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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 years

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too soon to tell, chapter e i g h t

December 2017

Jake had said it simply the other night on facetime, toothbrush in his mouth when Harry complained about his realization.

“She’s nice, I dunno, I just don’t feel a good connection.”

“Why not?” his words were muffled and Harry could tell by the look on his face, Jake thought he was crazy. Ending it with Nina Winters?

“We don’t have good banter,” he shrugged absentmindedly. “Don’t really love spending time with her.”

“You haven’t even slept with her yet--” Jake reminded.

“M’aware,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Sex isn’t everything, y’know.”

“Well then what is it you’re looking for? What’s she missing?”

Harry stared at his laptop screen, another email from his manager, another schedule for the next day in New York. “Someone who I’m comfortable with and who’s smart and funny and gets along with my family. Someone who’s like my best friend. And someone who I’m attracted to, obviously.”

Jake spit into the sink, Harry made a face at the noise.

“Sounds like you want Smalls.”

Brows furrowed, Harry tugged his eyes back to his phone. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Y/N,” Jake rolled his eyes. “As if you disagree.”

He thought on it for a second. Right. Sure. Harry had considered that a million times and unfortunately for him, the more time that passed since December 29th, 2015, the more he thought about her.

Jake took his friend’s silence as an admission of defeat, a smug smile when he bid Harry farewell. “Text her, you’re both in New York--have dinner or something. You know she’ll say yes.”

So now, Harry looked out the window at the snowflakes that littered lower Manhattan. Somewhere on this island she was here. Maybe in a cubicle or on the subway or maybe she was already home in her flat watching the news break about the storm.

Nine letters appeared below his message, delivered, but really, Harry felt exposed. He’d gone out on a limb--a shaky and half rotten limb in the tree of friendship, if he could even call it that.

“Hey, they want to run a soundcheck in a few,” Erica sounded from behind him, distracted by whatever email or text she read on her phone. He turned quickly, found her with a clipboard in hand and a smile on her face when she looked up at him. It faded, she could read the hesitance on his face, or maybe she could tell he was nauseous. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded casually. “M’fine.”

“Okay,” she accepted his answer, turned to walk back out the door of the Spotify green room and leave him alone with his thoughts.

“Remember that girl I was friends with, Y/N? From home?”

Erica stopped in her tracks, apparently he wasn’t okay. “Yeah--why?”

“I asked her to come tonight.”

“Here?”

“She lives here,” he shrugged again, suddenly feeling like his decision was stupid. Did Erica think he sounded desperate? Was it a terrible idea? “She might not come, I don’t know.”

Erica smiled, not too much though, in fear of making him more nervous than he already was. “Sounds good--let me know what she says and I’ll make sure she gets a good seat.”

She disappeared down the hall and Harry paced around for a while, rereading the text he’d sent to be sure it was casual and cool.

He knew things hadn’t really ended well--though he preferred to think they hadn’t ended at all. His relationship with Y/N had always been a little hot and cold. In some seasons of life she seemed to think his jokes were funny and enjoyed spending time with him, even if that was in a group or over a good fry-up at Annie’s.

In other seasons, she seemed to be unimpressed by his fame, his charm--maybe even him altogether.

For a long time she was the girl Harry always kind of liked, as a friend, as more, as someone who was funny and nice and wasn’t as obnoxious as Jessie or as condescending as Bryn. And for a while, Harry wondered if one day he’d gather up the courage to kiss her or ask her on a date just to see what would happen, but by the time that desire grew deep in his chest, Harry was busy selling out arenas and booking photoshoots with famous magazines.

Should have been but never was, Harry decided, always liking her instagram posts or smiling to himself when she said something clever in the group chat with their other mates. Should have been, but never was.

He was more excited than he should have been in 2015 when he learned that she’d broken up with her wanker boyfriend--Billy or Charlie or Henry--something like that. He was excited to see her when he showed up at Kenny Tilley’s house for a Christmas party with their other hometown peers, only to be wrought with regret after too many drinks and too many words and too many emotions.

Which is why his heart nearly fell out of his ass when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket mid sound-check.

Hi, thanks for the invite! Whereabouts is it?

He stared at the screen, mumbled the words to whatever song he was singing as if his brain wasn’t wrapped up in the possible scenario at hand: see Smalls for the first time in two years.

He could tell his band was bothered by his mediocre singing and half-hearted emotion when he thumbed out a response, all the while keeping his lips to the microphone to get through the song.

It’s at Spotify, it’s a live recording thing. No worries if you’re busy, but it’s 8pm.

A separate text:

150 Greenwich St 62nd Floor, New York, NY 10007.

He laughed at his own words: no worries if you’re busy. So nonchalant, so relaxed, as if his pulse wasn’t through the roof when she replied.

See you then!

So he finished up his sound-check and returned to the same behavior from before he took the tiny stage in front of an empty audience: pacing. He tried to stomach some dinner but wasn’t hungry, tried to go over the set list again but decided it was best to just let the anxiety happen.

Maybe she’d show up, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d be so angry that she’d ball him out in the green room afterwards or maybe she’d be excited to see him. The possibilities were endless, coated the stage in a thick layer of anticipation when Harry scanned the crowd during the first song, the second, the fifth, the seventh.

Would she blow him off like that? Say she’d be there and then just ghost him? Maybe he deserved it--but she told him to never speak to her again, he’d just been doing what she wanted, right?

The questions swirled round in his head when Erica greeted him backstage, a hushed whisper that had Harry forgetting all about the songs or the fans or the pit in his stomach: she’s in the green room with a friend, roommate, I think.

Thirty-three steps down the hall and then one giant breath in as he pushed the door open. She was there, a jacket wrapped around her frame, her friend with wide eyes on the couch when they both whipped their heads in his direction.

“Hey Smalls,” he said casually, feeling the corner of his mouth pull upwards as he walked towards her. She was frozen, awkward, an uncertain look on her face when Harry wrapped his arms around her.

“Hi,” she finally greeted, eyes meeting his once he let go. Was that awkward? She didn’t even hug him back. Harry cleared his throat and then smiled at her friend.

“I’m Harry. You must be,” he raised his eyebrows at her, reaching forward to make contact as Smalls stood awkwardly between them.

“Alyssa,” she answered quickly, extending her hand and offering a toothy grin in return--much more excited than Smalls, Harry noted.

Another awkward beat when Harry ran a hand through his hair, watched them both for a second and wondered what she’d told Alyssa. I told him I liked him and then threw up?

He looked between the two of them, mouth suddenly dry when he realized that Smalls, despite the time that had passed, looked just as uncomfortable with him as she always had. He was imploding, she seemed to be doing the same, and for a second, Harry wondered if this was a terrible idea and if he should just thank her for coming and get the fuck out of there.

“Good to see you,” she said suddenly, fingers reaching for the zipper on her jacket. “Sounded great out there!”

He smiled at this, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, thank you. Yeah, m’glad you could make it, thanks for coming.”

More silence. Alyssa shifted on her feet and smoothed her hair.

“How long are you in New York for?” Smalls asked, licked her lips quickly before letting her eyes glance down to the floor.

“Another week, actually. Doing some promo here and there. Heading back for the holidays soon though. Y’gonna be home?”

“Yeah--booked my flight a few days ago actually. Heading to Heathrow on the 20th.”

“Nice,” he nodded, averting his gaze for a minute over to Alyssa. Smalls turned to look back at her, but as soon as they locked eyes, she pulled her phone from her pocket and pretended to be occupied by something much more interesting.

So she definitely knew their history, Harry thought. For some reason, that gave him the confidence he needed, a small smile when he asked: “Have you both eaten dinner?”

Smalls nodded in confirmation but Alyssa shook her head, Harry furrowed his brows and fought the smirk that threatened to take over his features. One of them was going to break eventually.

“She means ‘we had a snack.’ You were just saying how hungry you were, Y/N,” Alyssa prompted, her left brow twitching upwards as if to silently communicate something with her friend.

“Uh, we sort of ate.”

He let out a laugh, hoping to calm the nerves in his gut. “Well, I was gonna go to a really seedy place that has the best Pad Thai in the city--if you want to join.”

Alyssa looked to Smalls and seemed to wait for her response, just like Harry did.

“Uh,” she shrugged her shoulders, about to back out. Harry’d long been used to the noncommittal ways of his childhood pal. Apparently, her roommate was too.

“You two go, I’ve actually got a lot of stuff to do tonight. I’ll just get a cab home.” She made her way towards the door and offered a smile over her shoulder. “Text me when you’re on your way home, yeah?”

He could have sworn he saw Smalls offer a nasty glare to her friend, one that only had his lips twitching in amusement when Alyssa offered him a wave.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry called, shoving a hand into his pocket as the door shut behind her. He turned back around and felt the same butterflies he’d been feeling since he was a kid. “Shall we?”

It wasn’t like Harry had never been alone with her before. There were plenty of car rides to school functions or moments when they’d get left alone by the others, accidentally making his heart rate soar until she made some kind of comment that made it clear: they were friends.

But the words he’d reminded himself of all night seemed to get lodged in his throat when they sat in the backseat of a black SUV, her pointer finger swiped through 5-star reviews on Yelp. Apparently she didn’t trust his taste in Thai.

Small pleasantries, he asked about her family and filled her in on his. They did the whole how have the last few years been, seeing as that was the last time they spoke regularly or had any clue what the other was up to.

December in New York was cold, she shrunk into her jacket in the cold air and Harry held the door, a bell above it chimed and a bowl of mints on the counter greeted them before a woman appeared with dated menus.

Harry slid into a booth and Smalls immediately poured over the laminated pages: spring rolls, tofu, drunken noodles. He let out a hum, chanced a look in her direction. Was she really going to make it this hard?

She was. Short answers to his questions, surface level conversation after they ordered and nervous laughter until their food was brought out.

“So how’re Jessie and Bryn?” He asked, using two chopsticks to pull noodles onto his plate.

She shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes met his for a second but she looked away quickly.

“They’re good. Bryn is working in finance at some company I don’t even know the name of,” she recounted, following his move to pull a serving onto her plate. “Jessie’s looking into PhD programmes. Can’t stand the thought of being uneducated.”

He let out a laugh at her joke, carrying a bite of food towards his mouth.

“And you’re…”

“At The Scoop, you’ve probably never heard of it, but we love to write about you.”

She rolled her eyes at that, always ready to crack a joke about the insane amount of attention he got. For what, she’d ask, shaking your hips on stage and having obnoxious hair?

The right side of his mouth pulled up as he chewed.

“Well, not me, but, like, my coworkers,” she backtracked.

Harry didn’t know how much to divulge, but he knew all of that. He knew about Bryn and Jessie and he knew where she worked.

“I know it, the website,” he nodded. Another bite, words spoken around chunks of chicken. “I’ve read some of your stuff. Didn’t know if you were still there.”

“You’ve read it?” Her eyes were wide, he smirked and rolled up the sleeves of his brown sweater so as to not make contact with the broken pieces of noodles on the table.

“I have. Pretty good, really. People seem to love you.”

He also noticed that she’d never written a single thing about him. Not his name, not his photo, no trace of him appeared on her author page and, he figured, that was on purpose.

“And you like New York,” he nodded, waiting for an answer despite the fact that he’d already made a statement.

“Love New York,” she nodded. “Excited to go back to London though for the holidays.”

“We’ll have to get everyone together. I know I’ve been,” a lift of his right shoulder out of guilt, “pretty shit at keeping in touch.”

“You’re busy,” was all she said.

“Still.”

“S’fine.”

“S’not, but,” he didn’t finish.

There it was, the small and quick lift of her brows that let him know he hit a nerve. Harry knew her too well to think that it didn’t bother her, and now, as he watched her take another bite before she looked up at him, his heart sank.

Maybe they’d never get back what once was. Maybe he didn’t have the words to apologize and maybe she didn’t have the time to hear him out. Maybe asking her to come tonight was stupid and maybe what was left between them was just a hollow shell of the friendship that used to make him excited to come home and visit.

But Harry hoped it wasn’t.

She derailed the conversation before he could go any further, plastered a smile on her face and asked about the tour, about his album, tried to beat him to the check when he slapped a card on the table.

Disappointment settled in Harry’s chest when she tugged on her jacket and a hat, ready to face the snow that fell from the night sky, but he was desperate to turn the night around.

“Want to walk?”

“Huh?”

He stifled a laugh, “Walk, Smalls, just for fun. I don’t always see too much of the city.”

This caught her off guard, a nervous glance around the room that made Harry feel guilty for trying to extend the evening. Couldn’t blame him for trying, though, right?

“I mean, I have to work in the morning, so.”

“Oh,” his face fell. “Yeah, no, s’fine.”

“I guess, we can walk to my apartment, if you really want. It’s not--it’s like fourteen blocks from here.”

Another sheepish smile from him as he pushed on the door and waited for her to walk under his arm. The snowflakes were smaller when they looked up to see them dance in the flood of street lights. Harry went up to the passenger side window of the car that waited for him, knocked twice before the driver rolled it down.

Gonna walk, not far, I don’t need security.

They fell into step together quite seamlessly, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered if she was leaving just as much unsaid as he was.

“This is where I get my hair cut, actually,” she pointed to a window with empty barber chairs inside, a sly smile tugging at her mouth when he pressed his face up the window.

“Really?”

“No--that’s like--it’s a place for men,” she raised her brows at the stupid look on his face, Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sound of her laugh.

He smiled and turned back to look at her. A pause for a second, she knew exactly where his mind went.

“Don’t say it,” she shook her head quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth at the same time.

“You’re killing me, Smalls.”

She rolled her eyes but started walking again, picking up her pace to let him know she was annoyed. “I hate that nickname.”

He caught up, an undeniable and unmistakable twitch of his lips that soon became a full-face grin.

“Oh come on, Y/N, s’not that bad,” he reached over to poke her in the shoulder. She shuttered under his touch, shrinking into her scarf when she looked over at him.

“Is too,” she said, biting back a laugh. “You lot are the only ones who ever use that and I’ve never given my actual consent!”

He went quiet, his boots brushing against the powder on the concrete as he tried to hide the smile on his face. Even in silence it felt nice to be with her. Even when she rolled her eyes or had quick comebacks, being around her made Harry feel like he was home. Maybe that’s what he was chasing, maybe that would answer Jake’s question.

The wind blew every once in a while and he’d angle his body slightly to shield her, eyes tracing the skyline as the snowflakes downgraded to specks of dust in the wind.

Harry didn’t mind the way butterflies erupted when he looked at her, didn’t mind how she caught him stealing glances and certainly didn’t mind the way she giggled when he nudged her with his hip as she slowed to a stop in front of her flat.

“Thanks for,” he paused, his lips twitching as he searched for the right label. “Hanging out.”

“Yeah, s’good to see you. I’d uh, invite you up--s’pretty messy, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly, shaking his head as he looked up to take in the sight of the building. It was shorter than some others, only eight stories on the residential street.

He watched her hopefully, apparently this made her nervous and she stammered.

“Well, I mean, s’late, I know you’re probably busy tomorrow.”

He wasn’t about to let it go that easily. What could have been a trainwreck of a night was only a small collision, awkward in moments but finally more relaxed.

“I have a place a few blocks away. I’ll probably walk home myself, s’a short walk.”

“You have an apartment here?” she asked, her voice smaller than it’d been all night, like sadness had taken some of the volume out when she realized just how close they’d been.

“M’not here often, really,” he said quickly, the emotion on her face made his eyes drop to the snowy sidewalk. He knew just how bad it sounded. “A week or two at a time, few times a year. But, I’d still love to see your place.”

He wouldn’t have fallen out of touch if she hadn’t told him to. He would have seen her more, especially after all of that, but she cried and refused and Harry was left with a heaping of guilt so big he wondered if he’d ever be the same.

She looked up at him now, a sigh before she bit at her lip, nodding slowly. “Uh, yeah, okay.”

She fished for her keys in her pocket, he followed her to the lift and climbed inside, riding in silence until she turned left and stopped atop a welcome mat.

She keyed in quietly, took a few steps inside before turning to face him, pulling the hat off her head. “S’not much, but it’s home,” she looked around. A small couch and armchair in the center of the living room. A modest-sized TV, a small table and two teal chairs by the kitchen in the corner.

Harry took it in, pictured her typing away on her laptop, pen in her mouth and glasses on. Maybe she’d sit cross-legged on the couch, maybe she’d sip wine with Alyssa at the table and laugh about their workdays.

“S’nice,” he smiled, bringing his eyes back to hers. “Feels homey.”

The door to Alyssa’s bedroom creaked, her figure emerging from the light that seeped through the crack. “How’d it--oh, hi!” Her eyes widened when she saw Harry. “How was dinner?”

They spoke at the same time.

“Good,” he said.

“Fine,” was her response.

Aylssa crossed her arms over her chest awkwardly, he looked between them both and offered another smile. Smacking his lips together, he looked around the room once more, his eyes finally landing on Smalls.

“I’ll see you--yeah? I’m here for another week, we could do dinner or something?”

Apparently this caught her off guard, she parted her lips to speak but only nodded. He smiled again, selfishly liking the effect he had.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she watched as he headed for the door he’d just entered through.

“Nice to meet you again, Alyssa.”

“You too,” a dazed look still on her face as she watched him reach for the handle.

“You can find your way down? And your way home?”

He crossed the threshold back into the hallway, his lip curling up. “I’m good, Smalls.”

“Okay.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“Bye,” she said, one last look in his eyes before she shut the door.

Present Day

You didn’t expect your Thursday evening to go like this. You didn’t expect to be throwing a tequila shot back and you certainly didn’t expect to be throwing your ass in a circle to Single Ladies at 9pm.

“S’a bit early for twerking, no?” Katie looked on in horror. Hattie--her trusty London sidekick--watched with less judgment but just as much shock.

“We’re old now, by midnight we’ll all have heartburn,” you reminded her, a roll of your eyes when Bryn reappeared with a new drink.

“It’s got your name on it!” She wiggled it in front of your face, laughed when you reached excitedly and took a gulp.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Jessie pointed a finger, “but I like it.”

“Alright, well someone make sure she doesn’t throw up, yeah?”

“Oh shut up,” you made a face at Jake. “I’m just letting loose, having fun--isn’t this the type of shit you lot have been wanting me to do?”

“Yeah, responsibly, though.”

Adam scoffed when Jessie punched him in the shoulder. “Oi--why is wanting to drink responsibly a bad thing?”

“It’s not, but when was the last time Y/N wanted to go to a club?”

They all made a face at that, apparently there was enough suspicion about your weeknight request that they’d decided to ignore how strange it was.

Bryn tried to corner you in the loo a half hour prior to ask why on earth are we here and why do you want to get drunk? Katie and Hattie were curious too, Jake and Adam seemed the most into it, and that left Jessie.

“Alright,” she reappeared beside you with another shot. “Someone at the bar bought these for us because they said you have a nice ass.”

“Me?!” You took one of the shot glasses from her with a smile.

“Well you’re the only one throwing it in a circle, so, yes.”

They all laughed at this, you chose to believe it was with you, not at you--that would just be sad.

It had been a shitty two weeks. Two weeks since Harry dropped you off in front of your flat and you realized that pretending you didn’t miss him didn’t actually change the way you were feeling.

You downed the shot that Jessie handed over, Bryn groaned when you didn’t wait for Jessie to take one with you, and that’s when Katie finally had enough.

“Alright--what has gotten into you?”

“Me?”

“No, the other person here who’s suddenly manic and throwing back shots.”

You let your eyes roll to the back of your head, stuck out your tongue at your little sister when Jessie intervened.

“I think Katie’s just asking if you’re alright.”

“I’m great!” You smiled at the six of them. “I’m fantastic, why?!”

“You’re a bit of a hot mess,” Bryn put a hand on your shoulder, her watered down version of the truth stung when Katie took it a step further:

“Is this about Harry?”

“What about him?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Katie shot back. “You miss him, you saw him at that party.”

“You what?” Bryn asked quickly. The middle of the dance floor didn’t seem like a good place for this discussion. “Where’d you see him?”

You let out a dramatic groan over the music. All you wanted to do was throw your hands in the air because you were a single lady!

“You saw Harry?” Jessie’s head was suddenly close to yours.

“Alright, it’s not like he fell off the face of the earth.”

“No,” Bryn agreed, “but he hasn’t come to dinner the last two weeks and Jake said he was weird when he saw him last weekend.”

You peered over your shoulder, “you saw Harry last weekend?”

Jake paused for a second, pulled into your conversation when he looked between you, Bryn, and Jessie. Were you all being honest? Jake couldn’t tell.

“Yes...no?” He grimaced at Bryn. “Yes. I did.”

You nodded, lips in a thin line to show that you didn’t care. What did they talk about? Did he tell them he’d seen you? Did he tell them about Charlie?

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Oh come off it,” Katie gave you a playful shove. “You’re not dying to know what he’s been saying about you?”

“How do you know he’s even been saying things about me?” You challenged.

“Because he has,” Adam said absentmindedly, apparently he’d had just as much to drink as you had.

You all whipped your heads in his direction, he offered a hesitant smile when he realized what he’d said.

Jessie and Bryn watched you closely, waiting for a reaction as you nodded. Calm, cool, collected. Okay. Right. Of course he’d talk about you with them. They were his friends, too.

“Right,” you said, a forced smile at Bryn when she offered you a sympathetic frown. “I’m going to get another drink.”

It was weird and they all knew it, the new attempt to respect privacy and boundaries and not share every tiny morsel of information like you’d previously done for the last decade plus. None of them chased you, they let you wait at the bar in peace for another glass to be slid your way.

The music kept blaring and Katie and Hattie seemed to loosen up as the night went on, less embarrassed by your dancing before the club had even filled out.

By 11pm Bryn was rolling her eyes, ready to go home. We all have to work tomorrow, she reminded. Jessie was keen on staying and Adam headed to the bar to get another round when she disappeared to the bathroom with your sister.

“Y’alright?”

Jake, of course. You turned to see him in the darkness, felt the vibrating of the bass in your chest when he sat next to you in the oversized booth. The room started spinning when the strobe lights turned on, you figured you deserved to sit this one out.

“Yeah--drunk.”

He laughed, “I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

For a moment he didn’t say anything, broke his gaze from you as you ripped the paper napkin into tiny shreds, like your dignity. Symbolic.

“Okay, ten second pity party, go.”

“What?”

He looked at you, unimpressed. “If you need to feel bad for yourself because you don’t get every piece of information, now’s your chance. I’ll listen and be supportive and play along.”

“Don’t be a dick,” you told him, eyes narrowed.

“M’not,” he said, defensive. “I get it. This is weird. It must be hard.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply, Adam appeared beside you bright-eyed, fingers stretched around three shot glasses. “Hi!”

“Oh god,” you wrinkled your nose at the sight.

“You’re the one who asked for them!” His shoulders rose in innocence.

“I know, I know,” you waved him off, regretting the request you’d made only ten minutes earlier. “Isn’t it clear by now that I make shit decisions?”

“What?” Jake’s forehead wrinkled, he didn’t catch your subtle admission.

“Never mind.”

Adam set the shots down on the table and sat across from Jake, who now let out a sigh. You wiped at your eyes and hoped your makeup wasn’t too smudged from sweating.

You peered over at Jake, pout on your face for three seconds until he figured out what you were up to.

“No, no Smalls, do not look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Adam asked, perking up.

“She wants to know what happened when we saw Harry.”

“Oh come on,” you whined. “I thought we were all being honest?”

“I thought we were butting out,” he corrected you.

“That includes being honest.”

“Does it?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“It does!” You informed them. “Seriously--what could have happened that you wouldn’t tell me about? Did’ya smoke some weed? Watch footy all night? Have a slumber party?”

They both rolled their eyes at your pestering, Jake let out a huff and turned to look at you.

“We talked about you.”

“Me?” It was the answer you’d been hoping for, but the butterflies in your stomach still took flight. “What about me?”

“Nothing,” he offered you a sarcastic grin. “Just how great you are.”

“Adam,” you shifted your mission, new target. “How was it? Did he seem weird? Did he mention seeing me at the party?”

“He mentioned a lot,” Adam said with a nod, eyes on the shots in the center of the table. “Said it’s been hard, obviously.”

“Adam,” Jake warned.

“What’s been hard?” You spoke quickly, scooching closer to Adam.

“Smalls, you know he loves you.”

“Does he?”

“Would he have started talking to ring designers over the summer if he didn’t?”

Almost like a bomb went off, the music faded out and the rest of the club became a blur, flashing lights and fog machines disappeared when Jake let out a groan.

“For fuck’s sake, Adam, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Adam’s eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. They both watched you, frozen, lips parted and heart nearly beating out of your chest. Was this what a heart attack felt like? You pushed Adam out of the booth and grabbed your purse on the table.

Ten steps towards the door, Katie tried to grab your arm when she saw the look on your face and the emotion in your eyes. You shrugged her off, another fifteen until the cold November air was drying the tears on your face.

You rounded the corner, passed the line of girls in skimpy clothes hoping to get inside. No jacket--another shit decision--and tried to catch your breath once you were far enough away from the door.

“Y/N wait,” Jake was behind you now, Adam in tow.

“No,” you said over your shoulder. “It’s fine. I don’t want to know anything.”

“You don’t?” He asked incredulously, a bit mocking when you turned around.

“Of course I do, but what good is it? He obviously doesn’t want to be with me if he didn’t tell me any of that, right? He obviously hates me and obviously this is never going to work out so I should just get over it.”

Adam had the shot glasses in his hand, somehow he’d managed to make it by the bouncer with all three glasses sloshing over the sides as they followed you out in haste.

You let out an awkward laugh when you saw them, he offered an apologetic smile.

“Did you know back then?”

“That he was thinking about proposing?”

You nodded.

“Don’t you think one of us would have stopped you from being an idiot and breaking up with him if we knew?” Jake made a face at you like you were crazy.

Adam stifled a laugh and leaned back against the side of the building. “He didn’t tell us until after you’d already broken up and after that terribly awkward dinner when he got food poisoning.” He rolled his eyes at the stupid excuse.

Your mouth felt dry, the world seemed to keep spinning as you stood, paralyzed by regret and confusion. Jake finally reached for the shot glasses in Adam’s hands.

“Why didn’t he tell me that, though? I told him the day after we ended it that things seemed weird between us and--”

“And then you would have thought he was lying about that just to save his arse,” Adam reasoned. “Using ‘but I was going to propose’ as a way to stop you from dumping him? He’s an idiot but he’s not that stupid.”

You looked away, embarrassed that you were that predictable.

“Look, you didn’t hear this from us, okay?” Jake handed you a shot, you knew the watch around his wrist had been a birthday gift from Harry two years prior. “He’d kill us if he knew we--he,” a finger in Adam’s direction, “told you that.”

Adam happily took his shot glass and clinked it against yours, still buzzed enough to not grasp the gravity of the conversation at hand. You brought the liquid to your lips and grimaced as it burned its way down your throat.

An immediate gag reflex, apparently your body decided you’d been enough of a twat for this lifetime. The contents of your stomach came back up, you turned around and barfed directly onto the pavement beneath your feet.

Adam and Jake both moved away from you instinctively, grimacing when you coughed and then stood up. One of them shoved a napkin in your direction, you wiped at your mouth and stood up.

Sad eyes when you looked at them. The only thing that stung worse than the combo of tequila and vomit was the truth: you fucked up.

“Can I have that ten second pity party now?”

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!)

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you.

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction. Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight.

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words.

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear.

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood.

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it?

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room.

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable.

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you.

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of.

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win.

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you.

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together.

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was.

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.

You're desperate.

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left.

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment.

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to afford a decent quality life? So be it.

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind.

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant.

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you.

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place.

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up.

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined.

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job.

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground.

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down.

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm.

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope.

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you.

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?”

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words.

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long.

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you.

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out.

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust.

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size.

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever.

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you.

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess.

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while.

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.”

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets.

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear.

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #yandere oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: bullying #tw: coercion

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, mentions of depression, angst, bucky is a cocky bitch, but bucky also needs a hug

(other parts) (masterlist)

part 1/3:

It’s December, his sophomore year of college and Bucky’s watching you again. From afar, always from afar. He’s scared if he goes near, something will give him away and you’ll laugh at him. He doesn’t remember when his fixation started but he’s certain it’ll pass. A load of girls on campus like him. Sometimes he thinks he likes some of them back. But not you. Bucky doesn’t like you. He’s beyond you. (Actually, you’re beyond him. He would never admit that.) He watches you and notices how your fringe has grown the last few weeks and how a few strands are falling down your eyes. You brush them away and keep writing your essay. He decides it’d be better if he started writing his too. You’re a year younger but he knows you’ll probably get a higher score than him anyway. You’re good with words, he has noticed.

It’s March, your freshman year and you breathe out. You’re leaving the library, arms wrapped around books about Hamlet and Shakespeare, when you see him. Lately he seems to be everywhere you are. It’s getting annoying. You promise yourself you won’t stare at him again, but you cheat a few times. He’s wearing one of his overpriced shirts and he smiles at a sophomore girl. You know Bucky Barnes. You’d known him even if you didn’t want to. Because everybody does. Because that’s who he is. Everything you dislike about the world distilled into one label-whoring, conceited, 5′11″ tall boy. And everybody seems to be smitten with him.

He comes to you first.

“It’s destiny, Y/N,” he says, a smug look on his face, “third time I bump into you today.”

You tense. This is new. Usually, you don’t talk to each other if not for arguing in Romance Literature class. It’s one of the two classes you share.

“I must be very lucky.” Bucky chuckles and it’s somewhat engaging because he hasn’t given you a smile since the first day you met him.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”.

You had thought he was nice then. And beautiful. God, he was so beautiful. Please, he’s not. He’s an arrogant smartass. And now he’s standing here and for some seconds he laughs and you can see the dimples in his cheeks. You blink.

His light eyes divert to the books you’re holding.

“Try not to have too much fun.”

He mocks and walks away.

It’s July, end of sophomore year and Bucky joins a summer book club. (He doesn’t tell anyone. He enjoys his facade.) Every morning he grabs an iced latte and a butter croissant and he goes to the meetings. He reads a lot. And he loves it. It helps him feel. It’s a getaway. Bucky always stands proud and tall, trying to hide how easily he can be torn.

Running one finger along the starched collar of his shirt, he reads quietly and he considers the ever-changing art of literature; words and metaphors that allow him to imagine entire worlds and fathom his own sensitivities. He almost feels vulnerable. He decides that reading together with another person is an intimate act and he’s thankful he doesn’t really have any interest in anyone in the club.

But then it’s Monday and his teenage dream walks in, hair falling gracefully your shoulders, Gone with The Wind in your left hand. And it could have been the sun gleaming through the windows, but Bucky swears his whole being flickers. In a way or another he always responds to your presence.

You sit two rows behind of him and when he involuntary turns to you, you look surprised and yet you smile.

He tries to avoid you and he’s good at it, until someone decides it’d be fun to present the next book in groups. You’re the only two without a friend there and you end up paired together.

“I don’t like this.” he says.

“Oh, I know.” you whisper.

You spend an evening in his dorm, discussing the author and the plot holes. At first, he talks a lot, trying to impress you. But then he lays on his back, listening to the summer rain outside and you reading out loud. Regardless of what you feel for each other, he thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

Next morning, he buys two butter croissants instead of one.

It’s October, your sophomore year and you’re not exactly friends. Or enemies. Bucky has stopped teasing you and you think it’s because of your days in the book club. Actually, it’s because he’s dating Natasha Romanoff now and he promised he’d be kinder.

You realize sooner or later and you say it’s obvious you don’t care. (Who is it obvious to?) The girl is pretty, clever and vibrant and she’s a good person. You like her. You just can’t figure out what she sees in Bucky.

It’s January, his junior year and he’s not doing well. He knows it’s his fault (he always loved half-heartedly) and that makes the hurting worse. It’s guilt driven. He tries to get Nat back but she’s not ready. And it’s awful because nobody warned him and he didn’t know; it’s hard to feel lovable after a break up. He desperately needs a distraction. He pushes himself past his breaking point. Carves his grades into the back of his neck. Devours facts and theorems. Almost joins the football team for extra credit. But to be honest he’s never been that much into sports. Debate team, it is.

That’s where he truly learns to despise you. Who do you think you are? The proud jaw, those smart eyes, your feet planted on the ground as if the world’s wisdom belongs to you. You’re at your best while he’s at his lowest point.

He watches you and then he watches himself.

“Your last argument was weak,” you say, raising your eyebrows, “you should concentrate more.”

Bucky bites his lip in frustration.

“You’re not the boss around here.” He says, crossing his arms in his chest, “You may think you are, but you’re not.”

(Technically she is, Bucky. She’s the captain of the team.)

“Don’t start again.” You sigh. “I just want us to win next week.”

He rolls his eyes at you. He would never admit it out loud but a part of him is enjoying this. Feuding with Y/N feels natural. It reminds him of who he is. And he feeds on that.

He takes a step towards you.

“Of course, so you can take all the credit.”

You just stare at him. Sometimes you don’t understand what Bucky is trying to prove. That he’s better? Or that you’re worse? You hate it. How quickly he can make you lose your temper.

(How quickly he can exhilarate you.)

“If you don’t like the team,” you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze, “you’re free to leave.”

Bucky laughs. This is how you are. This is how you will always be. Both strong, you just, him lost.

“You need me to win, Y/N,” he sets his shoulders back and smirks, “I’m good at this.” He remains close to you and refuses to look away. He can see you parting your lips for a second or two.

(Did he just glance at your lips?)

“I know you are,” you breath out and Bucky is incredulous, “so start acting like it.”

(Did you just compliment him?)

It’s the first day of February, your sophomore year and you think you’re losing your sanity. Bucky invites everyone at his dorm to celebrate their victory at the National Debate Championship. And it’s strange because Bucky never really invites anyone he doesn’t like. If you didn’t know him, you would have bet that he’s been feeling lonely.

You don’t want to go at first. But you’re glad you do. Under the green lights he has installed and all the alcohol in his body, he looks different and it’s the first time you genuinely see him. A boy with silky black hair, blue eyes and skin that looks like it’d be cool to touch. There’s something attractive about him, in a rugged way, and you’re seeing it again after a long time.

Your allergies must have gotten in your head.

He doesn’t talk a lot that night. Not to you. Not to anyone. You deduce pretty early that Bucky just wanted company to drink. You wonder if he’s still messed up because of the break up.

Probably. Everyone on campus is talking about how Natasha was hanging out with that boy, Clint.

He tells you, you don’t have to, but you still stay to help him clean up.

“Why are you doing this, Y/N?” His voice is low.

You started taking a new antihistamine, maybe it’s the side effects.

“It’s called being nice,” you say firmly, “you should try it.”

Bucky makes a little humming sound and keeps collecting plastic cups. The room is quiet, but for the sound of trash bags and you count the seconds before you speak again.

“How are you?”

“I’m not that drunk, don’t worry.” He half-answers, half laughs but he pronounces the last word with enough irony.

“No, I meant,” you breath, “Is everything okay with you?”

“Seriously, you make no sense Y/N.” He’s careful not to look at you.

“I just wanted to say,” your voice sways for a second, you’re a novice in talking with him about anything different than books and words and that makes you weak and nervous, “You’ll be back with Natasha, I’m sure.”

Bucky’s face hardens around the edges, his eyes saying more about him than any words could. He comes close to you and it could have been the smell of alcohol but you feel like you want to throw up.

“You and I, we’re not friends.”

You don’t blink. You stare blankly at him, waiting for what follows. But he just leaves the room.

You promise you will never go to any of his parties again.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #college au #au!bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #hassandra #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #alternate universe #alternate universe bucky #natasha romanoff #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #fools

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

not your duke [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: prince!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.7k ➽ summary: at the dawn of the new century, you meet two men: one, your betrothed, and the other, a prince with a secret. ➽ warnings: explicit language, gothic era shit bc i live for that ➽ a/n: many thanks to the loml @earthlyholland for coming up with the title and urging me to finish writing this i luv u kiss

Nothing had ever drawn you into London. In fact, you were staunchly opposed to the idea when your father first told you that you were moving. What was the point of it? You knew that your father could conduct business as easily from the States as from England, but what’s done is done. You had lived in London for a short time, only a few months, before you realized the real reason why your father relocated you.

You met your fiancé at a party. London was known for its aristocracy, and your father’s banking business had put him in high regard with many of the British elite, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were invited to a New Years party. “The Osterfields,” your father told you. “I’m told they have a son only just older than you.”

“Really?” you asked, looking out the window, hardly curious. “His name?”

“Harrison,” your father told you. The carriage bumped along the street, and you swayed with it. “The Honourable Harrison Osterfield of Kingston.”

“Of course he’s noble,” you muttered. “Father, will you ever stop trying to marry me off?”

“Your younger sister is already married,” your father reminded you. “If it’s not soon, it’ll never happen. And Sir Harrison is a perfectly agreeable gentleman.”

“Agreeable to you,” you scoffed.

“He’s an Oxford-educated man,” your father pressed. “Well-read, which I know is something you covet. I’m told he’s a good conversationalist as well; I guess you’ll be able to judge that for yourself tonight.”

You cried out in opposition. “Father! Am I to meet Little Lord Fauntelroy tonight?”

“Watch your tongue, girl. You are to meet your fiancé tonight.”

The New Years party hosted by the Baron and Baroness Osterfield was what you expected, a lush spectacle of champagne and pleasing music and perfume. It wasn’t the sort of place that you usually found comfort at, but you tried your best; the Baron Osterfield was a close business partner of your father’s, and you couldn’t afford to muck everything up by having a foul attitude. “Lord Osterfield,” my father began, placing a hand on my back to usher me into his conversation. “Might I introduce my daughter?”

The man before you was older, his fair hair tinged with a bit of grey, but he was dressed wonderfully in his tails and a red tie. “Pleasure to meet you, miss,” he said in a sonorous voice. “You’re the lass that’s engaged to our Haz, yes?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smiled, and your father sent a warning pinch to your back through your dress. Attitude, you could hear him scolding you.

“Have you met him yet?” Lord Osterfield asked. “He’s a strapping lad; running around with his uni mates, I’m sure.” He looked around the room, bustling with activity, and he made a quick motion with his hand when he spotted someone across the room.

The space before you was suddenly filled by a young man, still older than you, blond hair and green eyes, a wonderful smile on his face and his cheeks blushed. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you, and he took your hand in a gentle but strong hold. “Hello, madam,” he said cordially. “I’m called Harrison. Haz, to most.”

“Haz,” you repeated slowly. “I’d rather keep with Lord Osterfield, if that pleases you.”

“Of course, madam,” Harrison said. “Might I interest you in a turn about the garden? It’s such a lovely night.”

You looked to your father for permission, and he patted your back with a nod. Harrison saw this and gave a smile, and you hooked your arm with his as he led you out into the cold December night. Harrison’s body was warm and you found yourself moving into him, and he finally stopped at a metal bench along the path. “Do you mind if I smoke?” Harrison asked, settling himself onto the bench.

You shrugged. Harrison took that to mean “No”, and he situated a cigarette in his mouth. It was rolled perfectly, either the work of a skilled amateur or a professional; either way, it was the smallest proof of his aristocracy. All of your friends smoked lopsided cigarettes that had tobacco that spilled out of the ends.

“I’m sure you like this as well as I do,” Harrison began. “I told my parents that I prefer to marry for love, but my younger sister is already married. They said it was getting to be--”

“Too late,” you supplied. “My father said the same of me.”

“You prefer to marry for love as well?” Harrison asked. Feeling slightly more at ease than before, you sat down next to him, fiddling with your skirt to lay right.

“I would like to,” you said. “But we both know that’s not possible.”

Harrison shrugged. “We only have a few minutes left of this year,” he said, looking at the Swiss watch on his wrist. “Who knows? Maybe 1900 holds newfound possibilities.”

You tilted your head. “What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harrison chuckled. A strand of blond escaped the rest of his styled hair, and you gently pushed it back, earning you a smile from your fiancé. “I’m just hopeful.”

“Hope can be dangerous,” you remarked.

“That’s true,” Harrison said. “But what’s the harm in having a little hope? Perhaps we can learn to love each other.”

“Perhaps we can,” you agreed. “I guess we have the rest of our lives to do that.”

Harrison smiled at you, and you huffed out a laugh. He pulled a drag from his cigarette, and he said, “So we’re getting married, huh?”

“Seems like it.”

There was a shout from the house, one that made Harrison look over, and you did as well to see a man, about the same age as Harrison, dressed nicely with curly hair, half-hanging out of the house. “Haz, get your stupid arse in here!” the man yelled. “Find your girl, the clock’s about to turn!”

“I have my girl, you git!” Harrison cried. Before either of you could say anything, the man slipped from the house and came over to the two of you, and Harrison rolled his eyes. “Here we go…” he whispered.

“This is her?” the man asked. He was British too, and he smiled at you widely.

“Yes,” Harrison said, and he stood up. You did the same, and Harrison carefully took your hand. “This is Y/N, my fiancé.”

“Ah,” the man said. “Hello, madam.”

“Y/N, this is one of my mates from university,” Harrison told you. “Duke Harold Holland of Kingston-Upon-Thames.”

“Call me Harry,” he said quickly. “Everyone else does.”

“Harry,” you said with a relieved smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Harry said. “Have you only just met?”

“Just several minutes ago,” Harrison told him, his arm snaking around your waist.

“Well, it’s quite cold out,” Harry said. “And the clock’s about to turn. Come in, madam, get a drink.”

“Oh, I don’t drink,” you told Lord Harry Holland of Kingston-Upon-Thames quickly. “It doesn’t agree with me.”

“No matter,” Harry said. “I’ll warn you, though: a drink completely agrees with your fiancé.” He gave a laugh, and you noticed that Harrison shifted uncomfortably next to you.

“Well, Christ, don’t make me out to be a drunkard,” Harrison laughed nervously. “You’ll frighten her away, and we only just agreed to go through with this.”

“Not meant to frighten you, madam,” Harry said quickly. “In fact, my oldest brother doesn’t drink. Perhaps you two will get along.”

“Oh, no, Harry, she’ll hate Thomas,” Harrison sighed. He looked at you, then added, “Thomas is quite a bore, honestly. Not nearly as fun as me, Harry or Sam.”

“Sam? Thomas?” you asked. You agreed that Haz and Harry seemed like fun, but anxiety thrummed in your chest. If Thomas was a bore to Harrison, you didn’t want to know what he truly thought of you. You could easily also be classified as a bore: you preferred reading and drawing to the piano or squash that was popular with your friends. You had done ballet when you were growing up, but were by no means athletic otherwise.

“My twin brother, Samuel,” Harry began. “And Thomas is… Haz is right, he’s an awful bore. He brought a fucking book tonight, can you believe it? What sort of sod brings a book to a party?”

“But Thomas is a good friend,” Harrison added. “He’s a wonderful listener and gives excellent advice.”

You nodded slowly. Thomas already seemed like a better match than Harrison, and you cursed your father. Of course he would match you with someone who wasn’t the best option for you. But no matter. Your fiancé offered you his arm and you took it, and you followed the men back into the ballroom. There was a renewed energy, and the ballroom was abuzz. You were introduced to Duke Samuel Holland, a man who bore a striking resemblance to Harry (as they should), and were briefly told about the twins’ younger brother, a boy of sixteen named Lord Patrick. The Honourable Charlotte Osterfield came after Sam, and she was giggling the entire night; she was engaged to Sir Tuwaine Barrett of Chelsea, another uni mate of your fiance’s.

“Where is Thomas?” Harrison asked, looking around wildly. “He promised me that he’d be my New Years’ kiss!”

“Did he swear to it as he did to Nadia?” Harry chortled. “I bet he’s gone home already. Slipped away without any of us noticing.”

The clock chimed, and Harrison turned his jade gaze back to you. You gave him a gleeful look over the brim of your champagne as you took a sip, and your body cowered at the bitterness of the French alcohol. “Happy New Year, dearest,” Harrison said quietly, just for you to hear. “Here’s to many more.”

You nodded. Suddenly, your chest felt tight, and your head was spinning, and you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. You suddenly saw the rest of your life flash in front of your eyes: The Honorable Lady Osterfield, on your husband’s arm every single day, expected to please him and serve him. You didn’t want that.

“Y/N,” Harrison said, putting a hand on your shoulder. His eyebrows were furrowed, and you at least felt comforted at his genuine worry. “You look pale. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Quite fine. I told you that alcohol doesn’t agree well with me.”

Harrison nodded, his lips drawn thin, and he turned to Harry. “Call her carriage,” he instructed him. “I think my dearest needs to go home.”

Harry nodded, giving you a worried look, but hurried off to do as his friend requested. Harrison took the flute of champagne from you and set it down, and he put a hand on your back. “I hate that you’ve gone ill,” he said. “I do wish we can see each other again, though. I enjoy your company greatly.”

“And I, yours,” you replied. “I really apologize for my behavior--”

“Harrison,” a booming voice came, and you looked to see the Baron Osterfield approaching you. “I need to speak with you, son.”

“Father, can it wait?” Harrison asked. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“His Majesty needs to speak to you,” Lord Osterfield said. “A business venture, he says.”

Harrison looked from you to his father, and he chewed his bottom lip. “I’ll be right there,” he told his father. “I just need to escort Y/N to her carriage.”

“Harrison, Dominic cannot be kept waiting,” Lord Osterfield grumbled. “Especially not on such a matter.”

Harrison looked at you once more, then his eyes caught someone behind you. “Thomas,” he said. “Thomas! Come here, please!”

Your heart hit against the wall of your chest when you finally saw Thomas Holland. He was a well-built man, wearing nice clothes that were a bit worn in places. His hair was dark, and in frizzy curls, crawling down his face, as was the fashion. His eyes were the color of amber, his cheeks pink, his lips thin but like a rose. He had a book under his arm, bound in leather, a bit of paper sticking from the top. “Would you do me an amazing favor?” Harrison asked. “I have to speak to your father; can you escort Y/N to her carriage out front?”

“Y/N?” Thomas asked, and your heart warmed and melted just like chocolate. He had a beautiful voice, and you could just imagine the way he sounded as he read aloud.

“My betrothed,” Harrison said, gesturing to you. “She’s fallen ill and must be taken home at once.”

Thomas finally pulled his gaze to your face, and a lopsided smile came across his face. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Such an honor to meet you, madam.”

“Same to you, sir,” you said. “I’ve heard tell about you.”

Thomas’s smile faltered. “Good things?” he asked.

“Nothing but the best,” you said. You still felt dizzy, but Thomas’s warm hand on your arm brought you comfort, much more than Harrison’s did. “I apologize again, Lord Osterfield. I hope to see you soon.”

Harrison kissed the back of your hand. “Same to you, dearest.”

Thomas led you out of the crowded and loud ballroom to the front of the manor. “Lord Osterfield?” he chuckled lowly. “He’s your fiancé. You should call him by his name.”

You shrugged. “I can’t bring myself to,” you said. “I hardly know him.”

Thomas nodded. “I understand,” he said. “So… Harrison told you good things about me?” You nodded, and Thomas let out a laugh. You could tell that it was bitter, though. “Excuse my language, madam, but that’s a load of horseshit. You know it as well as I do. Harrison only puts up with me because my brothers are his closest mates.”

You were startled at his honesty. “I suppose that’s true,” you mumbled. “My sisters are the same with me. They call me boring, say I’m no fun.”

“The same is said of me,” Thomas said. “I’m perhaps the least commendable of my brothers.”

You nodded carefully, then tilted your head to look at his novel. “What are you reading?” you asked.

Thomas smiled. “You’d like to know what I’m reading?” he asked. “Are you actually curious?”

“Yes!” you said. “I just read the most wonderful novel, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s called McTeague and it’s about an American dentist--”

“By Frank Norris?” Thomas asked excitedly. He pulled out the book to show you, and you smiled at the same one you had been describing. “It’s so entertaining. You’ve finished it, then?”

“Just last night,” you told him. “I won’t spoil it for you, but it was so wonderful.”

“Have you read The Picture of Dorian Gray?” Thomas asked. When you shook your head, Thomas’s face went red, and he laughed. “It’s my favorite. I could lend you my copy, if you’d like.”

“Oh, Thomas, that would be so lovely,” you gushed. “You’re too kind.”

Thomas shrugged. “You’re my best mate’s girl,” he said. “I’m obligated to be kind to you.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “And what of your wife?” you asked. “Am I to meet her soon?”

Thomas came to a stop at the edge of the steps, casting a glance out at the carriage that rumbled closer. “I am unwedded,” he said. “Courtships have come and gone, but none have ever come to fruition. My father believes in me proposing rather than being forced into marriage, but I’ve never found a lady that I truly loved.”

Your carriage stopped before the two of you, and the Osterfield’s servant opened the door for you. “Miss Y/L/N,” he said, then turned his attention to Thomas, and he lowered his head in reverence. “Your Highness.”

“Your Highness?” you repeated, and your heart flipped in your chest. “But I thought that you were a duke?”

“My brothers are,” Thomas explained. “But, seeing as I’m the oldest and heir apparent, I get a different tile.”

“Your Highness, though?” you chuckled. “What are you, a prince?”

Your laughter died when you saw the stony look on Thomas’s face. “Yes,” he said. “Did Harrison not tell you?”

You shifted. No. Please, God, you pleaded. Don’t let it be true.

A smile played at Thomas’s face. “My lady,” he said. “I’m Thomas Stanley Holland. Prince Thomas of England.”

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader #prince!tom holland

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ajsbookreviews · 2 years

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Something Like… Seasons (Books 1-4) Review

To preface this review, I’d like to say that I first started reading these books because I watched the movie. A god-awful movie that was so cheap, cringe and straight up bonkers – with terrible acting and even worse writing and cinematography – it made me immediately curious about how crazy the books must’ve been to have birthed such an awful masterpiece. First I thought, there’s no way all of that happened in one book and then, when I found out there were eleven books (the last one yet to come out at the time), my thoughts changed to there’s no way they made ONE movie about ELEVEN books. Time passed and I rewatched the movie and decided, against better judgment, to buy ALL of the books. Let me tell you, they’re not cheap. Fast forward to the end of 2020 were I once more watched the movie and decided that it was time to solve the question that had been haunting me since the first time I saw it: is the movie based on one book or eleven books? And which one is worse? Turns out, which I feared once I got the books in my possession, that the movie is based on the first book… Well, technically the first three books since they take place at the same time from different points of view. Nonetheless, what was about to come shook me to my core; I genuinely liked some of them.

WARNING! Medium-mild spoilers ahead. It’s very hard for me to discuss the dynamics of the characters involved without spoiling anything, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.

The reviews will be written in the order I read them. This series is versatile in how you read the books so, as long as it stays cohesive, you can pretty much do whatever you want with them.

Something Like Summer

Author: Jay Bell

Description: Something Like Summer is a love story spanning a decade and beyond as two boys discover what it means to be friends, lovers, and sometimes even enemies.

Rating: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

Review: At the end of 2020 I promised myself that 2021 was going to be the year I read the Something Like… Series, beginning with the book that started it all. I’m gonna be honest, I dreaded reading the first installment, the one the movie was based on, since I absolutely detested Ben’s character in the movie. Ben is one of the most unlikable characters in his own book, and being the protagonist it doesn’t vouch good for the book itself, which is why it took me almost the whole year to actually finish it. That’s right, I started reading Something Like Summer April 2021 and finished it December 2021.

To give some context; the story is about Ben, who throughout his life falls in love with two guys: Tim and Jace. Both appear multiple times in his life and influence his character development heavily.

In the beginning there was Tim. Whilst being with Tim, Ben was absolutely an insufferable person and Tim was the most stereotypical popular kid but instead of hooking up with all the hot girls in school he’s a closeted mess. Besides being a full-blown stalker, Ben is manipulative and self-centered. It’s passed off as ”teenage behavior” and thus he receives no real consequences for his actions. It’s because of his behavior and his mannerisms that I took so long to get through the book. Even if the side-characters where likable and/or gave the story nuance, Ben soured everything. As the story went, it was more tolerable. Tim’s influence, although not innocent nor selfless, started shaping the story into something more worth reading.

When Jace rolls around years later, Ben’s character is still terrible, but Jace sees something there that only Tim and Allison (Ben’s best friend) saw. Somehow he makes Ben more likable, even though Ben had some ”great hits” – and with that I mean tantrums (yes, as an adult), that we get to see in both this installment and in Something Like Autumn. It takes a lot of time, and it’s not even intentional (the guy is just an angel). After making dubious decisions, jumping to wild conclusions and accusing innocent people of being manipulative and other unpleasant things, Ben’s last days with Jace truly show that a person can change for the better. Somewhat.

By the end of the book, after an exceeding amount of drama that, even after watching the movie multiple times, I was not ready for, Ben was finally an okay guy. Yeah.

The only actual enjoyable characters that have an important presence are Jace and Allison, since Tim is put on a pedestal through Ben’s eyes and Ben doesn’t really have any other social circles that weigh in on his character.

All in all, as a book it’s pretty okay. It starts on an average tempo for the genre, but speeds up once Jace enters the picture. Things are rushed – seven years pass in almost the same amount of pages as Tim and Ben’s initial romance that lasts a year – and if it wasn’t for Tim returning to give the plot some texture it would have ended 100 pages earlier. It lacks serenity and over-exceeds in dramatic plot points, yet it’s the only thing that made the story bearable to read through Ben’s point of view.

Personally, I wouldn’t recommend this book as a standalone, but it’s a great companion piece to the following books. It’s the backbone of the whole series, dislike it or not it’s a must-read if you want to embark on the long journey.

Aside from Ben, Something Like Summer does have some wonderful moments and Jay Bell is a good writer who manages to write about versatile topics without losing his touch. It’s a great LGBTQ+ novel for young adults who lack representation and distribution of the genre, an easy-read story that has most likely helped youth around the world accept who they are. Nonetheless, I would caution people to take it with a heavy grain of salt.

Something Like Winter

Author: Jay Bell

Description: Something Like Winter, the companion novel to Something Like Summer, tells the story from Tim Wyman’s perspective, revealing new private moments and personal journeys.

Rating: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Review: What. An. Improvement. Astounding how much better the story becomes when it’s not from Ben’s perspective. Tim’s perspective gave new insight and thought to the events that took place in Something Like Summer and elevated the story to a decent level.

Tim is certainly not perfect. In fact, when I watched the movie my thoughts were: they are both horrible, they deserve each other. I still stand by the fact that they deserve each other, but Tim isn’t as bad as I previously thought. He is starved for attention, and will go to great lengths to get it. He doesn’t shy away from manipulation or trickery, much like Ben, but it’s written in a way where you understand where he’s coming from and why he does it. Not an excuse, of course, but an explanation. Much like Ben needed Jace to shape him into a better person, Tim met Eric, who became that person for him.

Eric and Tim are a very interesting dynamic. Apart from opening up a vast array of new characters, Eric’s presence made the story richer in age-diversity, maturity and literal money. He added tasteful nuances that later seeped into Ben and Tim’s relationship. Eric was a young soul in an old body, yet down to earth and gentle – exactly what Tim needed. They never had a romantic involvement, though they dearly loved each other. Tim was in desperate need for a father figure and Eric needed someone with enough life in him for them both.

Eric brought along Marcello, who is one of my personal favorite characters. Marcello is the life of the party, but not the wild kind. He is too high-class to do any such nonsense, but he’s also very well versed in the dubious affairs that go around parties. He values friendship before anything else, though he stands his ground when he disagrees with certain decisions, yet you won’t catch him meddling in drama. Marcello will help you, from the sidelines. His preservation skills are impressive and he’s astute enough to always chose the right side in conflicts. Characters like that make stories infinitely more interesting, which really bumped up Something Like Winter’s rating.

Ryan. He doesn’t deserve a full paragraph for himself, so I’ll spare you one. I hate him. Didn’t think I was going to dislike someone more than Ben, turns out I hate Ryan. Luckily he didn’t stick around long. The moment Ben passed from unpleasant to okay was when he managed to shoo Ryan out of Tim’s life. Ben for the win?

Speaking of Ben, something that surprised me with Something Like Winter is that we got to read more of what happened to Tim and Ben’s relationship after the events of Something Like Summer. It really encapsulates everything that happened in the previous installment, with the exception of Jace’s spotlight, and extends it until they get a dignified ending. It was a great choice from Jay Bell to add this, since it gave the book added value. I’d much rather read Something Like Winter if I feel nostalgic than read the mess that is Something Like Summer.

Nonetheless, in my personal opinion, this book was much better than the last one. That is not to say that it is an incredible book, it still has plenty of flaws. Since it’s fundamentally the same story, it contains many of the dramatic plot points and the pointless mischievous behavior. Definitely interesting to read about Tim’s thoughts and opinions during those times, and more surprising was it to find out that he barely regretted any of it. Whereas Ben was remorseful, Tim encourage it. Yet Ben was on Tim’s side in a heartbeat, committing the same mistakes he vouched he wouldn’t do. Alas, Tim and Ben deserve each other.

Was it worth reading? Yes, just to make the overall story better and not leave with the bittersweet taste of the previous one. Would I recommend this book? Yes, if you’re into the genre. And if you want to embark in the long journey but not fully commit, this is a great book to start with.

Something Like Autumn

Author: Jay Bell

Description: Something Like Autumn tells the story of Jace’s life before the events of Something Like Summer, while also revisiting his time with Benjamin Bentley.

Rating: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Review: Victor. Victor, Victor, Victor… my sweetest angsty boy that made me see these books with newfound eyes. The best character Jay Bell has written, and I can pledge that without having read the remaining eight books.

Let’s backtrack a bit before I gush my heart out about him and give some context. Something Like Autumn is about Jace, his time with Ben and how he viewed their story, but most importantly it’s about how he became the angel Ben meets later in life. The first sentence of this book is: ”My name is Jace Holden and today is the day I die.” Strong start. Nothing I was prepared for. Jace had been my favorite character since watching the movie the first time, that position being reinforced after reading the previous books. No one was as good as Jace, but to have that beginning? Wow.

I will never forget the chokehold the book had on me the moment I started reading the scene where he’s drowning. It was brutal, in the best way possible. Incredibly written and beautifully executed. The storyline took off in a direction that baffled me, yet it still didn’t explain why Jace was such a caring, goodhearted person in Something Like Summer. Teenage Jace was gloomy, insecure, reactive and in desperate need for heartfelt attention. Bernard helped, got him on his feet again, gave him a job and made him see there was more to life than what Jace had told himself.

Things really changed when a guy with a werewolf mask walked in the gas station one night. I didn’t think much of it first (the character, that is), but as soon as Jace sat down outside to have a smoke with this mystery guy I felt something. This guy was cool, edgy and different… no wonder both me and Jace immediately were hooked. There was just something unique about him. He was a dreamer, a philosopher of sorts, and viewed the world differently. Didn’t live by anyone’s rules, nor did he adapt to fit in. He was the most ”true” person, character, I’ve encountered during my years of reading. His name was Victor.

Jace and Victor’s love story was, without a doubt, the most beautiful, heartbreaking and soulful love story of this series. There was just so much texture. It was rich in thought, mind, soul and heart. The end is just as respectable as the beginning, and the aftermath is painful and heart-wrenching, yet beautiful and precious in it’s own way. I cried my heart out. I cried and cried. Every mention of Victor, every reminiscence, made my eyes well. My attachment to this character was, is, unreal.

What came next was a short period or recovery and finding oneself. It didn’t last long before Ben popped up, souring yet again the story. At the time he was as insufferable as ever – I really don’t understand what Jace saw in him – but Jace took him in and somehow projected his goodness and kindred spirit on someone who was in desperate need for it. Ben still made mistakes, but Jace learned not to take anything for granted and not push boundaries from his time with Victor. Victor’s philosophies and view on love were reflected in Jace’s thoughts and behavior. He was just that good of a person because of Victor, which later helped Ben become a better person as well. Now, Victor was no saint, and he was never as goodhearted as Jace became, therefore not all credit should go to him. But Jace’s lack of jealousy, hatred and resentfulness, even in the face of infidelity, was all Victor.

There’s a moment, the first time Tim was back in the picture, when they went to a waterpark. I was so curious to read it from Jace’s perspective, because even if Ben and Tim were astounded that Jace really was not mad at them for being unfaithful, there must’ve been something going on inside his head besides slight indifference. Guilt. And love and respect of course, but guilt stuck out to me the most. Moments before he finds them in the cave he’s sleeping and for a few heartbeats he sees Victor. Victor leaning down over him, Victor being back by his side, and Jace was ready to leave everything behind to be with his former lover. That scene broke me. It tore me to pieces and left me broken for hours. It was the guilt of knowing he would’ve done exactly the same if Victor walked back into his life that made him forgive Ben on the spot. I will never forget that scene, it’s one of the best scenes Jay Bell has written so far.

Nevertheless, it’s undeniable that Jace and Ben loved each other. Their time together might’ve been rushed and not as ”deep” as other relationships, but it was true and meaningful to them. Towards the end, Ben was much more pleasant. Personally, I never liked them together, but they were good for each other at the time. Ben ultimately needed someone like Jace in his life, and, contrary to my belief before reading this book, Jace needed Ben too. I wasn’t aware of Jace’s past nor Victor’s importance to his story, thus I was determined that Jace deserved so much better than Ben and that Tim and Ben were at times equally bad so they deserved each other. Now I realize that Jace needed someone as polar opposite of Victor as possible, because he would never be able to replace Victor, nor be with someone that reminded him of his werewolf boy.

All in all, Something Like Autumn had a fantastic beginning, spanning almost to the middle of the book before declining steadily. My rating is high because of the beginning and the attachment it lead to. The few fleeting moments Tim appeared made the second half more enjoyable, but it wasn’t the same, except for the ending. I knew how it was going to end, it’s brushed over in the movie and talked about in Something Like Summer, but nothing compares to reading it from Jace’s perspective. God, this book was fantastic.

Something Like Spring

Author: Jay Bell

Description: Something Like Spring introduces a new character to the Seasons story, one with a troubled past and an equally turbulent future. Jason must traverse a winding road fraught with emotional conflicts and tough decisions... a road that might just lead to a certain couple in Austin.

Rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Review: Goodbye 90s, hello late 2000s! New plot, new characters… but mainly Jason Grant. Jason is a teenager stuck in foster care, but with the help of Michelle, coincidentally Jace’s sister, he’ll find a great home! Right? Right. No.

Jason is not a problematic kid by nature, but he makes himself undesirable to escape his foster homes – which makes him look like a troubled teen. At first I thought he was a pretty swell guy, but as we discovered more of his past and started seeing his story unravel with the Hubbards, his latest foster family, my opinion changed. The guy is weird. Not cute weird, not ”oh poor thing he doesn’t know any better” weird – he’s weird. Not a psycho by any means, but he has weird tendencies towards his supposed family. More than once has he been sexually attracted to foster family members, which just gives me the ick. Nonetheless, I like the guy. Besides this weird side of him, he’s an enjoyable person who puts too much of himself into relationships and ends up hurt.

Caesar Hubbard. Urgh. Not a fan. Caesar is Jason’s first… everything, thus very important to him, but also his foster brother. The first part of the book is those two sneaking around trying to not get caught. I’m going to be honest, from the very beginning my spider-senses tingled in a negative way. I did not like Caesar, never did. I didn’t flat out hate him, but he rapidly de-escalated my top list into penultimate place (hard to beat Ryan on the last spot). There’s so many details about him that made me simmer and it just reached a point where I boiled over. His behavior was unacceptable at times, and his gaslighting skills are almost impressive. If it weren’t for Jason being so gullible and weird enough to follow along he (hopefully) would’ve seen it all coming. Alas, he didn’t. The consequences for their actions hit hard and paved the way for a new chapter in Jason’s life. A lighter one.

Quick side note: Peter Hubbard is one of the most underrated characters in this saga. The way he was treated by Caesar was rude and prejudiced. He was smarter than any of them, even if it came off as calculating and conniving. To make him the bad guy the instance he does something that Jason/Caesar disagree with is completely unfair. Also, it’s a shame we didn’t get to read more about Amy Hubbard, she was lovely.

Moving on… Jason is now free to live his life how he likes it. And he does for some time. Then, when things get rough he asks for help. Big step. Eventually he ends up living with Ben and Tim, which is, without a doubt, the best decision he made in this entire book.

Life with Ben and Tim is pure comedy. Their shenanigans are refreshing and hilarious, making the couple shine in a new light I had yet to read before. I’m sure the addition of Jason to the household made Ben and Tim’s bond stronger, but they were pretty solid before Jason arrived. Needless to say, it was the first time I read Ben and Tim being so likable characters. Everything just flipped – from overall disliking Ben and thinking Tim was just an okay guy, to actively enjoying their scenes and wishing there were more. I look back on my contempt toward Something Like Summer and thank myself for pushing through so I could have some wonderful laughs with Something Like Spring. They truly became a delightful couple! And now I can say, with a smile on my face, in the best way possible: they deserve each other.

But there’s more than those two characters who made this book great; Emma. Emma has popped up before – as a child, a tween and now as a 14-year-old woman who has no shame in calling Tim her uncle even though the only blood-related uncle she’s had was Jace. Greg and Michelle’s daughter is confident, strong-willed and comedy-gold. She brings out the best in Jason and makes him step out of his comfort zone. We have Emma to thank for some of Jason’s greatest hits, such as going to the youth group and meeting William.

William is the second love interest (because in these books there’s always two). He’s sporty, shy and a bit flirty, but most importantly already taken. This is a problem, because Jason falls hard for this guy. Their time together is fun and cute, although not noteworthy if it wasn’t for the involvement of Ben, Tim and Marcello. Those three really liven up this book to the next level, even if the focus isn’t on them. William’s storyline is sweet, yet conflicting. As a reader you’re rooting for them to be together, but at the same time you feel for William and his current boyfriend.

Afterwards, the story took some turns I wasn’t expecting, keeping it fresh but also dwindled into the likes of the first part. Caesar makes a comeback. My eyes rolled hard when he was re-introduced. What an annoying character. Needless to say I did not enjoy the part where he returned. Thankfully it was short-lived, his true intentions surfacing the moment Jason started to dig into the lies spewed by Caesar. A wakeup call was very much needed.

In contrast with the previous books, the ending in this one was beautiful in every way imaginable. It was heartwarming, amorous, excellently executed and thoughtfully imagined. My only complaint is that Caesar hasn’t left the picture, though understandable since he was an important part of Jason’s life.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed Something Like Spring. The good part heavily outweighed the bad. It was everything Something Like Summer lacked and needed. An important part of the overall storyline and a bridge from the Season Series to the Storm Series.

I highly recommend this book, although I would caution that you’ll need to read Something Like Summer and/or Something Like Winter to understand it.

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jjfics · 3 years

Note

can u write about the reader making five laugh and pointing that out, it's also the first time theyve done that so it's really special to them :3 thank you !!!

Ask Me Why

ship: Five Hargreeves x The Reader

summary: Five decides that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore and he finds the perfect new companion: The Reader drinks coffee, is interested in Greek and psyhics, and can make him laugh

author: Jane Jack aka your girl JJfics

word count: 1240

warnings: none, it’s all fluff (if there is anything i missed please let me know)

a/n: i really hope this turned out the way you wanted it to. i’m not all that good at writing relationships when they are still in the beginning but i tried. enjoy this fluffy scenario!! -jj

After surviving not just one, but two apocalypses, Five needed to find out a way to live the rest of his life. A peaceful one, with no abusive fathers, no killing, no trying to save the world.

The days were slow and always the same. Grace cooked breakfast, Five would say goodbye and then leave the house for a couple of hours, never really doing much. How do you live when you don’t know what you’re living for?

Before he used to live to go on missions. He used to live to assassinate for the commission so he could go back to his family. Five used to live to keep them safe, but now that they are, what will he do? He has a second chance at life as his young self, and he isn’t sure how to take it.

Five turns the page of his book slowly as he looks up to his sister, who is cleaning her violin carefully.

“I don’t think I follow, Vanya. What are you suggesting again?” he asks.

Her stupid grin grows even bigger but she doesn’t look at him when she opens her mouth to go further, “Look, I was just saying that maybe you need a… a distraction. It’s like you don’t even know how to relax.”

“I am very relaxed right now. No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve read that book at least 5 times already.” she scoffs.

“Correction: I’ve read all books 5 times already,” he says with a small, sarcastic smile.

“Stop proving my point, oh my God.” Vanya gets up from the bed and leaves the room.

“Where are you going?” Five yells after her.

“To get water” her voice fades away.

Five was left alone in his sister’s bedroom. What if she was right? He needed to find his purpose again. He just needed a way to start.

The sound of Vanya’s glass being put down on the nightstand interrupts his thoughts. “Alright. How do I do it?” he mumbles.

“Do what?”

“How do I… get a distraction?”

She brings a finger to her chin as she sits back next to him. “Hmm… What’s something you’ve never done?” After she doesn’t get a response but a confused stare, she rolls her eyes, “What’s something all of us have done while you were gone that you haven’t? Something you feel like you missed out on?”

“I can’t just think of something off the top of my head… maybe if you’d tell me more of what you’ve been doing?”

“Oh… well, I started music as a profession, I wrote a book, dated some weird guys, joined a book club once… Got any ideas yet?”

“Dated some weird guys… dated… dating… yeah yeah” he whispered, “I think I know what I need. I need to meet new people.”

“Well, that’s actually nice Five you kno-” she gets cut off by him special jumping out of her room to wherever. Typical for him.

The December weather forced everyone to seek warmth. Five watches as a group of people enter the café, passing him and looking for a table. One person, in particular, catches his eye. You catch his eye.

You take your scarf off and leave it on your chair before you sit down. Someone comes up to you and you turn around to look at the boy. “Hello,” he says.

“Hi…?”

“Did you come here alone?”

“That’s bold of you to ask, stranger.” you chuckle.

“Oh yeah, sorry. That did sound weird. What I meant is, would you mind some company?” he rephrased.

“Not at all,” you say smiling. “Please, take a seat.” He places his cup on the table. “Looks like you already drank yours.” you point out.

“I wouldn’t mind a second one.” he winks. “Did you already order anything?”

“No, not yet. I was thinking of a cappuccino… but I honestly don’t really know. What did you have?”

“Black coffee. It’s the only way I can drink it,” he admits.

“Wow, I could never. Isn’t it too bitter?”

“You get used to it, after some time.” he shrugs.

“My mom tried to get me to drink black coffee. Said it would make me look like a real grown-up… grown-up my ass…”

“I don’t think that’s actually true. People’s tastes differ, you know?”

Who was he? Why did he come to you and why does he seem to be interested in you? You didn’t know the answer to all these questions, but if he stayed enough, you might want to get to know him.

“What’s your name, genius?” you question, raising your eyebrows.

“Five” he grins.

“Hmm… Eccentric. I like it,” you say, which makes him blush. “I’m y/n.” you bring your hand forward and you shake hands.

A waiter is heading your way and you look for your wallet.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Five stops you by placing his hand on yours, and this time it’s your turn to blush. “I got it,” he says. And when the waiter is at your table you don’t even have time to protest because Five is already talking.

“Hi. I’d like a second simple black one, and y/n here would like… a cappuccino? Right?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly and nod, your hands still touching.

“Would you like to pay now or when you leave?” the waiter waves their pen in the air.

“Now, please.” Five says and gives him the money.

“You really did not have to,” you say.

“It’s my pleasure” he winks again. This boy…

“Where are you from?”

“The city. Why?” he asks, fixing his blazer.

“I haven’t seen you in here before. I was just wondering, I guess.”

“You from around here?” he asks.

“No, but I’m a freshman. I got here on a scholarship.”

“What are you studying?”

“Greek. My parents didn’t really agree, they were pretty disappointed when I didn’t choose physics.” you laughed.

“Were you good at physics?”

“Yeah, in high school. But I didn’t really enjoy it.”

“Me neither. I was kind of forced into doing physics every day too.” Five confesses.

“So you understand.” you look up at him.

“Better than you’d think.”

The waiter comes back with two cups.

“Are you a student too?” you ask, bringing the coffee to your lips to take a sip.

“No, I used to be.” Five says stirring his slowly.

“So you’re a dropout, I see. Is physics really that hard?” you smack his arm playfully.

You considering him a dropout seems so funny to him. Is that what he did? When he left because Reginald wouldn’t let him time travel? Did he drop out of the academy? The thought was just so hilarious to him, he couldn't suppress his laughter at all.

When he calmed down you lean forward over the table and he mirrors your actions. Your hand reaches for his hair and you brush it back the way it was before he messed it all up laughing. Five’s heart begins to beat faster. He never had anyone be so affectionate with him.

“You look cute when you laugh,” you say smiling softly at him. “You should do it more often.”

“Maybe if we’ll talk more. Not many people can make me laugh.”

“I would definitely love to talk more.”

Five looks down at his watch and then back at you. “How much time do you have?”

“Why, what do you have in mind?” you giggle.

#five #number five #five x reader #five imagine #five hargreeves #tua fanfic #tua imagine #tua fanfiction #tua fandom #tua fluff #tua 5 #tua five #tua fic #number 5 x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Amnesia (Jaehyun x reader)

tw : amnesia, crazy parents, drunk driver accident, failed attempt to write an angst

a/n : hello, so I read this work I left since December 2020 but yeah I read this and turns out I want to know if this is interesting enough to have another chapter to finish the story or not. If not then it's okay I'll just leave it here, but if you're curious I can try work it out.

tagging @charmingyong @neopalette .. @yutahoes and @swagmonsterofficial who can probably help me with the writer's block . you too readers. help me finish this story :))) thxxx

The thing you fear the most in this life is the day where you lost your memories. Memories of everything important in your life. You've been so afraid of not remembering things, mostly because the doctrine of your parents planted inside your brain.

"Look at your brother, Doyoung, he aces all of his tests, have time to do sports, sings well, proper manners, and always practicing doing his best. You too should think of being like him."

For sixteen years you're always compared to him. For sixteen years you worked your brain off to memorize extended classes you were forced to take. For sixteen years you faked your identity in order to look smart. For sixteen years you pray with all your might nothing bad will happen to you that involves a reset button to your brain.

That day happened, on your last year of high school where you've prepared yourself for the national entrance test. You've forced your brain to memorize everything, maximizes all you know since young age, and even pushed your other desires aside (not that it is new, you never put your desire first)

You start preparing it one year prior

"Don't go too hard (y/n)... I know you can do this," your boyfriend (secret boyfriend) calls you when he checks on you.

"Oh Jaehyun-ah, as much as I want to slack off there is no way I'll live in peace if I score lower than Doyoung's." You reply him as you flip through some sets of questions.

Jaehyun sighs from the other end of the call "And your brother scored perfect?"

You hum "Actually yes he did."

"Did your parents really love you? Why are they torturing you this way... I remember playing when I was younger and yet I made it to this stage." The young future psychologist boasted.

Jaehyun is actually the same age as your brother, he is Doyoung's friend and he knew you from visiting Doyoung back then in high school. He secretly learns about your name and even your number, since then he's been calling you and giving you all the love, you could never get from your family.

"I study psychology and what they're doing is not good." Jaehyun lays down on his bed. As much as he questions himself why he wanted to date you he can't answer it.

His friends had been telling him to break up with you because you're just going to make his life hard since your parents went too hard on you. But his heart screams that he needs to help this little girl he secretly feels bad. Jaehyun saw you sitting on your room sticking your nose to a book he thought was a middle school's book... when you were just graduating elementary. He was pretty sure you're not happy and even Doyoung secretly spills the hidden feeling that he doesn't like seeing his sister treated that way.

He remembers the conversation he had with his bestfriend on that summer vacation

"Make it stop then Doyoung..." jaehyun said as he played with a soccer ball inside the big room.

Doyoung sighed "I tried Jae, but mom and dad didn't seem to listen. They just told me they wanted the best for (y/n) and that by pushing her she'll find her way to be successful."

Jaehyun snorted "Gosh I'm glad my parents are not like yours."

Doyoung massaged his nose bridge "I even tried messing up my scores, but I earned myself detention and she was told to never be like me. Look I tried rebelling, but they're not fazed."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes "Want to escape to my house? Take (y/n) too maybe..."

Doyoung buried his face on his hands "Oh I wish Jae! I am also hating this, but I'll be dead and if this involves (y/n) I'm double dead because," Doyoung fixed his posture and mimicked his parents "Doyoung you're the brother here, a gentleman will always protect a lady and (y/n) is your sister and she's a girl."

"Damn it. Jae, I need that scholarship!" Doyoung groaned.

Jaehyun nodded "The one offering a seat in USA? Go for it. I didn't see why you hesitated... with that brain you didn't need to study and still get perfect."

Doyoung went silent for a minute "But won't I just make her life harder? Who will help her if I am not here?"

Jaehyun snickered "As if you have been helping her at all... take that chance. I'll look after (y/n) she's already like my little sister."

Doyoung couldn't thank Jaehyun enough when he hugged his friend before leaving to the states.

Doyoung hugged you too and secretly whispered "Jae is my substitute, please please promise me you will be honest with him and tell him whatever you're feeling. I'll see you in the states! Girl this is your chance to leave the dark alley." Doyoung wiped your tear that left your eyes. Well Your brother has been secretly sneaking from his room to teach you things you still cannot understand when you're younger. He kept on apologizing for the situation you both live in... but you can't totally blame him too. In this life if someone asked you who were the most important person, you'll say it's Doyoung then Jaehyun.

In the meantime

"Look Jae, I need that scholarship... Doyoung is waiting for me. He's been telling me life is not that gloomy." You sound so hopeful and Jaehyun doesn't want to spoil your small happiness.

He sighs "Fine, you've learned enough! Please a good rest is also important."

"Yeah yeah say that to my parents and see if you got slapped." You giggled and Jaehyun noted that. Well he had been noting your behaviour too and planned to make you his first journal subject.

"Look I love you okay, don't tire yourself too much. Drink water, stay healthy and sleep." He bids you goodbye and little did you know that was probably the last night you could sit in your room and absorbed new materials inside your brain.

For the next day when you got home from school, you never made it back home. You did not remember anything, only a loud horn and your body hitting the asphalt. Your ear rang and your eyes went dark.

Your parents were crying when they heard the news of you getting hit by a car and it was a drunk driving accident. Jaehyun left his class when Doyoung texted him about you. Well Doyoung was called in the middle of the night and he was more than broken hearted to hear this.

Jaehyun was shocked when he heard the news, but he was more shocked when he sees your parents are there weeping like how parents love their children so much and super afraid of losing them.

He wonders why they would treat you so strict if they love you this much. Well some people say that is their way of showing love, but for rational people Jaehyun disagree how hard your parents were on you and your brother.

Your mother recognized Jaehyun and explained everything that happened.

Jaehyun's heart broke when the paramedics informed them on the next day that you got the amnesia.

Your parents cried maybe because it is the natural way to act, but Jaehyun's world collapsed when he remembered you telling him the worst thing you fear is waking up with a blank brain.

It took you some days to wake up from your coma, considering that you also had some broken bones and some operations are done on your body, Jaehyun's glad you woke up four days after the accident.

He saw it the first time you open your eyes and you squinted all around he saw the slight tremble you had in your eyes.

Though he's not sure if you have amnesia you could remember fearing this to happen, but he believed your heart remembered this fear and showed how scared you are.

The doctor ran the first test and you happened to know basic things like your name and at least your parents. You know their faces but not their names and Jaehyun, it took you some time but the glint of hope in your eyes was enough to let Jaehyun feels not left out.

"Jae" you whisper, and the doctors were delighted when you could mention his name.

Your parents were crying, feeling super sad that their daughter had to go through this but once you got a time alone with Jaehyun you couldn't cry nor can you laugh.

"Jae," that is all you can think of.

You move your hands and find them fascinating. Jaehyun wanted to cry, it's as if you're a baby discovering new things you can do again. This is the same girl who understand chemistry even when she's just eleven! The girl who speaks five languages fluently, the same girl who can play the hardest piano piece, the same girl who was forced to be perfect and she did it she was perfect but she lost everything she worked super hard for.... within one blink of an eye. For the first time after several years, Jaehyun cried his heart out in silence alone in his bedroom.

For two months you were on a therapy session to regain your memories and some of them are coming back. Jaehyun took a break on his school, saying he is doing a research (well he didn't lie) but mostly because he needs to and wants to take care of you. He didn't want your parents to ruin this golden chance of him fixing you (he wishes)

"Name?" Jaehyun asks every time he visited you. You could answer that easily "(y/n)"

"Siblings?" You could also answer that "Doyoung."

It took you sessions to find a trigger word that could bring more memories back.

"Books?" The doctor once asked and you blanked out. Your body shakes and the traumatic experience of being forced to read from a young age came into you.

"Books?" The therapist asks again when you kept quiet. Jaehyun sits next to you, holding your hand and he frowns when your grip tightens.

"Hell." Was all you say before clenching your fist and holding your head from throbbing so much.

You woke up on your private room already Jaehyun happens to be writing down the notes from today's session.

"I saw some memories Jae. What month is this?" You asked out of the blue

"No don't ask me questions. Rest (y/n)" Jaehyun tried to divert your attention.

"Month Jae!" You scream and right on time a nurse came in she heard your question and easily answered “November?"

You count and stared in horror "The test... 8 months left Jae! How can I memorize what I've learnt since baby to now?!"

The nurse was surprised maybe by your burst of words or just surprised by your sentence and Jaehyun shot her a dead glare.

She quickly changed your IV and left after seeing your panic stage.

You were shaking, nerves suddenly transmitting traumatic memories and you cried when you tried to remember everything you've worked super hard on... gone with one accident.

"(Y/n) calm down. Forget that! forget that test! You need to heal yourself first." Jaehyun holds you back from your panic attack.

Your parents saw you frantically shake on your bed with Jaehyun trying his best to calm you down. They ran to your side and when they heard what you said, their heart broke and for the first time your parents realized they've been doing the wrong thing to you.

"Mother is sorry, please (y/n).. honey" she cried... if your mind is right, you'll choke up for she never calls you sweet names, but you have no recollection of that, "honey please forget that test. Forgive me and dad for being too hard on you. Please my one and only precious daughter... just heal yourself first. You don't have to take the test now. Calm down."

Actually, Jaehyun finally talked to your parents, he talked politely about the way your parents raised both you and Doyoung in a wrong way. No, he didn't blame your parents for wanting the best, he just told them they shouldn't be comparing child and shouldn't put too much force on something one doesn't like. He explained the effect you had growing up like that and your mom was crying when she heard Jaehyun's easy explanation.

"We're sorry... now how do we fix this?" Your mother asked to the young man across him.

"If you let me, this is a new blank page. Like a reset button, though (y/n) might get fragments of the dark memories, but we can at least rewrite the pages and put in more love and joy into her life."

Your parents both agreed and let Jaehyun does his best to fix their mistakes.

So here you are, sitting on your bed for the third month already, mind still somehow fuzzy and you always stare at your room with blank face. You noticed the plain walls and when you arrived at your home, the grand piano greeted you, but you were confused of the big thing.

"Hey (y/n)," Jaehyun greets you when he comes into your room, "Hungry?" He asks first thing first after you wake up.

You nod your head and notice the lack of food on his hand.

"No breakfast?" Your face shows confusion.

Yes you were eating breakfast on bed for one month, mostly because your doctor also told you to not use your legs too much, but Jae saw it is quite the time you learn to walk and eat properly.

"There is, but not here. Come, we will eat properly." Jaehyun helps you stand, and he walks you to the dining table.

There you sit down, eyes empty as you scan the room, still unable to remember where and what is this place.

Your maid comes with a plate of your favorite breakfast. You look at Jaehyun with expecting eyes, he usually sits on the side of your table and feeds you. All you have to do is wait for the food to come into your mouth!

"Jae?" You question him when he picks up his own knife and fork then he digs into his own plate.

You watch him and he speaks up "Copy me."

You pick up the fork and knife, take the detail and switch the position when Jaehyun shows the right way.

He sees you struggle with your knife still and chooses to cut it for you. He returns the plate with small chunks of eggs and sausages then pushes it back to you.

"Now, eat." He continues doing his activity and with trembling hand (because everything is like you learning from basic) and slow but steady you can eat by yourself.

Jaehyun smiles with adoration, he couldn't deny you're actually smart like gifted smart... he thought there was no way someone could live like you and Doyoung if they do not have a bright basic.

"Delicious?" Jaehyun asks after you finish your plate.

You nod "Thank you" and both your eyes and his open wide.

"Did I just say thank you?" You also sound surprised.

Jaehyun nods "I mean i haven't remind you about table manners, but as expected that big brain is not completely blank, I guess."

The day continues with Jaehyun teaching you some more basic knowledge, you sit down on the sofa and your eyes bore into the big grand piano. Jaehyun noticed ever since you came home you seemed super curious about it. He is not the best pianist, but he can play some songs.

"Come, I think you're interested in this." Jaehyun sits you on a chair beside the piano and he takes his seat.

"Okay I am not as good as you, but let's try this. maybe music can bring back my (y/n)." Jaehyun plays some keys to warm up his fingers and he didn't see the sudden surprise you have in your eyes.

Jaehyun plays a simple piece of your favorite sad song, Clair de Lune. He said he wasn't a great player, but here he is confidently playing one song from the master part.

You clap your hands astonished when he finishes half of the song and surprise him with what you say next.

"That is beautiful. Why did you stop?"

Jaehyun wants to scream, music brings you back? Did your brain forget everything else that is painful to you, but not music because it's the only thing you do with love?

"Want to try?" Jaehyun stands up and helps you get comfortable.

Your eyebrow knits together when you first eye the black and white keys and then after placing two hands over them and closing your eyes, as if it's muscle memories your finger expertly play the same piece Jaehyun showed you, but this time you finished the whole song.

Jaehyun has this recorded and if he knew this earlier, he would've made you sit here and play more music. He notes how your eyes glimmer when your fingers still remember the song and for once Jaehyun saw a willing to live in your eyes.

to be continued... (or not if this is not interesting to read :D)

tell me should I continue or not? and make this happy end or sad end?

#jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun oneshot #nct angst #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun imagines

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femreader · 3 years

Text

Chemoreceptors ➵ Michelle ”MJ” Jones

could i please request some cute flustered mj x reader, maybe mj could be trying to ask them out but she keeps on tripping on her pick up lines and such?

Summary: y/n finally has the guts to ask MJ out, awkwardness ensues

Pairing: Michelle “MJ” Jones x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.5k

A/N: I changed it a little bit but, here you go?

MJ watched as you talked with your friends by your locker, gushing about how one of your friends got a date for the prom coming up. She could see you smiling, happy for your friend while shaking your head when asked if you already had a date. It was rather surprising that you didn't’ have one yet, you were one of the most popular kids in the school. MJ was sure the guys were basically throwing themselves at you. Unlike most of the annoying people who she had to endure eight hours for five days a week, you were actually pretty cool. The “popularity” hadn’t gotten to your head, yet anyway.

“Stop drooling, you look a little creepy”, Peter Parker slid beside her, bumping into the locker next to MJs. He literally was wearing one of those shoes with rollers on the bottom.

MJ rolled her eyes at him and closed her locker after taking out the necessary books. She briefly wiped the corner of her mouth with her sleeve to make sure she wasn’t actually drooling.

Peter glanced at Y/N who was with her friends and wiggled his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t have a date yet”, he nudged MJ.

“I know”, she answered, annoyed where this conversation was headed already. “Why do you even care?” Her eyebrows furrowed together.

You said goodbyes to your friends and decided to head towards your chem class, passing MJ and Peter. She awkwardly smiled when you greeted her briefly and continued on with your way. MJ looked at Peter warningly when he turned back to her with a smug look.

“MJ’s got a crush--”

“I will hit you with a chair”, MJ said pointedly just as the class bell rang. Peter chuckled at his own sing-song joke, resting his hands on the straps of his back bag.

”Just ask her out man”, he said, looking up at her. ”What’s the worst that could happen?"

”Uh, first of all, you don't get to have any say in this”, MJ mused out loud, knowing just how dead and miserable Parker’s love life was and how he channeled it through other people's business. ”Second, I don’t even care.”

”Pfft, sure”, Peter mumbled, scratching the back of his neck while following her to class.

You were sitting in the cafeteria, talking with few friends of yours about the upcoming algebra exam when Peter Parker slid into your conversation. He plopped down beside you, scaring the life out of you.

”Hi”, you smiled confusedly. You weren’t quite sure what he wanted from you as you weren't too familiar, but his awkwardness was adorable. It made your friends giggle a little.

”Uh, hi okay so a quick survey”, Peter began making random patterns on the table while talking. ”If there happened to be an intelligent girl--woman! An intelligent woman, who's also rather cute but won't admit to anyone because the patriarchy sucks and we all eventually die and happened to also like dogs”, he nodded towards your phone where your cousin’s dog was as your lock screen.

”Like what would be her chances... with you?” He squinted his eyes at you, while yours were wide open.

”Peter, are you talking about MJ?” You freaked a little. You had no idea she might have liked you, you thought you always looked too girly and one of those bimbos in her eyes. Plus you always were so awkward when talking with her. Well, those rare times you got to talk with her. Like that one time the last December before Christmas break, you had complained about the homework in the bathroom while she had stayed mostly quiet.

Peter’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed rapidly like he was a fish. ”I—uh, no! No, not MJ, definitely not—”

”Peter, it’s fine”, You chuckled, still a little overwhelmed by the new found information. Your friends nudged you teasingly, you just shook your head at them. ”I... I kinda like her too. If she likes me, that is.”

”She does!” Peter caught himself saying a bit too loud and he immediately lowered his voice. You bit your lip from excitement. ”I mean, she does... she’s just really bad at talking with people, who's not me.”

”You could see her after school”, one of your friends proposed. You looked at them in thought.

”We have cheer exercise though.”

”After that, behind the bleachers”, your other friend offered. ”I mean that’s where everyone makes out so you’d totally have all the privacy.” The thought made your cheeks heat up a quite bit.

You rolled your lips together in thought before nodding and turning to Peter. ”Can I have her phone number?” The boy scrambled through his pockets to get his phone, nodding feverishly at the same time.

”Hey it’s Y/N, can you see me after school by the bleachers?”

MJ had been pretty sure she had accidentally inhaled something poisonous in chem class when she got the message from you. And When MJ asked Peter how you had even gotten her number, he just shrugged his shoulders the tips of his ears bright red.

”I swear to god if you said anything stupid—”

”I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have to go, Aunt May’s waiting bye!” Peter word vomited after their last class and darted out of the room, leaving MJ deal with the mess by herself. She put the hood over her head and read your text again, not sure what to say so she ended up answering okay.

She grimaced a little how blunt it sounded.

Outside was warm, the summer was quickly approaching with the help of climate change. MJ didn't necessarily dislike the heat, in the summer, she just didn't like the fact that she couldn't seek comfort from her hoodies and long-sleeved clothing anymore.

She had almost forgotten how nervous she was until she saw you, already in your cheer uniform, hair out of your face. You had this gleeful grin on your face you usually had when the cafeteria had your favorite lunch or when you were talking about your weekend plans with your friends. And now it was directed to her!

MJ awkwardly brushed the hair strand in front of her face, glancing around if anyone was at the field yet to see you two. There wasn't anyone.

”Hi”, you breathed out. MJ felt her heart hammer in her chest. She felt like if she opened her mouth to speak she’d accidentally blurt out everything she was thinking.

”So”, you continued when MJ stayed silent, standing there with her hands fiddling by her sides. ”Peter gave me your number”, you began, chuckling when MJ rolled her eyes a little. She made a mental note to sack that loser... or maybe thank him, depending on what this was about.

“Are you going, to the dance?” She asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence. You were a little taken aback by the sudden question, smiling a little baffled.

“Uh, no”, you shook your head. MJ raised her eyebrows a little surprised. She was sure out of everyone you’d go. You probably had a line of guys ready to take you out from the drop of the hat.

“I don’t really like big crowds”, you admitted sheepishly. “And you?”

MJ had been staring at your lips for a second. “Oh, no—I don’t—“ she began stuttering and falling over her words. You nodded understanding her nonetheless. Meanwhile, MJ was cursing herself inside her head for suddenly turning into such a toddler.

“I was thinking”, you began, eyes darting all around you two, too nervous to look at MJ. “And you can totally say no, but like... there’s this apocalypse movie coming up. Well, the first show is on the dance night to be exact and I thought if you’d like to go and see it? With... me..?” You dared to look up at MJ, whose mouth was hanging a little bit open. Normally you would have joked about it, had you not been feeling like throwing up your lunch from the agonizing nervousness.

”I uh—” stupid brain, for once work! MJ stuttered, looking at you like a deer in the headlights because there was no chance that she was being asked out right now? By you of all people. How did people usually react to this? Like, do they nod? Say just yes? Yes seems too plain and stupid.

”Does—does insects have chemoreceptors for taste on their legs?” She clicked her fingers into the universal finger gun motion, awkwardly bouncing on her heels. You furrowed your eyebrows a little in confusion.

”Yes?” You had no idea, but you sure hoped it was the right answer.

”Yeah! Yeah, they do. It’s—It’s actually the hairs... on-on the legs...” MJ kicked herself mentally from the ramble not realizing how adorable you found it to be. She scratched her neck, glancing up into the sky. What would be the odds of lightning striking down st her right now?

”Well, I have to go to practice”, you said, your voice accompanied by a disappointed sigh. ”But I’ll text you after. "Is that... cool?” you awkwardly offered, trying to stop the grin spreading too wide on your face and scaring the girl away.

MJ nodded, barely managing to speak before you already had to go to the field. She watched as you jogged away, hands in her hoodie pockets. Once she was sure she was alone she punched the air slightly.

"Yes", she exclaimed under her breath before turning around to walk back to the school bulding. At least she now had something to think about during her detention.

#mj x reader #mj x you #zendaya

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roanniom · 3 years

Text

Phillip and Miss Perfect

Phillip Altman x Reader

Word Count: 2,866

Part 1/?

Summary: Back in high school you were a perfectionist and he was a charming douche. You’ve spent years suppressing the feelings he awakened in you senior year because you’re better than that, right? You’ll sure find out now that you’re back home for the holidays right in time to run back into him.

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Masturbation (F/M kinda). Gratuitous Altman charm.

Phillip Altman had long been the bane of your existence. Phillip and his cheeky grin and his gaggle of older siblings whose mere existence somehow afforded him an untouchable cool status amongst the weaker minded of your peers. A status you’d always felt was completely unearned as he swaggered through the halls of your high school, winking at pretty girls and tossing innuendo-laden comments to his fawning admirers.

Yes Phillip Altman, you’d decided long ago, was the bane of your existence.

Handsome and arrogant and too smart for his own good, not that he ever applied himself, for crying out loud. It was senior year that solidified your loathing for the boy. Mr. Weathers had paired the two of you together for the group-project winter final. Only a sadist would assign a group project for a final, so you should have seen it coming. Always the instigator, the old man had been thoroughly entertained by the way you and Phillip would constantly bicker in class. Though “bickering” probably wasn’t the right word considering that the interactions were less a volleying of insults and more a pattern of Phillip smoothly complimenting you and you spewing vitriol back in response.

“My place or yours?”

Your head had snapped up hard when you heard the baritone voice laced with amusement too close for comfort a few moments after Mr. Weather’s class had ended.

“Altman. What have we said about my personal bubble?” You made sure your voice dripped with venom. Phillip straightened from where he had leaned to whisper in your ear as you placed books into your locker.

“Your personal bubble is your own and I am not allowed inside it,” he rambled off, as though reciting a vow from memory. After a breath he wiggled his eyebrows and added, “unless expressly invited.”

“In your sticky dreams,” you shot back.

“Every night, Miss Perfect,” Phillip said, giving a roguish half-smile that you wanted to slap off his face. Instead you slammed your locker door and stalked off.

“So, your place it is then?” Phillip called to your retreating back. You ignored him. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted after you, making sure that everyone in the hallway could hear his humor-tinged voice.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, Juliet!”

“We’re presenting on Hamlet, moron,” you said, shooting him a look over your shoulder as you continued to walk away. “That quote you just bastardized is Romeo and Juliet.”

Phillip had just laughed and walked in the opposite direction. Leaving you to fume on your way to the bus while wondering seriously to yourself if murder would be enough to make colleges take back the early acceptances you’d already received.

~*~

And so you two had spent one blustery weekend in early December holed away in your bedroom. You trying desperately to keep Phillip’s tiny attention span from wandering to your panty drawer long enough for a presentation on the themes of Hamlet to miraculously get written. Phillip trying desperately to get into said panty drawer and avoid the slaps you repeatedly sent his way. To the surprise of absolutely no one, you both failed tremendously on all accounts. Your mom certainly didn’t help matters by bustling in with Christmas cookies and cooing comments to Phillip about how cute he was. True to form, he thanked her through a mouthful of gingerbread before throwing an infuriating wink your way. That was it. You knew you and your perfect grades were doomed.

And yet on the day of the presentation, something crazy (a miracle, if you’re sappy) did occur. Phillip pulled – out of his ass, presumably – a 180 and gave a performance to rival anything old Willy-Shakes could have staged. Not only did he express a genuine and insightful knowledge of the themes of the play, but he was also a generous presenter, setting you up for and supporting you in points that even made you, the top of the class, look better. As Mr. Weathers complimented the two of you on your efforts at the end of the presentation, you couldn’t help but stare at Phillip, struck for the first time by the way his hair curled a little at the ends and the way his eyes sparkled under the attention of the class. You didn’t like admitting it to yourself, but your stomach was in knots. Phillip parading around like he’s god’s gift to high school girls? Gross. Phillip confidently presenting literary analysis and showing a glimmer of genuine intelligence? Fucking hot.

After class you’d felt a little intimidated at the prospect of talking to him. You weren’t sure why. It was Phillip Fucking Altman, class clown and grade-A pain in your ass. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you slid your books back into your bag. His frame stood out amongst the small circle of his friends, his dumb, tall body making it so that you could always see him from far away.

You gripped your bag close to your body and walked briskly toward the door, deciding against any further interaction with the boy whose eyes had suddenly made your cheeks grow hot for the first time in all the years you’d known his stupid ass. As you walked by, however, he broke away from his friends and chased after you, calling your name. You didn’t stop until you reached the destination of your locker down the hall.

“Hey, so it seems like we killed it in there.” Phillip leaned against the next locker, slightly breathless from having jogged to catch up with you. It was after sixth period on the last day of the semester, and the last few stragglers filtered through the hall on their way to the sweet freedom of winter break.

“Yeah, I guess we did alright, didn’t we?” you said noncommittally, refusing to look up from organizing the inside of your locker.

“Alright? Pretty sure Weathers jizzed his pants when you brought up biblical allegory,” Phillip let out a bark of a laugh.

“Only you could make academic achievement sound vulgar, Altman,” you said, trying but failing to hide the smile that broke across your face.

“It’s not as hard as it seems. All of those stuffy writers were pervs. You know Mary Shelley fucked Lord Byron on her mother’s grave? And that horny bitch wrote Frankenstein!” His smile lit up the corner of your vision and you looked up, blushing at how cute his stupid crooked teeth looked all of a sudden.

“She fucked Percy Shelley on her mother’s grave, not Lord Byron, you idiot,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Phillip’s eyebrows had shot up and his smile had grown wider.

“Well, well Miss Perfect. Never took you for a girl who reads the naughty books, too.”

“Shove it, Altman.” You punched out at his arm, but he successfully dodged, finally demonstrating fast reflexes for once after years of similar assaults from you.

“Well either way, we did it! We made Lit our bitch – up top!” He offered up a hand which you high fived reluctantly. Before you could pull your hand away, his large one wrapped around yours and he yanked you forward. Your body crashed into his and before you could flail, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were too shocked by the action to move, too surprised by the feeling of his strong arms twisting around your back and his hard body against your breasts. You’d always known Phillip was hot, it was one of the things you hated him for. But feeling the evidence of that hotness against you? You felt the knot in your stomach from earlier drop a little lower.

Phillip ducked his head down to the crook of your neck, his warm breath blowing on your ear. You became hyper aware of the silence in the empty hallway, marveling at the fact that there was no one there to witness the sudden intimacy of this weird moment. Was there a memo you’d missed about a Christmas Fair that everyone had rushed off to? Damn. You took a breath to speak but Phillip cut you off, the vibrations from his rumbling voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Sorry about your personal bubble.”

You bit your lip, not trusting yourself to speak during this odd experience that balanced precariously in a space between uncomfortable and enticing.

“It’s just that…” Phillip began, but trailed off. Your heart beat in your throat, and somewhere lower, as he began swaying your bodies a little in place. This couldn’t be real, though nightmare or dream you couldn’t decide how you’d classify it. You felt his ribcage expand against you as he went to speak again, barely aware that your own breath was held captive in your chest in anticipation.

“I, too…jizzed in my pants when you brought up biblical allegory.”

It took a few seconds for his words to register in your mind before you reacted. Your hand connected with his face so hard you scared yourself with the volume of the sound. Both of you stood frozen and staring at each other for a moment after that. Him with his hand on his cheek where it had flown to shield his stinging skin and you with your hand suspended in air where it had reverberated back after impacting with his face.

Then Phillip began to laugh.

It was a full sound that echoed off the walls. Your face screwed up in response, immediately feeling shame heat your ears and cheeks. But then you noticed that his smile held no derision, no malice. He was genuinely entertained by the fact that, after all these times slapping him, you’d finally hit the mark dead on.

Your hand flew to cover your lips, dozens of emotions dancing on your features as you began to register the humor of the moment as well. However, you also felt foolish. Not a second before he’d let loose the comment that broke all your physical self-control your mind had been toying with the idea of losing physical self-control in a very different way. The hot, knotted feeling in your lower belly had not gone away with this turn of events, it had merely intensified. Your palm tingled where it had made contact with Phillip’s cheek.

The rush of emotions, so many and so dissonant, overwhelmed you. So you did the only thing you could. You slammed your locker door, ducked your head down, and ran for the door, leaving a very confused Phillip still chuckling to himself in your wake.

~*~

That night, laying in bed, you had chastised yourself for feeling what seemed to be every feeling but your usual hatred toward Phillip. This wouldn’t do. You were the top of the class. You hadn’t gotten this far for this long by having twisty turny feelings for stupid beautiful boys with crooked teeth and lots of charm.

Somewhere in your self-admonishment, however, your thoughts turned back to the feeling of his hard body against yours. His arms, large and muscled, containing you with such ease and solidity. The planes of his large chest as they pressed into your soft curves. Without even thinking much about it, your hands moved under your sheets, squeezing those curves.

The knotted feeling from before returned, but this time it was less of a knot and more of an ache. You knew the feeling. Had willed it away while watching movies where hot actors sucked too convincingly on the necks of their leading ladies. Had clumsily tried to remedy it with fumbling rubs and twisting legs on nights when the tension got to be too much.

But that night as you’d thought about Phillip Altman’s arms around you, your pointer finger moved to your clit, rubbing small circles around the sensitive nub. As you thought of Phillip Altman’s lips as he rambled confidently in front of a crowd, and Phillip Altman’s big nose scrunching as he winked at you across a classroom, and Phillip’s dimples as he laughed at one of your personalized insults, and Phillip Altman’s dick as it could be seen outlined in his athletic shorts during gym….

The ache inside grew and you felt your pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled by something you hadn’t known you wanted. Haphazardly you thrust a finger inside your folds, the hand not preoccupied with circling your clit reaching up to grab one of your breasts.

You tried to imagine Phillip’s large hands replacing yours. Tried to imagine how he’d fill you, how he’d squeeze you. You could almost hear the way he’d put that already dirty mouth of his to good use.

“You want to cum, Miss Perfect? Hmm?” You imagined him saying. The vibrations from his deep voice rang through your mind, left over from when it had caused you to shiver earlier. “Want me in your personal bubble now?”

You whimpered in the darkness of your room, speeding up the friction on your clit and thrusting two more fingers in your slick heat. You imagined his lips at your neck, at your clavicle, at your sternum, sucking at the skin and tickling you with the stubbling facial hair he’d only been sporting since last summer.

“You’ve always been such a good girl,” the Phillip in your mind practically purred. You felt yourself reaching a precipice you’d never quite attained before. The muscles of your legs quaked and your squeezed your nipples, needing more of something.

“Why don’t you be a good girl for me and cum?”

Your whole body convulsed against the mattress and your muscles seized, your fingers trapped inside your pussy as it contracted over and over. You felt absolutely euphoric for a moment, almost nothing passing through your mind but the image of Phillip, smiling at you with that same, familiar, cheeky smile.

But as you came down from your high, your sweat ran cold with a realization. It had been your first orgasm. Phillip had caused your first orgasm. A mixture of shame and anger flooded your system as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t enough Phillip Altman was the golden boy of the school, it wasn’t enough that he could – and did – have any girl he wanted, he had to have your orgasm, too?

You felt silly but you also felt indignant. You had prided yourself on not being affected, on being above him. After all, why go after the boy who had it all and who only teased you because it felt like an accomplishment to make the smart girl squirm under his gaze?

No. You hated Phillip Altman and you wouldn’t let him have this. You silently thanked whatever militant non-secular whacko had pushed the Christmas agenda on the school system so hard that you had two weeks off now to help distance you from any interactions with the boy who plagued your mind.

You had drifted to sleep that night, unaware that several streets over, in a room very much like your own, Phillip Altman was tugging at his hard cock, groaning over thoughts of the girl who challenged him, the girl who yelled at him, the girl who slapped him. The one girl he was so sure he’d never get with, but who he wanted most.

~*~

Now, twelve years later, you wander down the baking aisle of the local grocery store, praying to all that is holy that you won’t bump into someone from your high school. After graduation you had peaced the fuck out, leaving for college on the opposite coast. You’d spent years convincing your parents that you were too busy with undergrad and then grad school and then publishing deadlines to ever make the crazy trip back to your hometown, instead baiting them into visiting you for warmer holidays that smelled of the beach and your new life. Two consecutive shitty breakups on your part and one knee replacement surgery on your mother’s part combined to turn this into the year that your parents insisted you finally made the pilgrimage home.

Which is how you find yourself on a winter night browsing the alternative flour selection, having been sent to look for the perfect gluten-free option that will make your mom’s gastrointestinal system “not blow up like a friggen balloon.” It was funny how not even a medical diagnosis could deter that woman from her festive baking habits. You’re deep in thought over the differences between coconut and almond when a deep voice rumbles out from your deepest memories, reverberating right into aisle four.

“You know I read your latest book.”

You look up and almost drop your two flours to the ground. Instead you fumble, gripping them tightly to your chest and causing vaporized coconut and almond to puff into the air in front of you.

As the powder settles out of your line of sight you see him. Phillip Altman. Twelve years older, with more facial hair and a couple laugh lines, but it’s him alright.

“Hey there, Miss Perfect.”

His nose crinkles as he winks at you. You intake breath sharply.

And choke on some flour.

It tastes like coconut. And you know then that you should have just trusted your gut and gone with almond.

You also know that you’re in trouble.

~*~

Tagging some very kind people who have been very welcoming: @mariesackler @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @sacklerscumrag

#Phillip Altman #Phil Altman #This is Where I Leave You #Phillip Altman x Reader #fanfic #smut #Adam Driver #Writing #Roanniom

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rosaliepostsstuff · 3 years

Text

Secret santa - F.W.

This is my fic for @thisismysecrethappyplace‘s writing challenge, using prompt #27 - "Today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me."

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader (although the house is not mentioned much)

word count: 2070

a/n: I’m not one of the people who start celebrating Christmas on November 1st (but if you do - live your extra life, love) but the idea of secret santa game just popped into my head and I couldn’t think of any other story to work with the quote. Year is not specified.

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know!

December rolled around and the castle of Hogwarts has been covered in snow once again. The snow reflecting the little sunlight the area got this time of year, making the inside seem a bit brighter. It reminded you that in just a few weeks’ time it would be Christmas. Even though you were to stay at Hogwarts this year, you were looking forward to it.

During one of the study sessions in the Great Hall, you were sat next to your friends from Gryffindor. You were quietly chatting to Angelina and Katie. One word led to another and you learnt that the girls and a few more friends of yours would be staying for the Christmas break as well.

“Look, we’ll finally get to properly spend the holidays together-“ Katie started, but Angelina quickly joked, “oh, like the big, dysfunctional, happy family we are” and finished with a big grin that quickly fell when she caught Professor Vector’s eye and got back to her notebook. “Hey, that’s not a half-bad idea,” you put your quill down and looked between the girls, “how about we gather the rest and do a ‘secret Santa’ type of deal, huh?” you said enthusiastically. They studied you a bit sceptically, but you got them intrigued.

When you got them convinced, you talked to a few other people and decided to gather the next evening after dinner to draw the names so you’d still have almost three weeks to prepare the gifts.

That’s how you found yourself, all the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angie and Katie gathered at one of the tables near a huge fireplace at the Great Hall. Being very excited about the idea, you prepped the pieces of parchment with the names beforehand and now everybody was to draw one from a hat passed around the group.

When it reached you, your heart started to beat slightly faster – you were quietly hoping to get Fred – you were friends, but you liked him slightly more and were hoping the act of kindness of a well thought out gift would get you some bonus points. It was now or never.

You reached in, stirred around with your hand a bit and picked one of the folded pieces, then passed the hat on. Carefully, so that no one would see it, you unfolded the parchment that read-

“Lee Jordan”

You tried not to show disappointment on your face. It was fine. You liked Lee and you planned to make the best gift you could think of. You’d still get to see Fred, even if you didn’t make the present for him.

You couldn’t help but wonder who did draw his name. Would they make a nice gift? Maybe a nicer one than you would’ve? Get his gratitude- oh, how you hoped it wasn’t any of the quidditch girls. What if it’s Angie? Oh, he must like her – she’s tall, pretty, and cool-

“Hey, Y/N?” Hermione’s voice snapped you out of your spiralling thoughts. “What’d you think? Do we exchange on Christmas eve? Christmas day, boxing..?” Asked Katie. “Uhm, the eve’s fine,” you mumbled and followed everyone, getting up and heading out.

You said your goodbyes and separated from the group – you were the only one headed to the dungeons. As you were about to go through the door you saw a piece of parchment someone must’ve dropped. Before you got to it, you saw Harry notice it and pick it up.

Passing by, you involuntarily looked at the parchment-

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Dammit, you thought and went on. That was about it for your surprise, or at least half of it.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

Days had passed, then weeks, and you found yourself with just a few days left in this term before the winter break would start.

You woke up late, with weird neck pain – you had slept in a funny position. Throwing on your robes you kicked your shin by accident and took a moment to shout out a few indecent words to help ease the pain and then you pushed through, determined to reach potions on time.

During the break, before your second period, you figured you would stop by the library to pick up a book you were going to need for an assignment you planned to start that evening.

Walking through the aisles with your destination well known, you looked out the large windows at the snow – and with the remnants of any positive attitude you had in you, you smiled to yourself.

“Have you done yours already..?” you suddenly heard Ron’s ineffectual whisper from behind a bookcase. It made you stop in your tracks and against your better judgement, you listened in. “Yeah, I got her a book…” Harry’s voice whispered back. ‘please, don’t say what book’ you repeated in your mind. “… something about the history of wizarding settlements in Britain..? I can’t remember the title, but she’ll like it.”

You grimaced to yourself at the thought – he couldn’t be more wrong. And then to top it, he added some sweets you absolutely loathed.

With heavy steps and a heavy heart, you headed to charms.

You liked charms, and you loved professor Flitwick. He was one of the decent teachers in this school, kind and sometimes even funny.

Today was one of those lessons, this time of year, that he gave up on starting a new topic and decided you were to do some revisions. Your mood slightly lifted, you were practising the banishing charm.

As the end of the lesson was drawing close you got comfortable and your mind started to wander. Thinking about the earlier events, you lost your focus and accidentally knocked over the pile od books Flitwick was standing on, sending the professor flying face down.

He was nice enough to understand your mistake and you were not punished in any way, but it didn’t change how bad you felt about it.

As you headed to lunch, cursing the universe, Merlin, and everything around, you thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

And then you tripped on one of the stone floor slabs.

You heard Fred and George’s booming laughs, lying on the floor and debating whether life was worth getting up. When the twins saw you not getting up, they stopped laughing.

Fred walked up and looked at you a bit confused – the fall wasn’t all that bad and you didn’t look hurt. “You alright there, sunshine?” he said leaning over you. You groaned in response and rolled over, then reluctantly got up from the cold floor with Fred’s help. “Peachy,” you replied, dusting off your robes and Fred snorted, then studied your expression.

He signalled for George to go without him and patted your shoulder lightly. “Today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me.” You gestured wildly. “Alright then, papa Fred’s got you. What’s troubling you?” he asked, slightly amused, yet genuinely as you began strolling in the direction of the great hall. You took a deep breath, wondering where to start. “I slept in, was almost late to potions which we know would leave me with trauma, I knocked Flitwick to the ground by accident when we practised Depulso - and now this,” you kicked the cousin slab of the one that made you trip and Fred chuckled at your pout, “Oh and I almost forgot – my Christmas present’s gonna be rubbish,” you exaggerated. “How so?” he asked, confused. “Well, I know who’s my secret Santa already. Found out by accident. Then I overheard what I’m gonna get… I mean, it’s okay, but I guess I was just hoping for something nice…” you rambled looking down to the ground. “Oh. Okay then… you know what? I actually promised Lee I’d pick something up for him before lunch, so – I- I’ll see you later?..” It was your turn to be confused. You looked up at him but before you raised your hand with a little wave and mumbled small “bye”, he walked off.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

You haven’t seen Fred all that much since that weird encounter – you didn’t have any classes together and you were in different houses so it was just a coincidence to you.

The Christmas Eve came around and you were playing wizards’ chess with Ron in the great hall to pass time before the rest of the group gathered. People were slowly pouring in, each of them adding to the small pile on the wooden table, a box enchanted with a concealing spell, so that each gift looked the same – and the secret Santa remained secret. Among the last few was Fred, looking slightly sheepish for himself.

“So are doing it, lads and lassies?” exclaimed Lee rubbing his palms together, making everyone chuckle. You all sat down close in what resembled a circle, making sure no one was left out.

Hermione pointed her wand at the pile of boxes, “Revelio” and they all appeared in different forms, with various name tags attached.

You decided to open the gifts one by one going clockwise, starting with all-too-eager Lee. You couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on your face when you saw his child-like joy after opening the gift from you. Then it was Angelina’s turn, then yours.

You reached for the package with your name on it, trying to appear enthusiastic and not-at-all like you already knew what was inside. You unwrapped the paper with a mix of shock and confusion on your face.

Inside the paper was a box of your favourite chocolates and underneath a plain-looking book. You opened it and it turned out to be a photo album filled with photographs of you with your friends, along with some captions and thematic drawings on the white-ish pages around them.

With mouth slightly open you flicked through a few pages and ran your hand over the doodles. You looked up at Harry, who had the same expression as anyone in this circle – except for one person who studied your reaction and tried to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

The gift opening continued. It was when Hermione opened hers and you saw what you had thought you’d get that it dawned on you. It started with the assumption that when Harry picked up the note with your name it meant he was your secret Santa, which (obvious for you now) didn’t have to be the case and it wasn’t. Then with your mind set in stone, you just kept assuming things.

“Did you like your gift?” with newfound courage thanks to the good mood, you nudged Fred on the way out. He slowed down to walk beside you and separate from his mates. “Why, were you my Santa?” he asked cheekily. “No, not this year. Just curious.” you shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, it was nice.” he stated simply, and after a bit of silence added, “d’you like yours?” “Why, were you my Santa?” you giggled. He put his hands in his pockets and avoided your gaze as a smile started creeping upon his face. “Merlin’s beard, you were..?” you cursed yourself for saying that out loud as your heart started thudding. “Maybe.” He looked at you with a mischievous smile and you melted. “Freddie, I loved it. It was really… sweet,” you said, shyly. “Good then, glad it wasn’t rubbish.” he snorted lightly and you wanted to bury yourself right then and there. “I’m soo sorry about that, it was a misunderstanding. I was in a bad mood, I thought somebody else was making a gift for me, I- I didn’t… I’m sorry Freddie.” You smiled awkwardly at him and he chuckled, ruffling your hair. “It’s alright, sunshine. I’m happy you don’t resent me” “I could never.” “Oh?” he stopped and looked you straight in the eye, smirking. “Uh, I mean…” your mind went blank. “You see, I was really happy when I drew your name.” he looked up above the two of you and your eyes remained on him. “It just so happens that I really like you so you must agree it would be convenient if you liked me back.”

You gulped. He looked back down at you, then gestured with his eyes for you to look up.

There it was, hovering above you, in all its glory – the magical mistletoe.

“So?” He leaned down a bit, turned his head to the side and tapped his finger on his cheek, “make it up to me?”

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #hp imagine

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dal3ks · 4 years

Text

all nighter

pairing: peter parker x female reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, references to sex, cursing, teasing, oral(receiving), marking, smutttt, both characters are of age!

a/n: this is the sequel to my fic “the project”! i will link the first part below if you would like to read it! i hope you guys enjoy!

the project can be read here!

“okay,” your chemistry teacher clasped his hands together, “i know you all are extremely stressed about the final, but it won’t be too bad, i promise. the projects earlier in the semester should help cushion your grade. i can promise you all that it will not be a tough final exam. it is cumulative, but i do have study guides. m.j., would you like to help me pass around the study guides?”

m.j. smiled wryly, “of course.”

biting your lip, your fingers trembled slightly as a study guide was placed on your table. currently, your grade in chemistry was sitting at a solid B. granted, it was an honors course, so the grade was weighted, but nonetheless, you loathed your grade. you felt miserable about it, no matter how much your parents reassured you that it was perfectly okay to have a B.

you felt a slight flash of gratitude for your parents, as they were very understanding and supportive when it came to your academics. there were some kids in your class who would have gotten their ass chewed if they even had an A-.

nova, your best friend, was one of those kids. she had an A, and was still reaching for an A+, taking as many extra credit opportunities as she could. she was skimming over the study guide, flipping through the packet and highlighting points. in your head, you knew she didn’t need to study that much. to her, chemistry came easy.

“how are you feeling about the final?” nova turned to you, her eyes displaying her emotion. she was curious, pondering your answer.

“stressed,” you mumbled, averting your eyes away from her gaze.

she frowned, “what are you stressed about?”

“the final,” you mumbled, a wave of embarrassment flooding through you. you felt stupid compared to her.

nova’s eyes softened, “it won’t be too bad, i promise. you have my help, along with peter and ned. m.j. can help you study too.”

at the sound of peter’s name, you glanced over in his direction. he was sitting next to ned, flipping through the study guide as well. you couldn’t help but think about the night the two of you worked on the last project. your mind wandered to how he fucked you, the way his lips felt against your skin. if only your class knew of all of the dirty things that innocent boy said to you.

the current status of the relationship between you and peter was unknown. the last time the both of you hung out was the night you worked on the project. however, the two of you talked constantly. over text, over facetime calls, and at school. one morning before school, peter invited you over for some cuddling, but you had to decline because you were running late.

your phone vibrated on the desk, and you picked it up. it was a text from peter, his name lighting up on the screen. eagerly, you swiped left, reading the message.

peter: study session tonight? it can be at my apartment this time. a little birdy informed me that you may need some help.

“you told peter i needed help, didn’t you?” you glared at nova.

“c’mon,” nova smirked, “who would turn down help from peter parker? maybe he can be your tutor in more ways than just one.”

“shut uppppp,” you whined a little too loudly.

peter turned around, giving you a questioning stare. you just shrugged in response, heat filling your cheeks. he rolled his eyes playfully, then said something to ned.

you squirmed slightly in your seat, thinking about how good peter’s tongue felt against your pussy. god, you wanted him bad.

the thing was, no one knew about you and peter. not even nova. well, she knew you liked him, but she didn’t know all of the details. you loved that things were lowkey. if they weren’t, you’d get endless torturing from m.j., ned, and nova.

smiling, you typed a response, i’m down. since it’s a friday night, i could probably stay the night. i could just lie and say i was at nova’s. is your aunt in town? or does she have a date with that happy dude?

you set your phone down on your desk, awaiting the brunette’s response. a part of you was proud for being so bold. after all, you just wanted to spend some time with peter. you really liked him, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. another part of you wanted to ask him if there was the possibility of a relationship in the future. and if he wasn’t ready, you’d be patient.

from the sound of it, the boy had a lot on his plate. between school, his stark industry internship, and his aunt may, peter was stressed. a part of you was concerned about him as well. peter missed school in bouts of spontaneity. you’d see him one class, and then the next he would be gone. it was especially concerning when he was gone for days on end. you figured it was something to do with his internship, but you weren’t quite sure.

peter had a lot of secrets, and you wanted to know them all. the biggest secret you wanted to uncover was what his internship at stark industries entailed. why he disappeared so much, why he came back injured, etc. and also, why he never talked about his work. was it all really that confidential? you wondered why such a shy and sweet boy came back with black eyes and scratches all over his arms. it worried you. a lot more than you wanted to admit.

peter: may is out of town. i’m okay with you coming over. does right after school work or do you need some time to pack your stuff? actually.. how about around five? can’t wait to see you qt.

after reading his message, you couldn’t help but smile. he was so cute. so it was decided, you would see peter around five, where you would stay the night at his apartment. excitement rushed through your veins, giving you a slight adrenaline rush.

once school was over, you rushed home. although there was no real reason to rush, you were extremely excited to see peter later that evening. you gave a quick greeting to your parents, then ran upstairs to your room. closing the door, you reached into your closet for your overnight bag.

there were way too many outfit options. yet, you knew peter didn’t care too much about you appearance. he called you beautiful all the time, whether you were in sweats and no makeup, or jeans and just some mascara. peter liked your personality. he liked the traits that made up who you were.

you shoved a pair of sleep shorts into your bag, along with an oversized hoodie. the outfit you had on, leggings and a university of illinois crewneck, would have to do. the crewneck was actually peter’s. he reluctantly gave it to you one morning before class. the fabric no longer carried his scent, which made you sad.

however, you changed into a sexier bra and underwear. you slid into a red lace thong, matching it with a red bralette, which left nothing to the imagination. after getting dressed again, you sprayed on perfume, the same one you used the night peter came over. you brushed your hair, fixed your mascara, and made sure your legs weren’t too prickly. you knew peter didn’t care, though.

as you walked to peter’s apartment some blocks away, you put your earbuds in. since it was the beginning of december, the city was bustling. christmas lights, trees, and santa were plastered everywhere, yet it was beautiful. people passing by you had armloads of bags, which you knew were christmas presents. it started to snow as you walked, the flakes drifting to the pavement in slow motion.

soon, you approached peter’s apartment complex. you trudged up to the building, ringing the buzzer. the door opened automatically, and you messaged peter to let him know you were heading up. after climbing an endless amount of stairs, you were finally at his apartment.

your knock was soft, and the door swung open instantly. there stood peter, clad in a tight fitting black shirt, and grey joggers. your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes took in his fit body. you couldn’t help it, as he just looked so fucking good.

“like what you see?” peter’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

you blinked, registering he noticed your stare, “oh, fuck yeah. oh, i mean, um. yes.”

“i mean, i have no complaints about what i’m seeing either,” he flirted, shooting you a wink.

who was this boy, and where did he come from? how was he suddenly so confident? was this kid a werewolf? these were the questions running through your mind. yet, you liked this side of peter. it only made him a hundred times more attractive.

peter allowed you in, you biting your lip anxiously. it’s not like you were anxious to be with him, you just weren’t sure what to expect tonight. however, the apartment caught your eye.

it was a quaint, cozy space. it just gave off the vibe of coziness and happiness. there were framed pictures of peter covering the walls, along with a variety of awards and accomplishments. peter sat down on the couch in the den, turning on the t.v. you followed, setting your book bag down on the floor.

“i’m going to turn on the office for background noise,” peter stated, “if that’s okay with you.”

you nodded enthusiastically, “that’s okay with me! where do you wanna start? honestly, i have no preference. i need help with all of it.”

“wherever you wanna start,” he pulled out his laptop from his own book bag, setting it on the coffee table, “however, this is strictly studying, (y/n). no funny business.”

his tone was slightly commanding, and you couldn’t help but blush at his statement, “okay, that’s fine with me.”

peter grabbed your face gently, his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “there’s something i have been wanting to tell you for a while.”

“and that is?” you raised a brow.

“can i make you mine? i mean, not like in a property kind of way, but like, uh, i want you to be my girlfriend. i want you to be my girl. i want to start taking you out on dates, along with start showing you off. i know i have left you in the dark for a little while about my feelings, but i promise you that i really really like you,” his eyes met yours, warm with affection. his tone was hopeful, as if he was awaiting your response eagerly.

“i really really like you too,” you murmured, leaning in. peter kissed you, his lips soft. his other hand rested on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

“(y/n),” he pulled away, “we have some studying to do.”

“i know, i know,” you groaned, opening your chemistry textbook.

“i have an idea,” peter announced, “how about i set up a reward system for you?”

“reward system?” you snorted, “i’m not a dog, peter parker.”

“i know,” he huffed, rolling his eyes, “i meant more like i reward you if you get the correct answer.”

“how are you going to reward me?” you scoffed. yet, you could feel your anticipation building. you knew exactly how this was going to work. you just wanted to hear the words come out of peter’s mouth.

“get an answer right and you’ll find out,” he smirked, shooting you a wink.

“let’s get started,” you sucked in a breath, biting your lip.

part of you was also a little nervous to be studying with peter. hell, the kid was so smart, he could solve almost every equation. it intimidated you slightly, but you knew peter would be gentle with you. nova, on the other hand, would call you “dumb” or “stupid.” besides, spending time with him was a bonus as well.

“anything specific you want to start with, princess?” the last word of peter’s question caught your attention, “i am happy to help with you anything you’re confused on.”

“i think we should start with balancing equations,” you replied, pointing to the section in the study guide.

peter grabbed your hand, placing it on his thigh, “okay, what do you need help on?”

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice faltering slightly. your hand was dangerously close to the imprint on his joggers.

“you’ll find out,” he murmured, his eyes focused on the study guide, “which part don’t you understand about it?”

you swore you could feel your cheeks burning. the sexual tension between the two of you was too much. you wanted nothing more than peter to just rip off your clothes and fuck you right there on the couch. but you wondered what this game was. why he was holding back. you figured he was just as turned on as you were. his jaw was clenched as your hand was still on his upper thigh.

“just the beginning,” you answered. “okay,” peter nodded, scrawling down some notes on your paper, “i am going to write out a problem for you to practice with. don’t worry, i am here to explain anything you don’t understand or grasp. get it right, and you can touch me.”

“what if i don’t get it right?” you bit your lip.

“you don’t get to touch me,” he responded, his eyes meeting yours.

“fair enough,” your replied coolly.

taking your hand off of peter’s thigh, you glanced at the problem he created for you. you started it, realizing how much easier it was with his notes. maybe studying with him wasn’t so bad after all. you got to spend time with him, and get free tutoring.

peter watched as you solved the problem, his eyes following your movements. you asked a few questions, and he gave you encouragement. once you were finished, you showed him your final answer. he took the paper, reading over it.

“well,” he gave you a small smile, “you got it correct.”

his lips crashed into yours, and his tongue licked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. you let him in, and he began to kiss you hungrily.

“fuck chemistry,” peter shook his head, “i need to study you.”

“why didn’t you say so in the first place?” you teased him, giving him soft kisses under his jawline. you continued down his neck, sucking on his skin slightly.

“baby,” he groaned, “if aunt may sees that, you’re never coming over again.” he scooped you into your arms, taking you by surprise.

he carried you into his room, laying you down on the bed, “let me take care of you properly, princess.”

“please,” you begged, yearning for him to touch you. you didn’t realize how badly you wanted it till now.

“take off the hoodie for me then,” peter instructed. in the dim light, his eyes were dark with lust, “i can’t believe you came over in my hoodie thinking i wouldn’t do anything about it.”

you obeyed, slipping the hoodie off your body. once peter saw your bralette, his jaw clenched, “goddamn.”

“what?” you laid back down, anticipating his next move.

“this looks so fucking good on you,” you could tell he was speechless, “that’s what.”

peter kissed you, then began to place wet kisses down your next, and onto your collarbone. his fingers reached towards your back, where he undid the hooks on your bralette. carefully, he took it off, throwing it to the floor. he placed his mouth on your breast, sucking on the skin. a hand dipped into the waistband of your thong, his thumb circling slowly on your clit. as he did so, your moan echoed through the room.

peter knew exactly how to pleasure you, and you loved that about him. even if he was not very experienced, he knew how to make you wet. he knew how to make your moans echo through the room. he knew how to make you cum.

“you’re such a good girl,” he paused, “i love it when you’re loud for me. it’s so hot. i want to taste you.”

“do it then,” the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“as you wish, princess,” peter murmured.

his fingers hooked the fabric on your leggings, and he pulled them down your legs. as he took them off, he placed soft kisses on your thighs. once your leggings were off, he took in your half-naked figure, enjoying the sight of your lace thong.

“do you want this off?” he referred to your thongs.

“yes,” you nodded, “please.”

peter took your thong off, casting it to the floor as well. he parted your thighs, and said no words as he dived into your pussy. his tongue slowly dragged up to your clit, and your fingers laced themselves in his hair. he watched as you moaned his name, enjoying every second of it. his mouth found your clit, sucking slightly.

you could feel how close you were coming to your orgasm, but peter stopped, wiping his chin. you realized how wet you were, as your thighs were slick. the sheets beneath you were soaked slightly as well.

“baby,” peter’s voice was low, “i need you.”

you sat up, your hands reaching for the waistband of his joggers. peter threw off his shirt, watching as you dragged the pants down his thighs. his cock was hard, and you licked the tip, your tongue dragging across it. he moaned, a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. slowly, you took his cock into your mouth, your hand at the base, as the other cupped his balls. you could tell that this was driving him crazy. you also needed him bad.

you paused, and without warning, peter flipped you onto your stomach, arching your back. he held your arms back, and took you from the back.

“holy fuck,” you groaned.

“you feel so good,” peter moaned as his cock slammed into you.

as he fucked you senseless, you could feel your orgasm coming. peter must have sensed it, as you felt his thumb on your clit, going in slow, circular motions, “are you going to cum all over my cock like a good girl?”

“i’m gonna-” you began, feeling the tension building up.

“come on princess,” peter instructed, “cum for me.”

you came, feeling pleasure overwhelm you. peter’s cock slid out of you, and you felt him cum on your back.

“stay here,” he instructed, “i’ll be right back baby.” he disappeared, coming back with a warm towel. he cleaned you up, helping you off his bed. once you were off, you changed into your pajamas as he changed the sheets. he changed himself, remaining shirtless as you climbed into the bed with you.

peter pulled you close to him, rubbing your back gently, “i hope you do know that i have full intentions of helping you study later.”

you giggled, “i figured.”

“i’m sorry i can’t help myself when the most beautiful woman in the world is in the same room with me,” he laid a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“i’m so glad i have you,” you smiled.

“me too,” peter sighed happily.

“i have one question though,” you began.

“and what’s that?” he inquired, rolling you over so that he could see you.

“what’s it like to be the friendly neighborhood spider-man?”

what peter forgot to hide was the bright red and blue suit out in the open, hanging next to his closet.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland x reader #mcu #mcu imagine #spider-man x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man #spiderman #spiderman homecoming

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americancowgirl19 · 3 years

Text

Story of Our Life

Summary: In which your daughter finds your diary detailing your life since you were a young girl all the way to a few days before you die. She learns first hand how you fell in love with her father, Bucky, and survived everything life through at you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death of loved ones, fluff,

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,575

A/n:

Masterlist

“Hey, has anyone checked this box yet?” Rebecca questions, finding a dusted cardboard box in the corner of the basement.

“No,” Her sister, Stephanie, mutters offhandedly. Rebecca glances at her before kneeling besides the box.

“Anything interesting in it?” Toni, the middle child, questions abandoning the box of vintage clothes in favor of the box Rebecca had picked out.

Rebecca doesn’t respond as she carefully opens the flaps of the box. At first it looks like there’s a bunch of junk in it, causing Toni to lose interest and return to her box. Rebecca pulls out the various items and sets them on the floor.

“Hey, Steph, there’s some old clipping of Uncle Steve,” Rebecca calls out. “And some of Uncle Tony... and Uncle Sam... and pretty much everyone else,” Both sisters find themselves sitting on either side of Rebecca in order to look through the clippings.

“Mom had to have been the one to do all this,” Toni mutters.

“You really think Dad would sit down and take the time to find these articles and then cut them out?” Stephanie asks, scoffing.

“Hey, look at this,” Rebecca alerts, pulling out an old framed picture. It shows their parents and their Uncle Steve. It was easy to place when the picture was taken because both of their parents were in their war uniforms and Uncle Steve had yet to get the serum that made him Captain America.

“They look so young,” Toni whispers. All three girls look at the picture but their eyes linger on you, their mother.

Out of the three of them, Rebecca looked most like you. She had your hair, your eyes, your height but more of Bucky’s bone structure. Stephanie was the one who looked like the perfect mixture between you and Bucky while Toni favored her father.

Stephanie sniffles and forces herself to look away from the picture. Her eyes return to the news clippings, which don’t help lessen the grief. By this point the only one still alive is Uncle Sam, and even he was on his last leg.

Uncle Steve had been the first to go, long before Rebecca and Toni were born. Stephanie still remembers him, vaguely but he’s still there. Stephanie had been born nine months after half the universe was snapped away. You didn’t know you were pregnant until after everything had gone down. Stephanie grew up with Uncle Steve as a father until Bucky was able to return. She remembers not understanding how one second Uncle Steve was young and the next second he was an old man but she remembers still loving him till the day he finally passed.

Toni was the next one to be born. She hadn’t been planned either. She had been conceived while you and Bucky were stuck in some random cabin during a surveillance mission about five years after Bucky had been brought back.

Then came Rebecca nearly two years later. She was the only one planned and the baby that convinced you to transfer to a more normal life. Bucky cut back on missions but didn’t stop completely like you had.

“Oh, I wonder if this is another art notebook Uncle Steve filled up,” Toni wonders, snatching a heavily worn thick notebook from the box. Rebecca glances at it while Stephanie continues to try and hold herself together.

“Those aren’t pictures,” Rebecca mutters.

“No, they’re words, genius,” Toni rolls her eyes. Rebecca snatches the notebook and flips through it.

“It’s a diary,” Rebecca whispers, gaining Stephanie’s attention. “It’s mom’s...” She realizes, lowering the book onto her lap. Stephanie and Toni share a look before looking at the notebook.

“Dad had a few of those,” Stephanie mutters. “His were... heartbreaking...” Stephanie whispers, remembering stumbling upon one of the dozen notebooks Bucky had filled throughout his life. She remembered that she had found it while the three of them were going through his stuff a few days after he had died, just like they were doing with your things now. “I couldn’t finish his...”

“I don’t think I want to know about hers...” Toni admits. “Mom and Dad told us all the stories they wanted us to know. We all know they had it rough. I don’t want to find out just how rough it was,” Toni says, standing up and returning to the vintage clothes.

“Keep it if you want it, Becca. I don’t want to find out things I won’t be able to forget again,” Stephanie says, standing up and returning to the box of more modern clothes.

Rebecca looks at her two sisters before looking back down at the notebook. She could only imagine what her mother had put in the book. Looking at the dates it seemed as if she started around the time she was a young teenager all the way to a few days before her death.

…

It wouldn’t be until another three weeks before Rebecca looked at the diary again. She had been debating whether or not she should read it since the moment she figured out what it was. Eventually, she gives in.

The first entry is when you were about 14. You started writing in the diary because your mother died and you needed an outlet. The first few entries were heartbreaking and made Rebecca cry as your death was still so fresh in her mind.

Unable to continue, Rebecca flips forward a few years. Unfortunately, she stops around the time you had lost your dad. Not wanting to cry again, Rebecca flips forward once more.

She stops on an entry from December. You’re in your early 20′s and your describing your day. It’s normal at first. You talk about how you had been shopping with your best friend when you stumble upon a scene you just can’t walk away from.

...

“I think he’s going to propose on Christmas... Or maybe he’ll do it on Christmas Eve. One or the other,” You friend rambles, with a love struck grin on her face. “He’s been dropping hints ever since Thanksgiving and you know how he is, can’t keep a secret to save his life. I’m surprised he’s been holding it in for so long,”

“I’m sure he just wants it to be special, a night to remember,” You comment, adjusting the bag on your tiring arms.

“I know,” She sighs. “I just want him to blurt it out already. I want to be the fiancé now, not the girlfriend,”

“It’ll happen,” You assure her. “He’s obsessed with you, there’s no way you’ll be the girlfriend for long,” She smiles, daydreaming about the future wedding. “There’s the car,” You mumble in relief.

“Oh, finally!” She groans, picking up the pace while you slow to a stop. It takes a moment for her to realize your not following. “What are you doing? You planning on walking all the way home?”

“I think there’s somebody down there,” You comment, seeing movement in the alley.

“It’s Brooklyn, Y/n... There’s people everywhere. Come on,” She pleads but you ignore her and go down the alley. “What is it with you and going down creepy places?” She grumbles, begrudgingly following you.

The further you two walk, the clearer the scene becomes. There’s a large, brute of a man beating on a smaller guy. The guy looked stick thin and obviously couldn’t fight back every easily. Although, you did have to respect the fact that the guy didn’t give up. He kept standing and attempting to fight back.

It only takes a few seconds for you to become fed up with what’s happening in front of you. You shout to gain the man’s attention. You grew up the youngest of 5 brothers, you’re used to making people pay attention to you.

“Well, hello, there,” The large man smirks, shoving the smaller one to the ground. You watch as the blond rolls into trashcans, your anger towards the larger one growing.

“Hi,” You smirk. “What’s a stupid brute like you doing in an alley like this?” You question, enjoying how his face falls. “You like hurting people smaller than you?”

“Sometimes you just have to show people who’s the alpha, ya know?” He winks, but you unamused.

“I don’t see an alpha here,” You tell him. “I see a bully who’s probably been bullied before so he gets the idea in his head that it’s ok for him to bully other’s since it’s happened to him,”

“I ain’t ever been bullied,” He snaps, clearly offended by the mere thought of being the bullied instead of the bully.

“Oh, so you were one of those brainless ‘pretty’ boys who thought it was ok to bully people smarter than you because you could never reach their level of intellect. Oh, and that means you’ll never be as smart as them. Either way, you’re a spineless jackass with no place in this world,”

“Listen, lady-”

“You, you listen,” You snapped, stepping up to him instead of backing down like he wanted. “You’re just a waste of space, asshole trying to bring others to your level instead of climbing out of your own crappy life to become a decent human being. News flash, nobody really likes assholes like you so why don’t you go back to your parents basement and never come out again until you’ve grown up like the rest of us. Ok? Bye,”

“How about you come with me?” He suggests, a suggestive smirk on his lips. You stare at him dumbfounded. “I can teach you a lesson on how you’re supposed to talk to me,”

“Hey, why don’t you leave the lady alone?” The blond swaying on his feet demands. You glance at him but the large man in front of you completely ignores him.

“I’m wondering, how would you know how people talk to men when you’re just a little bitch?” You ask. Your little jap is the last straw and the man snaps.

You barely register your friend gasping as he attempts to slap you. Luckily, you managed to lean out of his reach and dodge the hit. You don’t hesitate to drop your shopping bags and slam the heel of your shoe into his foot. He groans, too focused on his foot to see your fist heading straight for his jaw. He staggers backward giving you the opportunity to kick him in the balls.

He hunches over covering his man hood. You examine your hand for a second, forgetting how uncomfortable it is to punch someone. Before you reach forward and grab the mans chin, forcing him to look at you.

“My brother taught me how to do that, you should go see him when you’re ready for a lesson on how to treat other people like decent human beings,” You growl, before shoving his head away from you.

“Oh my God, Y/n, are you alright?” You friend asks coming up beside you. You offer her a coy smile and nod.

“I’m fine,” You assure her before noticing a new guy standing a few feet from you with an awestruck look in his eyes. Nobody says anything for a moment as you size the newcomer up. He’s tall with short cut, dark hair with beautiful blueish grey eyes.

“Well, I came over here to see if the beautiful dame needed some help but looks like I’m not needed,” He smirks, walking closer to you and your friend. You feel a surge of pride run through you, a smirk mimicking his coming to your lips.

“What can I say? Mama didn’t raise a damsel,”

“No, no she did not,”

“Y/n,” You introduce yourself, your eyes locked with his. They’ve been locked since he first spoke up and you felt as if he had trapped you with his gaze. The greyness in his eyes seemed endless, you would willingly get lost within them.

“James but people call me Bucky,” He introduces himself. “You can call me whatever you want, beautiful,”

...

Rebecca couldn’t stop the shit eating grin from coming onto her face as she read how her parents met through her mothers eyes. She read how her mother described Bucky as handsome and charismatic yet also goofy and lovable.

Before she turns the page, she notices a footnote. The footnote is more recent, it’s dated during the 21st century.

“I learned today that Bucky told Steve he was going to marry me the instant my friend and I were out of ear shot. Seconds after just meeting me,” Rebecca could feel her grin widening. “Had it been up to him, we would have been married within a week but Steve convinced him to wait. Bucky could only wait seven months before proposing.”

Rebecca knew what the world thought of her father. Most of the world knew him as the Winter Soldier but she knew him as the incredible father he was and the hopeless romantic he had been for you.

She spends a few minutes reminiscing on the memories of Bucky stopping on the way home from school to randomly pick you up flowers. She remembers the dances in the kitchen when she and her sisters had moved the the living room. She remembers the random dances everywhere, Bucky loved to dance. He had danced with his daughters multiple times but it was never like how he held you.

Rebecca remembers how she and her sisters would spy on you and Bucky. They were meant to be in bed but on the days they knew Bucky felt extra romantic, they snuck out to see what he had planned. Of course, being soldiers and spies you both knew you had eyes on you but pretended not to notice.

Bucky would always hold your hand in his and wrap you close with his other arm. There wouldn’t be a space between the two of you as you swayed together. Even the blind could see that you two were head over heels in love, even after everything you went through.

Flipping through the pages, Rebecca stops on an entry dated in the month of July. It was the date you told your grandmother, who you had lived with when your parents died, about your engagement to Bucky.

...

“You’re shaking, doll,” Bucky mutters, pulling you to his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine,” Bucky whispers, kissing your hair lightly.

“She’s going to be mad,” You whisper.

“She’ll get over it,” Bucky assumes. You smile, leaning your head back to look into his eyes.

“You don’t know my grandma,” You mutter, “She’s a horrible person,” Bucky laughs and kisses your forehead.

“It doesn’t really matter what she thinks right? We’re going to get married either way. You do want to do this, right?”

“Buck, I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t want some kind of a wedding,” Bucky smiles, tucking some loose strands behind your ear. His hand stays there, caressing your head.

“We’re going to be just fine,” He promises. “No matter what happens, you’ll have me. You have me from now till the end of our days,” He whispers.

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Barnes,” You whispers, back. He smirks, pressing your heads together. “Once you marry me, I won’t ever let you go,”

“I should be saying that to you,” He mutters, tightening his grip around you. “You sure you wanna do this, doll?”

“Marry you? Absolutely... Tell my grandma? No,” Bucky smirks, kissing your nose.

“Come on, the sooner we get this done the better,” You sigh but let him pull you into the large house that belonged to your grandma.

Your grandma is an impossible person. She’s judgmental and cynical. She came from money and looked down on those without it. Those like Bucky. She had disowned your mother because she fell in love with a blue collar man. Deep down you knew the same was about to happen to you.

“Well, looks like street rats can clean up,” She comments, looking at Bucky’s attire. You jaw clinches tightly as you quite literally bite your tongue.

“Nice to meet you ma’am, I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” He introduces himself, politely. He holds his hand for her but she just looks at it.

“Your late,” She states, staring at you before walking into the dinner room.

“Well, she seems nice,” Bucky mutters.

“We should make a run for it,”

“Think we just got locked in,” Bucky whispers, seeing the main door close.

“Damn,” You whispers. Bucky smiles, holding your hand tightly.

“We out number her, stronger in numbers right?”

“We’re gonna need a couple more people to outnumber her,” Bucky sighs, giving your hand another squeeze before leading you into the dinning room.

Dinner had been tense with few words spoken. Bucky talked about himself when your grandma had flat out refused to answer him. You tried to ease the tension but nothing seemed to work.

“So, Y/n,” Your grandma finally speaks.

“Yes?”

“How long as you going to keep this hoodlum?” She questions. Your jaw drops for a moment as you wonder if she had seriously just asked you that. Bucky pauses in his feast to glance at you. Your mouth slowly closes and a glare sets.

“For the rest of my life,” You tell her. “I’m marrying him,”

“No, you’re not,” She laughs, shaking her head.

“I am,” You state sternly. Bucky gently caresses the inside of your thigh but it doesn’t soothe you like it normally does.

“No, you won’t,” She says. “Why don’t you marry that dashing Vince from next store?”

“Because Vince is a tool who can’t think for himself. I don’t love Vince, I love Bucky and I will marry him,”

“Darling, do not make the same mistake your mother made,”

“My mother loved my father,” You snap. “They loved each other to the day they died,”

“Your mother would have still been alive had it not been for that man,”

“My father was not at fault,” You growl. “Besides, had they not gotten together me and my siblings wouldn’t have been alive,” She scoffs.

“Oh, and the world surely wouldn’t have been able to survive with disappointments like you and your brothers in the world,” She rolls her eyes.

“My brothers and I are not disappointments,” You snapped. “If anything, you’re the disappointment with you bitterness and lack of love for the world and your family. Someday soon, you will be lying on your death bed all alone because of your cruelty and hatred. I will not live like you. I’ll live with love in my heart and family around me. I will marry Bucky and you won’t stop me,” You said standing up.

“If you marry that boy, you’ll die without a dollar to your name,” She tells you.

“As long as I die with the ones I love by my side, I’ll be considered the luckiest woman in the world,” You grandma scoffs as you grab the back of Bucky’s collar and yank him out of his seat because apparently he hadn’t gotten the idea that you two were leaving.

...

“Wow, Grandma really was a bitch,” Rebecca mutters. You hadn’t talked about your grandma. You just only ever mentioned having lived with her until moving in with Bucky. You never went into more detail and the girls just stopped asking, not that they were entirely interested in the old hag.

Rebecca continued to flip through the diary. She smiled when she read about the simple wedding they hand in your brother’s back yard in upstate New York. You had worn a crème colored sun dress. A dress Steve had accidentally stained right before you walked down the aisle.

...

“I am so sorry,” Steve apologized for the millionth time as you and your brother’s wife tried to clean the dress.

“Steve, it’s fine,” You laugh, smiling at him.

“It’s not like it’s going to be on all night,” Your sister-in-law, winks at you. You smirk, laughing as Steve’s cheeks flamed red.

“You uh... you still look beautiful,” Steve promises. “Bucky probably won’t even notice,” Your sister scoffs and you pinch her arm. “I’ll uh... I’ll be outside,” Steve slips out. You sigh looking at the mirror. The large stain covers your entire stomach.

“Well, we knew anything that Bucky and Steve were going to be apart of was going to be interesting,” She tells you. You smile and nod.

“Definitely a wedding to remember,” You mutter.

“Alright, ladies!” You eldest brother shouts coming into the room in his best trousers and button up shirt. “You look....” Your brother starts to chuckle causing his wife to slap him upside the head.

“Just do your job and make sure she makes it down the aisle,” Your sister snaps, pointing at him threateningly. He smirks giving her a wink and a salute before smacking her ass as she leaves.

“So, you’re positive you want do to this?” He asks. “We can have a car here in 30 seconds and have you in the next state in 30 minutes,”

“I’m fine, I want to do this,”

“Poor bastard,” He mutters. You laugh, punching his arm. He laughs pulling you into a hug. “Come on, the sooner I can give you away the sooner I can run away,”

“Here goes nothing,” You whispers, as you and your brother begin to walk down the aisle.

“Make no mistake, all these people are looking at this handsome man,” Your brother whispers to you.

“More like stupid man,” You mutter back. He smirks but doesn’t say anything. Once you reach the end, he hands you to Bucky, who pulls your as close as possible.

“Nice stain. Really brings out your eyes,” He winks at you.

“You can thank Steve for the finishing touches,” You whisper. He smirks, kissing the top of your head.

“You could be getting married in your underwear and I’d still be happy,” He whispers.

“Something tells me that you’d prefer it if I wasn’t wearing anything,”

“Hey, if the shoe fits,” You laugh leaning into him as the preacher talks in front of you two.

...

“135 years,” Rebecca whispers, once she figured out how long the two of you had been married before Bucky had died. Buck had passed a few years ago. You had never been the same but managed to stick around before you passed in your sleep on his birthday about a month ago.

Rebecca continues on. She reads a few of the shorter entries. They’re mainly milestones for you and Buck. Your first apartment together, your first car together, your first pregnancy that had unfortunately ended in a miscarriage.

A few years later, the United States enter the second world war. She read about your fear of losing Bucky. She read about the numerous attempts Steve had made to get into the Army, being rejected each time. She read how you supported Steve despite everything he does worries you. She skimmed past the parts where your brothers enlisted but stopped when she saw the part where you had enlisted.

...

Your father had been a pilot in the first world war. He told you stories and you clung to them growing up. When you got the opportunity to become an Airwomen, you jumped at the opportunity.

You knew you should have mentioned it to Bucky but he hadn’t said anything about joining the Army. You knew he would but he could have spoken to you about it first. Instead, he enlisted and showed up in his uniform. You remember being so angry but understanding why he had done it.

You were many things and petty is one of them. You didn’t talk to Bucky about joining the military because it isn’t his decision, it’s yours. The same reasoning he had for joining the army.

When you got accepted, you showed up at home in your uniform. To say Bucky was surprised is an understatement.

“What are you wearing?” Bucky asks, staring at you.

“A uniform,” You tell him. “I’ve been recruited for the Women Airforce Service Pilots program,” You explain. “I’ll be leaving for training a little bit after you. Base is in Avenger Field, Texas.“ Buck stares at you as what you told him sinks in. “I’ve been told if I go over seas, they’ll be noncombat missions,”

“So, you just join the Air Force and not talk to me about it?” Bucky asks. You laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t get to be mad at me Buck, you didn’t talk to me about joining the Army-”

“That’s different-”

“How?!” You snap, as he stands up. “How is it different Buck? We both want to protect this country, we’re both doing it our own ways. How is it different?”

“Because it’s expected of me to go over!” Bucky shouts. “If I hadn’t volunteered I probably would have been drafted, I didn’t have a choice,”

“Oh, please, even if you had a choice you’d enlist,” You roll your eyes. “Just because I’m a female doesn’t mean that I can’t fight in the war,” You tell him. “I have every right to lay down my life just like you do,” Bucky clenches his jaw before pacing and racking his fingers through his hair.

“I know,” He grumbles, falling back on the couch. “I know you deserve the same chances as I do but that doesn’t make this any easier,” He finally meets your gaze. “I’m still coming to terms that I’m in the army. It’s just... It was easier knowing that when I leave you would still be here. Safe. I love you, Y/n. You’re it for me, you’re all I want. Joining the war... Even if it’s noncombat, you’ll still be in danger and I can’t lose you,”

“Buck, I could lose you just as easily,” You whisper, sitting beside him. “I can’t lose you Buck but I can’t stay here and wait for you to come back. I’ll lose my mind,” Bucky smiles a bit and gently pets your hair. “I love you. I wish there wasn’t a war but there is and we’re both apart of it now,”

“What is it with you and Steve?” Bucky grumbles. Your smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. He holds you close.

“You know I can handle myself,” You whisper to him. “You and me, we’re going to be fine. We’re going to make it through this war and we’re going to have a hundred babies, everything’s going to be fine,” You shift your head to look up at him.

“I love you, so much,” He whispers. You smile, gently pressing your lips against his. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

“Yeah, Buck,” You whisper nodding. Bucky sighs holding you tightly. “I have to do this,”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier,” Bucky whispers. You slowly begin to grin. “You come strutting in that nice uniform,” You smirk straddling his waist.

“Now you know how I felt when you came home, Mr. Barnes,” You wink, rubbing down his chest. Bucky hums, a coy smirk on his lips.

“I’ll love you forever, baby doll,” Bucky whispers, gently holding your hips in his hand.

“No matter where we are shipped to in the world, I promise I’ll always find my way back to you,” You promise him. “I won’t let anything, not even death, keep us apart,”

“I’ll hold you too that, doll,” Bucky whispers, kissing your lips tenderly.

...

Rebecca takes a break from the diary. She makes herself some food and debates if she wants to go further. She knows that everything begins to go down hill once the two of your are separated by the war. She didn’t know if she would be able to handle your personal thoughts on what happened.

Rebecca had learned about you, Bucky and Uncle Steve in school. She had seen you all in museums. They never really intrigued her since she had the real stories at home. It’s one thing to read the stories on a random wall or listen to watered down versions from your parents and an entirely different thing to listen to your unfiltered thoughts.

Stephanie had told her and Toni what she had found in their father’s notebooks. His notebooks consisted of the same stories written down as he remembered, forgot and then remembered them again. She briefly explained the guilt he felt and just how detailed he had gone into with all the things he had done.

Rebecca knew your story would be just as traumatic and bloody. She didn’t know if reading it would taint the memory of you or not. She wanted to remember you as the loving, caring, yet badass mother you were. Not the weapon Hydra had made you into.

However, her need for the truth and her thirst for knowledge made her want to learn more. Before she knew what was happening, she was back in front of the diary.

The first thing she noticed is that your diary jumped from right before you had been kidnapped by Hydra to the 21st century after you and Bucky had been reunited with Steve.

...

“Whatcha doin’ there, doll?” Bucky asks, coming up behind you. You glance at him from your seat at the desk.

“Writing,” You whisper. “I used to do it way back when and my therapist thinks it’s a good idea I start again,” Bucky sits beside you, your thighs pressed against each other.

“Is that the same diary-?”

“Yep,” You nod, smiling a bit. “Don’t ask me how it survived but here it is,” You tell him. “Thought I could pick up where I left off,” You whisper, your mind slowly slipping back to the last entry you had made. It was two days before your plane had been shot down and you were kidnapped by Hydra.

“I’ve been writing, too,” Bucky admits. You glance at him. “It helps keeps the thoughts together but other than that...” Bucky sighs, frustratingly.

“Hey, we’ve made it this far,” You smile, pressing your hand on his leg. “We survived the world war, survived Hydra, reconnected with Steve, became Avengers,” You laugh a bit. “At this point, I’m feeling pretty damn invincible,” You tease.

“You are, baby doll... I can’t seem to get rid of you,” He smirks.

“I do remember telling you that I wouldn’t let anything, not even death, keep us apart,” Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. The two of you hold each other tightly.

“You did,” Bucky recalls. “And thank you, so much, for keeping that promise,” He whispers.

“You’re mine, Bucky. You’re it for me, I don’t want anybody else,” You whisper, kissing his forehead. “Sure, we may be a bit more screwed up now,” He laughs a bit. “But we can be screwed up together,”

“There’s no one else I’d rather be with,” Bucky whispers, nuzzling his head in your neck. You smile, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you,” You whisper to him.

...

The next entries after that one were more horrific. You described the assassination's you had done. You wrote about the people you had tortured, interrogated, and killed.

Although, through all the darkness of the entries you made, something stuck out to Rebecca. You wrote about the fact that Hydra never woke you and Bucky up at the same time.

You and Bucky had been so in love with each other that you could snap each other out of Hydra’s hold. Even if you couldn’t bring each other’s memories back, you just instinctively knew how important the other was. Nothing, not even Hydra’s agenda, was more important than keeping the other safe and close.

You two had caused so many problems with Hydra that you had to be separated. They had originally tried making you two work together but then you both disappeared. You both knew Hydra was bad and that you two were good. Hydra unfortunately found you two hiding out somewhere and recaptured you. After that, you two weren’t woken up at the same time again.

Keeping you two apart was the best decision for Hydra. Until Alexander Pierce got antsy. Captain America and Black Widow were close to taking down Hydra and stopping Project Insight that he woke both of you up despite knowing what would happen.

He was desperate and it was his downfall. The instant you and Bucky were left alone, you both turned on Hydra. You helped Steve bring down Hydra in return Steve helped you both regain your memories.

There was a little blip when they found out about Bucky killed Tony’s parents but they managed to work it out without killing each other. Eventually, you and Bucky had become close with Tony.

Tony went out of his way to sure you and Bucky were comfortable. He continuously made upgrades to Bucky’s arm. He made it to the point where Bucky could feel with it. He even made an arm that looked human, as if he had never lost it.

Against all odds, the pair of you became Avengers and saved the world.

Rebecca was proud to call you and Bucky parents. She hated that you both were gone yet happy that you two were together now. She knew that even in your late years of life the horrors of your younger years still haunted you. Now, however, the two of you were at peace together.

#bucky barnes #James barnes #Winter Soldier #WW2 #Captain America #Avengers #Hydra #Marvel #Bucky x reader #Bucky x female!reader #x reader #x female!reader #x avengers!reader #avengers!reader

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 4 years

Note

He did? Umm.. what happened exactly?

(referring to this post)

my 11th grade chemistry teacher had an associates degree in liberal arts.

you know how in virtually every class you’ve ever had since middle school, your teachers made a big stink about the syllabus? she didn’t have one. this was her first teaching job, which she got because of her length experience as a substitute, not by her licensing qualifications. we were, at first, excited to have her, because she was a “fun sub” and we were 17 years old and stupid as all shit. we were the “normal chem” class in a system where the only other options were “honors chem” which was filled with children who actually know how to study (or cheat) and have an air of proper student activity, and “AP Chem”, which is clear enough if you’ve been an american student in the last 15 years.

she followed the mcgraw hill chemistry book in order of chapters, despite the fact that our state standardized tests did several of the chapters out of order. ever notice how you’ll suddenly be looking at chapter 11 when just last week you were on chapter 5, then the next week you’re on chapter 8? standardized testing is the reason. anyways by asking my friends in other classes who had chemistry teachers of relative competence, i was able to discern which chapters i should focus on, and while she was distracted with literally watching youtube videos all period, I was turning around in my seat and walking across the classroom helping my friends and enemies with the packets. (she was a two-packets-a-week kinda teacher.)

yes i said enemies too. the people i hated, i hated because they were sons of bitches i wouldnt piss on to put out a fire. i hated them so dearly i used to pray to god that they would bump into me so i could throw myself into the concrete and split my forehead open and get them expelled due to the blood-clause of our “zero-tolerance policy”. two of the kids in my class had, only the previous year, attempted to set my hair on fire.

i hated the teacher more.

it gave me extreme pleasure to see her fume and clench her fists when a student would say “i need help” across the classroom and she would move to get up and they would say “oh not you miss, im waiting for vicky.” jesus christ the only time ive ever felt a comparable high was when i was at a halloween party in college where i was literally so zooted i couldn’t move.

it got worse over time, her getting more and more angry, my ego growing larger and larger. i was a huge bitch in high school, i really thought i was the smartest bitch in the room at any given moment. severe main character syndrome. imagine that kind of person actually being right for 45 minutes out of every day. can you even comprehend the kind of frustration that would create? in a room full of little sociopaths who dont give a shit about anything but getting this joke of a class over with so they can graduate? your first real teaching job and they look right past you, the teacher, to this annoying little shit whose grades are completely abysmal? how are they managing to learn anything from a child who can barely speak in front of more than 10 people? who turns cherry red in the face of literally every authority figure in the building except you? who can’t concentrate and stay still in one spot for more than five minutes? all of your other classes behave! they listen! they sit down and shut up and do the packets! so what fucking gives!!!

so you say “fine, since you all HATE ME so much i just won’t teach then!!!” on literally week fucking ten of teaching. and instead of prostrating themselves before you, begging you to like... point at transparencies and read directly from powerpoints i guess.

and they all collectively say “okay” and let the chipmunk child flutter between desks and help them memorize formulas and mnemonic devices and shit. surely her grades will suffer if she’s constantly dealing with other people and you’ll have justification that her horseshit is “distracting” and “a detriment to her studies”. she got bored gave up on that after two days after nothing changed.

then we did the midterm.

except at the end of the exam packet was something we never learned because again, she was going through the book chronologically. because i actually enjoyed the chem book (so much that i stole it when the year was up lmao), i knew the material.

it was about lewis dots/structures. i couldn’t tell you a damn thing about it today but in december 2010 i absolutely knew that shit. i didnt have too much of a problem with it in the exam, but the students who had gotten to that point were complaining and at first she pulled that “you should have been studying independently uwu” shit but the class was about to get loud during exam period so she shushed us and said that when we get to that point, just stop, and she’ll mark it correct during grading, no harm no foul just keep it quiet. one of the more confrontational students called horseshit and said theres no way we’re trusting that and there’s definitely no way anyone will keep an entire classroom cheating at the instruction of the teacher quiet.

i offered to teach it.

she scoffed, rolled eyes, said “sure fine but you can’t get your exam back” and i said “okay.” so when everyone was to the point in the exam, we piled them all on her desk and i used the whiteboard to briefly and quietly explain lewis dots, used the book examples and problems, and helped the other kids understand. there were a couple exam questions that were lifted straight from the book problems so i skipped those. while teaching i realized i had gotten a couple wrong which sucked :( it was an incredibly stupid experience overall, and no teacher worth the paper their certification is printed on would have allowed that to happen. and fucking yet.

anyways everyone but me got their exams back and finished it and many of us passed, only a few of them did particularly well.

discussing the chem exam with friends who also took the chem exam, many students found their anecdote about the lewis dots to be confounding, for you see, the exam we took was not, in fact, the midterm, but the god damned final.

she had us taking the fucking final because she didnt read the fucking folders which read “midterm” and “final exam” on them

she was reprimanded severely and we all had to take the exam on different days, in different classrooms, sitting very far apart. after that she hated me even more. like girl it was your fault lmao i am literally a teenager grow up lol. anyways you can imagine how much more fucking insufferable i became, knowing how miserable she was.

it all came to a head in february when some students were giggling quietly following a minor fuck up on her part regarding bellwork. they were making fun of her like “are you sure thats not tomorrows bellwork lol” and a friend next to me did the “hey i need help wait no miss not you sorry” thing and when i answered him, she solidly snapped. blah blah YOURE SOOOO DISTRACTING blah blah YOU THINK YOURE SOOOO SMART DONT YOU blah blah blah and she was like demanding i leave the room and shouting at the top of her lungs at me “ YOU POISON THE MINDS OF EVERY OTHER STUDENT HERE. YOU’RE POISONOUS VICTORIA, YOU’RE A VIRUS IN THIS CLASSROOM.”

i will never forget that line as long as i live. it was like crack to me. i moved to open the door to leave and the vp opened it first. he escorted me to the office and asked me what happened, then told me to keep my head down in class from now on, and that if i wanted to help my friends i should give them my number and help them out on our own time. i was like “bro thats really stupid” and he was like “thats all we can do right now but i promise we’re working on it”

i lasted the rest of the year giving smug smiles as we did packet after fucking packet for the rest of the year. they were all take-home work. i wasnt comfy giving my number to my enemies. the class camaraderie ended.

the final was altered. my class took a different final than the rest of the normal chem classes.

i started 12th grade and got a solid case of senioritis. i told that story to anyone who would listen. while it was happening, i obviously told my favorite teacher everything as it happened. when i mentioned it senior year he was like “oh yeah i forgot about her,

she was fired over the summer.”

#let me tell you bitch i SCREAMED......#anyways im not sorry this was long #its literally the only cool thing thats ever happened to or about me so shrugs #Anonymous

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waveypedia · 3 years

Text

the more things seem to change, the more they stay the same.

Ao3

Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright have loved one another since the day they met.

Against all odds, Miles returned the smile in full. “Then I suppose we shall just have to discover the truth together. Shall we, Wright?”

The grin Wright gave him in return was blinding enough to replace the sun. “We shall, Edgeworth. Now just take it easy.”

Four non-linear glimpses into the lives of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth over the years.

Written for Narumitsu Week Day 7: Seasons

Winter

[December 31, 2016

5:32 PM

Edgeworth’s Apartment]

Bang, bang, bang.

Miles jumped out of his armchair, nearly throwing his book.

Bang, bang, bang.

Someone was knocking at his door. Rather thoughtlessly, it seemed. Miles was always careful to scare any solicitors that dared pass the signs far away. Maybe his reputation simply hadn’t spread to this one brave solicitor.

The knocking continued, relentless. Miles dropped his book and stalked to the door. If this solicitor was blissfully unaware of how terrifying the Demon Prosecutor could be, they soon would not be.

“Oi, Edgeworth, open up.”

That… was not a solicitor.

Miles froze in front of the door, one hand on the handle. What could he possibly want?

Stubborn as ever, the knocks continued. Miles’ frustration outweighed his wariness, and in a burst of fury, he wrenched the door open, seething.

On the other side of the doorway, Wright frowned at him. He was slumping, exhausted, with one hand still poised to knock. His ever-present cheap court suit was rumpled and wrinkled, like he’d slept in it - not uncharacteristic at all. Yet he was bright-eyed and sported the same expression on his face as when he was about to uncover a tangled mystery in court.

“Edgeworth,” Wright said, breathless and half unbelieving.

“What do you want, Wright,” Miles sighed, unable to conjure up the energy to properly rebuke Wright. Or engage in… whatever little tête-a-tête he had planned.

That seemed to break whatever spell Miles had cast upon Wright by opening the door. The other man straightened, shaking out his wrist. “Can I come in?”

Miles stared, the query not quite processing for a minute. And when it finally did, he found himself unable to make sense of it.

“I suppose,” he supplied awkwardly, after he realized he had been staring blankly at Wright in lieu of a response.

Wright ducked his head abashedly, a small, awkward smile making its home on his face. “Great. Perfect. Um…. Yeah,” he said eloquently, ducking around Miles (who seemed to have forgotten all of his politeness and social skills, the one proficiency both his father and von Karma had imprinted on him) and into the house.

After a minute, Miles shut the door and followed, feeling hopelessly lost in his own home.

He found Wright in his kitchen, pulling some items out of his cupboards seemingly at random.

“May I ask what you’re doing?” Miles said, feeling unimaginably out of place.

Wright Jumped as if he’d forgotten Miles was there at all. He glanced over, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. He frowned, seemingly turning over words in his head as he worked.

“Well,” Wright began, somewhat hesitantly, “When Ch- When Mia died, I never had the energy to cook.” He paused, glancing over at Miles to gauge his reception. After a moment of deliberation, Miles gave him a small nod, urging him to continue.

“Yeah,” Wright said, half to himself. “And after Do- Well. When these hard things happen, it’s… well, it’s difficult.”

“...Difficult,” Miles muttered, half to himself.

“Yeah, difficult,” Wright said, with a flippancy he didn’t completely feel.

Still feeling indescribably inept for the moment, Miles pulled out one of the chairs at his kitchen island and dropped into it. He resigned himself to staring awkwardly at the floor as Wright worked.

“Um, do you have a speaker or anything?” Wright asked after a minute. “I don’t listen to a lot of music, but Maya has a playlist she likes to put on while I cook, so…”

Wordlessly, Edgeworth retrieved the speaker from where it’s been collecting dust in one of his closets and passed it to Wright. “You cook for Maya?”

In a similar gesture to when he’s flustered in court, Wright laughed nervously and scratched behind his head. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta, right? Neither of us are gonna get our own cooking show anytime soon, but we manage. And between the two of us, I’m the one who’s used to living on my own. She’s learning, though.”

“She doesn’t know how to cook?” Miles asked.

“Eh, not really,” Wright replied, plugging the speaker into an outlet and fiddling with his phone. “Apparently they have this fancy system where the elders of Kurain cook for them. I doubt Maya would be too interested in cooking if it weren’t for the fact that she’s not really allowed to. She’d much rather go out for burgers every meal.”

Miles hummed in response.

Seemingly, Wright finally figured out how to connect his ancient brick of a phone to Miles’ speaker, since his face broke out in a grin and he waved his phone in the air triumphantly. It was similar to the grin he wore in court, when he discovered a key piece of evidence or broke a witness’ testimony.

Wright pulled up Maya’s playlist. Miles expected something bright and bouncy, much like the girl in question, but the notes that filtered through his speaker were far from it. Low and elegant, a familiar orchestral score filled the highest arches of Miles’ kitchen. Before he realized it, he relaxed into his seat, the familiarity of the music making him feel right at home. A millisecond later, Miles’ brain caught up to him.

“Is this the Steel Samurai soundtrack?!” Miles practically screeched, unable to believe his own ears.

Wright’s head, bowed in careful concentration as he chopped vegetables, snapped up in surprise. His eyes were blown wide. “Yeah, Maya really likes that show. It’s why she dragged me off to defend Will Powers that one time.” As he processed, a playful smirk began to worm its way onto Wright’s face, much like the pit of dread making itself at home in Miles’ stomach. “Why, do you watch it?”

“Nghoooh,” Miles groaned, burying his head in his hands.

Wright laughed, throwing his head back empathically. A few pieces of finely chopped carrot flew off of his knife and hit the counter in the back, making Wright and Miles wince in tandem. Miles made a mental note to clean his kitchen as soon as possible, since it was now certain Phoenix Wright would make a mess of things once again.

Although, was it really all that bad?

“It’s okay,” Wright said, still choked with giggles. “It makes sense, you know?”

Panic flashed in Miles’ gut. He wondered if he had been dropping unintentional signals. If that’s the case, what other subjects have I been dropping unintentional signals about?! But Wright simply smiled, completely comfortable.

Wright’s eyes sparkled, both with mirth and affection. Affection?! “Don’t you remember watching the Signal Samaurai with me ‘n Larry when we were kids? Signal Red, Signal Blue, Signal Yellow, remember?”

“Larry and I, Wright,” Miles sighed, massaging his temples. It was unimaginably easy to slip back into their courtroom personas, with Miles latching onto the tiniest contradictions to tear his argument apart.

Except here, there was no argument. Only a nostalgic window into the past and a dangerously comfortable relationship with his friend-turned-rival-turned-maybe-friend-again.

“Whatever, whatever,” Wright said, waving the knife perhaps a bit too carelessly for a blade that size. Then again, Wright had always danced a little too close with danger, hadn’t he?

It wouldn’t stop Miles from worrying about him, though.

“I do remember watching the Signal Samurai with you when we were little,” Miles admitted. “I… I kept watching it, even after I… moved to Germany. Von Karma was never fond of it, unsurprisingly, but music and television were some of the only things from my home I found a way to keep.”

Wright set down the knife and leaned his elbows on the polished counter. He said nothing, but something in his open and earnest expression urged Miles to continue more than any prompting ever could have.

“I tried to get Franziska to watch some of it with me,” Miles resumed, embolded. “She never cared much for it, but she watched it with me. Sometimes. Usually after a nightmare.”

“Franziska?” Wright questioned.

Miles simply waved a tired hand in response. He knew better than to leave Wright in the dark now, after that mess of a trial, but Franziska’s tale was a long and complicated one that he simply didn’t have the vitality for. He could feel his already-low energy level slipping, as if willpower was bleeding out of his body like grains of sand in an hourglass. He dropped his head into his hands rather roughly, and his eyes began to droop closed.

In a rare stroke of luck, Wright seemed to understand him immediately, without Miles needing to summon energy he didn’t have to explain. Somehow Wright had always been able to do that - always been able to read Miles effortlessly. Additionally, he could pick up on what he needed instead of what he wanted, even if he didn’t even know itself.

Wright set down the cooking tools and carefully stepped over to where Miles was sitting at the bar. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight, hmm?”

“But your cooking,” Miles croaked, fighting to keep his eyes open. Exhaustion from the previous days, which he’d already thought he’d been suffering from, suddenly hit him like a truck.

Wright grinned at him, triumphant and crooked, like when he caught a witness in court. “Aha! You want to eat my cooking! You’re happy I’m here!”

Miles flashed his darkest, most terrifying scowl, coveted and perfected by the Demon Prosecutor himself. “I am simply trying to be a good-” He cut himself off with a yawn, frustratingly ruining his acerbic facade. “-host.”

Wright rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Fondly?! “Please, Edgeworth. If anyone’s hosting here, it’s me.”

“In case you have not noticed, Wright, we are currently inhabiting my house,” Edgeworth said, unimpressed.

Wright beamed, unrepentant, and flung his arms out to both sides. “Yeah? And I’m the one cooking. I believe that’s what they call a contradiction in court.”

“Absolutely not,” Miles grumbled. “This is ridiculous.”

Wright chuckled softly. “You just don’t want to admit I beat you again.”

“Hardly,” Miles groused, disgruntled. “When we go head to head again, Phoenix Wright, I will arrive with a guilty defendant. And I will achieve my guilty verdict.”

“And what if your defendant isn’t guilty?” Wright asked, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

Against all odds, Miles returned the smile in full. “Then I suppose we shall just have to discover the truth together. Shall we, Wright?”

The grin Wright gave him in return was blinding enough to replace the sun. “We shall, Edgeworth. Now just take it easy.”

Miles rested his chin in his hand and watched Wright finish with an easy smile.

Spring

[May 25, 2019

11:03 PM

Wright Talent Agency]

“You know what they say about spring?” Phoenix asked, apropos of nothing.

Edgeworth glanced up from the files he’d been annotating. He won’t let Phoenix look, but he knows they’re files for the case he’s prosecuting. A locked-room murder, Edgeworth called it. He’d offered Phoenix the coveted spot of co-counsel, but Phoenix had turned it down. There was no way he could accept that offer. He had thought both he and Edgeworth knew that well, but it seemed Edgeworth was still holding out hope.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

“What’s that?” Edgeworth asked, setting down his pen to give Phoenix his full attention. Oh, Phoenix could never quite handle this version of Edgeworth, the one full to the brim with careful kindness. Not like he was stepping on eggshells (which he, and everyone else, did a little too often around Phoenix for his liking, even if it was deserved).

Phoenix spun one of Edgeworth’s spare pens between his fingers. “It’s a time of change, and new beginnings.”

“Oh?” Edgeworth’s tone was carefully measured, knowing and wary of the minefield Phoenix was leading him into, yet following placidly all the same. “That is a nice sentiment. It most likely stems from the many agricultural plants that must be planted during this season, as well as many animals’ mating and birthing season during this time.”

“Yeah.” Phoenix scruffed his foot on his already dirty carpet. The hollow pang of pain he receives in response felt staticy and cloudy, like it was muffled through several layers of unreality. He barely processed it. Everything felt like that these days.

Everything except for Trucy, his light. Who was now fast asleep, hopefully dreaming peacefully and free of the nightmares that had plagued them both ever since the Gramarye trial.

And now, Edgeworth, apparently. To prove his point, Phoenix turned his focus to Edgeworth. The fuzz receded, and he could see clearly again. Just in time to focus on every smooth, unwrinkled thread in Edgeworth’s suit jacket that cost more than a year’s worth of rent, even though he’d been working tirelessly for the entire day. Or his grey eyes, sharp with focus as he examined the file for any hint of a clue or contradiction. Not sharp like the Demon Prosecutor’s eyes had been, glaring daggers from an unassuming newspaper photo and then again in the courtroom. No, Edgeworth was only dangerous to his enemies, and his enemies were the villains who stood in the way of truth and justice.

Like Phoenix himself, if the newspapers were to be believed, anyway. Everyone thought they were.

Sometimes he wished Edgeworth thought the same. It would make things easier, in a sense. Spending time with Edgeworth is tricky, but rewarding.

Rewarding enough that Phoenix continues to humor his old friend, even though he can barely bring himself to answer Maya’s stubborn calls. He can’t quite put his finger on why .

(He knew the answer - he’s known since he changed his career path. Since he stubbornly kept writing letters to a boy who never once gave any hint he was reading them. But he’s not willing to break that black lock yet. Not with the hand the Gramarye trial has dealt him.)

“Yes, but when one examines the issue closely, one finds it does not have the negative connotation it appears to,” Edgeworth said, breaking the silence Phoenix hadn’t realized they’d fallen into. He punctuated his words with a quiet, thoughtful hum that always made Phoenix melt inside, even though their conversation topic was less than comforting. “It is true that some instances require an end of another in order to begin anew. Such is the cycle of life. Yet, the focus of the saying is always on the beginnings - the good in this hypothetical relationship. Life is a give-and-take of tragedy and joy.”

“Huh,” Phoenix blinked, stumped. “That’s awfully poetic, Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth chuckled awkwardly, clutching at his elbow. “I… may have given it quite a bit of thought.”

Phoenix’s lips quirked up in the tiniest hint of a smile. It was self-deprecatingly vicious, sure, and a little sorrowful, but there was genuine surprise and happiness there as well. “Nice to hear I mean so much to you.”

Phoenix fully expected a “Don’t flatter yourself, Wright, I was merely pondering my own tragedies. Did you forget that? That my life is worse than yours?” or a “I was merely thinking of Franziska, or Ms. Fey. They have both been through quite a bit. Wouldn’t you agree, Wright?”

Even though he knew Edgeworth well, had watched him change and evolve from the Demon Prosecutor into the comfortable person he was today, nothing could prepare him for Edgeworth’s reaction. The prosecutor set his papers down and shifted so he was facing Phoenix. Quicker than Phoenix expected, he reached out and gripped both of Phoenix’s shoulders in a strong hold.

The contact shocked Phoenix out of his stupor. He blinked at Edgeworth, mouth partly open in shock. Edgeworth, for his part, seemed slightly surprised at his own brevity. A scarlet flush dotted his cheeks. Phoenix was sure his own face was much worse. Yet Edgeworth continued, strong and true.

“Wright, you must know by now that I hold you in high regard,” Edgeworth said, with only the smallest touch of awkwardness Phoenix would expect for such a declaration from the man who had once declared unease and uncertainty unnecessary feelings. “I will do everything in my power to see you properly reinstated to your rightful place behind the defense bench. Moreover, I… care for your well-being, very much. It does not do me any favors to witness you in such pain.”

“O-oh,” is all Phoenix could manage. How could he, in the wake of such a blunt confession? How could he possibly follow up to that?

The gravity of what he did seemed to catch up to Edgeworth, and he dropped his arms in a rush. Phoenix missed the comforting weight of his hands almost immediately.

“I… apologize if I was too forward.” Edgeworth cast his gaze to the ground, cheeks burning. “I mean every word I said, however.”

“I… thanks, Edgeworth,” Phoenix said lamely. “I feel the same way.”

Edgeworth smiled, comfortable and soft. “I… yes. I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you, Phoenix.”

I appreciate the sentiment. A bolt of surprise shot through Phoenix. He jerked up, filled with renewed energy and adrenaline, and gave Edgeworth a hard look. All static had completely disappeared now; dissipated in the wake of his shock. “You don’t believe me?”

It wasn’t quite a question, wasn’t quite a statement. Yet Edgeworth just frowned, confused, and shook head. “The opposite, in fact. I believe you wholeheartedly. You have proved it to me many times over.”

“I have?” Phoenix echoed.

Edgeworth gave a controlled, tight nod. “That is correct. Your boundless care manifests itself in your tenacity. That such trait became apparent to me in your many attempts to befriend me as a child, and later to secure my friendship once I had left. Yet again, when we faced off in court. I found myself on the other side of your tenacity, for I stood in the way of safety for the ones you cared for. You cared so much for me in my own trial that you refused to accept my confession, even though I wholeheartedly believed it to be the truth. If I had secured any other lawyer, well…” Edgeworth trailed off, a small smile gracing his face, but his eyes were hard and cold.

Phoenix chuckled mirthlessly. “You did everything you could to refuse my services.”

Edgeworth’s gaze met his once again. His eyes were still steely, but his smile grew. “That I did. I am forever grateful I folded when I did.”

Light footsteps padded down the hallway. Phoenix started, but relaxed when the door creaked open to reveal Trucy, still blinking away the last vestiges of fleeting sleep. “Daddy?”

“Hey, Truce.” He gave her an easy smile. “Uncle Miles and I are just working on one of his cases.”

Trucy stepped fully into the room and joined him on the couch. She leaned into him, and he wrapped her in a bear hug, relishing the comfort of his daughter in his arms and the fading warmth from her bed. She fit perfectly in his embrace, like a missing puzzle piece he never knew he needed.

It wasn’t quite perfect, though. Not yet. Phoenix cracked one eye open and, after a terrifying moment of deliberation, risked taking a hand off Trucy to beckon Edgeworth in.

Edgeworth startled at the invitation, eyes blown wide. He stood awkwardly next to the couch, case files forgotten. At first, it seemed like he would refuse. But Trucy, perceptive as ever even with her eyes closed, reached out and clamped a small hand around his wrist. Phoenix was fully aware of her surprising strength for an eight-year-old (although easily used to it, from Pearl - was this just how eight-year-old girls were?). Edgeworth, on the other hand, resided in Germany half the time and spent another chunk of his free time traveling the globe in his research of foreign judicial systems. His time with Trucy was much more limited (especially since Phoenix was loath to put Edgeworth in any danger from his mystery nemesis) and he was thus much more susceptible to her charms. Trucy successfully pulled Edgeworth in.

He fit into the hug perfectly. It felt like a tuning fork turned over Phoenix’s sternum. Home. Safe.

Phoenix knew then, deep in his gut. This was his family. This was how they were meant to be.

For the first time since the Bar Association had stripped him of his attorney’s badge, hope sparked inside Phoenix. Times may be dire, but he had the people he needed right around him.

Tomorrow he would finally call Maya and Pearl back. He would call in all the favors Gumshoe owed him, and bring over Larry for old times’ sake. They would begin planning. They would begin fighting back. For Trucy’s safety, if nothing else.

But most of all, Phoenix just wanted to hold Edgeworth without worrying about the consequences.

Summer

[July 6, 2001

2:02 PM

Watterson Neighborhood Pool]

“Don’t you wanna come play with us?”

Miles peeked over the top of his book to see Phoenix, grinning at him toothily. He leaned forward, cupping a hand around his mouth theatrically. “I wanna push Larry in the pool.”

The friend in question had seemingly abandoned Phoenix. Across the pool deck, Larry was unsuccessfully attempting to chat up the lifeguard, who was clearly at least ten years older than he was.

“He was supposed to be getting us ice cream,” Phoenix said, the pout audible in his voice. But when Miles glanced back at him, he was smiling. Still having fun, despite it all.

That was Phoenix for you.

“I… might be amenable to that,” Miles confessed, hiding his small smile behind his book. His efforts were rendered futile when Phoenix broke out in a full-blown grin and punched his fist in the air, dancing around Miles’ beach chair. Phoenix’s excitement was as infectious as always.

Carefully, Miles bookmarked his book, noting where the last word he read was located, and set it down on his chair. After making sure it was safely in the shade, he followed Phoenix around the deck of the pool.

Larry turned at the sight of them. “Hey, dudes! So I know I said I would get ice cream, but I got something better! You see, I met this girl…”

The lifeguard sighed, dropping her head into her hands. “You are ten years old.”

Miles wasn’t really sure how they were going to go about this, but it seemed Phoenix had no patience. Cutting Larry off mid-sentence, he simply reached out and shoved Larry in the pool.

Miles choked on his laughter.

“Hey!” Larry emerged from beneath the surface, coughing and sputtering, his usually-voluminous hair drooping and plastered to his face. “Miles! Nicky!”

“You said you would get us ice cream!” Phoenix yelled back, fists propped on his hips. “Stop flirting with the lifeguard!” The lifeguard snorted at that.

“I was on my way over!” Larry protested, paddling over to the side of the pool. He gripped onto the side, right below Phoenix and Miles. He paused, and a mischievous grin grew on his face.

Phoenix’s eyes widened and he stepped back. “Larry, wait-”

“Hahaha! Take that!” Laughing, Larry splashed hard, splattering the shrieking Phoenix and Miles with droplets of water. “That’s what you get!”

“Hey!” Unrepentant, Phoenix leaned forward and stuck his hand in the water, splashing Larry back. After a moment of deliberation, Miles dunked his foot in and kicked water at Larry.

The lifeguard, sitting above them, rolled her eyes and leveled the three of them with an unimpressed glare. “Okay, you three. Until you can learn proper water safety, take it away from the pool.”

“Sorry, miss,” Miles said, properly chastised.

At the sincere apology, the lifeguard’s lips curled up in a small, amused grin. “It’s fine, kid. Just go have fun somewhere else where you won’t get hurt.”

“Will do,” Miles promised, smiling.

“C’mon, Miles!” Phoenix grabbed his wrist and pulled him along in a run after Larry. “We have to get Larry back!”

“Was he not getting us back for pushing him in the pool?” Miles pointed out, smiling ruefully. Yet he kept pace with Phoenix, lagging slightly behind so Phoenix wouldn’t let go of his wrist. Miles was no stranger to affectionate physical contact (Uncle Ray alone would fill that void), but Phoenix’s friendly taps and touches always felt... Different. He couldn’t quite articulate why he felt the way he did, or how Phoenix’s touch felt different from anyone else. Logically, if he had to choose whose love meant the most to him, it was his father’s, no contest. Yet Phoenix’s mere presence made him feel something different from his friendship with Larry, and even from his relationship with his father. He had no idea what it was. It frustrated Miles to no end.

(Of course Miles knew about crushes. He read books all the time! He was no stranger to love, as he watched it dominate the society around him. His father was never specific, but he’d told Miles many times in no uncertain terms he loved him no matter what. For that matter, he’d explained his own aromanticism and asexuality to Miles a while back. It was more that Miles never realized he could get crushes yet, much less on his already-established friends. He always figured if he fell in love, he would know it.)

(In his defense, he would know it, just… much later.)

Phoenix glanced back to catch Miles’ gaze, shaking him out of his stupor. At the sight of Phoenix’s euphoric grin, all of Miles’ musings fled his mind all at once.

“Come on, we almost have him!” Phoenix called, urging Miles onward. Miles complied, sporting a playful smile of his own.

As Phoenix and Miles rounded a bend in the path, Larry appeared in their sights up ahead. When he spotted them, he let out an undignified squawk and quickened his pace, waving his arms wildly.

“You can’t run forever, Larry!” Phoenix yelled through peals of laughter. “Miles and I will catch you!”

“Just try me!” Larry squealed from somewhere up ahead. “You’ll never catch me!”

It was at that moment that Phoenix and Miles rounded another corner and caught Larry at a dead end.

“Objection,” Miles said, in the poised and dignified way his father did in court and certainly not broken up with snickers. “You have reached the end of the path.”

“Nowhere to run, Larry.” Phoenix grinned, a sharp and dangerous thing that sent a strong bolt of something running through Miles’ veins. The threat was slightly undercut by Phoenix’s free hand, held out towards Larry, fingers wiggling with a treacherous promise. “It’s the end of the line.”

In the end, Miles’ only regret was that Phoenix let go of his wrist to ensnare Larry in a tickle fight.

He missed the comforting warmth encircling his wrist, but it was worth it to affectionately terrorize Larry. Within minutes, they had dissolved into an all-out tickle war, punctuated by euphoric giggles. They ran circles on the field above the pool, the short grass tickling Miles’ bare feet. Together, Phoenix and Miles lay waste to a dead-in-the-water (which was a phrase Miles had heard his father use to describe certain trials and culprits, but didn’t know the full nuances of its definition yet) Larry, laughing all the while.

By the time they were all tired out, the sun was low in the sky, tinting the sky cotton-candy pink. The pool water’s vibrant blue was replaced with a creamy orange when they ran back down the path to it. The lifeguard smiled wryly when she spotted them, and Miles smiled shyly back.

Instead of going back into the pool, they chose the ice cream stand, finally getting their due. Phoenix and Larry watched with starry eyes while Miles carefully counted and paid with the money his father had pressed lovingly into his hand. Ice cream in hand at last, Larry found a place to sit on a big rock overlooking the pool. They sat, shoulders pressed against each other, swinging their bare feet in the air.

Phoenix nudged Miles with his shoulder. “Hey, Miles.”

Miles glanced over. “Hmm?”

In the fiery glow of the setting sun, the sight of Phoenix made Miles’ heart skip a beat. His heterochromatic eyes were soft and glazed over with faraway thoughts, and his spiky hair fluffed and mussy from hours running around and Larry ruffling it in their fight. A drop of vanilla ice cream was smeared at the corner of his lip, and it took all Miles had to keep from primly wiping it away.

“Thanks for playing with us,” Phoenix said, smiling softly. He turned the full force of his kind gaze on Miles, who suddenly felt the urge to shield his eyes from the metaphorical light. “I had a really good time today.”

Miles replied with an affectionate smile of his own. “I did as well.”

“Hey!” On Phoenix’s other side, Larry elbowed him with a bony arm, causing Phoenix to squawk indignantly. “I had fun too!”

Phoenix ruffled Larry’s thick hair with his free arm. “I’m glad, doofus.”

Larry grinned. “You’d better be.”

Without realizing it, Miles leaned further into Phoenix's shoulder as he squabbled with Larry. He froze for a second, then continued like nothing had happened. When Phoenix didn't react, Miles relaxed, slumping against his friend. Phoenix's hand brushed against his own. As Larry and Phoenix chattered excitedly, Miles zoned out, staring off into the ever-changing sunset. He rarely felt so comfortable.

A half an hour later, Father ceased his conversation with Phoenix’s mother and Larry’s older cousin and walked over to them, smiling. “All right, Miles. Ready to go?”

Miles nodded, jumping off the rock. “Yes, Father. Goodbye Phoenix, Larry!”

“Bye, Edgey!” Larry called, waving.

“Stop calling me that,” Miles muttered under his breath, but without much heat behind it. They both knew Larry would not stop calling him that.

Phoenix jumped off the rock to join him. “Bye, Miles! I had a lot of fun today!”

“Me too,” Miles replied, smiling.

Father took Miles’ hand in his, and together they walked out of the pool. As Father opened the pool deck door, Miles turned around and waved to his friends. Larry was preoccupied bothering his older sister (until Phoenix elbowed him pointedly), but Phoenix waved back enthusiastically, beaming.

“So, did you have a good time with your friends?” Father asked, once they were both situated in the car.

Miles thought of sweet ice cream in his mouth and the feel of shorn grass underneath his feet and Larry’s wriggling form avoiding his hands. He thought of Phoenix’s smile, as bright as the summer sun. “Yes, Father. I did.”

Father smiled, soft and affectionate. “Oh, Miles, I’m so glad.”

Fall

[October 9, 2029

5:04 PM

People Park]

The crisp crunch of leaves underfoot filled the air, dominating as the loudest sound once Athena and Trucy’s laughter faded into the distance. After their latest case finished up, Phoenix had driven his junior partners (and daughter/co-counsel) to the park to let off some steam. Some prosecutors had deigned to join them, and thus (somewhat disgruntledly, in Blackquill’s case) fell in with the kids running on ahead. Apollo, back from Khura'in on an extended vacation, was more than happy to join them and catch up.

Phoenix was content to let them run on ahead. He wasn’t as young as he used to be (even if he was only thirty-five). He strode through the park in a casual, easy gait, hands in his pockets.

It was nice. The fall breeze rustled through his spiky hair, and he closed his eyes in contentment. The wind was quite noisy, whistling through crinkly leaves and thin branches.

As he listened, he caught the telltale crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves. Phoenix opened his eyes with an easy grin to catch Edgeworth, stepping in time with him.

The late-afternoon sunlight, dappled as it filters through the tree cover, lit Miles’ dark gray coat in warm shades of silver. His hair and glasses shone in the light. Phoenix melted at the sight of him.

Miles had changed in the many years they’ve known each other. His shoulders got broader and his form more filled out, his hair became smoother and shinier, and the glasses perched on his nose made the changes all the more apparent. But to Phoenix, the real changes lay in the way Miles carried himself. He still had the confidence he had as a little kid and a prodigy prosecutor, but it manifested differently. Now his confidence was self-assured. Miles knew he’d worked hard for everything he had. He knew he deserved it.

“Hey there,” Phoenix said, eyes sparkling. “Nice of you to drop in.”

“Hello, yourself,” Miles replied. He met Phoenix’s gaze with an Edgeworth-brand warm, affectionate smile that never failed to make Phoenix all gooey inside.

Phoenix stepped closer, bridging the gap so their shoulders are brushing. Miles intertwined their hands, smiling so sweetly and chastely it made Phoenix’s entire face turn red.

Phoenix squeezed their joined hands

“Phoenix,” Miles sighed contentedly. “I am so happy to be here with you.”

Phoenix knew his face was lighting up, mostly because of the lovesick look Miles always made when it did. They melted in tandem, always together. “Love you too, Miles.”

As they walked, Phoenix tipped his head back, letting the dappled sunlight wash his face alight. He’d heard talks of love manifesting itself in a joy that made you feel weightless - hell, he’d felt that way himself, many times. Almost always with Miles himself. All the times that counted, at least. But today, like many other days, Miles’ hand in his was a comforting, grounding weight. He never felt trapped or limited, yet tethered to the ground all the same. It was the promise of someone there to catch him if he flew away again.

Dahlia (or Iris, really) made him feel unmoored, floating aimlessly without control. It was a dangerous game and he paid the price, but the honeymoon phase of love blinded him to the truth. With Miles, Phoenix still felt like he could float. But this time, he knew where he was going. He knew how to come back to Earth, where Miles would be waiting for him.

Phoenix dropped his head onto Miles’ shoulder, smiling as he heard the other hum contentedly. He could’ve stayed there forever, if not for the crick building in his neck. Stupid limited human body, breaking at the old age of thirty-five.

On the other side of the park, Trucy’s joyous shout caught both of the fathers’ attention. Their little posse of children, both official and unofficial, emerged from under the tree cover. Athena’s bright orange hair, usually so distinctive, blended in seamlessly with the fiery-golden autumn leaves. Phoenix would bet money the other kids had taken notice of this, if just for Blackquill’s smirk as he tugged gently on the tail end of Athena’s ponytail. Behind them, Klavier was laughing, beaming at Apollo with a lovesick grin Phoenix himself had mirrored many times looking at Miles. Apollo himself was blushing as red as his suit and fighting a ferocious smile. Trucy danced around them, light as a fairy on her feet as her pastel blue magician’s outfit floated around her. She caught everyone’s eye, sparking each of their smiles. At last, she spun, glancing across the park and finding Phoenix and Miles immediately. Her smile only grew, and Phoenix’s with it.

“We got lucky, didn’t we?” Phoenix murmured, squeezing Miles’ hand. “I don’t know if I could be happier.”

Miles hummed contemplatively. “I don’t know if luck is the right word,” he pondered. “It took a lot of hard work to get where we are now. Don’t sell yourself short, Phoenix.”

Phoenix huffed a small, breathy laugh. “I’ll try not to. The world certainly does too much of that.”

“Maybe so,” Miles agreed, but he pursed his lips thoughtfully like he didn’t quite believe himself. He spread his arms, gesturing to the pack of young attorneys across the park. “But look around you, Phoenix. You are surrounded by people who love and care for you. Not just here, but all over LA, and the world.”

Phoenix gently knocked his shoulder into Miles’. “That’s true,” he said, gazing softly at their faraway companions. “But the same’s true for you, you know?”

Miles followed his gaze, locked on the next generation of attorneys, so to speak. “I do,” he said, soft and full of love. “I never would have come this far if not for you in particular, Phoenix.”

Phoenix squeezed his hand. “Likewise,” he said warmly. “We’re good for each other, aren’t we?”

Miles smiled softly. “I would certainly say so.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their circle around the park. In the distance, the kids had passed three-fourths of the way ahead of Phoenix and Miles, and were disconcertingly close to lapping them completely.

“I want to have a get-together,” Phoenix said suddenly. He noticed Miles’ head snapped towards him in his peripheral vision, but his focus was far away. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen Maya and Pearls. And there’s a bunch of people who live right here in LA that we never see! I’m tired of it.”

Miles smiled fondly, brushing his thumb over Phoenix’s knuckles. “I am in complete agreement. I will do my best to secure my sister from her Interpol business.”

“Maya’ll like that,” Phoenix said, the corners of his mouth twisting up in a teasing grin, even though the object of his mirth was far away. “As will I.”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Edgeworth declared. He pushed up his glasses so they flashed in the light. “We shall begin planning immediatel- Nghoooh!”

Phoenix noticed the pounding footsteps and peals of laughter from behind a second too late. He turned just in time to see Trucy, Athena, Blackquill, and Klavier (Apollo was pointedly hanging off to the side and trying to pretend he wasn’t watching), sporting matching mischievous grins, barreling into him and Miles. They landed in a pile of fallen leaves just off the path, sending leaves and twigs flying.

Phoenix coughed and groaned, stretching his poor back. “What the heck was that for?!”

“Just for fun, Daddy,” Trucy giggled. “You and Papa looked a bit too serious. We just wanted to lighten the mood!”

“Objection.” Miles sat up, coughing. “We were quite literally discussing our affections for each other.”

“Aww,” Klavier and Athena cooed in tandem. Apollo rolled his eyes.

Trucy shrugged, unrepentant. “Well, it still lightened the mood, didn’t it? Anyway, that’s what you slowpokes get for ditching us!”

“You ditched us!” Phoenix protested.

“Either way,” Athena said as she offered a hand to Phoenix, who gratefully accepted, “You should walk the next lap with us. We’ll slow down for you,” she added cheekily.

Phoenix grumbled good-naturedly. “Fine, but we’re setting the pace.”

“How many laps are we walking, again?” he heard Blackquill mutter to Apollo.

As their newly-merged group set off, Phoenix slung an arm around Miles’ shoulder. Trucy’s hand found his free one. Phoenix smiled and tipped his head back to the sky.

There was nowhere else he would rather be. There was no one he would rather be with.

"Thank you for being in my life," he whispered into Miles' ear.

Miles glanced back at him, curious. "I bestow the same compliment onto you," he replied, smiling. "Tenfold."

"Oh, shush, if you get to increase it so do I," Phoenix snorted, swatting at Miles (which was a little difficult since his arm was still wrapped around Miles' shoulder). "Let's just say it's equal, okay?"

"The prosecution accepts the defense's proposition," Miles agreed. "I love you.”

hello, everyone! this is my first completed and published work in the ace attorney fandom, and i'm really excited about it!

if you saw this work pop up on ao3 yesterday for like five minutes... no you didn't ;) i was up at around midnight two days ago night working on this. i double-checked the timeline for narumitsu week and i was like hey wait a minute. it's the sixth. tomorrow's the seventh. oh fuck i am nowhere near done. i was hoping to publish this early in the day too, so it would be in the tag all day. i may have rushed through the ending of this fic yesterday thinking it was the final day of the week. i published it on ao3 and then checked the narumitsu week tumblr blog to see how i'm supposed to tag and publish tumblr posts. i was like hey there are no day 7 entries. that's really odd. i checked tnhe blog, the tag, the blog again, etc etc. i was freaking out akdhksla! i finally glanced at the date and i was like hey wait a minute. it's only the sixth. i screwed myself up khfkala;sdl. also i almost forgot about narumitsu week until day 2, when i speedran this fic (and a couple other snippets based on prompts i might finish and publish later). i figured i'd try and get at least one contribution for the final day, which seemed easy enough, but i got distracted a lot haha.

god the amount of times i accidentally wrote in present tense and had to go back and edit aaaaaaaaa

im pretty sure edgeworth was never actually there in july, but this was the perfect setting for the kiddos, so... just suspend your disbelief for a lil bit. they deserve a summer pool day. the pool in question was based a lot on the community pool near my house, where i grew up swimming competitively for five or so years! it's built on a hill, and the upper part of the space is taken up by a grassy field and a clubhouse. so in my mind that's where phoenix, miles, and larry go for their tickle fight.

also the bit about edgeworth not knowing he's supposed to get crushes when he has one is basically the reverse of my personal experience skdfhks. i'm aroace, and around fourth/fifth grade i got nervous around a guy who intimidated me and i was like hmm. this person scares me, but he's funny and i want to be friends. he's a boy and i'm a girl (or so i thought LMAO). is this a crush? autistic kids who don't understand the social norms of crushes solidarity is real. it's between me and a game character but it's real.

title is from put your records on by corrine bailey rae! i've been saving this particular lyric for a title for a long time, and i'm really happy to finally find a fic where it really fits!

this is a bit messy and i'm still getting used to the characters' voices but it was really fun to write. if you read this far, thank you c:

if you ever wanna talk ace attorney, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on tumblr or on my twitter! i have terminal ace attorney brainrot and i cannot talk about it enough. i really need more aa friends, haha. thank you for reading, and please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed it!

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nightxlight9 · 3 years

Text

Inspired from birth ｜ Emptiness that you want to hug

Dialogue with the Bungei Prize-winning author.

Tono Haruka, who received the Akutagawa Prize (1) less than a year after the 2019 Bungei Prize (2), and Sakurai Atsushi, the frontman of BUCK-TICK, who continues to play an active role in music culture after their major debut in 1987 and who this September celebrated 33 years from that day. As if real father and son, as artists of different genres - what do they feel and get from coexistence? That which was not told before; what I always wanted to hear. Here, for the first time, is presented a dialogue that pushes creative boundaries.

ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ Resonant feelings

Sakurai: I didn’t think the day would come when we could talk like that. I am very grateful.

Tono: Likewise, thank you very much.

— Sakurai-san, when you read Tono-san’s novel, what impression did it leave on you?

Sakurai: Cultivation shocked me. Not in the sense that I didn’t like it - it is rather akin to art that I like to touch. Regarding the Catastrophe — thanks to the Cultivation I am tempered enough for Tono-sensei’s books; and even though there are a lot of hardcore scenes of sex and violence, it didn't shock me too much. While I was reading, he pulled me in and repulsed me - this both disturbed and soothed. Although it is rather ridiculous to describe my impressions of the novel that way.

Tono: It's hard to share your impressions, isn’t it?

Sakurai: After reading Catastrophe, the emptiness of the protagonist seems to leave an aftertaste. She resonates with the emptiness in me, as if I want to embrace something passionately — but there is nothing to embrace. The feeling was like that. I was the kind of child who started to really get into the festival after it was over. Not having fun in the midst of the fun, but thinking about it when it’s already over. And as I grew up, nothing changed. First and foremost, I come to terms with everything, so [for me] the “emptiness” of Tono-sensei’s novel was refreshing.

Tono: Many people mention the word “emptiness” (решите, что вам больше подходит — “emptiness” или “void”). And the main idea of Catastrophe speaks of “the emptiness of a new era”.

Sakurai: Tono-sensei gives the impression of a composed and calm person, and this is imposing on the main character. It seemed to me that the hero contains not only emptiness, but also a certain composure.

Tono: It’s a bit surprising to hear that Sakurai-san has an emptiness. I have listened to BUCK-TICK since elementary school and I think that this band has more of a well-established dark worldview rather than emptiness. Their world is original, which completely sets them apart from other bands, don’t you think?

Sakurai: Been listening since then, really? Thanks. I am very touched.

Tono: My work couldn’t be called bright either, so maybe [their music] subconsciously influenced me.

Sakurai: Dilettante question, but — The Cultivation and Catastrophe are not about personal experiences, they are a product of the imagination, right?

Tono: Yes, that’s right. I was not describing my own experience, but I designed and took everything from imagination. It is much more interesting to write, thinking about what you yourself have not experienced or what you don’t know about, because you can discover something new for yourself.

Sakurai: That is, before you start working, there is no fully-formed concept, it is formed step by step in the process of writing?

Tono: I sketch out something like a rough draft, but when I start writing, I move away from it, and the result is something completely different. It seems that I am writing it myself, and then suddenly something unexpected appears [in the text], which confuses and complicates everything, but this only makes it more interesting.

Sakurai: Something unexpected — for example?

Tono: In Catastrophe, there is a girl named Irori who gets scared at one point. Before starting the work, I thought about including a child somewhere. But when I was already writing, I surprised myself when, at an unexpected moment, she hid under the bed and watched the hero.

Sakurai: Yes, it happens. Could it be that the story itself is rejecting [the planned] in the process of writing? There are deviations from the original design, and in the end it turns out completely different. These changes are fun, it’s great.

ᅠ Life and art

Sakurai: Although not a first-person novel, do you have the same sudden madness and cruelty as the protagonist, Tono-sensei?

Tono: I think I’m a very decent person. I don’t fight people, I don’t stay up late. In that sense, the main character and I are completely different.

Sakurai: So this madness is purely imaginary?

Tono: It doesn’t really happen. This was not conceived in the characters, and yet from time to time they did things that should not have been done, or found themselves involved in unexpected events due to some minor misunderstandings. So I could, in the heat of the moment, do something rash. I still have some kind of crazy thing in me, and this could have affected the characters.

Sakurai: As I read it, it worried me if you were experiencing what you described, or if you are going to experience it in the near future. It was constantly spinning in my head. Perhaps it bothered [me] from a different point of view, not as a reader.

Tono: There is almost nothing from my life or personal experience in this work. The location of the Catastrophe is Keio University (3), and I also studied there. Is that the issue? I have not participated in such events and do not plan to. *laugh*

Sakurai: Thank goodness. *laugh*

Tono: It’s hard to make a story interesting just by describing how the characters sleep and go about their day, so you have to weave in some twists and turns.

Sakurai: There’s a font of worries in there. Very stimulating. Because of this, when I was already finishing it, it felt a little sad, because I wanted to read on, but it seemed that the end was close.

Tono: Of course, as the saying goes, “This is where everything ends”.

Sakurai: How would you, Tono-sensei, suggest to read [this book]?

Tono: How should I put it... I don’t want to impose on readers [thoughts] like “I wrote with this intent” or “This book needs to be read this way and that way”. I do not want to limit the potential interpretations. I would be happier if they read it on their own, calling it boring if it was boring, or interesting if it was interesting.

Sakurai: It's very courageous.

Tono: If I was debuting as a teenager, it might have been different. But since it happened when I was already 28 years old, I do not take readers’ reactions to heart and am not afraid of it.

Sakurai: II only recently came to this. Probably in my fifties, somewhere around the last three released albums. In my youth, I was still that little tyrant, digging in my heels, so that everything was my way. Now it all seems somewhat extreme. Now I think: “Listen as you like”.

Tono: Do you look up the listeners’ impressions?

Sakurai: I don’t want to worry about [reviews on] social media. Not in the sense of “I don't care,” but in the sense of “I don’t want to worry”. So personally, I am not involved in checking such things.

Tono: Well, I’m checking it. I’m trying to figure out, in general, how people read it. It doesn’t affect how I write, though.

Sakurai: Oh, just to confirm [your thoughts], correct? A sensible approach. Of course, in my case, there should be no paranoia at all. You start taking everything to heart and fears will arise, so it’s better not to get carried away.

Tono: Companies conduct surveys of who use their services, don’t they? It’s kind of like that. If all the experiences are completely different from my expectations, it is worth considering how I write.

Sakurai: A top-notch entrepreneur.

Tono: No, I’m a newbie. *laughter* Not a year has passed since my debut...

Sakurai: A very courageous newbie, from where I am looking.

[At our next meeting, I will already be

the winner of the Akutagawa Prize]

Sakurai: Last December he attended the BUCK-TICK concert in Yoyogi. Even before the Catastrophe was published in the magazine. After the performance, we were able to talk a little in the dressing room, and when he was just about to leave, Tono-sensei said, “By our next meeting, I will win the Akutagawa Prize”.

Tono: Ah, yes, he did. It was probably terribly immodest to say that. But if before you roll the dice you declare that it will come up six, and then it really comes up six, it seems that something amazing just happened, right? I wonder if they will ever say: “Just like he said”?

Sakurai: And the promise was fulfilled. It couldn’t be cooler. He was wearing a mask, so it was difficult for me to see his expression, but I saw that dazzling confidence.

Tono: I often say these things even if I haven’t finished my work yet.

Sakurai: It was the last push, right? Thank you for coming to the concert then.

Tono: How could I not? And the next concert will be the day after tomorrow (September 21*)? I bought a ticket.

Sakurai: Is that true? Wow, I am suddenly nervous.

Tono: Is this the first time you broadcast a concert online without an audience?

Sakurai: We performed without an audience at WOWOW once before, and I had no idea how much tension to expect. And a few days ago we had a film-concert shoot — in a large hall, without an audience. Of course, there was no applause or shouts of joy. After each song there is a complete silence.

Tono: Not very encouraging, right?

Sakurai: Right now I'm trying to get inspired by myself. Even now, during the coronavirus epidemic, there are many things you can get latch on to. I realized that even these days I can be on the same wavelength with the energy of my fans. It was not an ordinary feeling. You also can’t do autograph sessions and meetings with readers right now, correct?

Tono: Yes, there are no autograph sessions yet, and the conversations are taking place online. The Akutagawa and Naoki Awards (4) usually serve a lot of food, but this year there was no such thing, and the number of guests was limited.

Sakurai: Very sorry. Still, it must have been an amazing experience.

Tono: The day after tomorrow the sales of the new album “ABRACADABRA” will start, right? What does it look like finished?

Sakurai: After Tono-sensei debuted as a writer, we exchanged messages with him, and it gave me courage. Or if not courage, then determination to write and juggle words. I think it showed itself in the album. Perhaps I’ve managed to open - more precisely, to throw open the door to a vocabulary that I had not used before.

Tono: It seems to me as well, that you succeeded.

Sakurai: Moreover, now I have the strength to use those words.

Tono: Any desire to write a novel?

Sakurai: No way.

Tono: I would read it even if it was very short.

Sakurai: I think it would take an incredible effort from me.

Tono: You were writing song lyrics originally, correct?

Sakurai: Yes, I’m writing. Music has always been on my mind. Although in elementary school I was often praised for [written] reviews of what I have read.

Tono: It was exactly the opposite for me. I was completely unable to describe these impressions. I couldn’t even set it up.

Sakurai: This is amazing.

Tono: I couldn't understand what kind of impressions they were talking about. No matter what I read, everything seemed to me “Well, okay”, but you can’t call that an impression.

Sakurai: In some interview it was mentioned that you were a member of a band when you were at university.

Tono: It was a copy-band, there isn't much to talk about. But Cultivation has a character who plays drums in a band, so that experience influenced the novel.

Sakurai: I’m even a little happy.

Tono: I did a lot of things, but for the most part I gave it all up quickly, so writing is my longest-running occupation at the moment.

Sakurai: Since when have you been writing?

Tono: I started somewhere after I turned twenty, so it’s about seven or eight years old by now. I thought that being on the other side [of the book] was a completely different matter. Like, shouldn’t I become a creator myself and start giving shape to things? Perhaps BUCK-TICK influenced this in some way from the very beginning.

Sakurai: And then a novel ended up being written.

Tono: Yes.

— Did Sakurai-san know that Tono-san was writing a novel?

Tono: The first time I told him about it was when I won the 2019 Bungei Prize for my debut.

Sakurai: I’ve heard something [about this] since he graduated from university, but was amazed when he suddenly made his debut as a writer. However, I was looking forward to [the release of the book]. What kind of work will it be, could not wait to read it — something like that. And I was amazed a second time when Cultivation came out. How did you feel after finishing work on this novel?

Tono: I gained confidence and I decided that I could make it to the final round. I didn’t know, of course, how it would go in the future, if I would end up regretting it.

Sakurai: And he wrote to me about it.

Tono: Yes, that happened. I wrote “I got to the finals”. It was still cooler to report this after receiving the award.

Sakurai: And the coolness of the statement that “next time I meet I will be the winner of the Akutagawa Prize” then went off the charts.

Tono: This is just the beginning.

Different hobbies, same tastes

— This year BUCK-TICK celebrated 33 years from the date of their debut — without breaking up or changing membership of the group. What is the secret of such longevity?

Sakurai: Patience. Group work requires patience. The others and I, by the way, we often say this. But it seems to me that writers are have it more difficult in terms of moral, because they work alone. You have to evaluate yourself. When you are in a group, there is always someone who will express their opinion.

Tono: Perhaps so.

Sakurai: The writers of the old days appear to us to be some kind of alcoholics and drug addicts, down on their luck, with a ruined life — but now people are different.

Tono: In our era, being a writer, you can support yourself with more than just creativity, so in this sense the profession is more reliable than before. And I don’t drink much at all. And you, Sakurai-san, drink a lot, right?

Sakurai: Yes. I am one of those who seek salvation in alcohol. *laughter*

Tono: By the way, do you still read lots of novels?

Sakurai: Recently I reread Mishima Yukio again (5). And also [books] by Numata Mahokaru-san (6) and Taguchi Randi-san (7).

Tono: You’ve loved Mishima Yukio for the longest time, right?

Sakurai: Yes, quite true. It's not just about books — I’ve watched YouTube videos about Mishima Yukio and Kawabata Yasunari (8), and they really are very interesting people.

Tono: I haven’t read Yukio Mishima at all. My preferences in literature are very different.

Sakurai: What is your favorite writer, Tono-sensei?

Tono: When I was just starting to think about the novel, I had no idea how to write, and started by imitating the prose of Natsume Soseki (9). Have you read it?

Sakurai: I love his Heart very much. But now you probably don’t have time to read.

Tono: Right. But they often say that you need to read more, so I think about it anyway. Sakurai-san, do you study other artists’ music?

Sakurai: I’m a slob, so I’m not really up to date, so to speak. But good things still find their way to me. I can catch it on the radio when I’m driving, or hear it somewhere by accident. The youth of today like Kaze-san Fujii (10), don’t they?

Tono: Wow. A bit surprising.

Sakurai: You probably like something harsher, right?

Tono: I love King Gnu (11). Mentioned this in an interview for the monthly Bungei Shunju (12). Many were surprised that the music favored by young people and the traditional image of the Akutagawa Prize are not related.

Sakurai: King Gnu is great. I bought their CD as well. Just like that, I found out about King Gnu when I accidentally heard them. They have such an interesting lead singer.

Tono: Iguchi Satoru-san is interesting, yes. On Twitter, I would send links to [my] videos to anyone, even to the Pope himself. And when I appeared at Music Station, I stunned everyone with my descent down the stairs.

Sakurai: Showed up wearing sandals, yeah. *laughter* Do you watch a lot of TV?

Tono: From time to time. I saw your collab with Shiina Ringo-san at Music Station. “Elopers” is a great song, very powerful.

Sakurai: Really? I am very happy.

You can't lie to yourself

Sakurai: Has the third work been written yet?

Tono: Yes. The events transpire in an institution that raises people with supernatural abilities. The main character attents it along with the rest, tries to awaken superpowers in himself, but since he does not possess them, he gets no progress. This is the story I am writing. It will differ from the two previous works in meaning.

Sakurai: Is there a deadline?

Tono: I want to submit it to the editors by early next year. You, Sakurai-san, also have deadlines, right?

Sakurai: I have deadlines, of course. Release and tour dates might be pre-determined and songs should be worked on accordingly. And I will stubbornly work on them until they tell me: “That’s it, you can't put things off any longer”. However, I still try to keep within the appointed time.

Tono: Are there any serious challenges when you work?

Sakurai: It's very difficult to work when I’m drained. If you try to force something out of yourself, you get only lies, and then it turns out that you are insincere with yourself and with others. You can’t lie to yourself. But with a bit of personal experience and imagination, on the other hand, you can make very good progress.

Tono: You have to rewrite everything a lot, right?

Sakurai: Depends on the song. Sometimes I have to rewrite over and over again, and sometimes I write the first word that comes to my mind and everything is ready. Most often, some kind of shape may emerge first. How is it with you, Tono-sensei?

Tono: More often than not, I have one scene at the beginning, and I start writing based on it. At that time, I do not yet know how the story will develop, I have only scattered fragments, and as they are combined and edited, I am finally getting the feeling that the world of of this work is acquiring its finished form. By the way, I had some trouble coming up with a name for Cultivation, and I was given one piece of advice, do you recall?

Sakurai: Ah, yes, but in my opinion, it was not very good...

Tono: When I asked “How do you come up with names?”, You replied, “It should express the essence, but at the same time cover the whole thing. That word would fit the best”.

Sakurai: Wow, I put it remarkably well. And [I said that] to the future Akutagawa Prize winner, such arrogance. *laughter*

Tono: Even though I didn’t really understand how to apply this advice in practice, I still relied on it.

Sakurai: Cool title, isn’t it? Even though I said there were some disturbing moments when I was reading Cultivation for the first time, I think it read very cleanly. For example: “To my delight, I managed to look great. <…> I just wanted to be beautiful” — here, as it seemed to me, the words are very good - fresh and clear, without unnecessary embellishments.

(2020.09.19)

Sakurai Atsushi, musician. Vocalist Buck-Tick. 66 years of birth. New job: 「ABRACADABRA」

Tono Haruka, writer, winner of the Akutagawa and Bungei awards

END

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