 I'm competitive too but I like to play it cool especially If I lose I'll be like "it's just a game calm down yall" but if I win I'm like "in your face losers!" (very mature I know).

I love your drunken story, though does sound like it was very dangerous so I'm glad nothing bad happened to you two! Ah I love yalls nordern accent (me and everyone in this fandom 😂) haha your friend's sense of humor is golden.👌 I'm glad you enjoyed my worst drunken experience, that was the last time I did something like that, I felt bad bc my best friend had to take care of me the whole night and you're right she should've told me it was just a rock! Lucky you you didn't get a hangover the day after, I certainly regretted drinking too much that night however fun it might have been haha.

Like I said before your niece is a really cool kid haha I'm glad you have someone to talk to about Bly Manor, don't know anyone who watches the show and my friends don't like scary stuff so I have to talk to myself about it 😂 and now you! Thank you for entertaining me ;) and I only watch the parts I really like now, I'm tired of crying every time I watch the whole show haha.

Do you do random accents really badly like Dani too? 😂 it is kinda funny your mom said it like that yeah hahaha maybe she just meant the good bits? And I mean, do you think you need help? Lol

I have a sneak peek of that damie fanart here, don't think I'll ever finish it tho. I want to do a medieval AU inspired fanart. Maybe it will also inspire someone to pick up the idea and write it haha.

How's your weekend been so far? My neighbor is making me watch Grey's Anatomy season (???) 500 idk but I wish I was reading that pirate AU instead 😂

Awwh thank you so much!! I will get around to replying to the comment on AO3 tomorrow when I reply to the others I've had a very busy day today though so haven't even had chance to read any comments yet but thank you so much for giving it a 10/10!! I wanna do it as soon as I get chance but I know it's gonna be hard and that I am gonna need a bit more money behind me first but I definitely wanna do it when I can... yeah I've been out of the UK twice- one time I went to France for the weekend when I was doing my A Levels and was like 17 the college I was studying at took some of the art kids and since I was doing a photography A Level I got to go and then a couple of years ago I went to LA for a few weeks which was great but I've never been out of the UK for longer than that!! A nightmare for everyone else but it would be hilarious for us I just know it would haha... I sometimes do I have said some dumb things, I actually used one of my dumber moments as a funny little story in one of my fics- people still laugh at me now for what I said and it's been 10 years... my roommate will not let me live it down!! See surprising people that way is always brilliant like when people just expect you to lose and then you win? That's the best kind of win in my eyes!! I don't cheat at games I am just ridiculously competitive and can't stand losing unless it's something like a video game I am okay with losing those but board games I can't stand losing and I am also a terrible winner my roommate won't play games with me anymore!! I can't say anything about anyone being that kind of a winner because I know I am and one of my sister's is terrible too we literally make a song and dance over winning Oh it was so dangerous and we were so dumb to do it like anything could've happened and we both sit and look back at that and go "man we were dumb" but I also sit and go "oh my god she's gonna be a mum in like 4 months" because we've done some crazy / stupid stuff!! My roommate is without a doubt one of the funniest people I have ever met and she's not afraid to tell it how it is... I'll admit because I have a Northern accent Jamie is like the only character on Bly Manor to not have an accent to me so when I hear people talking about her accent I'm always a little like "what?" Because to me that's just how people talk around here haha I did enjoy your drunken story and honestly we've all been there I have had to be taken care of on more than one occasion for being too drunk like to the point of people having to help me into my pyjamas and everything I've been in some bad ways haha!! She should've definitely told you it was just a rock and not a turtle!! Yeah I've only had one hangover and that was after a night of drinking where I blacked out and don't remember any of the night!! Yeah the night of the drinking is always fun- the hangover isn't though and often makes you wonder if it was worth it haha She's so cool like genuinely just a cool and funny kid and she just asks all the questions about shows she's watched so with me its Bly Manor with her mum and dad it's Stranger Things she asked me about it once but I had to tell her I'd never watched it she didn't seem impressed but yeah I'll talk to her about Bly Manor any day of the week- and you too now honestly I will talk about it to anyone that will listen... I can't not watch it all if I watch it because there's just so much about it that I love even if it makes me cry... episodes 4,6, and 8 are my favourites though and are probably the ones I have watched the most!! Yeah I do random accents all the time and they're always terrible but I always find myself really funny- I had this friend at Uni that had a slight southern English accent because he had spent most of his childhood there before moving up north and he still said certain words in a southern accent and I used to do his accent all the time but it was always terrible!! Oh yeah my mum is pretty blunt with stuff like she'll say things sometimes without thinking about how it sounds that or she just doesn't care like she's said

somethings haha I am sure she did mean the Dani thing in a nice way though because she said she liked her- Dani and Owen were her favourites and I mean some help for me wouldn't be a terrible thing I'll admit haha That fan art is incredible!! Like seriously amazing!! I would love to see some medieval fan art for Damie!! I have been sent a few medieval prompts for Damie and I have started writing some of them but it's taking time to actually get full chapters together but once I have and once I have more time from wrapping up other WIPs I'll make a start on editing and uploading those because medieval stuff is always great!! It's been good thank so far today I went to a little beach town with my mum, 2 of my sisters their partners and two of my nieces (my cool niece was one of them… not that my other niece isn’t cool but you know what I mean) and me, my two brother in laws, and my nieces all played a game of crazy golf while my mum and sisters went to a cafe and had cups of tea... they didn't wanna play with us but we still had fun while we played (I came second which I was very happy with)!! I hope you enjoy Grey's Anatomy and that you get chance to read the pirate AU soon!! It's soo good!! ☺️

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goindownshipping · 3 years

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Take me back to the night we met

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: Cranked out the second and final chapter of this fun story today. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: None, light angst/miscommuncation. All with a happy ending!

Word count: 3k

Summary:

What will happen when Tony and Peter leave their small town and head back to New York?

Read chapter 1 here

Read full story on AO3 here

6 weeks later

“Tony!” Natasha called.

Tony’s gaze snapped up from his desk to his red-headed assistant, immediately pulled out of whatever trance he was in this time. He shook his head rather violently and focused on Natasha’s impatient glare.

“Yeah, yep! Sorry Nat, what’s up?” he rushed.

Natasha just gaped at him, realizing she’d be repeating the last several minutes of updates about various plans she needed Tony’s approval on.

“I needed your signature on these documents, like a week ago. Now, I’m late to a meeting, so please, I beg you, look over these and I’ll pick them up from you by the end of the day.” Natasha left the room in a tizzy. Tony didn’t even have time to respond before the door was closing behind her.

He glanced down at his desk, his numerous unsent text messages mocking him in broad daylight. He couldn’t bring himself to pay any mind to the far more important documents directly in front of him; for some reason, unbeknownst to even himself, he still couldn’t manage to pull his thoughts away from one Peter Parker.

It had been over a month since he returned home from Springdale with a new number in his phone and the silliest crush he’d had since high school. For what must have been the millionth time in a month, he let his mind wander to the all-too-brief interactions with Peter that weekend. That first night in town had been just the beginning of Peter worming his way into Tony’s previously impermeable heart.

How he managed to get under Tony’s skin so quickly, Tony couldn’t possibly comprehend. Maybe it had something to do with that thing Peter did with his tongue, but in all reality, Tony knew it was much more than that. It was Peter’s ability to challenge Tony intellectually, his knack for making Tony smile more earnestly than anyone in years, his insistence that Tony didn’t owe anyone any explanations for why he left Springdale or why he now called New York home, and so much more. Peter made Tony feel seen. Any other time, and by any other person, Tony hated being seen for all that he was. But with Peter, he relished that feeling. That entire weekend in Springdale, Tony selfishly soaked up moment after moment with Peter, imagining what it would be like to feel this content with himself on a regular basis.

They danced, they flirted, they kissed, and they fell into bed together after the wedding. It was a short trip for both of them, but neither man seemed concerned with the passing of time. Whispered promises between sheets and under the stars encouraged Tony to believe that maybe this wasn’t just a passing moment for the two of them. Maybe, finally, Tony found someone that could keep up with him. Someone that wanted Tony for everything he came with.

He headed home with butterflies in his stomach, eager to see Peter again and find out what would come next for the two of them. He’d sent him a text before his plane even left the ground in Springdale, not giving himself the time to second-guess anything:

Tony: Hey Pete, it’s Tony! I’m just heading back to NYC. I hope I’ll see you soon ;)

That was more than one month ago. No response, no acknowledgement of the message, nothing. Peter had gone completely radio-silent.

At first, Tony didn’t panic. It was a busy time for Peter’s team at work, and Tony even lost himself in his work for a while. But after a couple weeks with nothing, Tony began to feel the pit in his stomach. Realization dawned on him that if Peter, millennial Peter who was always attached to his phone, hadn’t responded at that point, Tony shouldn’t expect anything.

When that realization came about, he lost the newfound pep in his step, his self-deprecation returned in full force, and he was no longer pleasant nor productive at work. Sure, he could have ventured a few floors below his office to seek out Peter, but that was crossing a line, even for Tony. it would be unprofessional and unfair to put him in that position. Instead, Tony wallowed. He pretended nothing had happened; that he hadn’t returned from his trip as a different person and then suddenly reverted back to his destructive ways.

So here he was now. The essential documents requiring his attention and signature mocked him while his phone sat open with dozens of texts he’d never managed to send to Peter. He wasn’t sure where to start or what to say. Each time he thought he was finally going to just hit send, he managed to convince himself not to.

Peter knew how to contact him. He would have if he really wanted anything to do with Tony.

Tony shook his head before tossing his phone in a random desk drawer and finally buckled down. By the end of the day he’d made it through each of the documents Nat needed him to sign, and he even managed to bring them to her office to save her the trip, and annoyance.

“Hey, Tony!” she called out before he could leave her office.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Development wanted me to remind you that they have a new StarkPhone prototype they want you to check out. I can have them leave a sample on your desk sometime this week. Does that work for you?”

“Sure, yeah. Just make sure they get my info on the phone so I can actually use it. What’s the point of testing if it’s not functional?”

Nat nodded and made a note on her computer. “Sure thing, boss. Just keep an eye out for it by Friday.”

“Thanks, Nat. I’m headed out for the day, have a good night.”

He offered a small wave before retreating down the hallway.

A few days later, Tony found a sleek new phone on his desk. He was immediately impressed by his developers and engineers. He clicked around the various applications and settings, habitually checking his messages. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t any messages from Peter, and, gratefully, it appeared that his unsent drafts must have been cleared out when his information and settings were uploaded onto this phone. He let out a long, slow breath, willing himself to see this as a way to move forward without the constant reminder of words that had gone unsaid.

Little did he know, Peter Parker woke up to his phone buzzing incessantly as dozens of text messages from an unknown number flooded his phone.

Peter was suddenly awoken by his cell phone repeatedly buzzing on his nightstand, so consistently that he couldn’t help but worry that something was seriously wrong. He snatched his phone and was shocked to find more messages than he could count flooding his notifications. All the messages were from the same unknown number. Through his sleep-blurred vision he couldn’t make much out, but the messages didn’t seem to be coherent, and some of them were incomplete thoughts. When his vision finally focused on the too-bright screen in his dark bedroom, he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Unknown Number: I’m so sorry for whatever I did between Springdale and now. I was really hoping you and I would have a chance Pete. I hope you’re doing well xx

Unknown Number: Hey Pete! I hope you got back home safely :) I’d love to grab a coffee if you have any free time in the next couple days. Lmk!

Unknown Number: For once, I thought I found someone. I just wish you’d tell me if

Peter felt his hands start to shake as he scrolled through the messages. Everything was scrambled - he had no idea when any of these were sent or in what order. It was as if the floodgates had opened and Peter had a direct glimpse into Tony’s thoughts.

Peter knew there was nothing to be done at 5:00 AM, and he really didn’t want to try to piece everything together over text. He took a deep breath resolving to attempt to talk to Tony in-person at work. Knowing there was no point in attempting to get back to sleep, Peter went about his morning routine, determined to get to the office early. If he had any hope of talking to Tony, it had to be soon.

He managed to get to work on autopilot, his thoughts never leaving the older man he’d fallen for back in Springdale. He was beyond disappointed when Tony never actually contacted him, but Peter just assumed it was par for the course with Tony Stark. What more could he have expected? Sure, it felt like they’d had a real connection, but Peter knew how different they really were. Tony owned the damn company Peter worked for! It had been a tough pill to swallow, but he’d managed to stop dwelling on it after a few weeks and some sharp words from MJ.

But now, Peter didn’t know what to think. His mind was as scrambled as these messages from Tony. Why now? Did Tony even mean to send these? Oh god, was he drunk? Did he even know what he’d done?

Peter shook his head in an attempt to clear it as he made his way up from the Subway toward the office. It was barely 7:00 AM; Peter made a silent wish that he’d be able to talk to Tony. Forgoing his own floor, Peter went straight to the executive floor, shocked that his badge was cleared when he pressed the highest button in the elevator.

The executive floor was nearly silent and most of the lights were out. Peter could see a soft glow coming from underneath the door to Tony’s office and he steeled himself as he took long steps down the corridor. Upon reaching the door, Peter took a deep breath and knocked softly.

“It’s open!” Tony called, clearly expecting anyone besides Peter.

Peter hesitantly pushed the door open, but didn’t move an inch. Tony looked up from his desk and froze. Peter could hear the breath catch in his throat and didn’t miss the slight flinch throughout his entire body.

“Um, what?” Tony blurted.

“I-”

“No. No, you don’t get to just show up here like this. After what, a month? No, Peter this isn’t fair-”

“Not fair?” Peter exclaimed. “You know what’s not fair Tony? Nothing from you this whole time and then you just spam my phone in the middle of the night? What the hell is that about!”

Tony just blinked at Peter. Peter huffed, hurt and frustrated by Tony’s lack of acknowledgement for what he’d done. Peter just shook his head.

“I don’t know what I thought I was doing coming up here. Never mind. See you, Tony.”

He moved to pull the door shut and retreat from the doorway.

“Wait! Peter, wait!” Tony jumped up from his chair, nearly knocking everything off his desk with the force of his hip knocking into the corner.

Peter stood, waiting.

“Will you just… will you come in here so we can talk? I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, Peter.”

Peter let out another frustrated sigh, but acquiesced. He stepped through the doorway and gently pulled the door shut behind him. When he turned to face Tony, he was surprised by how close they were standing.

“Tony,” Peter started softly. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us Pete.” Tony shook his head, unable to bring himself to look at Peter.

“Well,” Peter pulled his phone out of his back pocket, “how about we start with these.”

As Peter turned his phone so Tony could see the screen, Tony could feel the color drain from his face. There, he saw a thread of messages that were never sent from him to Peter. Tony shook his head and pulled out his own phone, pulling up his unsent message drafts to confirm that they had been cleared out when he switched phones. When he pulled up his messages, he suddenly wished the floor would open up and swallow him. All his drafts had been sent; every single one now had a little check mark next to them, indicating that they’d been delivered rather than deleted as he assumed.

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” Tony rushed out. “You were never supposed to get those messages, I never meant to bother you like this, oh my god. Oh god, I’m a disaster, how could-”

“Whoa, Tony! It’s okay!” Peter reassured him. Peter wanted to move just a bit closer, enough to reach out and soothe Tony himself. But he stopped himself short, his hand twitching at his side.

“I was happy to hear from you, Tony,” Peter said softly, careful not to spook Tony where he still refused to make eye contact. “I just don’t understand why you never sent any of these to me.”

At that, Tony’s head whipped up and he fixed Peter with a cold stare. “I texted you before I even left Springdale. Don’t act like this is on me. The ball has been in your court, Peter. That’s why I didn’t send any of these to you. It was pretty damn clear you didn’t want to hear from me!”

Peter just gaped at Tony. “Tony, I never got any messages from you. See!” Peter scrolled to the top of the thread, where the earliest message was dated as that morning. “These all came in this morning. They’re all out of order, but I didn’t get anything from you before now. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me!”

“What?!” Tony snatched Peter’s phone without thinking and scrolled through the messages that his phone had betrayed him with. As he scrolled through the mixed up messages, he came upon the one that Peter was meant to have received. Instead of receiving it six weeks prior, it was delivered in the flurry of drafts this morning.

“I don’t… how did this happen?” Tony muttered to himself.

He thought back to the day he left Springdale. He remembered being in a rush to get some work messages sent as he was taking off, going back and forth between emails and texts. Nat was insistent on getting some documents from Tony, and he had been late, as usual. He distinctly remembered finishing his message to Peter after responding to Nat right as his plane was taking off.

“Stupid old fucking phone,” Tony whispered.

“What?” Peter finally asked.

Finally, Tony made eye contact with Peter that didn’t make Peter feel like he was being hit with ice. In fact, Tony looked a bit sheepish.

“For a self-proclaimed tech genius, I’m really very stupid.”

Peter let himself smile ever so slightly.

“Turns out if I’d just checked my phone like a normal person, I would’ve noticed that I never actually hit send on that first message to you. And since I’m anything but normal, I’ve spent the last six weeks convincing myself that you didn’t want anything to do with me. Hence the message drafts that were never supposed to be sent to you. Again, I’m a stupid genius and my phone went ahead and sent out all my drafts when I updated to a new prototype.”

Peter took a deep breath as Tony handed his phone back to him. “You mean to tell me,” Peter grinned carefully, “that you, Tony Stark, forgot to hit send ?” He took a hesitant step toward Tony. “And then,” he continued, and took another step, “you wrote 20 texts that you never sent , all of which were sent to me when you got a new phone?”

“Um, yes,” Tony admitted as he looked up at Peter who had now entered his personal space.

In an instant, Peter threw back his head and let out an incredulous laugh. Before he could think about it, he wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and hauled him across the last few inches between them. Tony stumbled into him and gripped Peter’s shoulders to stabilize himself. Peter quickly slid his phone into his pocket and brought his hand up to cradle the back of Tony’s head.

The touch was gentle and intimate, but neither man seemed to think anything of it. Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s and the older man loosened his grip on Peter to loop his arms around his neck.

“Tony,” Peter murmured softly.

Tony couldn’t hide the way his body quivered at the feeling of Peter’s breath on his face, their proximity, and the tone of Peter’s voice in that moment. Peter only gripped him tighter to his body as Tony buried his face in Peter’s neck. Forget moving too fast or being dignified, Tony missed him.

Tony stiffened, realizing he must’ve said that out loud when Peter whispered, “I missed you too, Tony.”

Peter craned his head back just enough to nose his way along Tony’s temple as his lips lightly brushed Tony’s cheek. Tony got the hint and angled his face up just slightly, inviting Peter in. Peter didn’t hesitate for a second, immediately feeling his way to Tony’s lips and slotting his against Tony’s. It was firm and soft, comforting and intense, brand new and like coming home. Peter let out a soft moan as Tony’s lips parted and his tongue darted out to run along the seam of Peter’s lips. Peter parted his lips in response and pulled Tony impossibly closer. Peter’s hand at the back of Tony’s head tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make Tony gasp and part his lips even more. Peter took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Tony’s hot mouth, and they both moaned at the contact.

Peter pulled away with a wet smack, catching Tony’s weight as he leaned in for more. “Tony,” Peter breathed as he leaned his forehead against Tony’s again. Tony looked up at him through long eyelashes, and Peter could’ve melted right there. Peter just sighed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Tony’s head before taking a small step back.

“Just to be clear,” Peter says softly. “I want you, I want us, Tony.”

Tony let out one final sigh of relief, not realizing how much he’d needed to hear that. “Oh thank god, Pete,” Tony grinned.

“But I swear to god Tony, if you ever wake me up with 25 unsent text messages, ever again, I swear-”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that I’m bad with technology.”

“Says the CEO and founder of Stark Industries. I’m sure your customers will be thrilled to hear that,” Peter teased.

“Be nice,” Tony pouted. “I missed you and I’m fragile.”

Peter just smiled. “Yeah, I missed you too, Tony. But you’re stuck with me now, I promise”.

Before Tony could reply, Natasha stormed into the office, mid-rant. “Tony Stark! What are all these damn emails you spammed me with this morning?!”

Tony just smiled sheepishly and hid his face in Peter’s neck. He had some learning to do.

#mine #starker #starker au #starker fanfic #tony stark x peter parker

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kamandzak · 3 years

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Into the Great Night - Chapter 2

I started writing this book about a year ago and finished it ~7 months ago. Performing a big rewrite and this chapter is so dismally beautiful I can’t keep it to myself.

Context: Andrew Garland’s boyfriend of eight years has passed away and he is struggling

Recommended listening: Compass and Miracle by Two Steps from Hell

It was foolish of me to think it would be any better at Tessa’s house. Merely leaving the place Greg and I had cohabitated didn’t mean our past would leave me; that my grief would leave me.

It was no better sitting on Tessa’s couch as opposed to my own.

It was still lonely. It was still joyless.

It was still too cold.

If that was my new normal…. If that was the life of which I would be forced to live for the rest of my days, I preferred to die.

Tessa was worried. Beth was worried. Sara and Clara were worried. They all had the right to be. Mom and Dad still hadn’t reached out. I couldn’t say I was mad about it.

For the first month I carried the same daily, depressive routine: Wake up, shower, watch videos, eat, shower again, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Nothing to disrupt the morose mentality I held from the moment my eyes opened until they closed. Even in my dreams I continued being sad. I couldn’t escape – trapped forever.

Jake’s constant messages of concern did nothing but send me sinking deeper and deeper into hazy nothingness. Peppered with queries about when I planned to emerge onto the gaming scene, along with the occasional ludicrous statement about how he understood my stuffy brain, each message was deleted as it was read. There was no reason to have those hanging around, reminding me why I was in Reno and not where I had once dreamed of making a life for myself.

Whenever I closed my eyes, Greg’s face appeared in the dark. Maybe I was napping; maybe I was finally sleeping fully through the night; maybe I was simply blinking. Always, he was there.

Sometimes it was a fleeting glance of what used to be the best part of my life. Sometimes I dreamed of things that had already happened, or things I wanted to be that would never come to light.

One night, I dreamed we got married. Waking up was almost as painful as watching him die.

Tessa was worried I’d off myself. It wasn’t like we talked about it or anything, of course, but I could hear her and Beth sitting over tea every weekend, hushed mutterings coming from her dining room table or her room or her little porch. My grief had thrown a wrench into the lives of those around me, Beth worrying about my life when she normally would work on lesson plans for her rambunctious class of first graders. When she was feeling brave, Tessa would ask why I kept my secrets down deep for so long. That right there was why.

I had suffered from depression before but what I was feeling wasn’t just unadulterated sadness; it was a fierce, far more complicated set of emotions leading me to exist in a far more dangerous mindset than I had ever been in before. Instead of having an urge to kill the part of me that is making me feel so unbelievably yet nondescriptly sad, I wanted death. Death, full stop.

Mom and Dad and Sara and Clara and Beth and Tessa weren’t good enough reasons to stay alive, and all I wanted was to see Greg just for another minute. I wanted to give up a life with my own flesh and blood just to see him again. I would have given up all the time in the world for one more night of SNL and inside jokes with a man who made me feel like so much more than who I actually was; a unextraordinary nerd with awkward social tendencies and difficulty communicating. With Greg I felt like I was more than just me; without him, I didn’t know who I was anymore.

“Andrew! Your phone!” A crumpled ball of paper bounced off my head as Tessa’s voice cut through my outer shell, the sounds of my phone following her words. My phone beeped loudly, the tell-tale sign of a Facetime call on it’s way, and I dragged my finger across the screen to accept before I read the name. Each bodily movement seemed to take ten times longer than Before. I was living seconds behind reality.

“Garland.”

Jake’s face popped onto my screen. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1….

“Hi.”

“You look like hell.”

Jake’s mouth stopped moving before I even put together the string of letters that made up his blunt statement.

“Mm,” I managed.

“You in Reno?” I nodded. “I’m heading out that way this weekend. Never been to Vegas believe it or not. Figured I’d go explore. Have you seen anyone since everything happened?

“Andrew, want anything from the gas station?” Tessa stood in her door frame and as I shook my head she left without another word.

“I’ll take that as a no?”

“Yeah, no. No, I haven’t seen anyone. I don’t want to see anyone.”

“What if they came to you? So you didn’t have to leave where you are?”

“I’m not about to let a stranger into my sister’s apartment.”

“We’re not technically strangers at this point, right?”

“Why are you so hell-bent on meeting face-to-face?”

Jake paused, inhaling loudly, wheezily, in a way that reminded me of Greg; then again, everything reminded me of Greg whether it had anything to do with him or not.

“The best thing that came out of the worst time in my life is now I can be empathetic to other people going through the same thing.”

The tiniest part of me wanted to know what he’d been through but the larger part didn’t have the brain power to care because what actually mattered didn’t exist anymore. I didn’t think Jake was purposely jabbing at open, festering wounds for the sake of cruelty; he was just caring for me.

I didn’t want his caring. I only wanted one person’s caring and couldn’t get past the knowledge that I'd never have it again.

“Let me know if you want someone to talk to. I’m only in Nevada for a couple of days. I won’t mind stopping. Really.”

“Mm.”

“I gotta go. Message me.”

The screen went black. Please Rate the Quality of your Call, a prompt stated, with the outlines of five stars beneath. I did no such thing.

I wasn’t about to message him, even if I had a reason to do so. I wasn’t going to be messaging anyone because all conversations led back to Greg. How was gaming going? Was I still in Los Angeles? Was I still going to be on YouTube? All questions would eventually wind up being about him and the more I talked, the more I would have to remember. The more I would have to remember, the more I would have to feel, the more I would hurt.

It started happening when I arrived at Tessa’s; my need for answers led me to the internet and introduced me to the term dissociation; I would simply leave my body. Up to the ceiling I seemed to float as if filled with helium, watching what was taking place below. Tessa waking up and making breakfast before going to her gaming room; her video editor Reese chatting with her about her upload schedule; Beth coming and going; myself sitting in the same spot on the same couch day in and day out.

I didn’t know why it was happening, the only reasonable explanation being that I so desperately didn’t want to exist but was too much of a damn coward to kill myself. In the end, dissociation seemed like the best option. Just remove myself painlessly from my surroundings. Was certainly better than the alternative. It was peaceful, exiting the current plane and living somewhere else if only for just a few minutes.

Live. That was the key word. I was still technically alive, my heart still beating and my stomach still digesting and my eyes blinking and lungs expanding with each breath. The human being my brain commanded was still moving. My mind was developed enough to operate on autopilot, doing the dumb things it had to do to keep everything in stasis. I ‘lived’, for lack of a better word.

When I did gather the courage to look up what I was feeling on the internet, nothing made sense. Nothing could be remotely tailored to fit my situation. I could relate to none of it. These people with their inspiring stories and memoirs written in loving memoriam, and benches dedicated to loved ones… their experiences seemed to minimize what kept me awake at night. How were they able to do that? How could those strangers make me and my emotions feel trivial without even knowing me and without me actively posting in detail what was happening in my head? As hard as I tried to imagine those brave widows and widowers and left-behinds feeling the way I did, their stories always wound up being of getting over that tremendous loss.

I didn’t want to get over it. If I got over it I would lose Greg forever. I’d already lost him once.

The grocery lists of things I could do to help myself mocked me as I read the advice of people who claimed to know how to recover from the un-recoverable. Write them a letter, authors would write in silly, curly-cue fonts before giving me a whole page to write the letter, as if I was going to sit down and put pen to paper and tell Greg about something I saw that reminded me of our first date. List all the good times, one said, with bullet points for me to fill out five moments, as if every moment we had together wasn’t the best of my life. Find someone to talk to, another whimsically suggested as it reminded me that keeping my feelings inside was dangerous. As if I didn’t already know it was ripping me apart from the inside.

They didn’t tell me how to start a letter to Greg where all I could do was say how much I missed him. They didn’t tell me how to find someone to talk to when I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. They gave me five fucking spots to talk about good times as if our six-year relationship could be reduced down to that many moments and no more.

They said all of it was doable; they said that when the lost their husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend or best friend or grandparent or dog or whatever, those were the steps they took to recovering and moving on.

They weren’t me, though. They weren’t me and they weren’t Greg and they weren’t the set of circumstances under which we had lived. Even if half of the equation was there, the other wasn’t. Maybe their loved one was sick. Were they sick with the same ailment, or one that carried similar stigma? Did they purposely risk illness for the sake of their significant other or family member or friend? Did their risk become reality because fate can be an unnecessarily cruel mistress? Did they love the other person so much they shortened their own life?

The door opened and couch shifted as Tessa’s hands landed on the sides of my face.

“Andrew”

I cracked at her voice, her icy hands wrapping around my head and pushing me against her. Worming my arms under hers, I clung to her small shoulders, weeping into her jacket sleeves. Eyes screwed shut I gasped for air, seeing Greg in the darkness as he mirrored the same breathy sounds. While mine were of sadness, his were of death – the only sound of him I could manage to remember despite being together for so long. Tessa pulled at my non-resisting body and we sat together, tangled in a heap of coats and scarves and unwashed hair. Much like when we were young – when we didn’t understand what the world was about or why we were with the people we were with – and Tessa would protect me, we sat close, her love drowning out the pulsing drone of fear and hatred and sadness and anger rushing through my mind as it struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible.

For several minutes, we sat in silence.

“Andrew.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” “And,” she finally pushed me off her body, holding me in front of her. Cold air hit my hot face, adhering the salty wash of tears to my skin, “And you can talk to me about anything you need to. I know you don’t want to. I know you think you’re strong enough. Maybe the only way to become strong is to not be.”

“Where do I s-start?” I hiccupped.

“Let’s get the team together,” she began, rising slowly and pulling me up with her. “Maybe they can help.”

“But-.”

“No one knows you like we do.”

Hours later, beneath the door of Tessa’s bedroom, I heard her. I heard them.

“You guys have to get here as soon as you can. Please.”

“What’s the matter, Tess?”

“I think it’s happening…. I think the numbness is wearing off. He’s starting to feel things again. It’s not that I don’t want to be here when it happens. I just don’t want to not have you guys here with us. I don’t know what do to.”

Greg’s death wasn’t supposed to be affecting my sisters as the sounds of their video call trickled through the under-crack of the door. It wasn’t supposed to be affecting Jake or anyone else but me and the Davis’.

It was a stupid thought and their voices continued, muffled by my sense of inadequacy. Of course it would be affecting other people. It started doing so the moment Tessa posted my video. It started affecting the girls the second I told them I was having an emergency and they needed to come see me. What I hadn’t wanted was exactly what I had dug myself into when I welcomed other people into the hell-circle I was stuck in.

I didn’t want them to come see me. I didn’t want Beth to take time off and Clara to leave Frank and Sara to leave Duncan to come take care of me. I was twenty-four. I should have been able to take care of me.

The front door opened several hours later and I looked up with a faux look of surprise. Out, I sent them telepathically. Please go.

“Why are you here?” Tessa rolled her eyes at my question.

“Boy, don’t pretend like you weren’t listening on my Zoom call with them,” she cracked a smile before reading the room and immediately coming back to our reality. “You know why.”

“We’re just afraid that there’s more to address than just your changing grief,” Beth began and bile began rising in my throat. It was only a matter of time really, before they put two and two together. I guess I had thought it would take a little longer. Her hand landed in the middle of my back, leading me to the same sofa where Tessa and I had broken down together.

“Don’t worry about me,” I began confidently. “I’m just-.”

But then I coughed. I coughed and coughed and the more I tried to regulate my breathing, the harder it was. Choking; gasping.

Hands rubbed my back while others pushed me down and a another lowered a glass of water into my field of vision. Sip, choke, swallow, repeat until I could finally shakily inhale with difficulty.

Looking down at me were four sets of beautiful, worried eyes with which I could barely stand to keep contact.

Clara spoke,

“Stage three.” “What?”

“That’s what you’re in, isn’t it? Frank just… just lost a patient and when I asked him, especially when Tessa told me about all of your shakes and fevers, he said he thinks it's stage three. I think I believe him.”

I was at a complete and utter loss. In my molasses-filled, sloths-paced brain, grief at the loss of Greg drifted beside my own secrets and the suffering of my sisters, bouncing off of one another like oil and water.

“You don’t understand,” I finally said.

“Don’t understand what, exactly,” Tessa asked pointedly, further questions and opinions trapped behind pursed lips. I could practically see them stabbing her mouth, begging to be released.

“Everything!” I exploded. I hadn’t been truly angry yet; up until then anger had taken too much effort. What energy grief didn’t zap from my system the HIV stole for its own selfish purposes. “It’s all connected, isn’t it?” I asked, huffing out laughs like a mad scientist whose madness had taken over the scientist within. “I can’t tell the world about me and Greg because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight. Then I’m with Greg and he’s so afraid of never having love and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life, so then we take a risk and guess what? Protection fails. The risk becomes reality and I get HIV but I can’t talk about the love or the disease because it’s been ingrained in me since I was a child that people who get sick with this illness get it as recompense for their actions. I don’t believe it when I look at Greg but when I stare at myself in the mirror all I can hear is Dad’s voice. I go to clinics occasionally but only outside of town and without people I even sort of know because I’m afraid subscribers who have never seen my fucking face will recognize me and assume I’m going there for a reason I don’t want anyone to know about and guess what? They’re right! I don’t want them to know about going to get HIV treatment because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight.”

“Andrew-.”

“We keep loving each other because hey, once I’m sick, we might as well, right?”

“Andrew-.”

“And then Greg dies. Greg fucking dies and I can’t tell anyone because I don’t have anyone and the only reason I don’t is because I spent the first seventeen years of my life having it ingrained in my mind that if I don't date, marry, and have a family with a beautiful woman, I’m damned to a life of eternal suffering.”

“But we-.”

“I can’t tell the gaming community because then Dad could find out. I can’t tell you guys or Mom because I feel bad that I kept it a secret for so long but I had to keep it a secret so I could stay safe and love the man I loved because I knew he didn’t have all the time in the world. So now I’m one serious infection away from dying because I didn’t do serious enough treatments to start with because I was so afraid of people finding out I’m not straight,” I nearly screamed, throat raw, standing up and spinning around to face my audience. “How the fuck am I supposed to deal with all of this?”

From all four sides, warm sweaters hit my torso as each sister came from a different angle and held on tightly, two of them shaking against me with emotion. Long nails raked through my hair, hands rubbed my back and arm and nape of neck; hair tickled my nose. Cold, dry lips pressed against my forehead.

When I dared to observe who was directly in front of me, Sara had tears running down her slim cheeks.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” I whispered. “All it’s doing is making you sad.”

“I would have been sad when you first told me, Andrew. Nothing keeps human emotion from happening. But you’ve kept it in for so long, and the longer it builds up the more explosive it is when you finally release the valve. If you told me six years ago that you were in love with a boy and were scared, I would have been so proud. I would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do… however you wanted to live your life. If you told me whenever you found out about being sick that you were sick, I would have been devastated. I still am. It’s just… complicated now,” she petered off as the others nodded in agreement.

“I’m not mad at you, in case you think that,” Clara spoke. “I don’t think any of us are. In a way it’s nice to finally know all your dirty laundry so we can be here as a family. I know you have your reasons for doing what you did. We all do. There’s a lot to sort out. A lot to do. A lot of catching up that has to take place.”

“There’s no timeline for this stuff,” Beth began and before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth,

“AIDS, Beth. A. I. D. S.”

“Grief, Andrew. G. R. I. E. F.”

“Awesome,” I mumbled. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“Not alone. We need to get you a doctor here,” Tessa said with a sad expression that, for a brief moment, I wanted to smack off of her face. “I haven’t seen you go since we moved. You don’t want to, but we don’t want to lose you.” I wanted to lose me but that was beside the point so I kept the words inside. “I can’t lose you,” she managed and faint sounds of stifled sadness cut through the quiet.

“I know you want to go,” Beth said as Clara and Sara ushered Tessa away from the scene. “Not to the doctor, but to him. You want to go to Greg. Right now what we say won’t change that. Nothing we say will change how you feel. Nothing feels worth living for right now and I know that. When you go through something like this, you can tell other people you really do know what they’re going through. We aren’t worth living for right now and I understand that. There isn’t much we can do, but what we can do is make sure you’re eating and at least taking some medication. There isn’t much more to do right now than sustain yourself. Let us help.”

“Okay.” “You loved him. I understand that,” Beth whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “And you both did what you could with the time you had. Life’s unfair. I don’t know why things happen to people the way they do. I’m sorry.”

“Why wasn’t my best good enough?”

“Oh, Andrew. It was. I promise. There are just some things we can’t control. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

#writer #writing #novel #novelist #author #kamandzak #into the great night #grief #tw suicide #tw dissociation

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cravingmarvel · 4 years

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Kill All Your Friends - Chapter Two

Bucky Barnes AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nothing bad yet, a few swear words ahead though!

Word Count: 3126

Summary: You loved so many things about your boyfriend Steve. One thing is his passion to help people! But what you don’t know is that the person who needs his help would become your pain in the ass. Bucky Barnes is stubborn, selfish and messy! But as Steve is whisked away on a business trip, both of you are stuck living with each other for the weekend.

But, what you both come to find out, is that you have more in common than you think. Bucky wakes something in you, that’s been missing for years…

A/N: I know I uploaded Chapter One only yesterday, but I just didn’t have anything to do today so I wrote this! I’m so happy so many of you liked the first chapter and as a little treat for all the love I thought it would be nice to give you chapter two today! I have to say that Kill All Your Friends by MCR basically helped me plan and write this series hahah so go listen to that song if you want to feel the same vibes as I did!

Have Fun!

Tags: (you by all means don’t have to read this! I would love to get your blessing that’s all hahah) @suz-123 @sgtjbuccky @buckisthatyou @softhairbarnes @justreadingfics @captain-rogers-beard @captain-ariel-barnes

You walked into the living room, rubbing your eyes as the morning sun hit your face. Walking straight to the kitchen, you got all the necessary ingredients to make yourself pancakes. You tied your hair up because there is nothing nastier to you than finding hair in your food. You started mixing all the ingredients together lazily, not really having the strength to do this faster. Still in a trance from your night’s sleep, you barely noticed Bucky walking in.

“Morning.” He said in the most monotone way anyone could ever say it and went straight to making himself some toast. Bucky leaned on the kitchen counter with his lower back, waiting for his toast to be ready. “Wow, someone’s talkative this fine morning.” Bucky’s voice dripping in sarcasm. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to keep calm and collected, not showing him any sign what anger he was evoking inside of you.

“Fuck off, Barnes.” You kept your eyes peeled on your pancakes, making sure he doesn’t steal them again. You didn’t have the patience to deal with his bullshit this morning. You saw him smirking from the corner of your eye.

He took his piece of toast out of the toaster as soon as it was done. “No, I won’t, doll” Bucky took his piece of dry toast between his teeth and walked behind you. With a swift move, he pulled the hairband out of your hair.

“Are you serious?” You shouted, turning around. The heat rising to your head formed a light headache. Your blood was boiling, cheeks turning red from the anger you could no longer keep inside.

“Are you serious?” Bucky said, mocking you as he walked backwards into the hallway. He tied his hair up with your hairband, smiling victoriously. You were ready to punch him, but he was already in his room and you heard the lock of his door click. A habit both of you developed.

The smell of burned pancake caught your attention, fishing it out of the pan and throwing it away. All you wanted to do is call Steve and tell him that you can’t take Bucky’s bullshit anymore. You wanted your peace back. The calm mornings you knew and loved were gone as soon as Bucky moved into your apartment.

---

Well you can hide a lot about yourself

But honey, what are you gonna do?

And you can sleep in a coffin

But the past ain't through with you

Your breathing was heavy, but nothing could stop you right now. Your body just moved to the rhythm, giving in full control. You loved these little moments of just letting go, letting you be free. You were in the middle of cleaning the shelve behind the kitchen table when the music just took your focus away. Your ability to sing was ok, but it didn’t matter. Screaming the lyrics almost, made them even more meaningful. It doesn’t matter what you sound like. You’re not on a stage, you’re in your living room. If anything, the only thing that could stop your freedom, hold you back from your flowing movements was-

“Great moves!”

-Bucky.

You stopped and looked at him leaning on the wall of the hallway, smiling. He was fully dressed, fancy shirt and everything. Even his hair was styled a little differently, it had more volume, pushed back from his forehead a little at the roots. You were surprised to see him again at all today. He was in his room up until this point. Your chest rising and falling quickly, you looked at the clock hanging on the wall. “It’s three PM! What have you been doing in your room?”

“Masturbating.” He said sarcastically, smirking at you. You scrunched your nose in disgust, taking the cloth and continued cleaning the items on the shelve you put on the table.

Bucky walked further into the room towards you stopping at the kitchen table, the only thing between you two, completely ignoring your question. He picked up your phone, reading the title of the song. “My Chemical Romance? Good choice. I didn’t think you would listen to music like that.”

You turned your body away from him, putting the cleaned items back on the shelf, catching your breath a little from all the dancing. “What did you think I would listen to?” You looked over your shoulder to Bucky who grinned mockingly. He turned the music up and you turned your focus on the shelf in front of you again.

“Maybe something like Taylor Swift? A little One Direction?” Bucky said, followed by a chuckle. You have nothing against Taylor Swift, but her taste in music is a little further away from what you usually listen to. You have respect for every artist, but you usually tend to stay with what you love.

Your parents are the ones to blame for your taste in music. Your mom being one of the biggest Nirvana fans out there always listen to them in the car. It was almost as if the radio or other artists didn’t exist. All you listen to in your mom’s car was Nirvana. Your dad was the same, though he leaned more towards the metal style of music.

You threw your head back laughing whole heatedly at his assumptions. Turning to face him properly, you saw him grinning. “You got me all wrong, Barnes.” You knew exactly what he saw in you, basically what everyone else seems to see in you. “I love My Chemical Romance; I even have their lyrics tattooed.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped; eyes wide as you told him about your tattoo. “You have a tattoo? Y/n… full of surprises. Show me.” You smiled at his reaction and lifted your shirt to reveal the words inked on the skin over your rib-cage: We’ll carry on. “Nice choice of lyrics, doll.” He smiled, nodding his head, approving of your tattoo.

He picked up a picture frame, the photo in it was taken at your birthday party two years ago. Steve surprised you by getting all your friends from home to celebrate your birthday together. He always puts so much effort into his surprises for you, you could never compete. You saw his leg tapping to the beat.

Sometimes you scrape and sink so low

I'm shocked at you're capable of

And if this a coronation

I ain't feeling the love

Slowly but surely, he moved his torso, his shoulders and then he started bopping his head so the rhythm. You couldn’t hold back a chuckle, smiling without noticing. Seeing him like this was truly priceless. Him moving so freely made a different light shine on him, a soft golden one, making him look almost lovely.

Bucky took it a step further, picking up a pen lying around to mimic a microphone. He started singing the lyrics, closing his eyes as he moved his body, guiding him all around the living room. His voice wasn’t better than yours and not worse either. He knew the lyrics by heart.

He opened his eyes, looking right at you without haltering his movements. Bucky gestured for you to join him with his hand.

'Cause we're all a bunch of animals

That never payed attention in school

Deciding that it was time for you to shine, you picked up a bottle of water standing on the table and blurred out the lyrics with him. You danced around the table, to the middle of the room, keeping your eyes on Bucky.

Both of you moving so ridiculously, the circus would be jealous.

So tell me all about your problems

I was killing before killing was cool

You're so cool, you're so cool

Bucky started jumping around and you made great efforts to imitate playing the guitar. Each move made you breathless, exhausted, but you just couldn’t stop. It was as if everything blurred out, only the two of you in focus. Soon both of you were just smiling, laughing, getting lost in the song.

'Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends

And we all get together when we bury our friends

It's been 9 bitter years since I've been seeing your face

To your surprise, Bucky took your hand in his, swirling you around.

You let go of everything that stood between you and Bucky. Whatever might have happened. You were living. You didn’t care at the moment.

Both of you were headbanging like two ridiculously armature rock stars. The slick sweat on your forehead cooling with every move.

Bucky’s phone started ringing in his pocket and he wiped some of the sweat off of his forehead.

And you're walking away

And I will die in this place

Bucky turned the music down and took a few steps away from you, turning his back to you. Standing there awkwardly, out of breath and slightly confused by what just happened. You played with the loose skin around your nails.

Bucky hung up the phone, turned around and bowed down quickly. “It was my pleasure to do this performance with you, but I have to go.” Bucky seemed to be as much out of breath as you are. His chest rising and falling quickly like yours.

“Where are you going?” You picked the bottle of water up and put it back on the table.

Bucky put on his leather jacket. “I’m going on a date.” He stood in front of the mirror next to the door, fixing his hair and the collar of his shirt.

You turned away from him, because for some reason, you started to feel the warmth building up on your cheeks. “Oh… Ok have fun.” You pushed a picture frame around as if that would change anything about it.

“Don’t be jealous, Doll. You’re still my number one girl.” He closed the door of the apartment and you could feel the smirk on his face, lingering in the room. His confidence just oozing all around the place.

Furrowing your eyebrows together, you exhaled sharply. “I’m not jealous!” You finished re-arranging the shelf and decided to treat yourself to order pizza, get comfortable on the sofa and just enjoy having the apartment all to yourself.

---

You decided to invite your only so-called friend Sharon over. Both of you only hung out at work where you met her. It’s not like you’re lonely or anything, you just had difficulty connecting with anyone other than Steve when you moved. Steve and you did basically everything together so there was never a need for a friend. But you couldn’t talk to Steve about the problem you’re having right now.

Sharon sat next to you on the sofa taking a bite of her pizza every now and then when her rambling allowed it. She talks… a lot. But that made things easier for you. You never really had to say anything other than asking a few questions and giving her the occasional ‘oh’ and ‘wow really?’. She talks a lot about her failed marriage and how they still hook up now and again.

Fact is, the only reason why her marriage didn’t work out was because he’s about twenty years older than her, on a completely different path in life than her and lives on the other side of America. But you never had the heart to tell her that.

“I need your advice… like really badly.” You interrupted her speech about why men are trash. She raised her eyebrows at you. “It’s about a guy.”

Sharon’s eyes lit up at your words. “Oh my god! Tell me, what did Steve do?” She put the pizza carton on the coffee table and shifted on the sofa to sit directly opposite you.

“Well, it’s not about Steve.” You put your pizza aside as well and looked around nervously. Even though nothing dramatic has happened between Bucky and you, the feeling of guilt didn’t leave you alone. You told her about how Bucky had to move into the apartment and the struggle both of you have been having. “It’s so strange because the first two weeks he was here, he was just so distant and all the interactions we had were basically just bullying each other and all of a sudden he’s holding my hand and dancing with me.”

“He’s so into you, Y/n.” You looked at Sharon, who had the widest grin plastered on her face you’ve ever seen. “I’m excited to see what Steve has to say about this.”

“It’s not like I have feelings for Bucky! The only emotion I feel towards him is anger!”

“Yeah, holding hands and dancing is the best way to show someone how angry you are.”

“He was the one who started to hold my hand out of nowhere!”

“But you didn’t protest? Slapped his hand away? Cursed him out with that ager you feel towards him?”

“Well… I…you see-”

“Well?” Sharon raised an eyebrow at you, the feeling of triumph oozing out of every pore. You picked up a pillow and hit her shoulder. “You better figure this out, because you have to remember that Steve has feelings that might get incredibly hurt in this. Just be careful.”

You had to admit, even though Sharon talked a lot, she was really good at tickling the truth out of you. Maybe if you offered some topics to talk about and actually talked to her, she could be a great friend.

---

You looked at the chords again, making sure you weren’t reading things wrong. You gripped the strings firmly, exactly like it says on the website you pulled up on your phone. But the sound the electric guitar made wasn’t as satisfying as it sounds in the song. You tried your luck a few more times before your hand cramped up. This wasn’t relaxing at all. You should’ve just stuck with watching a movie, but once you set your mind to do something, you just can’t let go until you have mastered that skill.

But things weren’t looking any better. You rubbed your hand, pain striking your face. As you were about to put the guitar away, you heard the door clicking and Bucky emerged from behind it. You weren’t expecting him at all until the early morning.

“Are you gonna play it or is that just decor?” Bucky smiled, taking his shoes and jacket off. You leaned back on the sofa in frustration. Not only are you struggling to learn this stupid song, you also must be bullied by Bucky for it. He made his way to the sofa and sat to your right. “What are you learning anyway?”

“I’m trying to learn the song we danced to earlier today, ‘Kill All Your Friends’ you know?”

“Here, let me help.” Bucky shuffled closer to you, his chest leaning flush on your back. You bit your lip involuntarily; glad he couldn’t see it. His left arm wrapped around you, taking the neck of the guitar in his hand. His other hand rested on your waist for reasons you couldn’t say. You knew that he was able to see the hairs on your arm rising at the close contact, a shiver running down your spine.

Bucky placed your fingers where they needed to be and after every chord he arranged with your fingers, he instructed for you to strum the guitar. With every word he spoke you felt his warm breath on your neck. Throughout the whole process you didn’t say anything. Not because you were so invested in the lesson, but because if you opened your mouth you knew there wouldn’t be words coming out.

“See, it’s not that hard.” Bucky spoke softly. The whole apartment appeared calmer and you chuckled at the thought of yourself from a few days ago seeing both of you here like this.

You turn your head, looking directly into Bucky’s eyes. His face was closer than you thought, your lips were mere inches apart. Bucky’s left hand let go of the neck of the guitar, holding on to your waist. His warm breath tickled your face and you dared to look at his lips.

You looked away quickly, remembering what Sharon said, propping the guitar on the side of the sofa. You shuffle away from Bucky, your gaze went to your hands resting on your crossed legs, unsure of what to say. “How was your date?” You blurted out without thinking about it. You slapped yourself mentally. That was the last thing you wanted to know about.

“Was alright. What did you do?” Bucky looked at you and you felt his gaze on the side of your face.

“I had my friend Sharon over.”

“Wow you have friends?” There it was. “I’m kidding, Y/n, you know that right?” His voice soft and velvety.

You weren’t really sure if he was kidding or not. Turning your head to look at him, you couldn’t see a smug smile or a smirk, he just looked at you with a soft gaze. His face was lit up only by the candle in front of you on the coffee table. You still weren’t sure if he was kidding or not, leading you on to believe that he was playfully joking. The apartment was a little too quiet for your liking, so quiet you were sure you could hear your heartbeat in your chest.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You felt stupid asking in the first place, but you needed to diffuse the tension still lingering in the room.

“Sure.” Bucky said, standing up and walking over to the small shelve underneath the TV, looking through the collection of movies Steve and you collected over the years. He decided on ‘Goodfellas’, putting the DVD in. “Let me get a blanket.”

“I’m gonna make popcorn.” You didn’t wait for Bucky to answer as you got up and walked over to the kitchen. You felt a little like a zombie. The feeling you got as Bucky touched you made you feel guilty, you started to get confused about your feelings towards Bucky.

You sat back on the sofa and Bucky came back with his duvet, sitting down next you. He covered both of you with the warm blanket and you started the movie. Your nostrils filled with his scent as soon as you were comfortably covered. A wave of wood and citrus undeniably belonging to Bucky hit you, putting you in a sort of trance.

Bucky shifted a little and you felt his knees touching. Your body stiffened a little. You felt ridiculous. It’s just his knee. But even just this small contact made it impossible to focus on the movie, as if being surrounded by his scent wasn’t enough already.

Both of you got about halfway through the movie before falling asleep.

---

Taglist for this series is open!

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takadasaiko · 4 years

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Love Me Twice: Chapter Four

FFN II AO3

Chapter Summary: An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.

Chapter Four

April 2020

The squeal of the train's breaks sounded their approach to the platform as a prim voice announced their imminent arrival and warned commuters to mind the gap. Jacob Phelps adjusted a leather messenger bag on his shoulder, the opposite arm occupied by a pretty young woman with dyed blonde hair and striking green eyes. "Don't be nervous," she said, her tone so light it was almost teasing. "Daddy's going to love you."

Jacob let a small, hesitant smile quirk his lips. "I'm not nervous."

"You're such a bad liar," she laughed as the train pulled up to the platform and the doors opened.

"I am," Jacob lied, risking a glance at his mark. Emily Atwood, thirty-years-old and the only child of the aging CEO of a British conglomerate that he'd been hired to steal data from. It had taken nearly a month of groundwork, but only a couple of weeks once he'd actually made contact with her. She thought he was Jack Tallert, an accountant that had recently been transferred to his firm's London branch.

She was an easy enough mark. Trusting and head over heels for the man she thought he was. It would have been enough to almost make him feel guilty if he ever got invested enough to feel much at all on an op. He let the part he was playing take over and natural charisma and training did their equal parts to get him where he needed to go. He'd always been good at it, even before St Regis, but Bud had helped him hone a skillset that had put him at the top of his class. Thankfully a decade's worth of missing memories hadn't dampened that too much, even if it had left him with a desperate need to fill in his gaps of knowledge that anyone around him would know.

Emily tugged him forward from the train and they started up towards the street above. She chattered away about their dinner plans and if they should see a movie that weekend. Or a play. She'd prefer a play. They had a lovely cast for…

Jacob nodded at all the right moments, picking up on key words but otherwise focused on the plan as they stepped out into the cool spring afternoon. The client that had hired him needed a set of plans that were being tightly guarded by the company's security. No one under the fortieth floor even knew that the product was on the horizon, and no one under the fiftieth had access to the details mapped out to make it happen. Emily's father would have them on his computer, certainly, but that was risky. Daniel Atwood's personal assistant should have them too. She had been Jacob's original in for direct access, but it didn't take a lot of research to find out that he was nother type. She would be out to lunch - a very nice lunch with her girlfriend that Jacob has pulled a discrete favour to make happen - so no one would be there to watch her computer. His cell phone was already set to connect with her laptop from the office next to hers, so all he had to do was keep the conversation going while the tech did the heavy lifting. If he played his cards right he'd be on a flight Stateside in just a few hours.

"What do you think?"

The words pulled him out of his thoughts and Jacob blinked hard. "That's a…. good idea?" he tried.

Emily smiled sweetly at him and reached forward, adjusting the collar on his overcoat. "I promise it's going to be just fine. Don't believe everything you hear about him on the telly."

"I've got you with me. What could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit." She tipped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before letting her hand slide down into his and tugging him into the building after her.

-------

McCready had always had a strict radio silence rule. No contact until the op was finished. If you broke that rule, it better be mission critical or he'd burn you faster than you could start stuttering out your excuse.

The reasoning behind the rule had been proven time and again over the years, and it was one that Gina hadn't seen any benefit in changing during her four years that she had been leading St Regis now. Funny, even after she'd proven she wasn't someone to be trifled with, there was always the one idiot that thought he was different. That thought he could push her around. That's what brought her to moments like this one.

April in New York City could bring snow or sun, but that particular Thursday morning it was somewhere in between. She sat at a table in Union Square Park, tablet in hand. Jacob would have teased her for it, saying that if she were a spy worth her salt it would have been a newspaper. She couldn't fully blame him. It wasn't his fault he was a decade behind the times, not that he would have made the choice if he wasn't. He'd always been a fan of old spy tropes.

A scream for a doctor drew Gina's attention and she looked up to see what the crowd around her saw: a congressman home from DC's walk in the park with his wife turned dangerous as he clutched at his chest, hunched over to the point that he was melting towards the ground. She watched as people circled around, finally closing off her view. People were on their phones. Some were calling for help, others hoping for their five seconds of fame once they uploaded the video to whatever platform they thought would get the most views or get snatched up by one of the 24-hour news networks to play again and again until something more interesting came along. The congressman would never make it to the hospital, though. That's what he got for breaking protocol.

She put her tablet to sleep and leaned down to fit it back into her bag, ready to make her exit. When she straightened, though, she wasn't alone at her table. A woman had claimed the seat across from her, utterly unphased by the drama taking place a few yards away, and her icy blue stare was fixed on Gina.

The woman was thin, red hair fighting the grey that should have stolen the colour at this point in life, and well dressed. She tilted her head a little to the side, studying Gina carefully. "You don't look bothered."

"Neither do you," Gina answered, slipping easily into a New York accent.

A very small smile tilted the corners of the newcomer's lips, amused, but her gaze remained sharp. "Your accent's good."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. Let's not waste time."

Gina felt a nudge against her boot under the table and she risked a glance down to see that the woman had pushed a backpack towards her. "They don't like unattended bags here. Makes people nervous."

"I'd say you better check it out then."

She was playing a game, that much was obvious, but something in Gina could respect that. It wasn't just anyone that could sneak up on her, especially on high alert. This woman had been in the game, even if she wasn't currently. She knew what she would find in the bag even before reaching under the table for it. Her fingers ghosted along the stacked bills and she let her own lips quirk upward, her accent slipping back to her own. "Are you trying to propension me?"

"Absolutely. I want your best man for a job."

"I don't know you."

"You don't know most of your clients. That's why you vet people." The woman held a card between two fingers and Gina read the name Brigitte Tremblay in scrawled text. "Take a look - deep as you want - and give me a call."

"What's the job?"

"Protection. That's all I say until we have a contract in place. Do your due diligence and give me a call at the number on the other side of the card. I'll get you the qualifications I'm looking for so that you can choose your best operative."

Sirens sounded and Gina risked a look on instinct. When she turned back, Brigitte Tremblay was gone, her card and bag of money the only sign she'd ever been there at all.

-------

It was exhausting playing the boyfriend sometimes. Bud had loved putting him in those roles. He'd said Jacob was born for them. Gina was less interested, but this job had needed a skilled operative that could manipulate many moving parts and make sure that it all came together quickly. Two months was their limit. Jacob was managing it in less, even if he would be due a bonus for having to deal with the nonstop droll of suckups that followed Emily Atwood around hoping to get a good mentioned to her dear ol' daddy. She wasn't bad, but the people that surrounded her took every ounce of skill he had to smile at rather than snap their necks. With the way things were going, he'd be lucky if they made it up to her father's floor by next week.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair," Emily said, the grip she took on his hand pulling Jacob out of the stupor that Alistair's story had put him into, "but Jack and I were supposed to meet Daddy twenty minutes ago. Do say hello to Martha for me."

Jacob offered a small grimace that was supposed to be a smile as Emily pulled him away and towards the elevators. Once the doors were closed she sank back against the far wall. "They're exhausting."

"Least I'm not alone in that," he chuckled.

The lift wouldn't budge an inch until she swiped her badge, entered a code, and pressed her thumb against a reader to take them all the way to the top. Jacob saw the small signs of worry and reached out, his touch against her arm soothing. "Hey. Don't worry about them."

"It's hard not to. They're vultures. Everyone wants something from him. From us. It's hard to know what's real."

Jacob offered a reassuring smile and shoved that irritating tickle in the back of his mind away. It had been with him for the last couple of years. Since the op that stole his memories. He didn't know what it meant or why it happened, but it cropped up at the most inconvenient of times.

The elevator dinged and emptied them into the hallway. Emily led them around the corner and towards the CEOs suite at the end. The office next to it - Atwood's personal assistant's office - was already dark, meaning she was likely gone for lunch. Perfect. Jacob waited until Emily had fully passed the empty office before casually slipping his hands into his pockets, deft finger working to set his phone to send the signal. He caught the light from the computer waking up out of his peripheral, no one the wiser of it. The only thing he had to do now was keep the conversation going until the files had transferred and he could be Stateside again in under twenty-four hours.

Emily tapped on the frosted glass door as she pushed it open. "Sorry we're late. We...oh."

Jacob followed up behind her to see what had stopped her. Daniel Atwood stood tall and as imposing as he appeared in press releases, but he wasn't alone. With him was a smaller man. Persian. Asal Younes. Not that that would be the name he would have given Atwood. It looked like St Regis wasn't the only one after the intel.

He hadn't seen the man in years, but they had certainly left an impression on each other. Younes had gotten an upper hand on him and managed to leave Jacob with a broken collarbone and cracked ribs, but Jacob had returned the favour with a bullet lodged in the other man's chest and a second to the gut. As far as he knew they hadn't seen each other since, but grudges like theirs didn't dissipate with time. They festered.

"Sorry, love. This will only take a moment," Atwood said and turned back to his conversation.

"Alex Sharif," Emily said very quietly. "He handles Daddy's security."

Well that was interesting. Either Younes has found an in through security- a risky play - or he'd given a cover name to Atwood when he hired him to protect the intel, which didn't make sense. Either way, there was no question he'd been recognized, only how it played out.

He stood frozen in his place, mentally calculating every exit available to him, when he felt Emily's hand slip into his. "Let's wait outside."

She led him out and nodded as he made an excuse to slip off into the restroom to check the status bar on the phone. At ninety percent completion, this might just work. Whatever Gina was paying her new tech guru, it wasn't enough.

The door to the restroom opened and Younes' lips quirked up into a dangerous smile, gun already in hand. "I had heard a rumour that you'd gotten out of the game, either by choice or by force, but here you are. Hands on the counter."

"You've got it wrong."

Younes snorted and motioned until Jacob turned and placed his hands facedown on the counter as instructed. "Not even you can talk your way out of this. What's this?" He pulled the phone out of Jacob's pocket.

"Just downloading some tunes," he answered flippantly.

"Corporate espionage is a crime, my friend."

"So's trafficking, murder, and a half dozen other things you specialize in, so what's your point?" He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw his moment. Jacob kicked out, heel of his boot connecting with Younes' knee with a sickening crack, and he spun to go for the gun. He caught the other man's wrist in time to throw the shot from it wide and shoved Younes back hard against the wall. He dropped the gun as expected, but then slammed his head forward to send Jacob reeling back. Definitely not expected.

Jacob staggered, struggling to blink through black spots that were dancing in front of his vision, and pulled himself around in time to block the next blow. Arms up, a fist collided with his forearm rather than his face and he swung around with his elbow to clock Younes in the temple. The other man crumpled hard and Jacob grabbed the gun from the floor and stuffed it in the back band of his slacks.

A couple of curious people were already at the bathroom door as he stepped out, the commotion gaining their attention. Jacob motioned behind him. "Two guys just went at it in there. Someone should call security."

He pulled his phone out, making a beeline for the elevator and hoped beyond hope that he had what he needed. His lips quirked up at the corner at the sight of a completed status bar and he slammed the heel of his hand into the down button for the elevator. It didn't immediately open for him and he risked a look up to see some asshole had taken it down to the ground floor.

The bathroom door slammed open behind him and he turned, finding Younes stumbling his way out. There was no way that the elevator would make it in time and if they had it out in front of all of these people, someone was bound to snag a photo for identification. The stairwell it was.

Jacob took the two flights up to the roof rather than the fifty-some-odd flights down. At least there wouldn't be cameras up there.

He burst through the door to the roof, and dialed a number. "It's Phelps. I have the intel. Have the plane waiting at Luton Airport. I'll be coming in hot." He reached for the gun and pressed his back against the brick wall of the outer stairwell, eyes squeezed closed and he waited.

The door opened and he leapt into action. He swung around, but Younes was ready for him. He knocked the shot wide just as Jacob had done before, but Jacob used the momentum to swing him around. The two men slammed hard to the gravel roof, rolling and punching and fighting. "You really don't let things go, do you?" Jacob growled, from his place pinning the other man down.

Younes slammed his knee into Jacob's left side and threw him off. He landed hard enough that it took a half second longer than it should have for him to regain his bearings. Younes was on him when he did and he kicked up, catching him in the middle and vaulting him over.

He heard the startled yelp before his mind registered just how close to the edge they were. Jacob rolled to his stomach and pushed himself up, feeling the damaged muscles in his left side pull painfully as he shuffled his way to the edge of the roof where Younes was hanging by his fingertips. He peered over and tilted his head curiously. "Just not your day, is it?"

"You son of a bitch."

Jacob snorted and turned. "Always sucks to see you, Younes," he called over his shoulder and heard another yelp as Younes finally lost his grip.

-------

He hadn't slept on the flight. Between verifying that the data made it to the intended recipient and coordinating with the cleaning crew to wipe all physical traces that he'd ever come into contact with the Atwoods, there hadn't been time. He'd just put his phone down to slouch deeply in the comfortable seat when he felt the rumble of the gears coming down and the pilot reminded him that they'd be landing soon. He must have missed the first announcement.

Both landing on the private airstrip and the drive back to the St Regis compound were a blur as exhaustion started to really set in. He needed a shower and maybe a very long nap. Food could wait.

Hot water poured over knotted muscles. Jacob leaned forward, palm pressed against the shower wall to keep him on his feet as watched as red-tinged water circled down to the drain, rinsing the remaining blood from his skin and hair that he hadn't been able to scrub off from his fight with Younes.

The shower door opened behind him and Jacob nearly lost his footing as he turned. Gina gave him a playful, dangerous smile as she barred the door. "Hello, handsome. How was London?"

"Successful. The data's been transferred and will be released as soon as the funds are."

"Just what I want to hear."

Her gaze traveled him up and down and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "You planning on joining me?" There was always the crash at the end of an op. It had never been something he'd dealt with particularly well, but the last couple years had proven even more difficult. He woke up at all hours with whatever he was dreaming about - or remembering- just out of reach and the strangest sensation that something wasn't quite right. The job usually helped distract him. Sex wasn't bad either.

Gina frowned. "As much as it pains me to say, you don't have time."

"I just got back from a two month job. I think I've got time," he countered, but her look said it all. Okay. That was a quicker turnaround than normal. "Guess I don't, huh?"

"Everything we have for you is in the file on your bed. Your meeting with Brigitte Tremblay in the City at eight. I'd wear more than that."

"What's the job?"

"Don't know. She said she'd only tell our best."

Gina turned to leave and Jacob pulled in a breath. He was going to need a cup of coffee.

-------

Jacob had always liked New York City. Violent homes as a child had taught him to read situations to survive, but as a teenager on the streets he'd sharpened those skills. New York had been a training ground in watching a wide range of people and mimicking every inch of their visible personalities. By the time Bud had picked him up by fourteen he was well on his way to fitting comfortably into any other skin but his own. Now, years later, he'd managed to turn it into a lucrative career.

The file Gina had given him was thin with only the name of the client - Brigitte Tremblay - along with the brief background run on her and her list of requirements. She had deep enough pockets to dictate terms, from the sound of it.

Brigitte Tremblay sat alone at a table just outside of a bakery, red hair peeking out from under a hat and over the scarf around her neck. She was a striking woman in her late 50's, her sharp blue gaze discreetly watching every person that passed by. She was good. A professional of some form or fashion, which left Jacob curious why she'd decided to hire out. There was only one way to find out.

"Ms Tremblay," he greeted as he circled around, but nothing about her reaction signaled that he had startled her. Just the opposite, her thin lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners as if she'd won a bet Jacob wasn't privy to.

"Brigitte, please," she answered and motioned to the chair across from her. The file Gina had given him indicated that she did business in Canada, but there were hints of other locations in her accent. "You must be the top operative I was promised."

"From the little information you were willing to provide, yeah," he answered as he took the seat.

Her smile didn't fade as she studied him. Those piercing blue eyes lingered on him long enough that even Jacob felt the impulse to squirm under the observation. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"The best, like I told your boss." She leaned down and pulled a file from her oversized purse at her feet. It was thicker than hers, but she didn't hand it over immediately. Instead she held it up as if it were a prize to be earned. "I expect full confidentiality in this operation. Once you take the job you will speak to no one about me, about what's in this file, or anything connected to it. Not even your boss, do you understand me?"

"I got it."

She held his gaze. "Do you? I don't accept failure."

Jacob held that intense gaze without budging. "There's a reason my boss sent me rather than any number of operatives. I get the job done. No matter what. Your secrets are part of that job."

There was a beat of silence between them as Brigitte seemed to consider what he'd said. There was a shift, so small that Jacob almost missed it, before she said, "I'm glad we understand each other," and handed over the file.

Jacob opened it to find a photo of a young woman staring up at him. "So what do you need from Elizabeth Keen?" he asked, the name striking an almost-memory as it left his tongue. A hospital bed, everything around him blurred, and a denial. He didn't know any Keens.

"Are you alright?"

Jacob blinked hard, finding Brigitte staring at him. He mentally shook it off. "Sorry. Jet lagged. You were saying?"

"I was saying I want her protected."

"Protected? Why? From who?" He flipped through the notes. "She's a fed."

"Yes she is."

"So what's the connection?"

"She has something of mine. Until I'm ready to retrieve it, I need her out of harm's way. You'll find a number of potential threats I've already uncovered. My guess is there are more."

Jacob flipped through the dossier. The files contained notes about a task force she was a part of, outstanding cases that might pose a threat, and one name that caught his eye. He looked up at his new employer. "Her CI…"

"I'd suggest you stay off his radar. No one should see you. You'll be her shadow. You'll report any new or evolving threats to me unless they put her in immediate danger. I've rented an apartment for you to work out of under the name Thomas Henderson."

"I develop my own covers."

"Not this time." She tilted her head a little. "You do look like a Tom," she mused and stood. "The details for your cover are in the back of that file and this-" she reached for her bag, pulling a burner phone from it - "is for you to contact me. Remember, Tom, she's not to see you."

"That won't be a problem."

"It better not be. Good luck."

Jacob watched as she walked away, a strange and uneasy feeling settling over him as he turned his attention back to the file in hand, Special Agent Elizabeth Keen staring up at him.

-------

TBC

Notes: Bonus points to anyone that recognizes the name Younes from canon. Hint: Tom mentions the name a whopping one time with another name as someone that might be after him. If you guess you will earn the author's eternal entertainment and virtual cookies.

Also, for those that have been worried about Gina being an issue... please know this is short-lived and only because Gina's taking advantage of the situation. Deep breath, my friends. The Keens will actually cross paths quicker in this story than the last Tom Lives! AU that I wrote.

Next Time: Liz works with Katarina, Red gives the Task Force a new Blacklister, and Jacob tries to figure out who Maddie Tolliver is and what her connection might be to Elizabeth Keen.

#the blacklist #blacklist fanfiction #Tom Keen #Gina Zanetakos

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 10: Myofascial Release

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy decompress after an emotional evening, Shane finds it difficult to get out of her own head and live in the moment, but Sy knows exactly how to help her, and not to be a complete hoe and spoil things, but…things get steamier than ever between our favorite therapist and patient duo.

Oh snap! You’re behind! Get on track here!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, the smut you’ve all been waiting for so patiently! (I hope it lives up to your undoubtedly high expectations!)

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, y’all, I am so nervous to post this. Somehow it doesn’t feel like my smuttiest smut. And like, all previous chapters have been kind of leading up to this moment. The good news is, I’ve decided to continue writing this story after the sex. I’ve got some ideas about where to go from here, and I want to keep it going. Plus, it feels wrong to write all of this and then just drop them without a big picture resolution. They’re gonna go through some shit, though. You have been warned.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Her living room was cast in the low light of the floor lamp she had left on. Intending to come home after dark. Alone. She hated walking into a dark house by herself.

Well, tonight, she wasn’t alone. And although Sy had been to her house before, this was different. They were officially a couple, and they were no longer waiting to express, to the fullest extent, their true affection for one another.

Ever the hostess, despite her nervous tension, Shane asked Sy if he wanted anything to drink, rambling off several options somewhat awkwardly.

“I’m fine, darlin.’” He assured her, stopping her at some point in the rant, before she was completely done. “Do you need something?”

“Umm, I think I should have a glass of wine.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen across her serve-through counter space and landed on her fridge. “I’m…I’m really nervous.”

"Why don't we watch a little TV for a while? You get you some wine, and I'll put somethin' on. What are we watchin', sunshine?"

"Ummmm, something light? Funny? Something I've seen." She wouldn't be able to process anything new or heavy right now.

"I'm on it." he kissed the top of her head and left her side for the sofa, where he plopped himself down like a comfy hound dog, and picked up the remote to her Smart TV.

She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. She decided she wanted a snack with her wine. She got a plate of cheese and crackers together first. Then she remembered she had some venison sausage one of her coworkers had brought in, and put that on the plate, too. She got out a chilled bottle of her favorite, cheap moscato and a stemless glass. She couldn't go in there without something for Sy, so she also got a glass of ice water ready for him. She put the whole spread on her big serving tray and took it to the living room.

Sy was already halfway through the first episode of Parks and Recreation.

"I saw this in your 'Watch it again' group, and thought maybe you'd like to re-watch it. I've heard you talk about it a lot, and I've never seen it." He didn't complain at her for taking forever. He just lit up when he saw her. Like it was the first time. And not the hundredth.

"That's perfect, babe. I brought some snacks out, too. Some cheese and crackers, and this really good sausage one of my coworkers brought me. You like deer?" she asked.

"One of my favorite pet names." he teased. "I do, though, yes."

They ate, and laughed, and watched about four or five episodes, it was hard to keep track. But after approximately half the bottle, Shane had summoned some courage. She started playing at the texture of Sy's jeans, running a fingernail across the coarse fabric.

"Hang on, love bug. I want to know somethin.'" she looked up at him, mildly confused. "I'm trying to think of a reason you need to get tipsy to sleep with me that I shouldn't take personally." he rubbed her upper arm, comforting her as no one had done since she was a small child. At least not that she could remember.

"No, Sy. It's not like that. You aren't the problem at all!" she paused. He let her gather her thoughts. She appreciated that he knew she intended to continue and that he didn't rush her to do it. He was patient. And kind. And all of that should have made this whole night easier. But somehow it didn’t.

“I’m the problem." She confessed after a long pause and a deep sigh. "I mean, I’m in my head about it all, I know. But it’s been…almost six years since I’ve slept with anyone, five and a half, at least, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it now that I know it’s going to happen again.”

He pulled her body into his, squeezing her tightly for one of his soul cleansing hugs.

“Sunshine. Everything will come back to ya. We’ll just go as slow as ya want. I got all night.”

“Okay. Well, I guess, since I’m a bit sleepy from the wine, we should head to bed.”

Sy affirmed the idea, and made to help her put their snacks away in the kitchen.

She got out containers for their leftover food while Sy stoppered the wine, put it in the fridge, and washed their glasses.

She felt his warmth before she felt his touch. He stood behind her, radiating his particular brand of heat for a moment, and taking in the scent of her hair near her right ear. She heard a low rumble from someplace deep in him which slowed her efforts at the counter. His hands were light but very much present on her hips. A whisper against the fabric of the casual but feminine floral dress she’d chosen for the night. But she felt it like the weight of her favorite old blanket, heavy with years and warm comfort.

He kissed her temple, chaste and unassuming. But still full of desperation. She could tell that he was ready. Even without the alignment of their bodies completely giving him away.

“Don’tcha think this stuff can wait a couple hours, darlin'?"

His baritone, breathless in her ear, was soothing her back into the mindset of being with him. His feather touch still lingering at her hips and waist. She thought back to those seminars she'd gone to on manual therapy where the speaker talked in depth about the fascial tissues running all across the various muscles in the human body and how trauma to one part could cause tension in another like a snag in a sweater and how he taught the participants techniques to undo that trauma through myofascial release. Sy was slowly managing to unwind and unbind the taut fibers of her heart and relieve that pain that Elliott, in particular had set into place so firmly when he'd hurt her. Lied to her. Cheated on her. Gaslit her. Made her feel like she'd never be loved if she left him. Made her question the very idea of what love meant. Because if what they'd had was truly love, she didn't want it. Wanted no part of the games or the abuse or the manipulation.

Without fully realizing it, during this time of reflection and healing, Shane had given up the task at her hands and turned to Sy, open to his treatment, as he'd always been so open to hers…or mostly. And she let him kiss her, reciprocating. And hold her, returning his enveloping embrace. She even let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting them on his…all too well-defined bilateral gluteus maximus that she'd had to pretend to ignore for weeks. In the therapist side of her brain, alarm bells were going off. "His knee isn't fully healed! You're gonna undo all of the work you've both done so far! He's gonna hurt himself carrying you around!" but she ignored them and trusted him as he walked to her room.

Shane wanted to say that her bedroom was one of splendor. Immaculately made bed, and overall, the picture of tidiness. The reality was much, MUCH different. Glasses half full of water were everywhere (she may be forgetful, but at least she was optimistic), at least one coffee mug sat on the nightstand from the previous weekend when she took a morning cup of tea in bed with her George Harrison biography. Laundry overflowed from a sorting hamper in the corner, and her bed sat, unmade, littered with crumpled pillows, sheets, blankets, and the pajamas she'd slept in last night. She wasn't the kind of person to make her bed for reasons other than having company over, like the fancy company you had to give a tour of your whole house. She'd tried to be that person numerous times, but it never seemed to stick.

Tonight, though, the guilt that came with sub-par housekeeping skills wasn't plaguing her. Right now, all she felt was the weightlessness of being with Sy, wrapped in him, kissing him, and fully ready for what was about to happen between them, as he fell with her onto her bed. Their heads clunked together awkwardly, invoking a mutual wince, followed by bouts of laughter and playful kisses.

He hovered over her a moment, just taking her in. His fingers ghosting her forehead and cheeks to clear it of the whisps of hair obscuring her face. He seemed to examine her in methodical quadrants. Learning the curves and colors and every wrinkle, freckle, and pore. She was still fully clothed, but she'd never felt so bare and vulnerable.

He left her eyes for last. His gaze drowning her delightfully. Random song lyrics came to mind, "the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake" and she thought yes. That is the precise aesthetic of this man's stare. His expression was inscrutable. She wanted to say he looked happy and content, but she didn't want to presume.

He began tracing the floral pattern on her dress with his fingers, and said, "I really like this dress on you."

She laughed, "Oh, that's the beginning of the oldest line in the book. You know you've already got me in bed, right?"

"No, I…" he chuckled, embarrased. "I mean it sincerely. Seeing you in flowers like this…makes me think they bloom right from ya."

She propped herself up on her elbows, dumbstruck by this uncharacteristically poetic side of him she'd just been shown. She stroked the side of his face.

"The man who came up with the original pickup line is rolling over in his grave attempting to kick himself for not thinking of something so beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"HELL yeah. He would have gotten WAY more lucky with a statement like that."

"You're probably right." he said, pulling her up to hold her in his arms.

"If for no other reason that it would have landed him a higher caliber woman than the floozies that he probably got."

He moaned his ascent against her neck, and continued, "Which would have meant a lot more getting lucky down the road, right?"

"Traditionally speaking, I'd say yes." she laughed, her fingers in his hair, which was barely long enough for the action.

"Okay, I know I said I liked the dress, but…" he tugged at the hemline tucked just under her hips and pulled it off her willing body.

"About time, cowboy!" she smiled, breathless.

He continued kissing her as he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, into the abyss, where the dress had gone. She was so dizzy from him that she barely noticed he was laying her down until her warm back hit cool sheets. She could feel his touch everywhere at once, despite the fact that he was really only making two or three points of contact.

Shane trembled as Sy peppered her soft body with kisses. She couldn't recall shivering like this before, especially when there was nothing but warmth, even heat, around her. His beard grazing her hips and thighs was sending tremors through her unlike anything she'd ever felt. She was a goner, and he hadn't even truly begun.

His breath against her skin was like lightning in the clouds. A storm began forming within, and all around them from his work on her…and eventually in her. He took the time to remove both of the shirts he was wearing--plaid cotton blend and thick white jersey. She reached out to run her fingertips over his chest, covered in a manly stand of thick, dark hair. It ran over his pecs and down his abdomen…farther, she knew, than was exposed right now.

She wanted to touch him. To return the favor. To stir in him the same tempest he'd stirred in her. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She was a little surprised he wasn't resisting her, but pleased, all the same. She took the heavy weight of him out in some shock…she'd caught outlines and silhouettes often since they'd been together, but he hadn't let her go this far yet. It had made her feel a little slutty at the time, but now, she understood. He was…protecting her, in a way. She handled him curiously, gently, as he'd been with her. Her apprehension, however, grew with him.

"Sy, you're…I…" she wasn't sure what to say. But she had concerns about being rent in two by him.

"I think I remember tellin' ya you wouldn't be laughin,' sunshine." he grinned at her, breathless as she stroked him.

"You were right. But don't get too used to me saying so." she smirked back at him.

He pulled away from her, reluctantly, but eager to get back to tasting her.

She couldn't comprehend what he was doing. But it felt incredible. No one she'd ever been with had made her feel like this. Like her blood was effervescent and her body was aglow like embers. His reaction to her was as much a part of the pleasure as his ministrations themselves. She could tell he was enjoying himself which fed her desire.

She felt a tension coiling inside her, something similar to climaxes past but she could tell, much more intense. What was different? Other than Sy, she didn't know. But it was working. She moaned and writhed into him.

"Yeah, sugar. Let that out. I wanna hear it." he quickened, driving her mad and sending her spinning into her bliss, incomprehensible words and sounds escaping her, growls of satisfaction escaping him, but he didn't stop.

She felt his fingers working inside her to pull another climax from deep within her. This was new for her, as well. Not only was he putting her first, but he was making her a priority in double measure before taking anything for himself. As that pressure built in her again, she felt his gaze on her, hungry and adoring, and she heard his grunts of exertion and she thought, lust. She wasn't sure how many of his digits he'd managed to slide into her, but it felt splendid, and she wanted more. She gripped his arms to convey this desire, words caught in her throat. He dove headlong back down to her, adding his mouth to the onslaught of his hand, and before she could get out more than a "Fuuuu" she was falling apart again, her body spasming and writhing beneath his utter oral perfection. Eventually, she finished the word when she ran out of air and had to take in a large gasp on the "uck."

She watched him kiss around her thighs and hips, in awe of him in his entirety.

Breathless, she asked, "Why are you so good to me, Sy?"

"Well, a wise woman once told me, 'good go to heaven.'" he looked coyly up at her. "I think I'm there, sunshine."

"Ya know, you're the best patient I've ever had." she smiled.

"Well, I should hope so." he boasted as he kissed at her breasts, nipping at the taut, dark bud in the center. She gasped. He let go and continued his ascent.

He had a point. Who could have qualified as a "better" patient than him when he'd given her so much? Even more than what they were doing tonight. His kindness. The love he had always shown her, even when she wasn't ready to see it. His strength, but also his vulnerability that she seemed to be the only one ever to see. Combine that with the fact that his mind was basically a steel trap for her every word and it would have made him more than perfect enough for her.

But as he broke away from her kiss to take off his jeans, she marveled at the shape and size of his whole body. Those thick, strong arms, the broad, defined torso, the massive, powerful legs of an avid runner, and a face that God Himself would probably be jealous of, if He was capable of the feeling. This gorgeous exterior that Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt, combined with all of his other amazing qualities, and he was almost too perfect.

He cuddled up next to her, reached up, and caressed her face, still flush with pleasure.

"I could look at this face, and nothin' else for…damn… hours. Maybe days."

She blushed and cast her eyes down, and half whispered, "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why're you lookin' away, darlin'?" he tilted her chin up. "That shy business is cute and all, but you don't have to hide from me, sweetheart."

"Again, it's not you, it's me." she chuckled, nervously.

"You wanna call it a night, for now?" he asked without a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You're kidding, right?" she raised her eyebrows. "You did all that work getting me ready for you, and I won't let that be a wasted effort." she pulled him to her and into a deep kiss, rolling onto her back and bringing him with her.

"Oh, sugar, that wasn't no wasted effort. That was time well spent. No matter what." he said in short bursts when he could pull away from her lips.

He lifted himself up and over her, kneeling between her legs, already open for him. She thought he should know how ready she was. Thought it should be painfully obvious. But he asked anyway.

"You ready, sunshine?" he asked, as he opened the condom and rolled it on…damn he was slick! She hadn't even noticed him get it from wherever he'd had it. She presumed his jeans pocket, which would explain much. She had been very distracted by his naked perfection.

"Yes. Please." she had been struck with an urgency as they stood here on the verge of everything.

He sunk slowly into her, the contentment of coming home spread over his face, the bliss of being whole spreading over hers. No, she thought. She was more than whole. She'd always felt mostly whole during sex. Sy made her feel as though she was overflowing with herself. And not just because she was overflowing with him. The way he moved in her, over her, with her, it was like he was afraid she'd turn to vapor around him before he could finish. Like she was nothing more substantial than a bubble full of smoke, and he thought she may burst and disappear. Although, you couldn't tell from the tight grip he kept on her. A bruising grip that she thought might have had a chance of popping a football. She didn't care. She wanted him to touch and hold her like this until they had no more to give each other.

As they built toward their mutual undoing, the world and everything in it faded away. There was no personal drama or injury. Nothing but the euphoria of this newfound oneness. The caresses and thrusts and groans of pleasure were the only things that mattered. Each other, and what they found therein.

“Shane.” He whispered to her, his pinnacle nigh.

“Sy!” She whimpered, that familiar tension approaching its apex.

He kissed her, as if he meant to permanently emboss her onto the bedding and onto his lips. She reeled as she came undone, little sparks of light obscuring her vision for a fraction of a second. He followed her closely, breathless and spent.

He laid down beside her, as close to her as possible, and began drawing mindless circular patterns on her stomach and around her breasts.

“Wow.” She said, almost under her breath.

“How ya feelin,’ sunshine?”

“Mmm, boneless. Dazed. Half wishing we’d done that weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue what I was missing.”

“Oh, I think you had an idea.” He said as he neatly doffed and disposed of the prophylactic in the waste can by her bed.

“Okay, a bit.” She chuckled. “It’s not like you can hide that…thing.”

“And I don’t try to, darlin’!” He kissed her forehead “Well, I don’t hide it just anywhere, put it that way.” He smirked at his dirty joke and she swatted him for it.

“You’re bad!”

“And you love it.”

She couldn’t argue. She loved his badness and his goodness and everything in between.

Up Next: Chapter Eleven- Discharge Plan

#netflix #netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy #syverson smut #Smut

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justlookfrightened · 5 years

Text

Butter My Biscuits

Prompt from @ noelfieldingisprettierthanme: Remember when Sally Field kept trying to hook her son up with Adam Rippon? Alicia Zimmermann is just as gungho about setting up her openly bisexual son Jack with famous tv chef Eric Bittle

Prompt from @cyn2k: I am so down with the Zimmerparents attempting to set up Jack with Bitty in any incarnation - chef, TV host, dancer, vlogger, skater, friendly neighborhood baker, anything. Because you know Bob would be just as bad as Alicia.

Edited to add: When I wrote this, I forgot the lovely and talented @wrathofthestag already wrote a fic where Bitty has a different kind of baking show called “Butter My Biscuits.” You should read it. We’ll wait.

Alicia huffed a breath, trying to dislodge the strand of hair that was dangling into her right eye. When that didn’t work, she rubbed at it with her forearm, trying to keep her butter-and-flour-covered hands from her face.

“Siri, stop the video,” she said, and the image on her iPad screen went silent and still.

She wiped her hands on a towel, breathed for a moment, and thought about pouring a drink from the bottle of vodka she’d pulled from the freezer to use in the pie crust.

Eric Bittle, host of “Butter My Biscuits,” had acknowledged the temptation when he mixed his dough on the screen.

“I have to tell y’all, drunk baking can be fun, but I wouldn’t recommend it for your first — or even your fiftieth — pie crust. Save the good vodka for while the pie is in the oven, or when you’re making zucchini bread or something like that.”

Alicia knew from watching every episode of “Butter My Biscuits” ever produced that Eric thought the best thing to do with zucchini bread was not to make it at all.

With her hands slightly cleaner and a renewed commitment to follow Eric’s instructions precisely, she restarted the video and concentrated on rolling the dough in smooth, even strokes. When her crust was the proper size and thickness, she watched Eric fold his crust gently around his rolling pin and lay it in the pie plate. She stopped the video and watched it again before trying it herself.

Not half bad, even if it wasn’t as pretty as Eric’s.

Now for the top crust.

“Hi, Maman.”

Crap. She’d pressed down too hard and ripped it.

“Siri, stop the video. Hello, Jack. How was your walk?”

“Good,” Jack said. “It’s less boring if I take my camera.”

“What did you get pictures of?” Alicia asked as Jack pulled the camera out of its bag, no doubt in preparation for showing her several dozen artfully framed photos of geese.

“Just some stuff by the river,” Jack said, lifting the camera and clicking the shutter before she was aware he was about to take a picture. “You look like you’re having fun. Is that the baker guy you’re always watching? The one with the accent?”

“Eric Bittle,” Alicia said. “And yes. I like his voice. He always says anyone can learn to make a homemade pie crust, so I’m putting his theory to the test.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Jack said.

He stood and watched for a few moments when Alicia started the video again, only leaving after Eric did a little victory shimmy after he got his pie in the oven.

Alicia put hers into bake as well, then made herself a martini to drink while she cleaned up. Jack would have helped if she asked — he really was a lovely man, and she and Bob had every right to be proud. He’d been home for three weeks now, almost recovered from the knee injury that ended his season. He’d be leaving soon, as he was about ready to transition to more serious training.

Alicia was glad he’d come to spend time with her and Bob in Montreal instead of moping around his condo in Providence. Jack really needed to get out more. After he’d come out as bisexual — part of the whole mess when Kent got outed by Deadspin — he hadn’t dated anyone, male or female. At first, he just wanted to let the story die, she had thought. But Kent had brazened it out, seen with a different guy on his arm every month, it seemed like. Once that got old for the paparazzi, two more players had come out.

At this point, she was pretty sure no one would care if Jack stepped out with a nice boy.

A nice boy like Eric Bittle, cute and blond and just Jack’s type. Eric Bittle, who had giggled on camera when he said, “Now, some of y’all have asked how I learned to bake. It was my MooMaw who taught me. She always said the best way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and that sounded like a good plan to me.”

She took another sip of her martini and pulled her iPad towards her. She didn’t want to start anything if Eric was happily coupled, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t.

Nope. He had broken up with someone six months ago and was quoted several times lamenting his single status, most recently only two weeks ago. The boyfriend -- caught on camera cheating with a dancer in the Boston Ballet -- was bigger than he was, although Eric was kind of small, so that didn’t mean much.

The timer went off and she pulled her pie from the oven. It wasn’t as pretty as Eric’s -- and she hadn’t even attempted a lattice or those cute cut-outs -- but she thought it was pretty good, especially for a first effort.

She snapped a picture and opened Twitter before she could think better of it.

if the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, does that go for you, too @ButterMyBiscuits? Asking for @jzimmermann1!

And she uploaded the picture.

Alicia served the pie for dessert, to the general approval of Jack and Bob, and didn’t think any more of it.

Until the next morning, when Jack sat across the breakfast table with his phone out.

“Are you really trying to set me up with that baker guy?” he said. “Etienne called me. My Twitter is blowing up, he said.”

“Etienne?”

“He handles my Twitter account for me.”

Of course Jack didn’t tweet for himself.

“Ah. I may have suggested that Eric Bittle take an interest in you.”

“The baker on TV?” Jack said. “With the accent?”

“Yes,” Alicia said. “The cute one.”

“I’ll tell him to disregard it,” Jack said. “I love you, Maman, but I don’t need you to find me dates.”

“Really?” Alicia said. “How long has it been since you had a date?”

“I’ve been laid up.”

“And before that?”

“What are we talking about?” Bob walked in, still in workout clothes, from the gym in the basement.

“How long since Jack here went on a date,” Alicia said.

“Been a while, eh?” Bob said.

“Maman tried to set me up with TV chef,” Jack said. “On Twitter.”

He paused while he tapped at his phone.

“There. I apologized for you and asked him to disregard your message.”

“Um, Jack, how did you do that?” Bob asked.

“I sent him a message,” Jack said.

“Yes, but how?” Bob asked.

“On Twitter?”

“You two follow each other?” Alicia asked. “I had no idea you liked baking that much.”

“No? I just found his tweet and replied.”

“Oh, Jack,” Alicia said. “You’d better call Etienne and tell him what you did. Before everyone who follows you and Eric loses their mind. But first, show me his tweet.”

Jack held out his phone wordlessly.

The tweet on top said, if @jzimmermann1 can make a pie like this, I’ll be impressed. Almost as impressed as I was by his goal in Game 7 last year. But tell me the truth, @AliciaActs -- who made the pie?

Jack’s reply was underneath

My mother made the pie after watching your show. I’m sorry she bothered you. Please ignore it. But the pie was delicious.

A hundred likes and fifty replies already. At least Jack had notifications turned off. No doubt her own mentions were exploding as well.

“Why don’t I set this so you follow him?” Alicia said. “Then maybe he’ll follow you and you can communicate in private.”

She followed Eric Bittle, and noticed that he already followed Jack. Which meant Jack could have DM’d him. Now he would think Jack didn’t want to talk privately.

She opened a direct message and handed the phone back to Jack.

“When you replied to his tweet, everyone could see it,” Alicia explained. “You might want to apologize for that -- in private. In a direct message.”

“Need help?” Bob asked. “Gotta work that old Zimmermann charm.”

“No,” Jack said. “Please. No.”

******************

Alicia checked to make sure Jack’s room was ready and set the table for dinner. He was coming to spend one last weekend before training camp started, to celebrate the fact that he had been cleared to start camp with the team.

“I should be there around six p.m.,” Jack told her when he called the week before. “It would be better if we just eat at home that night.”

“You have a workout in the morning?” Alicia guessed. “I’m sure you’ll be tired. Your father can make something on the grill.”

“Fine,” Jack said. “But I’ll bring dessert.”

Alicia sliced peppers and zucchini to go on the grill when the meat came off, and put together a green salad.

“Bob?” she called. “Is the grill ready? Jack should be here soon.”

“Just about,” Bob said, stepping in from the deck. “I’ll put the steaks on after he gets here. Did you make a pie for dessert like you’ve been practicing?”

“Jack said he’d bring dessert.”

“Jack? Dessert? Are you sure he’s not just bringing a bag of fresh fruit?”

“He said dessert.”

The door opened, and Jack poked his head in.

“Maman? Papa? Do you mind if I brought an extra guest?”

Following Jack was Eric Bittle, dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a crisp shirt with a red bow tie. In his hands was a white pastry box.

“Hey, y’all,” he said. “Jack here said you liked my pie?”

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits au #prompt fill #my fic

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