#The red only cleared from my eyes after realizing they meant a different jersey

[bonefall]

+1 for reading this blog like a newspaper

(also, quid is slang for pound/£. 4 quid = £4 Think it's a southern/maybe specifically cockney thing?? Suddenly doubting that. Definitely more associated with working-lower middle class people)

I heard Quid more than Pound where I visited, and that was definitely not southern England so I don't think it's a southern thing

If there was any one thing I learned it's that wow Northerners don't like London

[wonder-womans-ex]

When In Vegas

It was loud in the locker room the next morning, but Saint was quiet.

Three days had passed since someone else’s world had been turned upside down, and Saint wasn’t sure whether he was more angry or scared—or relieved that it hadn’t been him.

Those fucking pictures, god. He had stared for hours, maybe more, hands frozen around his phone. The knowledge was unbearable—someone had done this. Someone was out to get people like them.

People like him.

But, in a way, it was also liberating. If he had to guess, he would say that no one had known about Black and Lupin. Judging from the way Tremblay had acted at All-Stars, they probably hadn’t even told their team, and god knew Saint hadn’t told his.

So, really, who was to say he was the only one? Any of the guys here, unlacing their skates beside him, could have grown up amidst thoughts of don’t look and stay silent and focus on the hockey. Any of the guys here could have had boyfriends in high school or college. Any of them could still.

He reveled in the thought. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

Black. Lupin. Tweedle.

Three names on a list wasn’t many, but it was better than one.

Saint glanced up when he felt someone watching him. His eyes met a pair of gleaming yellow ones—before meeting Greyback, he hadn’t even known that eyes could be that colour—and he steeled himself, resolutely not looking away.

Greyback smiled, and Saint recoiled internally. If there were others on the team—others in the league—Greyback was certainly not one of them.

As if Saint would ever, in a million years, want him to be.

He pulled off his second skate with one good, sharp tug. His helmet sat on the bench beside him, and he rested one elbow on it briefly. It was common knowledge that playing professional hockey was difficult, but the thing most people didn’t know was how near-impossible it was just putting on and taking off the necessary gear.

Next, after his skates, were his shin pads—big, bulky things that got hot altogether much too quickly, but at least they protected his legs. Then his jersey, his shoulder pads, his pants, until he Saint could finally lift his undershirt over his head and make his way to the showers.

The warm water felt like bliss against his aching muscles, but a part of him still pleaded to skip this bit and head straight home. All he really wanted was to curl up in bed with a bowl of ramen—decidedly not on his diet plan, but, hey, a guy could dream—and an episode of Drag Race.

And, of course, Luke. But he wasn’t allowed to think about that. Not here.

Or maybe, he realized, mind darting back to pictures taken through the windshield of a car, he could.

He had just begun to put on a pair of jeans and a tank top—grey, with the Golden Knights logo on the front and his name and number on the back—when there came a shout from the other side of the locker room.

“Hey, Tweedle!”

It was Pettigrew, one of his teammates, brandishing a ring of keys in the air. “Need a ride?”

Saint forced a smile. “Nah; I’m good. My roommate’s picking me up. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Pettigrew smiled back. “All right. See you tomorrow, Tweedle.”

“Yeah,” said Saint as he turned back to his stall. “See you.”

He packed up his gear in a sort of half-trance, thinking less about where he was and more about where he was soon to be. Saint loved hockey, true, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love other things, too.

Other people.

The army green jeep was already waiting for him outside. He glanced around briefly, scanning the parking lot for any of his teammates, then pulled open the passenger side door. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d checked to see if anyone was watching—it was, after all, nothing out of the ordinary: just a completely heterosexual hockey player getting into his completely heterosexual roommate’s car.

“Hey,” Saint said, meeting Luke’s gaze in the rearview mirror and grinning.

“Hey yourself,” Luke responded, a teasing tone to his voice. “How was practice?”

Saint just shrugged. “Same as always, I suppose. What are we having for dinner?”

Many things could be said for Luke Deveaux, and one of them was that he was a master of recognizing a subject change when he heard one. “Thought I’d finally cook up that chicken that’s been sitting in the freezer. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds fucking incredible. You really do know the way to a man’s heart.”

They smiled at each other again as Luke pulled out onto the main road—the soft kind of smile that said everything for them. Carefully, Saint reached out, resting a hand on Luke’s leg. The simple contact was really all they needed as they both looked back out to the road ahead, letting silence envelop them.

Finally, when they came to a stop at the second or third red light, Luke looked over. “What is it?” he asked quietly—genuinely, in a way only he could.

Saint made a noise of confusion. “What’s what?”

“You’re thinking.”

This time, Saint didn’t say anything for quite a while. He kept his eyes forward as the light turned green and Luke began to drive again. Eventually, just as Luke had begun to think that he wouldn’t get a response at all, Saint spoke up: “What if I introduced you to my teammates?”

Luke had a feeling he knew what Saint was getting at, but he wanted to be sure. “I’ve met a couple of them,” he said, slowly. “Pettigrew. Reaves. Dearborn. Greyback—though I didn’t like him much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Saint said, and took a breath before continuing. “I meant like… what if I introduced you to them as my boyfriend?”

“Husband,” corrected Luke idly, jerking the wheel to the right.

“Right, yeah. But I’d still probably introduce you as my boyfriend, because, y’know—”

“Nineteen.”

“—Elvis.”

Another beat of silence. Another deep breath. “And I just thought—I was thinking that—that…”

Luke waited.

“Obviously I wouldn’t want to come out to the whole world. Not yet,” said Saint, starting again, “but… you know. People know about Black and Lupin—though they didn’t get to tell people; people were told for them. And if I said something, maybe… maybe, if there are others, they’d know… they’d know they aren’t alone.”

It was Saint’s turn to wait, now, as Luke took a left onto a side street and narrowly missed the curb. He swallowed back the slight lump in his throat—he’d said his bit; now it was time for Luke to say his.

“I love you.” Luke’s words were hushed, and, yeah, it was always nice to get reassurance, but that didn’t really clear anything up.

“I love you, too.”

“And I—” Luke sighed. “Can I have a little while? To think about it? Or, rather, not to think about it, but to think about how I’m going to say it.”

Tilting his head, Saint looked thoughtfully over at the man in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Yeah; of course. Take all the time you need. It was just something I was thinking about.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it for a while.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, if the better part of three days counts as ‘a while,’ then, yeah; I guess. Consciously, at least. Subconsciously… maybe longer.” He shrugged. “Who knows. All I do know is that I’m absolutely crazy for you, and I’d like someone who isn’t us or the guy who officiated our wedding to know that.”

“Especially because he almost definitely doesn’t remember either of us anymore.”

“Exactly.”

This next pause was different from the previous ones—more pause-like, though that didn’t make sense, even in Saint’s head.

“It’s like,” said Luke, thoughtfully, as he turned onto their street, “remember when we got married? And neither of us said anything about it for almost a month?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember why?”

“Um, because typically you don’t get married to someone you’ve only been dating for a week and a half?”

The car slowed to a stop in front of their house. Luke pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. “Bingo.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Saint asked, tentatively, “And, uh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s like that, because I could only see that going one of two ways: either we stayed in a marriage neither of us was ready for, or we ended both the marriage and the relationship. And so, of course, the solution my nineteen-year-old and slightly stupid self came up with was to ignore the situation entirely. You can’t annul a marriage that you don’t acknowledge exists, right?”

Saint furrowed his brow. “But… we didn’t annul the marriage.”

“Exactly.”

“...I think you’ve lost me.”

“Yeah; probably.” Luke sighed “I’m going about this all wrong. I suppose the thing I keep getting stuck on is that it would make everything more difficult if—you know.”

“No,” Saint said, “I don’t know.”

“If we broke up.” It all came out in one breath, and Luke looked anywhere but at Saint while he said.

Suddenly, Saint found it difficult to breath. “You—you think we’re going to break up?”

“No. No; god, of course not. It’s just one of those irrational fears; yeah? Like, you know the elevator isn’t going to break and send you falling to your death like Tower of Terror, but you still worry about it.”

“Not quite sure I follow.” Saint waited a moment, then added, “So… I take it you aren’t planning on breaking up with me?”

“Nope.” Luke smiled as he said it, popping the p. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“A lot longer, hopefully.”

“Amen to that,” said Saint, then reached to unlock the car door.

“Wait,” Luke said quietly. “I’m… there’s something else.”

Saint turned back, letting go of the door handle. “Yeah?”

“I—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What was it?”

“I just—it’s been five years—or it will have been in a week, technically, but still—and… and I guess I was wondering if you… might like to do it again. That. Without Elvis, this time.”

“What, get married?”

Luke took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Jesus Christ, Saint; weren’t you listening to anything I just said? It doesn’t matter, anyway. Just—forget I said anything.” Now it was Luke’s turn to begin to open the car door, a rush of cold air seeping in through the gap.

“Wait—Tweedle—”

Luke paused. Saint didn’t often call him that, and, even when he did, usually when he was trying to be serious. It was something Saint would say when they were fighting—it was his way of saying I love you; I don’t regret being with you. It was not something Saint would say to someone he didn’t want to be married to.

“Yeah?” Luke didn’t look over—he kept his gaze on the sliver of pavement he could see in the space between the door and the rest of the car—but he could imagine the look on Saint’s face.

“I want to.”

“What?” He knew what Saint had said. He wasn’t asking for clarification. He was giving Saint one last chance to change his mind, and hoping desperately that Saint wouldn’t take it.

“I want to marry you. Fucking hell, of course I want to marry you. Again. Preferably sober this time. Definitely without Elvis.”

A noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Luke’s lips. “Is that your way of proposing?”

“Actually, I think it was my way of accepting your proposal. And, either way, it was better than last time, when I think I just stuck my hand up your shirt and called it a day.”

This time, Luke really did laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

“No kidding.” A pause, then, “Do you still have your ring?”

“Do I still have my—what kind of a question is that? Of course I do! I—” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Why? Do you still have yours?”

Saint looked down, avoiding Luke's eyes. His hand went to his neck, where he pulled out a thin gold chain. On it hung the ring Luke had given him so long ago: slightly battered and riddled with notches, but in a way better than it was when they had exchanged them all those years ago, giggling on the alcohol. "Of course I do." His voice was soft—almost timid. "I'm not sure I could have gotten rid of it if I wanted to."

Luke let himself smile. “I wear mine, sometimes, you know,” he said, in a voice nearly as gentle. “When you’re not around.”

“Yeah. I—I do, too.”

“I love you.”

Saint didn’t even think before he did it. He knew, somewhere, that it was a terrible idea—that this was exactly where Black and Lupin had gone wrong—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Luke was his husband, goddammit, and if he wanted to lean across the console and kiss him until he forgot his own name, then nothing in the world was stopping him.

Well. Nothing except his seatbelt, and even that only took him a few brief moments to discard. Then he was turning in his seat and reaching out and cupping Luke’s cheek in the palm of his hand and whispering “I love you, too,” against his lips.

"God," Saint said, pulling away. "How could I ever have stopped."

Luke quietly laughed, pulling himself away from Saint's lips. "I don't know, love; it could have been you withdrawing yourself from me. It… it almost made me think you—well, not hated me, but at least that you regretted ever getting married."

Saint made a small sound, as if Luke's words were paining him. "I would never." His eyes were starting to water. "I could never. Sure, we were too young; sure, we were drunk. Sure, it was stupid. But it was the best mistake of my life."

Another laugh, this one slightly louder. “Best mistake of mine, too.”

Luke leaned in for another kiss. “Wait,” said Saint, ignoring the noise of protest he got in return. “I have to…”

Saint reached around the back of his neck, sighing in frustration as he fiddled clumsily with the clasp of his necklace. It took him a good ten seconds, but finally he was able to lift it off and slide the ring into the palm of his hand.

The thin gold band fit perfectly around his finger—the weight was familiar; the cheap metal had already been warmed by his body heat, almost as if he had never taken it off.

“People—” Luke cleared his throat. “People will ask questions.”

“I know.”

“And what—what will—”

“What will my answer be?”

“...Yeah.”

“Sweetheart,” murmured Saint, leaning in to brush their noses together, “there’s only ever been one answer.”

“And what’s that?” At this point, Luke was just playing along—and they both knew it.

“You.”

.

amazing characters by @lumosinlove

thank you so much to @im-oknutzy-trash for being my #1 supporter while I tried to get the words to work (and letting me use some of their words when mine inevitably didn't)

note: this is based off that one ask hazel received literal months ago about how if saint were in SW he'd be on the golden knights bc he looks good in gold. no one else seems to remember it, however, so maybe I imagined it. who knows.

and, yes, Saint's last name in this is Tweedle.

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

------------------------------------

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear. 

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there. 

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself. 

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games. 

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...” 

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”  

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work." 

--------------

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church. 

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family. 

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee. 

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road. 

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat. 

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it. 

She was also deadly serious. 

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

---------------------

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations. 

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep. 

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes. 

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair. 

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking. 

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either." 

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

-------------------

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs. 

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides. 

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill. 

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?" 

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?" 

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk. 

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?" 

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone;  the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!". 

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that. 

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away," 

He regretted it as soon as it came out. 

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip. 

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything? 

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

---------------------------

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way. 

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too. 

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion. 

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from. 

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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[greatcheesiness]

Heartbreak

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Atsumu x reader

Genre: Angst, sad

Words: 1.3k (pretty short)

Warnings: NSF- nah i’m just kidding xd, mentions of death

Completed: 20/10/2020 01:56

A/n: Umm, this is my first story on tumblr. So bear with me if it’s bad. I’ll try my best to improve in the future. Needed to vent so I wrote this for my favorite character Atsumu (that many seem to dislike 0.0) I hope you enjoy the story tho! It’s a bit short and it’s like almost two in the morning. I wish I could go into more detail on Miya’s perspective *smiles cheerfully*

~_~

Your eyes fluttered opened and the constant beep of the heart monitor continued. You lifted your trembling arms to your face. The crustiness from excess mucus, dried tears and exfoliated skin were irritating your vision. You blinked a couple of times to feel the comfort of opening your eyes again. 

Suddenly, a light knock was heard before someone gained entry into your bleached scent room. It was a young nurse who took care of you for the past couple of months. Such a delightful lady taking her job as if it came natural to her. “Good morning Mrs Miya. How are you feeling today?” she asked as she pushed a tray filled with medications and medical equipment. We’re doing this again aren’t we?

“I woke up just now so I don’t know how I’m feeling right now…”.The nurse’s eyes softened at your response. Silence set between the both of you verbally and only the sound of the nurse handling little boxes of pills was heard. Your orbs lingered at the lady. She faced you and ambled towards you with a cup of water in hand as well two pills.

“It’s time to take your medication Mrs Miya” she smiled caringly. You sighed as you received them. You popped the pills into your mouth and drank the cup of water. She waited patiently. After you finished, both of ye did a few things after. It was the same old thing scheduled almost every day. A typical day of an old woman with a heart disease.

Now you were left alone in your box-shaped room. There was no presence besides yourself. You felt so isolated and no doubt, an emotion of loneliness lingered in the chambers of your heart. That didn’t help your heart condition you admit. You exhaled. You could still taste the remaining of the med. Tasted bitter as the bitter life you had. You could endure it. No problem.

People say, if you go to the hospital, you’ll get better and better as days pass by. If only it could apply the same to you. You weren’t getting better. You just felt constant. Even worse, you felt as if your chances of living were decreasing as each day passed. You smirked. The wrinkles formed around your eyes and lips. After all, you’re just a test subject. You only realized that what the nurse gave was a placebo.

Suddenly, you started to cough. Your weak bony arms stabilized your upper body as you kept expelling sudden air from your weak lungs. Your eyes were closed shut and little tears threatened to spill out. “It hurts. It hurts a lot…” you managed to mutter. You clenched your hands and lightly tapped the left side of your chest. It seemed like you were trying to reassure his heart. His heart…

You gripped onto your cyan hospital shirt, scrunching the material. You tried your best to live the healthiest life and you did, to some extent. You took care of your heart as if it was your most prized possession. Of course. Without it, you wouldn’t be living… But this heart you have belongs to him. Atsumu’s…

You could feel a striking pain at your source of life. Was he also hurting just as much as you? Salty essence dropped onto the knitted blanket. You quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the night stand and dowsed your dry itchy throat to moisture. Your red swollen eyes stared at your left.

I’m so sorry

Atsumu

You cried as your twenty five year old self sat on the hospital bed. You didn’t want to die. You were too scared of death. You didn’t want to die this early. You have so much to experience in life. You just got married…

Someone held your hand for support as you sobbed for ages. His hands felt warm and that provided a small bit of comfort. He tightened his grip. He gently wiped the tears off of your puffy under eye. You sniffed due to congestion from endless crying.

Finally, you calmed down. You couldn’t create anymore. Atsumu brushed the hairs away to get a clear look at your face. He stared into your eyes. You did the same to him, not realizing you made a pout with your lips. His hazel eyes were bottomless and soulful. His eyes tells a lot of stories and just by gazing into them, you know what he’s thinking.

He’s telling you that it’s alright. You will live. Promise.

After a minute of not saying anything, he leaned and gave you a deep kiss. As cliche as it sounds, you melted into his. You almost forgot about your mental breakdown you had just a minute ago. He needed you to let go of that sadness. Don’t be like that when he’s here. He wants to make you happy. Cheer you up.

His lips left yours and he rested his forehead onto yours. Both of ye didn’t care of the sweat that formed. Your throbbing heart subsided. All thanks to him.

Every day after practicing with division 1 team, he would visit you. The two of ye would have talks about whatever that sparks your attention. He was the epitome of delectation and happiness for you. You guessed happiness was the only medication that worked wonders for you. All thanks to Atsumu…

Until one day.

He came in to your room as usual. You closed the book in your hand as all your focus was on him. A smile etched on your face. But then, your smile faded. “Atsumu… Is something wrong??” you asked. You were worried. Why was he wearing that kind of face? Did came in contact with the doctor? If he did, what did the doctor say?

At last, his eyes landed on you. You continued to look at him for an answer. He smiled softly at you and said “Someone’s willing to give you a heart”

Your eyes widened. You were happy for at least sixteen seconds until the seventeen second began. Atsumu handed you a letter. You were to read it after the surgery. Your brows scrunched.

Why did you feel like you were going to regret this?

Little did you know, the regret burned you slowly like flowing lava once you woke up with stitches on the left side of your chest and no Atsumu by your side anymore.

Time really went by. Thirty years had passed until this present moment. You felt cold and shivers ran up your protruding spine. It was night time already. You gently laid your back on the hard pillow provided by the nurse. A white celestial being imprinted on the night sky.

“The moon looks beautiful, Atsumu” You said huskily. It was meant to be said indirectly. There was no response. Of course there wouldn’t. He’s dead.

You let the tranquility calm you down as you shut your eyes. You were no longer scared of death. You had everything ticked off your bucket list. But you haven’t fulfilled some. Especially when they included your deceased husband.

While your eyes were closed, you could imagine him waiting for you in the afterlife. You began to feel numb and your heart rate was decreasing. You grinned as you see him in his MSBY jersey and shorts with a volleyball in his hands. Finally, you could see him clearly.

“I can’t wait to be with you again…”

You felt yourself being reversed in time for youth. You were young again. Your legs dragged you towards him in a rush. Your soul left your body.

This time you died. You took care of his heart for thirty years. He was always with you without you even noticing. He gave you his heart because he couldn’t live without you. But now that didn’t matter. Both of you are together again.

This time in a different world where there’s no heartbreaks...

[letshaikyuu]

Hi! ☺️ Can I request a one shot where the reader is dating Oikawa and he introduces her to the team but she looks like one of those types of mean girls so the team thinks she’s gonna be one of his old gfs that are really clingy or rude to the team but she actually ends up being the most wholesome/sweetest person ever? Thank you 🥺

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴄᴏʀᴇ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: when Oikawa brings his girlfriend to practice one day, the team sees all of his exes in her; but, Seijoh is definitely in for a nice surprise

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: fluff, mild angst if you really squint and think deeper than the story itself – totally unnecessary if you ask me 

ᴀ/ɴ: making Oikawa’s life sad and difficult is my spiritual calling, thank you anon <3 it’s no 5k smut or 10k slow-burner, but I hope my 2k fluff will be able to make up for the fact that I literally had nothing prepared for him this morning T^T

Oikawa talking nonsense during practice wasn’t anything unusual; especially during the evening practice after a school day, and while everyone needed some well-deserved rest, Oikawa seemed to fuel himself with his nonstop talking.

“Is there an off button on him or something?” Makki groaned as he listened to Oikawa talk about how he made a new Pinterest board the previous night with new milk bread recipes he found and wanted to try; and when he said he, he meant Iwaizumi because out of the two, he’s the only decent cook.

“I’m not spending my money and time on making you milk bread, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi made himself clear as he was folding the net. He rolled his eyes when Oikawa started whining, telling them how he really needed a good and decent milk bread made for next week. It was then that Mattsun came along and joined the trio bickering, Oikawa’s comment stuck with him as he smirked at the whining boy.

“Since when do you need a milk bread made for a specific day? You eat them whenever no matter the time and day.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on one of the net’s poles, smirk widening as he saw the blush on Oikawa’s face growing in intensity. Makki looked between the two, not missing Mattsun’s wink, and seemed to catch on. Iwaizumi looked among the three, interested, but still too tired to actually keep up with the conversation itself.  

However, the way his best friend was glowing red, hands manically waving in front of him made Iwaizumi all the more curious. He looked between the smirking pair and his frantic friend, all the puzzle pieces seemingly falling into place. But, that meant...

“You have a girlfriend, Shittykawa?” Oikawa pouted and averted his eyes from Iwaizumi’s stare. Bingo.

“I can’t believe you’re dating someone and didn’t bother telling us,” Makki jokingly sobbed and wiped a fake tear from his eye, watching as Oikawa buried his face in his hands. “How long have you two been together?”

They could hear Oikawa murmur something, but it was inaudible, his words muffled by his hands. “Come again?” Mattsun teased, approaching the shorter male and removing his hands from his red face. Iwaizumi stood by the side, smirking at the thought of his best friend having a girlfriend. It was most likely one of his one-week relationships, he thought as he waited for Oikawa to answer.

“Three months...”

Huh? They looked at each other and back to Oikawa, the male pouting, the gym floor grabbing his attention. His eyes were fixed downwards, not daring to look any of his closest friends in the eye. He knew what they would say, but he didn’t have the will to listen to that same conversation for the millionth time.

“You’re telling me,” Iwaizumi started, slowly approaching the trio and leaving the net behind, “you’ve been dating someone for three months and didn’t tell us?” Oikawa visibly flinched at the way he emphasized the duration of his relationship. If he were in Iwaizumi’s shoes, he would’ve felt bad and left out as well.

“I knew what you were going to say, so I stayed quiet,” Oikawa said to the trio, shrugging his shoulders.

“Wow, what a valid reason.” Makki joked and slightly glared at the brunette, “we have to repeat it all the time because you never learn.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen at his comment, but immediately narrowed. “I never learn? What is that supposed to mean, Makki?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze hard as he looked at him. Both Mattsun and Iwaizumi could see where this was heading, so they decided to intervene.

“What he meant, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi stood a few meters in front of him, “is that...you never know how to pick out a proper partner for yourself.”

Oikawa looked taken aback, again, as the other two nodded and confirmed Iwaizumi’s comment. “That’s true. All your previous relationships included bitchy chicks, how do you even find them?”

“I, how, what...that’s so not true!?” He stumbled on his words, curls bouncing on the top of his head as he rapidly shook his head in denial. “I always choose them right.”

Mattsun quirked an eyebrow at that comment. “So, when your second ex-girlfriend came to practice and poured soda on you because you spent ‘too much time at practice’ and cheated on you the next day, is your vision of choosing the right girl?”

“Or when your third ex-girlfriend started spreading rumors at school that we’re all gay and fuck each other daily in the locker room? And, she also cheated on you that same week.”

Oikawa kept quiet while they started listing all of his failures of relationships. “Okay, fine!” He stopped them, too embarrassed to have them continue rambling on, “I know I’ve made a few mistakes in the past-“

“A few?”

“Oh, shut it Makki,” he glared at him before continuing, “I am aware of my mistakes, but she’s different. This relationship is different.” He looked at them, his eyes pleading them to accept his decision, but they were all too familiar with Oikawa’s state post-breakup to let him go through it again.

“I’m not sure, Oikaw-“

“I’ll bring her to our next practice!” He cut Iwaizumi off, his sudden yell surprising all of them. Oikawa seemed to realize what he blurted out and ran a hand through his hair, cursing at himself for rushing into things. “I didn’t want you guys to meet her, yet,” he started, sighing as he looked back to his friends, “but, I promise you. She’s different from the others.”

The trio exchanged glances, Oikawa’s pleading eyes dancing across every one of his friends.

Iwaizumi sighed. “Fine. We can’t wait to meet her then.”

Oikawa scoffed, looking at his friends one more time before exiting the gym. “I’ll prove you guys wrong.”

Oikawa wanted to barf. He had the urge to turn around and run away from the gym doors and you, he had the need to be alone; even though standing beside him was someone he could finally call his true partner. A girlfriend who didn’t want to spread false rumors, who didn’t want to pour soda on him, who didn’t want to cut his volleyball shoes...

Oikawa finally felt like he hit the jackpot with you, but, what if he stumbles upon a dead-end once again, when the team finally sees you and tell him you’re not right for him?

“Tooru,” your gentle voice pulled him away from his thoughts, “why are you so nervous?” You tightly held one of his hands in yours while the other carried a bag filled with sweets. You looked at your boyfriend’s worried face, providing him with a reassuring smile to calm down his nerves.

“I’m just...I don’t even know.” He let out a groan, throwing his head back. Few weren’t aware of Oikawa’s past relationships, they were that known and the way they were broken off was also something to remember. You were one of the many that knew exactly how Oikawa Tooru got screwed over, time and time again.

“We can do this.” You give his hand a tight squeeze and placed your hand on the gym door, ready to push it open. “Ready?” He looked at you again, a nervous smile on his face as he weakly nodded; he was nowhere near ready, but he had to do this for you and the relationship.

“Ready.”

Pushing the door open, the sound made the team stop their practice to look at the people entering. The rest of the team was aware that they’d have a visitor, but none of them were particularly excited when they found out it was Oikawa’s girlfriend.

“Do I have to bring a new set of shoes for Oikawa or hope that she won’t spread any more false rumors?” It was Kunimi who talked first after finding out about the visitor, making everyone chuckle and laugh at the memory.

“Maybe she’ll do something completely different,” Makki added in on the fun, the laughter ongoing as the team waited for their captain to come with his new girlfriend.

Iwaizumi cracked a smile as well, but he couldn’t overlook the nervous feeling in his stomach. His best friend may be an idiot, but he wasn’t a bad person. It was like everything was against Oikawa finding a decent partner, let alone someone he can consider for the long-run.  

He only watched as they joked around, his eyes constantly looking at the gym door, waiting for them to open. He prayed that whoever comes into the gym and beside Oikawa, was someone he could actually call Oikawa’s girlfriend.

And there, at the entrance was someone who had a striking resemblance to Oikawa’s previous girlfriends.

“Doesn’t she remind you of ex-girlfriend number four?” Yahaba whispered to the team, eyeing you curiously. “What did she do again?” Kindaichi whispered back, the number of relationships his senpai has had overflowing his memory. “She’s the one who cut his jersey because he had practice and couldn’t fit in a date,” Makki added, not whispering at all and earning himself a hard slap across the back. He winced and glared at Iwaizumi, rubbing the sore spot as he straightened his back.

“Guys,” by the time the commotion settled, Oikawa and his girlfriend were already in front of them. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. And Y/N, this is my team.” He introduced you to the team, you smiling at them before formally introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to finally, meet all of you! Oikawa talks highly about his team and I couldn’t wait to meet you,” you smiled at the team, but they only looked at you shocked in return. Makki leaned in to whisper in Watari’s ear. “She smiled...but there was no hint of evil in it?” He yelped at the force of Iwaizumi’s hand slapping the back of his neck.

He was also the first one to approach you. “Nice to meet you Y/N.” He shook your hand and give you a small smile, “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, your boyfriend’s best friend.”

And, with that, every team member introduced themselves to you.

“Why is she acting so nice?” The team gathered around the bench, looking at you as you laugh and talk to Oikawa; his face burning red as the tips of his ears become hot. Iwaizumi kept looking closely at you, not knowing what to make of this situation. Since when could Oikawa find someone like you on his own?

“What is wrong with all of you!?” Oikawa whispered, appearing out of nowhere and making Makki drop his water bottle. They all look at their captain, his face red, but they couldn’t guarantee that it was the same blush he had from earlier, while he was talking to you.

“You’re acting like she’s the spawn of Satan! Can’t you see she’s normal?” He sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, considering that all your previous girlfriends were the devil itself, you gotta give us a break,” Mattsun added and looked at you talking to Kyoutani and Yahaba.

Both of them looked rather calm and willing to talk to you, to the surprise of many. Kyoutani isn’t someone who you’d describe as people-friendly, but he didn’t look intimidating as usual while talking to you, and he seemed interested in whatever you were talking about.

Oikawa glared at him and turned his direction to Iwaizumi, looking directly at his best friend and making Iwaizumi’s eyes widen in surprise with the intensity of his stare. “Don’t you trust me?”

Iwaizumi was ready to answer, he truly was, but he couldn’t help but thank you for arriving at the given moment – his words wouldn’t be so encouraging and positive.

“Hey, guys!” They turn to look at you rummaging through the bag you brought with you. “I know how hard practice is for all of you, so I bought some protein bars for you guys!” Out of the bag, you took out a dozen and more protein bars, handing them out to each of them. “I didn’t know what kind you guys liked, but Oikawa did tell me the brand you all preferred, so I just bought two of each kind!”

Adding all the sweet and caring acts together, the team stopped to think. Maybe Oikawa really found someone nice and caring. At least, that’s what the team could describe you. There wasn’t anything that made them etiquette you as a rude and clingy person, like all his previous girlfriends, so they relaxed. Maybe this was the time Oikawa actually made the right choice.

“Is there poison in this or?”

“Makki!” It was Oikawa this time that slapped him at the back of his neck at his joke, making you laugh and, soon enough, the rest of the team join in. It was unbelievable, but Oikawa actually hit the jackpot this time with you, and Iwaizumi could finally, sigh in relief.

[wosoimagines]

But You’re Both Babies - Jessie Fleming/Reader

I definitely turned this into a baby R imagine as well. And I’m writing with different team moms this time. For the sake of the story, we’re gonna pretend that they let 21 people on the CONCACAF roster.

prompt: Can you please write about overprotective Jessie? P.S. I looooveee your writing!!

warnings: Cursing

words: 1851

Y/N POV

I sighed as we stood in the tunnel waiting to go out on the field. I was getting to start in the final today. I smiled when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around my waist. I wrapped my own arms around Ali’s shoulders.

“You know I’m gonna be proud of you no matter what today, right?” Ali asked. I nodded against her shoulder.

We were playing against Canada today. It also meant that we were playing against my girlfriend. I love Jessie, but we hadn’t exactly told any of our national teammates yet. We both had initially met at the 2015 World Cup before we both ended up going to UCLA. I was still the youngest player on the team and I knew that most of Jessie’s teammates still saw her as the baby of the team even though she wasn’t anymore.

I was just hoping that today would not bring any injuries to any of us. It was so close to the Olympics and I didn’t want to see anyone get hurt today because I knew how rough USA vs Canada games got. I had been the unlucky person two years ago when I suffered a broken arm thanks to a late tackle that caused me to land awkwardly.

Ali let go of me and turned back around. I smiled at the familiar number on her back. I had gotten used to seeing her number in front of me if Ali got to start since I wore 12. It wasn’t much longer until we got to go out onto the field. It felt like an even shorter time before the game started.

By half time, I knew that this game could end with an injury. There had already been dangerous tackles from both sides. We had been prevailing with a 2-0 score already. It had sucked when Alyssa collided with Janine Beckie and had to leave the field, so Ash was sent in.

Half time ended quickly though and we got set back up on the field. I had this bad feeling that I couldn’t shake. It didn’t take me long to figure out why.

It was in the 47th minute of the game when I passed the ball to Julie once I noticed Keisha Buchanan running toward me. I expected her to stop, but she didn’t and slid, however. Right into my ankle. I cried out in pain as I hit the ground.

I held onto my ankle as I drew my knee to my chest. It felt even worse than when I had broken my hand. I couldn’t hold the tears back from my eyes. I was surprised though when I heard a familiar voice.

“Are you serious, Buchanan?” Jessie's voice snapped. I lifted my head enough to see Jessie in Buchanan’s face. It surprised me to see Jessie shove her own teammate. “That was an asshole move and you know it.”

“Jess,” I called out. The Canadian turned to look at me before leaving Buchanan alone. She knelt down by me.

“Are you okay?” Jessie asked me.

“It hurts,” I shook my head. I felt Jessie put her hand on my arm.

I was surprised when someone shoved Jessie away from me. I wasn’t actually too surprised to see that it was Ash. Ash even continued after Buchanan, but I wasn’t sure why she was going after Jessie. Ali knelt by me.

“You good?” Ali asked. I shook my head. “What hurts?” I couldn’t focus on that when Ash was going after Jessie like she was. “Don’t worry about that. Ash will take care of them.”

“But Jess-”

“Ash will take care of it, (Y/N),” Ali said. I looked at Jessie and she wasn’t even paying that much attention to Ash. I was surprised when Jessie quickly darted around Ash. “What are you doing?”

Jessie ignored Ali as she knelt down by me again. Ash was quick to try and push Jessie away again, but Jessie pushed back against her. Jessie stood up so she was staring Ash in the eyes.

“Back off,” Jessie hissed. I groaned causing all of them to look at me. “I’m not gonna hurt her.”

“Why? Cause you played together at school?” Ash asked. I couldn’t believe that they were doing this right now or that the medics were taking so long.

“No, cause we’re dating,” Jessie snapped. Both Ash and Ali froze before Jessie knelt down by me again. “Let’s get you on your back.”

Jessie helped me roll onto my back before the medics finally got to me. Jessie stayed with me as long as she could before Sinc dragged her away. The medics struggled to get my shoe off and I knew that my ankle was more than likely broken. I was taken to the back to get an x-ray before they confirmed that my ankle was broken.

It also didn’t take long for them to put a splint on my ankle. I was left alone for quite some time as the rest of the game played out. I knew that it would then be even longer afterward until someone came back to see me since this was a tournament.

I had a feeling that the first person I would see would be in a red jersey, but I hadn’t expected it to be more than one. Desiree Scott was the first Canada over to me before a lot of the veterans circled me. I froze as they all started talking at once. I easily caught the general drift of their conversations being about Jessie and that I could never hurt her.

“Hey,” Sinc yelled out. It wasn’t until she whistled that the others got quiet. Since turned to look at me. “If you hurt Jeff, we hurt you. And we can. Got it?”

I gulped but nodded my head. Although I looked up to Sinc and Tobin had assured me that she was actually really nice, she still scared me some. No doubt thanks to stories from Sonnett.

“Good,” Sinc said. She turned to her teammates. “Come on. None of you want Jeffery to find us here.”

The Canadians were quick to get out of the training room. I didn’t want too long before a different red shirt came in. This one had a jacket on.

“The redcoats are coming! The redcoats are coming,” I teased. Jessie gave me a shove when she got close enough to me.

“Wrong country,” Jessie pointed out. I knew that it had been, but I wanted to tease her anyways. “You know, your teammates can be scary.”

“You have no room to talk,” I scoffed. Jessie just looked confused. “All of the vets on your team are scary. Sinc is the worst. She is the scariest.”

“Christine Sinclair?” Jessie asked causing me to nod. “She’s like one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.”

“No,” I shook my head in denial. There was no way. “Maybe she’ll be nice to me once we get married, but no. She is not nice to me right now. She is overprotective and she is going to kill me if I ever hurt you.”

“She won’t kill you,” Jessie rolled her eyes. I wasn’t too sure about that. “Ashlyn and Ali both threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Kelley said that Alex and herself would as well. Then Christen told me that she would kill me too. But Alyssa is the one who really scared me.”

“Sounds about right,” I nodded my head. I knew how my teammates were. “Alyssa and Christen would probably be the ones to kill you. Everyone else would just show up for the Jessie Fleming death party that Ash would host.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” Jessie groaned. I smiled at her. I had missed seeing her since we hadn’t gotten to see each other once I had flown out to Houston. “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’ve missed you,” I softly said. Jessie smiled at me before leaning in to kiss me. I smiled into the kiss but it wasn’t long before she pulled back. “I’m not used to sleeping in a room with someone other than you.”

“I know how you feel,” Jessie said. I had gotten used to sharing a room with Jessie, so it had been weird to room with someone during the camps I had recently gone to and even at the tournament, it felt weird. “We’re screwed if we end up playing for different clubs. What did they say about your leg?”

“It’s my ankle,” I told her. I had been lucky that I had avoided any ankle injuries so far. “They think that I might need surgery on it. If I do, then the Olympics are very unlikely for me.”

“Hey, you can’t think about it that way,” Jessie softly shoved my shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine. If you’re not then I’m gonna kill Keisha myself. Besides, I’ll be there to help you get back. You’re one of the best up and coming forwards in the game. You’ve already won two World Cups and you’re only 21. You may only have a little time to come back, but you can do it because you’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Thank you,” I smiled at her before I grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled Jessie closer to me so I could kiss her.

I smiled into our kiss because it felt right. However, we were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Jessie pulled back and we both looked to the door. I hid my face in Jessie’s neck when I saw my own teammates.

“I’ll call you later tonight,” Jessie whispered as she kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I nodded against her neck before watching her leave past my teammates. At least until I found great interest in my splint. I could feel my teammates getting closer to me. Someone put a hand on my shoulder causing me to look at them.

“What’d they say about your ankle?” Ali asked. I appreciated the fact that she hadn’t asked me about Jessie right off.

“It’s definitely broke,” I sighed. I had been told to go see an orthopedic doctor as soon as I could. “They’re not sure if I need surgery or not just yet. I’ve got to go see a doctor.”

“So, Baby America is dating Baby Canada,” Ash teased. Ali slapped her wife.

“Jessie isn’t the youngest on the Canadian team anymore,” I pointed out.

“But you’re both babies,” Ash teased. 

“Ash,” Ali hissed. I knew that Ali would be a lot more calm about it than Ash would. “Just know that if she ever hurts you, we’ll hurt her.”

“So, how did you two get together?” Ash asked. I sighed because I didn’t really want to tell Ash. “Wait, aren’t you two roommates at school?”

My eyes widened when I realized that I had told them that I was rooming with Jessie. I couldn’t help the blush that covered my cheeks as Ash teased me.

[writersmacchiato]

Wanting | Oliver Wood

Summary: When Oliver, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, is asked about you, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain and his childhood best friend, he slips up and misunderstandings develop.

Requested by: @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz (sorry for not completely following your prompt, but i hope you like this anyway!)

———

Harry didn’t know what to think of you. Since starting school at Hogwarts, his experience with the Slytherin house has been less than favorable. They were rotten.

Except you weren’t. Harry has seen you in the halls, often alone or looking annoyed as Malfoy or Marcus Flint tried to capture your attention. It pleases him beyond imagine every time you brush off Malfoy, his face embarrassed. Ron takes great pleasure in mocking him. ‘Oh L/N you are so beautiful. What do you mean you won’t marry me? My father will hear about this!’

You weren’t rotten, but you were ambitious. Cunning. Smart. Clever. Beautiful. Harry had unfortunately been on the receiving end of Oliver Wood going off on a tangent about you more than once. It seemed that the only topics Wood knew a profound amount on was Quidditch and you. He could spend hours at any given time listing off how you were everything a Slytherin was meant to be, but then forget the spell he was learning in transfiguration.

“She’s so wickedly smart, you should hear her talk about potions. She’s been tutoring me.” Wood sighs, “without her, I wouldn’t even get an A on my NEWTS.”

Harry feels uncomfortable listening to Wood moon over you once again, all he wanted to ask about was something for his class and now twenty minutes later he was stuck listening to all the ways in which you were amazing.

“Uh,” Harry cleared his throat, coughing as he mumbles out a feeble, “Is L/N your girlfriend?”

And Oliver Wood, his head in the clouds as he thought about the way you smirked at him earlier that morning, comes crashing down to the sky. A brilliant shade of red blooms over his cheeks.

He stutters for a moment, fumbling until he manages to strangle out a heated “no!”

“Oh.” Harry says lamely, feeling dread creep in over the looming Quidditch practice tomorrow.

. . .

You let out a laugh, trying to hide it behind your hands before Madam Pence kicks you out — nothing got past her. Oliver’s cheeks are a light pink as he recounts his conversation with Harry Potter.

“You do talk about me an awful lot, Wood.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only about how insufferable you are.”

“Insufferably beautiful? Smart?” You lean in with a smirk. “Oh, I know. I’m so insufferably good at Quidditch it makes you want to tear your hair out.”

Oliver doesn’t respond, closing the distance you had shortened. “You are insufferable.”

You grin at his challenging tone. “I’m looking forward to the Quidditch match this Saturday.”

Ravenclaw versus Slytherin.

“Will you be there to cheer me on?”

Oliver rolls his eyes, a tug of a smirk on his lips. “No, actually. You need to be knocked down a peg or two. Merlin knows how you even walk around with your big head.”

“My big head? It’s nothing compared to yours, Wood.” You say, then laugh at the implication. He rolls his eyes so hard that he’s surprised they don’t sprain.

“I have practice. See you later.”

“Tell Potter your girlfriend says hello!”

. . .

The wind tossed through your robes,

“Oy! L/N!”

You turn with a hand on your hip, face unimpressed as Oliver stalks towards you. The Slytherin Quidditch team grumbles when they spot him, but you ignore their empty threats.

“Wood.”

“Talk to ya for a minute?”

You follow him down a small side path, out of the way of everyone filtering down to the Quidditch pitch. Oliver’s cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, burrowing under his gryffindor scarf. His brown eyes peer at you, reflecting warmly against the chill in the air.

“What do you want, Wood? Trying to shake me off my game last minute?” You break his silence, wanting him to start but not having time to beat around the bush.

Oliver smiles to himself, scuffing at the dirt with his shoe. When he looks up through his lashes, you’re struck by how handsome he has grown to be.

From children, where you played endlessly together, to mere tweens teasing each other, to now...on the verge of adulthood.

“I just wanted to say good luck out there.” He settles on, the words unsure.

Instead of saying the smart remark that rises, you touch his hand and smile. “I don’t need it, but thank you.”

Oliver scoffs, though he’s smiling. Wind drifts through his hair, it had gotten long over the weeks, sweeping over his forehead. You’re not sure what possesses you, but you find that your fingers are tucking it back into place. Oliver’s cheeks turn a rosy pink, eyes casting away from you.

“See you later, champ.” Oliver pats you on the shoulder, hand lingering for a second longer than it should.

. . .

Oliver almost wished that Slytherin had lost the game against Ravenclaw. The rambunctious and petty gloating from their Quidditch team, understandable to a point, was plain ridiculous now. Not a minute passed where someone from the team wasn’t loudly talking about the game and the plays, a lot of them dirty. He knew it bothered you, that your team’s victories were never entirely fair.

“Can’t wait til’ we kick their asses.” Fred Weasley speaks up after practice one windy morning. “Finally shut them up.”

Oliver finds himself nodding along, not entirely listening as he thinks back to the practice and what needed to be improved. Harry was still unsure, hesitating in his movements. Oliver would have to bolster his confidence. And, the Weasley’s—

“—You with us, Wood?”

Oliver looks up, looking at his teammates. They’re a mixture of bemused, annoyed, and mischievous. “What?”

“We were asking how you’re friends with L/N? She’s the captain, she should set the example.”

Wood felt himself getting defensive. “I’m not.”

A lie, a bold-faced lie. How long had they been friends? You knew Oliver Wood better than Oliver Wood knew himself.

. . .

“Wood.” You hardly spare a glance from your textbook.

Oliver hesitates in front of you, stumbling as he tries to gain his thoughts. There was something in the air, different from the usual causal air between you.

“I haven’t done anything, have I?” His words are tentative, feeling thick on his tongue.

You finally let out a sigh, eyebrows arched. The pages of the book slip close as your hand moves.

“No, Oliver,” your tone is sickly sweet, sliding over his skin in a way he doesn’t like. “You’ve done nothing.”

And, while there was obviously something wrong, Oliver did not have the time to figure it out. Potions was looming in the dungeons and he couldn’t afford to be late.

. . .

Weeks drag by and Oliver does not see you as often. Or rather, he does. A glimpse of your hair in the halls, your laugh ringing out in the Great Hall, a fleeting moment of your eyes meeting his before you turn away.

He misses you.

It’s a slow, startling feeling that he is unused to. The realization that you, one of his closest friends that has been there since nappies, are slipping away from him is a feeling that he can only liken to losing a game of Quidditch. His chest hurts, heart heavy every time you refuse to stop and talk to him.

Oliver is miserable and no one has seen him so dismal since they lost against Ravenclaw last year. It’s enough to be noticed, rumors spreading through the school. They even reach you, all the way in the dungeon.

. . .

“Wood?”

Oliver glances up and his heart does a little leap in his chest.

“Y/N?” It’s strangled

“What’s up? You’re not you.”

“I’m not?”

“Yes. And Gryffindor can’t afford their captain to be off his game against Ravenclaw. Especially with their new seeker, gave us hell in our match.”

Oliver, despite his anger at your coldness, is amused and not surprised that Quidditch is your common ground. It often was. His heart, beating a mile a minute, warms at your concern. You turn to leave the library, patting his hand before you go.

“Chin up, Oli.”

. . .

Oliver finds you facing the windows outside the courtyards, back turned to him as his steps fall heavy against the stone ground. The sun is setting, already past the line of trees from the forbidden forest. A glow from its light is still cast on your face, ethereal as you turn to look at him. There is a smear of dirt on his forehead, his cheeks flushed red. The twinkle in his eye is unmistakable.

“Congratulations on the win.”

Oliver nods, not being able to hide his wide grin. Elation coursed through him, blood still pumping fast in excitement. There’s something in the air, charged with an energy that feels soft and delicate.

“Thank you.”

He swallows thickly, watching as you lean against a column. You’re relaxed, eyes looking at him with something he can’t place. The palms of his hands itch as he has the desire to touch you, suddenly, but he pushes the thought away. No other words are exchanged.

When, the sun finally makes its final descent beyond the horizon Oliver knows that he should head back inside. The celebration party in the gryffindor common room would already be in full swing by the time he made his way there, but he was far too captivated by your gaze.

You notice his conflict, a small smile playing at your lips. “You should go celebrate.”

“Maybe I want to stay here.” He finds the nerve to say this, though he feels like he’s suddenly grown two sizes smaller. “With you.”

You smile, a real true smile, that has his cheeks warming. “Me?”

“Yeah, you...” he breathes, noticing just then how small the distance was between you. Your fingers touch his hand, sliding up his arm and settling on his shoulder. The material of his jersey is rough, well-worn, and comfortable. An aggregate of him, everything you know him for.

Oliver, distantly, is aware that anyone can see this, but he doesn’t care when you kiss him. Something he’s been waiting to a while, years even.

———

Everything taglist: @venusstarlight108 @knivestheresnothingtoit @awesomefaith14 @ardentmuse @salladwinston @maddieb97222 @anchy-bananchy @staygoldponebone @unique05sstuff

Harry Potter taglist: @p-adfoot 

also @croatianbagudna here is the rest of the fic! 

[celtics534]

Bad Reputation

Another little one-shot for y’all before a new multichapter fic! This one is an AU but still set in the magical world. Harry and Ginny have just never met. 

Also read on: FF.net and AO3

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“Look over there lads.” Winston nodded his head towards the bar. Harry turned to see a group of six women gathering around the polished bar. They all wore matching uniforms. Harpie uniforms, Harry realized after studying the gold lettering on the green jerseys. 

 “I’ve heard the Harpies are -- well --” Carter’s voice trailed off, but his wolfish smile said it all. Harry rolled his eyes. His fellow Aurors were some of the randiest people he knew. Taking a sip from his glass, he let his eyes stray back over to the Harpies. They were gathering their drinks and moving in a tight squad towards a large table on the other side of the room. 

 The pub door opened, letting in the warm summer night air. Harry’s focus automatically drifted to see who the new arrival was. He did a double-take. It was another Harpie, based on the green kit she wore, and she was stunning. Sure, all the women that sat at the corner table were beautiful, but this one... Harry thought his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. 

 Her red hair clashed with the uniform, making it look like Christmas had come in July (or at least Harry’s own personal Christmas). Freckles spread across her sunburned face, and Harry’s mind wondered if they went further than just her cheeks. Bloody hell, I’m no better than the rest of them if I think like that, Harry scolded himself. He forced himself to tear his eyes off her, turning his focus back to his mates.

 “I’ve heard Cara has a thing for Aurors.” Kole winked. “I wouldn’t mind doing a private detail on her.” Most of the table nodded their agreement, and some even raised their glasses in cheers. 

 “I’ve heard Weasley is a ball-buster.” Leon Malcolm shook his head. He picked up a chip off his plate and pointed it at the group of players. “She doesn’t get with anyone.”

 “Which one is Weasley?” Carter asked, his blue eyes hopping from one woman to the next. 

 “The redhead.” 

 Harry felt his stomach drop as if he fell down a flight of stairs. Before he could stop his big mouth, he asked, “Does she have a boyfriend?”

 Malcolm turned towards Harry, an amused smile on his lips. “Nope. She just turns everyone down. Doesn’t matter who it is.”

“I heard she turned down Nathan Fallen.” Kole shook his head. “If he doesn’t stand a chance, no one does.”

 Harry didn’t want to think Kole was right, but Nathan Fallen was one of the biggest names in the magical community, and that was without his most recent title of being the sexiest wizard alive. 

 “Maybe she swings for the other team,” Carter suggested, his focus finally coming back their own table (but that might have just been because he wanted to finish his pie).

 “Nah, she turns down the ladies too.” Malcolm shrugged. “She says that Quidditch is her focus.”  

 “Why do you know so much about this?” Harry asked.

 Malcolm shrugged nonchalantly, but Harry could see the tell-tale sign of red on his neck. “Magazines, some of my mates have asked her out -"

 “Sure,” Kole drawled the word, his smile knowing. “Some of your mates.”

 “Fuck off!” Malcolm punched Kole’s shoulder. “I’d like to see any of you lot get anywhere with her. She’s an ice queen, that one.” 

 “No thanks.” Carter shook his head. “I like my balls the way they are, thanks.” 

 Harry turned his focus back to the group of women. He could see Weasley talking, her smile crooked as she told what seemed to be a joke. The table erupted with laughter, some of the women even slapped their fists on the wood.

 She really was incredibly beautiful, that crooked smile just the icing on the cake. Harry had never been one for trying to chat women up in pubs. For starters, it was typically too loud to have a decent conversation, but also he was piss poor at flirting. He became a stuttering fool every time a pretty girl was involved. Not to mention it was always so awkward to try and talk to someone when they were sitting with a group of friends. 

 In other words, Harry had low expectations for what was about to happen, but he knew he needed to try and at least talk to her or he'd regret it. Even if he came off as a pathetic loser, at least he tried. 

 Harry downed the rest of his pint, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood. His mates paused their discussion of the fittest player on the Harpies. 

 "Getting another round, Potter?" Kole asked. "If you wait a moment, I'll be ready for another."

 Maybe another pint was a good idea, Harry thought, some extra liquid courage. But he shook his head. "No." He cleared his throat, hoping to lose the raspy sound before he talked to her. "I'm gonna go over and talk with Weasley."

 His friends just blinked at him, their silence unnatural in the unruly setting. Kole’s lips twitched in a way Harry knew meant he was hiding his mirth. “Potter, are you sure you wanna do that? I’ve seen your -- er -- way with women, and I don’t think ball-buster Weasley is the one for you.”

 Cara and Malcolm nodded, adding in their own versions of Kole’s words. Harry couldn’t care less what his mates thought. He knew they meant well in their own way, but at that moment it didn’t matter. Steeling himself, Harry took a deep breath before walking towards the group of Harpies. 

 Harry almost retreated three times in the short walk. His heart was pounding so hard, Harry was sure a rib or two might crack. When he was three meters away, she made eye contact with him over one of her teammate's heads. 

 At first, he saw confusion on her face, which quickly shifted to annoyance. Harry didn’t expect anything less. She probably had blokes interrupting them all the time, when all they wanted to do was enjoy a drink. 

 Harry stopped dead, not sure what to do next. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Weasley’s glare changed to concern. From his spot, he could hear the Harpies squad, however faintly due to the blood beating in his ears. 

 "But Sanders can't follow through worth anything," one of the women said, the back of her jersey naming her Bellion. "I mean, do I need to remind you all of the night me and him -" She let her sentence trail, but the emphasis was clear. 

 Her friends laughed. "Please don't remind us of that. It's too depressing to think about," a blonde claimed around her giggles. 

 "He looked so promising too," Bellion lamented. Then she looked up and noticed Harry. "Well, speaking of promising." Her grin becoming coquettish. 

 The rest of the team turned to face him, some spinning in their chairs. Harry’s cheeks felt as if they were on fire, but there was no backing out now. He took a deep breath before forcing his lips into what he hoped was a suave smile. 

 “I just wanted to say how amazing you all played against Puddlemere the other night.” It was true enough. He had listened to the match on the wireless (cheering for Puddlemere), but there was no doubt the Harpies were superior that night, as the score proved. 

 “Thank you!” Bellion said. “That was a great match!" She turned to Weasley. "Our girl here was on fire that night!”

 The rest of the team cheered and toasted Weasley, who beamed. Harry had been trying to avoid looking at Weasley for fear of being a blithering idiot, but now his eyes couldn’t help but stick to her. That smile… it gripped him in an iron tight hold.

 Harry hoped he wasn’t smiling like a lovesick fool as he said, “Yeah, you really were amazing.” 

 Weasley’s eyes locked onto his, and Harry was sure his entire body was about to combust. It was like her gaze was a blazing fire that she spread through him with one look. Harry had to force his brain to re-engage as the flames seemed to burn all the synapse from his mind to body. 

 “Thank you.” Weasley’s tone didn’t help Harry regroup; the coquettish timbre made him want to fall to his knees and bow at her feet. “That’s very nice of you -- what was your name?” 

 It took an embarrassingly long time for Harry to be able to speak his name. By their mutters, he could tell some of the women around the table had noticed his enthrallment with Weasley, but he was only concerned with the red head. 

 Weasley didn’t seem to notice the whispers as she smiled mischievously at him. “Well, Harry. If you were so impressed with our playing, how about you buy the next round?”

 The squad cheered at her suggestion. Before Harry could agree, as one the ladies downed the remainder of their drinks. 

 Weasley, who had finished her drink before the rest, pushed away from the table. "I'll give you a hand. I know everyone's order." 

 When she reached his side, Harry's lungs filled with an ambrosial flowery scent. It was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever smelled, and he had to forcefully remind himself it wasn't acceptable to lean in a just put his nose in her hair. 

 "Oh, I'm sure that's the only reason you’re going with him, eh Weasley?" Bellion laughed loudly. Weasley didn't even look over her shoulder as she provided a rude gesture, which sent her teammates into a new wave of cackles. 

 "Feel free to ignore them," Weasley said as she slid past a free table. "Merlin knows I do." When she glanced over her shoulder, Harry lost his breath at her dazzling smile. "Also, seeing as you’re buying me a pint, feel free to call me Ginny." 

 They reached the bar and Ginny easily attracted the barkeep’s attention. She ordered a plethora of different cocktails. As the bartender walked away, Ginny leaned against the bar, her chin resting on her hand as she turned to look at him.

 “So, Harry, what brings you here tonight? Because we come here rather often, and I’ve never seen you before.” 

 “I’m -- uh -- here with some workmates.” Harry was impressed with his ability to form a complete sentence, with her alluring eyes focused solely on him. “We just finished a case and wanted to relax for a bit.”

 “A case?” Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “What sort of case?”

 “We caught a dealer who was selling a bunch of knock off Felix Felicis. Instead of giving the drinker luck, it was causing them to grow welts the size of galleons all over their bodies.”

 “Really?” Her smile grew. “Well now, shouldn’t I be buying you a drink for you honorable service?”

 Harry leaned on the smooth wood surface, hoping to look suave as he copied her pose. “I wouldn’t say no.” 

 Ginny laughed, sounding like a million perfectly timed chimes. “Well, how about we make this into a little challenge?” 

 Harry had no idea where she was going with this, but he couldn’t care less if it meant getting to spend more time with her. “How so?”

 “Well, if I guess what’s your go-to drink, I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow night.” 

 “A -- and if you get it wrong?” Harry cursed himself for stuttering, but there was nothing for it. His tongue felt too large for his mouth. 

 When her smirk became flirtatious his heart fluttered like the wings of a free snitch. "I'll let you take me out for dinner." 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 "This is a nice choice, Harry," Ginny complimented as she looked around the simple restaurant. The walls were decorated with famous London landmarks, with Big Ben and Buckingham Palace being the most prominent. 

 Ginny was still in a state of euphoric surprise. When she had agreed to go to the pub after practice, she assumed she'd go for an hour, two tops, and then go home and curl up with her most recent novel. But instead, she'd never wanted to leave, at least once she and Harry had branched off. 

 After getting her teammates’ drinks, they'd gone back up to the bar. While using the excuse to figure out his preferred drink, Ginny had studied his attractive profile. The man was fit. Tall, dark, and handsome. He was everything girls would fawn over, yet there was this awkwardness about him that would make some women stay away. But to her, it just made him that much more endearing. 

 Guessing his drink wasn’t too hard, seeing as she could smell the whiskey on his breath. After ordering him a finger of Odgen’s and a spiced mead for herself, they had migrated towards an empty table. 

 Normally Ginny had no luck with men she fancied. Generally, she’d scare them off by being too intimidating. After her last boyfriend, overbearing misogynistic prick that he was, Ginny had sworn off men. She told herself that quidditch was her one true love. That had been three years ago. But there had been something about Harry that made Ginny betray her own personal philosophy, and that something only became clearer the longer she spent in his company. 

 He didn't leer at her breasts or just make obvious attempts to convince her to come home with him. Rather, he kept eye contact and listened to her stories, never interrupting but sliding in all the right comments. By the end of the night, Ginny was half tempted to invite him back to hers, but that had never been her style. Instead, they had parted by the pub entrance, agreeing to meet at Trafalgar Square by the fountain at five the next day. 

 Ginny's stomach had been filled with excited butterflies all throughout their midday practice. And when she'd gone home to change, Ginny hated to admit it, but she'd looked through her entire wardrobe to find the perfect outfit. Never in her life had Ginny cared about finding the perfect outfit! And then, in the end, she had decided to just go in a nice t-shirt and denims (that hugged her curves in all the right places). It was something she felt comfortable in. And it seemed Harry liked it too because when she had approached him at the fountain his eyes had been the size of dinner plates.  

 After strolling across muggle London for a bit, Harry had led them into what he claimed was the best place to get shepherd’s pie in the whole city.

 Harry grinned at her. “I tend to make good choices. I mean, I did choose to take you out to dinner.”

 Ginny put on her best appalled look. “I thought dinner was my idea.” 

 The crooked grin Harry gave her made Ginny grateful she was sitting, because her knees would have buckled if she were standing. “Just because you were the first to suggest it doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about it.”

 The butterflies fluttered faster in her gut. She gave him a sweet smile. "Second place really isn't that impressive when there are only two people, luv."

 Harry’s cheeks darkened with a faint blush as he broke their gaze. He cleared his throat. “Uh -- so the fish and chips here are -- uh almost as good as the shepherd’s pie.” 

 It only took Ginny a second to figure out what had made Harry lose his ability to maintain eye contact. She could feel the mischievous curl of her own lips. “Can you think of an instance where coming in second would be better, Harry?” 

 Ginny could see his flush darken. “I -- uh --” He took a deep breath, his lips curving into a coy smile. “I’d much rather tie. There is something about coming together that’s more satisfying.” 

 “Well --” Ginny was not used to being outplayed, but fuck! Harry had just played a royal flush. Speaking of flush, she was sure now her cheeks were red. With that being said, there was no way Ginny was going down without a fight. She leaned forward, her hand running up his arm, goose flesh leaving a trail to where she’d been. “That’s quite a claim there, Harry. Care to give an example?”

 Harry’s mouth fell open. “I -- I”  

 Ginny was rather proud of herself, but Harry was saved from finding his tongue by the arrival of a cheery waiter. “Welcome to Redan House. My name is Louis. Can I start you with something from the bar?”

 Ginny took a quick glance at the menu. “I would love a glass of red wine.” She looked back at her date, who had lowered the menu when the waiter arrived. “Harry?”

 His cheeks were still tinged pink, but his voice gave nothing away. “Whiskey and a glass of water, thank you.” 

 “Coming right up.” 

 Ginny beamed at Harry once the waiter had walked away. “So, how was your day? Did you deal with all that paperwork you were worried about last night?”

 Harry nodded, his relief at the change of topic practically tangible, making Ginny giggle internally. "Yeah, nothing too interesting I'm afraid. What about you? I'm sure a Harpies practice is much more intense."

 Ginny couldn't get over how easy it was to talk with Harry. In terms of dating, a first date was often like regrowing bones: painful but necessary. But there was none of that “So lovely weather today” or “The apparition point was crazy busy, wasn’t it?” And maybe it was because they had already talked for hours the previous night, but Ginny didn’t think so. No, it was just them. For some reason, she and Harry just flowed. 

 It wasn’t until they had already received their ordered meals that they started to tread into rocky waters. Past relationships, or in Ginny’s case, failed dates. 

 “And you could say that was the only perk of dating a musician.” Harry took a sip from his whiskey glass. “The downside was being written into her song.” He rolled his eyes. “She definitely exaggerated a bit. But I’m sure you’ve got your own horror stories.”

 “You could say that.” Ginny stabbed into a chip with more vicious intention than she planned. “Blokes tend to --” She paused, trying to come up with the right way to word it. “They tend to try and just make me a notch on their bedpost.”

 Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

 “A lot of guys tend to -- er act like gentlemen, and then expect me to respond to their advances after a drink or two.” She rolled her eyes. “So there was this one guy who thought that I would go sneak off into the men's loo at a pub after he paid for my drink. And another who thought I would respond well to him running his hand up my thigh while we sat on a bench eating ice cream.”

 “Th --” Harry looked dumbfounded. “Really? How can they treat you like that? I mean -” A slight blush appeared on his cheeks but his eyes stayed locked on hers. “You’re incredible in every way.”

 Warmth spread through Ginny’s body, starting in her belly and coursing to her limbs. She smiled at Harry, reaching across the table and placed her hand over his. “Thank you, Harry.” 

 He turned his hand over and threaded their fingers. The intensity of his green eyes made her breath hitch. “It’s the truth.  Besides it’s just common human decency.”

 Ginny squeezed his hand, hoping he understood how much his words truly meant to her. It took a few moments for them to break their standstill. She noticed Harry glancing down at her lips more than once, but rather than acting on aspiration he just smiled. “So what do you do to these unfortunately misguided blokes?”

 “Oh.” She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. “They discover why they call me the Ball-Buster.” 

 “You do have quite a bad reputation.” Harry laughed lightly. 

 “And yet, you dared to come up to me.”

 His smile grew wider, a small dimple forming at up at the left-hand corner of his lips. “And yet, I gladly risked my balls to come up and talk with you.” He brought their still linked hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. “And I’d do it again.”

 Was this what people would call swooning? Ginny’s breath left her lungs in a shaky breath. She was saved from trying and coming up with a suave response by Louis coming over and checking on them. 

 “So.” Harry placed her hand back on the table so he could grab his knife and fork again. “If you’re the ball buster, what’s your family like?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny leaned back against the door, her heart firmly resting in her gut. She had thought there had been something there. There was no way she’d imagined it all, was there? 

 When Harry had walked her up from the apparition point near her flat in Wales to the front door, she’d thought they would have their moment. All night had there had been this… heat between them, and every time Harry’s fingers had brushed hers it had sent jolts of electricity across her body. But then at the door… he had just wished her a good night and walked away, his head down and hands in pockets. 

 Ginny had sworn he was going to kiss her when they had stood there. The way his eyes kept falling down to her lips as they discussed how funny their waiter had been. She had been certain when his hand had come up to brush a piece of hair away from her face… and then he hadn’t. He had just left, not giving her enough time to make the move herself. 

 “Fuck.” Ginny moaned the word out for the empty house to hear. Maybe she had created the whole thing in her head, wishful thinking or something like that. Yet...

 There was nothing for it now, Ginny told herself. He hadn’t even left her a way to contact him. And sure she could send him an owl, but that felt too desperate… He didn’t say he wanted to exchange letters or floo locations. Fuck! She needed to stop thinking about this -- about him -- for a while. 

 She moved into the sitting room, which was just how she left it: A blanket precariously tossed over the back of the couch. Her current novel sitting on the side table beside a half-drunk mug of tea. 

 Making a quick decision, Ginny gathered her book and moved into the loo. A warm bath was just what she needed. It would soothe her sore muscles from practice and a sore ego. Waving her wand at the basic white tub, water started pouring from the tap.. She put her novel beside the bath before gathering her favorite bath salts. 

 The knock at her door was more like the slamming of a battering ram. Ginny dropped her bath bomb on the floor in surprise. With a swift motion, she grabbed her wand from the sink, flicked it quickly at the tub to pause the water, andy walked to the door. 

 The knocking had decreased but was still insistently echoing across the house. She flung the door open to be greeted by a fist. Harry’s fist. His hair was more disheveled than ever and his eyes had a frantic glint to them. 

 “Harry?” Ginny opened the door a little wider. “What are you doing?”

 Harry lowered his fist, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I -- I” He ran his hands through his hair, somehow making it worse. “I can’t not --” 

 “Can’t not wh --” Ginny started to ask until Harry cut her off. His hands had come up to cup her jaw on either side as he pressed his lips to hers. It took a moment for Ginny to get over her shock. It wasn’t until Harry started to pull back that Ginny responded. Not wanting for them to lose any of this intimacy, Ginny threaded her fingers in his messy locks, using them to pull him closer. 

 Harry groaned into her mouth, his fingers tracing down her neck, to her shoulders, before drifting down her sides. Ginny loved the feeling of his thumbs digging into her hip. She backed into the flat, never breaking contact. Harry followed, closing the front door behind him with his foot. Ginny led them towards the couch. It wasn’t until Harry tripped over a carelessly discarded shoe that they separated.

 They stood in the middle of her sitting room, both breathing heavily. The oxygen flooding her brain made coherent thought come back, which included many questions. Through inhales, she asked, "What was that about?”   

 Harry took a step back, a hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t plan on doing it quite like that.”

 “You didn’t plan on snogging the life out of me?” Ginny leaned back, pressing her bum into the back of the sofa for support. “What did you plan on doing?”

 “Coming and telling you how much I like you.” His cheeks matched the color of her hair.

 “Well, you certainly showed me.” 

 Harry gave her a shy smile. “Yeah, I just couldn’t resist… once I saw you --” His cheeks darkened. 

 The butterflies from earlier returned in full force. So it hadn’t all just been in her mind. Thank fucking Merlin for that. “So why didn’t you do that at the door?” 

 “I didn’t -- I” Harry closed his eyes for a second, his chest rising with a deep inhale. With his eyes still shut he said, “I didn’t want you to think I was that kind of bloke.”

 That kind of bloke? Ginny cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

 Harry sighed, his head tilting down towards the floor. “You told me that a lot of guys just want to get you into bed.” 

 She nodded, the puzzle pieces falling into place. “And you were worried I would think you were doing the same if you made a move?”

 “Yeah.” The word came out more like a depressed whisper than anything else. 

 Ginny felt as if she were riding a broom for the first time again. The elation, thrill, and just instantaneous love for something spread throughout her. “Harry, look at me.”

 It took a second, but Harry lifted his head. His eyes meet hers in a look of pure despondency. He looked as if he was ready for her to throw him out on his arse. 

 She took a step forward, placing herself up close in his personal bubble. Her arms went up around his neck, fingers twisting into his already rumpled hair. “The simple fact that you thought that makes you twenty times better than any of those other blokes. I knew you weren’t like any of them.” 

 Harry’s mouth slowly spread into a smile. His hands coming to rest on her hips “Yeah?”

 “Oh, yeah.” Ginny brought her nose so it bumped against his, making their lips tantalizingly close. “Also, if you hadn’t run away so fast, I was about to make a move on you.”

 His smile broadened. “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.” Ginny’s tone became lower than normal. “Care to see what I was planning to do?”

 A mischievous spark glinted in his eyes. “Should I be worried? You do have quite a bad reputation.”

 Ginny kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth. “I wouldn’t use the word bad in this situation.”

 “Oh?” Harry let the word out in a breathy sigh

 “Oh yes. I’d say the more appropriate word is naughty.”  

 Harry’s fingers tightened on her hips. “That doesn’t sound bad to me at all.” 

 “I hoped you’d say that.” 

[rynhaswritersblock]

midtown morning announcements | p.p.

a/n: in this story YOU are a reporter in the announcements and betty is NOT!!!!! sorry betty love you bae <3

summary: as a reporter for midtown tech's daily announcements, it's easy to get carried away with ideas. especially ones involving the newest superhero from queens.

warnings: cussing, some chaotic energy, 5.6k words because i POPPED OFF, messy epilogue but just roll w me

+ + +

"Oh my god, she's crushing on Spider-Man."

You tried. You really tried. Sure, you were friends with Betty and Liz, but god, if some of their conversations didn't make you want to scream.

Nevertheless, you whirl around. The statement was too absurd for you not to. Liz, the pretty, popular girl, had a crush on a hero whom she'd never seen the face of.

Now that was a story.

You spin back around, snatching the book out of MJ's hands and ignoring the look she gives you.

"How soon do you think I can convince Mr. Harrington to give me an extra segment in the announcements?"

+ + +

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I just don't think there's enough time to-"

"Mr. Harrington, please," you plead. "We can cut the segment about.. what's it called? What's New in the Teacher's Lounge? Trust me when I say this: talking about the new coffee filters and low stock in the vending machines only loses everyone's attention."

A sigh falls from the mans mouth. He scratches his beard thoughtfully and you bite back a grin at his dramatically thoughtful expression.

"Okay, fine, Madam Reporter. You can have your segment on Spandex Man," he says.

A smile pulls the corners of your lips. "Thank you, Mr. Harrington, you won't regret it."

He just nods his head, an awkward silence filling between the two of you. He eventually catches the hint and turns around, beginning to walk away, muttering.

"I swear, teenage girls and their obsession with men in tight clothing."

Your eyes widen and your face explodes into an expression of defense before you turn around, face-to-face with MJ.

"So?"

"I got it."

A smirk breaks on the girls face. "Ready to shoot?"

Your eyes widen and move over to the wall of the reporting room, the clock reading 7:29 am. One minute before filming time. You look back at MJ and shrug hopelessly, jogging over to the setup in front of the cameras and sliding in next to Jason.

"Hey, Y/N-"

"We're cutting the teacher's lounge segment and I'm replacing it with a different one," you blurt, then turn to the camera as the red light turns on and begins blinking.

"Wha- Good morning, students of Midtown Tech!"

You suppress a laugh.

"Today is Wednesday, September 21st. Happy Fall," you smile. While you were never anxious in front of the camera, you were completely unprepared. The change in segments was made literally two minutes ago, and the only ones with that knowledge were you, MJ, and (kind of) Jason. Thankfully, MJ was a quick scriptwriter, but this was something you wanted to make perfect. Your perfectionism wasn't easily controlled, and with a new segment like this, you wanted to make it just right.

You and Jason swapped reporting different details about events, the weather- the sort of stuff a lot of students didn't really care about. But, as soon as you saw the words "Y/N: INTO SPIDER-MAN SEGMENT" on the screen, you knew this would grab everyone's attention. You also knew that you would kick MJ later for not even giving you a script when you knew she was capable of at least writing a few things.

"Ohhhh-" Jason gasps, understanding what you'd meant earlier. You hit him in the arm before mentally preparing yourself as quickly as possible.

"Word about the new hero, known as Spider-Man, has taken over Midtown Tech, and everyone seems to have the same question: who is the man under the mask? Well, Tigers, I've decided to take it upon myself to discover this upcoming Avenger's identity. In this segment, you'll see interviews and videos of the hero, as well as a link in which you can scan a QR code on the screen and submit guesses, and later vote on who you think it is!"

"Yo, that's dope," Jason nods, looking at you, impressed and surprised.

"It is," you smile at the camera. "Now onto Cindy, who is with the Mr. Harrington to talk about the importance of, um, kissing your pets at least 10 times daily..?"

The filming session wraps with you and Jason doing your signature sign-off (putting on sunglasses and playing Midtown's anthem on kazoo's). You slide out of the chair, setting your glasses on the table behind you and walking over to MJ with a sigh.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Hey man, you did fine without a script," she retorts, raising her hands in defense.

"I'm aware," you raise a brow.

From across the room, you can hear the editors grouping around the computer, laughing at all the memes and sound effects they're gonna put in.

+ + +

Not good. Not good not good not good not good.

Peter Parker stood frozen, feet away from one of the multiple TVs in the hallway, jaw slack as he stares at the screen.

Not even the chaotic memes and crappy video effects could make him laugh (the boy had a weak spot for Comic Sans).

He knew who you were. Peter'd occasionally see you in the hallways, and you'd always smile or even just give him a small look of acknowledgment. Still, never talked. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably a good thing. The second you figure out Spider-Man's voice, it'll be engraved into your brain, and there'll be no hiding if you approach him.

"Hey, Peter!"

The boy jumps, spinning around to see Ned, about 20 feet away, bright smile painted on his face as he waves a bit aggressively. Peter mentally prepares himself before walking over, plastering a (hopefully convincing) grin on his face. Ned, of course, is oblivious and falls for it.

"Dude, did you watch the announcements today?! That shit is crazy! I mean, Y/N's so smart and stuff, she's probably gonna figure out who it is in, like, two weeks," Ned babbles.

Peter looks around cautiously, feeling as though all eyes are on him, despite the fact that he was most definitely on the bottom half of the popularity list.

"Yeah, weird."

Just then, he sees you turn around the corner with MJ, waving to someone he didn't know, and catches a smile on your face.

His prior neutral opinion about you began to shift.

+ + +

By the end of the day, you were practically floating. The entire school was buzzing about the new segment- hell, it almost creeped you out how excited everyone was. At lunch, people couldn't stop glancing over at you, whispering about who they thought Spider-Man might be. At first, the looks were different, interesting, but now they just made you plain uncomfortable. Nonetheless, when you stepped outside after the final bell and everyone's mind shifted from the segment to the idea of getting home, you felt proud.

And, although the two of you were apart, both in terms of distance and relationship, you and Peter felt the same feeling as you flopped onto your respective beds in your respective apartments:

You now had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

+ + +

The FBI agent in your phone was probably terrified. You went from being an average, phone-using teen, to being a complete stalker, notes and news apps taking over your storage- all to make sure you'd never miss a story. Moreover, you'd done all this within the last two hours.

With the exponentially rising expectations from your classmates, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't let anyone down. That started today: the day of the Spider-Man's Secrets debut.

Just as you lay back on your bed, back sore, you come to the realization that all of these precautionary apps would only give you the scoop after the incident. AKA: not soon enough. You groan, rolling off your bed and slipping on your shoes, grabbing your keys and making your way out of the apartment.

While hadn't necessarily wished to be walking through the streets of Queens as the sky darkened, part of it was kind of peaceful. If you ignored your paranoid thoughts.

Nonetheless, you thought, if you were to get attacked, the man of the day would show up, right?

A sigh falls from your lips as you round the corner, figuring you'd go to Delmar's and get a sandwich. And pet Murph.

Your plans are foiled when you stop in your tracks at the sight of Spider-Man battling some robbers in the bank. Even though your eyes widened, you let out a small laugh- the robbers were wearing Avengers masks. How nice for Tony Stark's image.

The whole situation looked like one of those weird money-tornado things you'd seen at arcades. You rip your phone out of your pocket and begin recording just as a purple beam shoots out of the bank, streaming in a haphazard circular shape and nearly hitting you. A yelp elicits from your mouth as you duck. When you rise, the robbers are gone, and Delmar's is on fire.

"Holy shit," you gasp, checking to make sure your phone is still recording.

You felt a little stupid as you ran over to the building, phone in the air like a goddamn touristic maniac.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to get out of the way, it's-"

You feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back. You begin to wriggle out of the grasp before you turn your head and meet eyes with Spider-Man. The large white eyes of the mask widen, as do yours.

"It's, um," he clears his throat, lowering his voice and using a Jersey accent, "too dangerous."

In a flash, he's gone, leaping through the broken window and yelling for Mr. Delmar, voice back to its high state. You're stunned, not having expected to have gotten that lucky on your first night, as well as from the state of the building you had loved so much. You stay there, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, chewing nervously on your nails as you wait for Spider-Man to run back out, hopefully with Mr. Delmar and Murph.

You had a job to do.

A relieved sigh leaves your lungs at the sight of the hero helping Mr. Delmar out, handing him Murph with such a careful and cautious demeanor that gives the hero so much humanistic personality that it practically knocks you out.

You knew you were one to notice body language, but watching someone without being able to see their face only amplified them. You watch silently as Spider-Man hangs his head as he walks away from the scene, looking tired, ashamed almost. People begin gathering around the building, videoing and a few going over to Mr. Delmar and lending him support. A ping of guilt rings through your veins before you remind yourself of your job.

"Excuse me?"

He stops, turning around. Reporters begin pulling up in large news vans.

"I have a few questions."

+ + +

The only time you'd ever flown was at the airport. Or in your dreams. But never this way.

Your heart was still racing, despite having landed on the roof of some building almost a full sixty seconds ago.

"Sorry, but could we hurry this up? I kinda, uh, need to get home," he says, hints of paranoia lacing his words.

"Yeah, sorry, just, you know, have never swung on a fucking web multiple stories up before," you nod, pursing your lips and instantly regretting your harshness. "Sorry."

He nods. You pull up the voice recorder app on your phone and hit the button. A rush of awkwardness hits you.

"So, uh, Spider-Man: tell me about yourself."

"Well," he scratches the back of his neck nervously. His voice is deep, with that same rich Jerseyan accent. You don't buy it at all. "I'm, well, I'm Spider-Man. I like.. helping... people?"

"Uh, yes-" you blurt, nodding your head. You didn't want to completely bombard him, you wanted to just intro him and get some exclusive information. "How did you get your powers?"

He goes on to explain that he was bitten by a radioactive spider. Luckily for you, he goes off on a tangent, ranting about how weird it was and what exactly his powers were. You smile every time you notice his accent and deep voice slip into something that sounded more natural- higher, but natural.

Based off of the hints of his voice alone, you'd guess he was anywhere from 12-18 years old.

"And then I would wear like super big shirts to school to try and hide it because I didn't want to look suspiciously stronger--"

"School?" you interrupt.

"Oh, uh.. yeahhhumIgottago!" he blurts before awkwardly backing up, jumping off the building and swinging away.

A smile creeps onto your face. Enough to satisfy your classmates.

+ + +

"Luckily, I was able to catch the hero right after the incident, and he swung me with him to the top of a building for privacy from other news stations and police officers," you smile, ignoring how Jason was bouncing excitedly next to you, eager for information. He was a prime example of the excitement going on around the school.

"Spider-Man received his powers from a bite from a radioactive spider, and gained his new skills over night. Reportedly, he woke up with defined and large muscles, giving him the physique you can catch while he swings by. He has super senses that can detect any form of danger, 'sticky' hands and feet, and crafts his own webs that have been incorporated into his suit, given to him by Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. Here's a vocal clip from our interview!"

Normally, the sound of the announcements would be substantially muffled by the sounds of kids moving everywhere and chattering, but not anymore. Now, students grouped around the TVs, whispering. Peter had tried so hard to ignore your voice while not seeming suspicious.

But, as soon as he heard his own voice through the speakers, the announcements had his full attention.

He was relieved that you'd used a clip in which he'd been lowering his voice and using an accent, but there was a second in there where your masked voice slipped. Not good.

The boy suffered through the school day, ignoring the gossip of students, including Ned. Not to mention MJ suspiciously eyeing him during lunch. Either she had a crush, or she knew something. Peter suspected the latter.

As soon as the bell rang, he darted out of the doors, going to his usual hiding spot and changing, swinging as quickly as he could to the Stark Tower. The boy landed at the front steps, bending over and panting for a second before mustering up more energy and running up to the door, ringing the buzzer as many times as he could.

"Welcome to Stark Tower," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, monotone. "Identification, please."

"Peter Parker," he pants, pulling up his mask and looking into the camera.

"Unknown identity. Access denied."

A buzzer rang off and the boy frowned.

"Let him in, F.R.I.," Tony yells from inside, walking over and opening the doors. "Hey, Pete."

"Hi, Mr. Stark. Why wouldn't it let me in?"

The two walk into the main entrance.

"No reason."

"What?"

"I just have a different name for you in the program, that's all. If the name doesn't match the face, the doors don't open."

"What name do you have for me, then?"

Tony sighs, hints of mischievousness in his eyes. "Underoos. Can't believe you wouldn't think of that."

"Got it, sorry," Peter nods, clutching the mask in his hand. "I need you to put a voice changer in my suit."

+ + +

You were starting to get a bit worried. Spider-Man had started using a voice changer in his suit, and when you asked about it, he said he'd heard about you using his voice in a school announcement, and he needed to maintain anonymity.

Of course, this had taken a toll on you.

Not only did it lessen your chances of figuring out who this kid was, but it made you feel bad. After all, you were disrespecting a hero's privacy, trying to expose them to a mass of teenagers. And all he was doing was trying to protect the very place you lived in.

You'd managed to catch him at just about every incident he'd been in, but each time, he got less and less open about everything. You were running out of questions that you deemed fairly respectful, and he became very closed off, and for good reason.

If you exposed him, he'd be much more susceptible to attackers, who'd then be able to hurt the people he loved. You sigh as you begin your walk home from school, wracking your brain for more questions. You'd dug yourself into some deep shit.

A flash of red and blue pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Spider-Man!" you yell, eyes widening when you notice a few people look at you and then divert their attention to him, gasping. You mutter a profanity before jogging over to where he'd landed on top of a traffic light. "I have a few questions."

"Yeah, of course you do."

As if the deep and robotic voice wasn't cold enough already. You hear a loud sigh at your perplexed expression, and before you know it, you were flying again, landing a bit harshly on the roof of another building.

"Ouch, okay."

"Sorry," you hear him mutter. "Off the record?"

You nod and watch as he presses a button on his wrist.

"Look-"

A smile begins creeping on your face at the sound of his normal voice, but you bite it back.

"- I don't know why you're doing this. What I do know, though, is that you're trying to expose my identity to a large group of highschoolers. Do you realize how much trouble that could cause me, Y/N? I mean-"

"Shut up-" you interrupt harshly. "You know my name?"

"What? No, I, uh-"

"You just said my name."

"It was a wild guess!"

"The fuck do you mean a wild guess?! Do you go to Midtown?"

Even the mask can't hide his panic. Holy shit.

"Look: exposing me would literally ruin my life. I need you to shut this down. All of it."

"I would if I could," you say, exasperatedly. "I don't know whether you go to my school or you somehow stalked me and found my name, but: I'm a reporter for the Midtown Tech daily morning announcements. I made a promise to my classmates that, given the craze about you, I'd try and discover your identity. It blew up, way more than I expected. I have the weight of the world on my shoulders now; I can't give this up! Everyday, at least one person comes up to me and asks about you."

"You do realize that, by exposing me, you'd cause more trouble than by just letting it go?"

You're silent for a moment. He's right.

"I'll figure something out."

+ + +

"Yesterday, when I approached him yesterday, Spider-Man swung us onto another rooftop for another private discussion, in which he answered more questions."

Lying stung you like a bitch. Off the record, you remember.

"The hero claims that he's working on becoming an Avenger, training with the current members so that he can be on the team. Unfortunately, that's all he was able to tell me last evening, as he claimed he had something to do and swung away."

You sigh when the red light turns off, slipping out of your chair and over to where MJ sat. You grabbed your bag and began walking away.

"Was all of that true?" she asks as she follows you out. You nod. "You sure? Because something was off about it."

"It's all true, MJ, I'm just tired."

Peter's face was scrunched up, confused as he watched you on the screen, explaining about Spider-Man's supposed plans to join the Avengers. And then it clicked.

You were actually helping him.

After everything that'd happened, he'd half expected you to just full out expose him. To take your assumptions and spill them all over the school, telling everyone that Spider-Man was a student at Midtown Tech who knew your name. Peter hated how good at correctly assuming you were.

Thankfully, though, everyone bought it.

"Yo, did you hear that?"

"Hmm?" the boy hums, raising his eyebrows and looking over at Ned.

"Spider-Man's going to be an Avenger!"

"Yeah, that's, uh, that's really cool," Peter smiles, trying to match Ned's optimism. The smile drops slightly when he sees you walk past.

+ + +

You found a loophole. Upon reading all the comments on your Spider-Man link from announcements, you decided to start interviewing random students to get the content you needed.

All throughout lunch, you'd been pulling kids aside- Cindy, Liz, Betty, Flash. A sigh falls from your mouth as Flash walks away (with a bit too much pride for having just gushed about the hero), and you look around the cafeteria for more people.

You meet eyes with Peter Parker.

"Peter," you call, waving him over.

He mutters a word May wouldn't approve of, patting Ned on the back before trying to mentally crush his anxiety. He begins to sweat.

"Can I interview you for my segment on the morning announcements?"

All he does is give you a slight smile and nods. You knew Peter was quiet, but you'd think he'd be a bit less cold.

"So, Peter, have any guesses as to who Spider-Man may be?"

He was trapped. The boy stood in front of you, silent, mouth slightly ajar.

"Peter?"

"I don't know," he blurts. You freeze.

"What was that?"

He trips over his words. "Oh, uh, nothing, I didn't-"

"Holy shit," you whisper. You could've been making a complete fool of yourself acting so dumbstruck, but you'd be damned if you didn't just crack the code.

"Y/N, I-"

"So, Peter," you clear your throat, giving him a look. "Who do you think it is?"

"Flash."

An ungodly-sounding laugh bubbles out of your chest, causing him to laugh too. The two of you share a knowing look.  

"Thank you for your response."

+ + +

You hated the dark. It always made you paranoid. And, while the lights from all the stores and streetlamps helped, it wasn't the same as daylight. Anything could happen in New York.

You also hated how right you were about that.

You were on your way back from doing some brainstorming about how you'd continue the segment at Delmar's when you heard a rustle in the bushes. While it was your stereotypical horror movie sound, it still creeped you out. You couldn't out-walk it, though. A pair of hands wrapped around your body and began pulling you backwards.

Shit.

A loud yelp elicits from your mouth before a hand wraps around it too, and you try to wriggle out of the strong grasp. You manage to get a hand free, wrapping it around their wrist and twisting it off of your face before spinning around, meeting a dark pair of eyes underneath a generic "robber" mask.

"HELP," you yell, kneeing the guy in his crotch, finally freeing yourself as he falls to the ground. You'd never run so fast. The sound of footsteps behind you gets closer, but stops with the sound of hard impact and a groan. You stop and turn around.

Spider-Man is there, giving the guy a final punch in the jaw before webbing him to the wall and backing up, pressing a few buttons on his suit before looking up at you.

"How predictable and cliche," you sigh, rubbing your arm.

The sound of sirens begins wailing in the distance.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so-"

"Here," he says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you to a rooftop, coincidentally, the one belonging to your apartment building.

"You sure have a knack for swinging me onto rooftops, don't you?"

"There's never anyone on them, so," he shrugs. You smile slightly- his voice masker is off. You were right.

You walk over to the edge, sitting down and dangling your legs over the edge. He joins you.

"Hey, um, if you could maybe not-"

"Don't worry, Peter. I won't," you say, looking over at him reassuringly. He sighs.

"Guess I can take this off now."

You watch as he pulls off the mask, taking a deep breath and shaking out his curls. You don't let yourself stare and instead just smile, looking down beneath the two of you.

"That's my apartment," you point down, slightly to the right at the fire escape.

He looks up at you in surprise and the wind gets knocked out of you. You'd never seen Peter Parker the way you did right now. He'd always been this mellow kid, yeah, cute, but sort of... in the background. A nerd (but that wasn't a bad thing). Now, though, he was in his element. The moon hitting him just right, his curls messy from his mask. He wasn't afraid of being judged because nobody was around, and he was wearing a suit that made him who he always wanted to be: a hero.

"No way! My apartment is literally right across from yours!" he says, excitement and facial expressions reminding you of a puppy. He pointed his window out, and sure enough, it was just about right across from yours as far as you could tell.

You don't know what to say, so you just smile instead, letting a little laugh out.

"So, uh," you breathe, "I'm not sure exactly what I'm gonna do about the whole Spider-Man's Secrets thing, but I won't expose you."

"Thank you," Peter sighs, voice accompanied with relief and a crooked smile.

"Maybe I can tell everyone that you're just too good. Like, you've got titanium walls all around you."

"Heh, yeah."

He looks over at you and smiles.

+ + +

EPILOGUE - NOTE:: some of the details of this may not make complete sense, nor line up with the plot of the movie in which this takes place. the point still gets across, so please don't make any rude comments lol- i did the best i could!

"I managed to send the Elemental back into the dimensional rift, but I don't think I'm gonna make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Man attacked me for some reason. He has an army of weaponized drones, Stark technology. He's saying he's the only one who's gonna be the new Iron Man, no one else."

"What the fuck?" you mutter. Peter would never say that.

You gasp at the video. Sure enough, Peter's standing there, confirming a fatal drone attack. Screams ring off in the distance and you practically choke.

"There you have it, folks. Conclusive proof that Spider-Man was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio!"

You sneer at the screen, the sight of J.J. Jameson making you angry. That man always got angry over the smallest things. You get on your phone to text Peter but stop. More footage from Mysterio begins playing.

"Spider-Man's real... Spider-Man's real name is... Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker," he chokes out.

You jump as Peter's school picture fills your TV screen.

"Holy fucking shit," you mutter, heart racing.

This is not right.

+ + +

He didn't answer you at all. None of your texts, none of your calls. Hell, you almost went over to his apartment, but you didn't remember his new address, since he and May moved after the Blip.

The two of you had become extremely close ever since you'd found out his identity, hanging out whenever you could. It was beyond unlike him to not answer you.

You sprinted into the news room. It was less than 24 hours after Peter had been exposed, and he was everywhere. Social media, news stations; hell, his picture was all over Times Square. And everything they were saying was all wrong.

"Mr. Harrington!"

The man spins around, startled.

"Oh! Good morning, Y/N-"

"I need you to start taping right now. Abe! You know how to hack, right? Broadcast this all over Times Square and every news station you can," you pant. The kid sits up in his seat, brushing Pop Tart crumbs off of his jeans and nodding with a smile.

"What is this all about?" Mr. Harrington asks as he moves over to the camera, cautious.

"You'll see."

You sigh as you sit in your seat, looking over at Abe. It takes a minute, but as soon as he gives a thumbs up, Mr. Harrington hits record.

"Hi. My name is Y/N L/N, and I am a student of Midtown School of Science and Technology, as well as a reporter for our daily announcements and an affiliate of Peter Parker. As I'm sure you all know, it was reported yesterday by the Daily Bugle that Spider-Man's secret identity is a boy named Peter Parker, and that Spider-Man is a so-called 'selfish murderer.' Well, I'm here to tell you that none of this is true. I know, I'm just a highschooler, but having to write several research papers for this school has taught me how to provide a statement with legitimate backup. That's what I'm here to do today.

"Mysterio, who's real name is Quentin Beck, was introduced to the world as a hero, fighting off creatures called Elementals that wrecked havoc throughout Europe. When one of these Elementals reached London, the footage shown yesterday was of Spider-Man and Mysterio on the London Bridge amidst chaos. Not only was that video altered to turn the blame on Spider-Man, but a creature called a Skrull is actually Spider-Man. Upon speaking with the head of SHIELD, I was given information on these creatures- they can shapeshift into whatever they want to be, as long as they've seen the organism before.

"Now, how do I know all this? One: after doing some light research on Quentin Beck, I discovered that he'd been fired from Stark industries in the past for his controlling and manipulative behavior. That'd explain his reasoning and desire for power. Two: upon asking a classmate of mine- who's an absolute prodigy in the field of computer technology and video- to review the given footage, they were able to find two small glitches in the footage that revealed the real video underneath, and further, unmask it completely. Abe, the video should be in your inbox. Pull it up and broadcast it, please."

You let out a deep sigh as you hear typing, then the sound of the real video.

"EDITH, turn off the drones."

The video clip finishes and the camera focus returns to you. "Now, I don't have complete proof on me about the identity claim I've made. But, as soon as the head of SHIELD gets back to me, I can prove it. What you do have confirmed, though, is that Mysterio was the problem. Spider-Man did nothing, other than do what was best for the safety of others. I have all the evidence lined up for you, and it's up to you to believe it. A message for you, Mysterio- if you're still alive- and your affiliates: don't mess with kids from Midtown Tech. We know what Spider-Man stands for, and so does the rest of the world. Trying to mess up his reputation from the grave doesn't help anyone. Sincerely, Y/N L/N and the students of Midtown Tech. As well as Peter Parker, who feels pretty attacked right now for no good reason. Have a great day!"

You smile into the camera before Mr. Harrington turns it off. You hadn't noticed them come in, but everyone on the news team had come into the room, all of them silent, dumbstruck. And then they started clapping.

You give them a tired nod and grin before grabbing your bag, saying hi to MJ and walking out. Thankfully, school hadn't started yet, but students were starting to arrive. You enter the bathroom and stare into the mirror, hoping you didn't just fuck everything up even more.

Your phone buzzes and Peter's contact picture (one of him in Hello Kitty pajamas, sticking his tongue out at the camera) fills your screen. You hurriedly answer.

"Peter! Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Janitors closet, 300 hall. Knock when you're here."

Butterflies flutter through your body as you run through the hallway, ignoring the weird looks from the couple that always shows up early to makeout against the lockers. You find the closet and knock, looking around to make sure nobody could see. The door opens and a hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you inside.

You gasp, balancing yourself, and Peter shuts the door behind you.

His appearance surprises you. He's the face of depression and hopelessness. Dark bags fill the space beneath his eyes, which are red from tears. The look makes you hate the world.

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," he breathes. "the news is buzzing about what you did. They got confirmation from Nick about what you said and, sure enough, every news station is broadcasting your claims with full evidence. Everyone's believing it and apologizing. Thank you."

You smile weakly and wrap your arms around him. "I did what I had to do."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he mutters into the crook of your neck. The scent of your perfume makes him feel all tingly inside, the softness of your skin making him never want to stop holding you. You felt the same way.

"Ditto."

+ + +

akdjxfbavdgkjnwrjk i hope you guys enjoyed !!!!! tbh i'm not sure how to feel about this imagine lol

[lailannajacobs]

Empire of Angels | Part Four

Pairing: Bucky x ofc!Amelie Novak 

Summary: Amelie Novak moved from New York to Boston to escape a shitty ex and to get a killer story. She just didn’t realize she’d meant that literally. 

Warnings: Mainly fluff! 

Word Count: 5.5k 

A/N: Bit of a long one today, but I think you’re going to like it! At least I hope you do! Always love to hear what you think!! <3 

Empire of Angels | Part Four 

Amelie had learned a few pickpocket skills from a criminal she’d interviewed a couple years back and had kept up with them knowing they’d be useful one day. Her skills weren’t exceptional, not even close to have worked on someone like the Winter Soldier, but there was nothing a little close flirting couldn’t do to distract most men. She’d been hoping when she’d seen the outline in his pants pocket that she’d find a credit card, but the hotel key she’d picked up was second best. Actually, she quickly realized he probably only used cash and fake names, which meant that she’d hit the jackpot. Now she could actually find him. Not that Amelie had any idea how long he’d be staying in Boston. Hopefully Barnes’ target would give him a run for his money, and he’d be stuck here longer than his usual missions.

Weaving her way through the crowd, she made it to the bathroom without attracting Barnes’ attention and locked herself into an empty stall. The card wasn’t from a well-known chain, but she hadn’t expected any different. At least this way, when she asked about Barnes, the receptionist might have an idea who she was asking about.

She took out her cellphone and snapped a picture of the card, front and back, knowing she couldn’t keep it. If Barnes realized his card was missing, he wouldn’t hesitate to change hotels. She was going to have to find a way to get it back to him without raising suspicion. How the hell was she going to do that?”

Staring at the smudged, crass writing on the stall for inspiration, Amelie sat on the toilet, unsure of what to do. If she was dealing with anyone other than the Winter Solider, she would have felt confident in her abilities, but not when going up against him. She let out humourless chuckle. He wasn’t like any other man she’d met. At least he’d warned her.

If only someone else could get the card to him…someone he wouldn’t suspect. Sniffling in the stall beside her gave her an idea. It would probably take a lot of convincing and a shit-ton of luck, but maybe it was just crazy enough to work. She just had to hope the woman beside her was as crazy as she was.

Amelie stood, smoothed out her shirt and opened the stall to knock on the one beside her, “Are you all right in there?”

There was a long pause that almost made Amelie decide she’d have to find some other plan, but the voice on the other side let out a pitiful, “Me?”

“Is there someone else in there?” Amelie winced, knowing she’d have to be a little more sympathetic than that, “I don’t mean to intrude…I heard you and thought I’d ask.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” The woman said through sniffles.

Amelie needed to get her out of the stall soon. She was running out of time - she might even be out of it if Barnes had already left the bar.

“Want to talk about it?” Amelie offered, “I’m a good listener. Why don’t you come out?”

There was no answer, but the door opened to reveal red rimmed eyes and smudged blue mascara. Her tight black dress was barely long enough to be considered a dress and her hair was crêped high enough to make half of jersey’s women jealous. But even the smudged make-up and tears couldn’t hide the tenacity and anger in this woman’s eyes. She would be perfect.

“What happened?” Amelie asked, stepping aside to let her use the mirror.

She sucked in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, “He was a fucking bastard that’s what. The asshole cheated on me, and with Rhonda of all fucking people! Can you fucking believe it?”

Amelie shook her head as if she knew who Rhonda was.

“And he had the fucking audacity to tell me on our anniversary,” She wiped the mascara from under her eyes, “And I was so fucking surprised, that I just sat there and nodded along like it was actually my fucking fault until he left.”

“That bastard,” Amelie echoed.

“And here I am, fucking pissed, and he’s god knows where. Fuck! I’m such a mess,” She clenched the mascara wand in her hand, staring at her reflection as if could tell her who she was.

Amelie put a hand on her bare shoulder and smiled sympathetically at her in the mirror, “I understand that…I had a pretty shitty last relationship myself. But I think I have something that might help.”

“You do?”

“Trust me. It won’t be as good as the real thing, but it’ll be the next best thing. And I’ll be honest with you, it’ll help me get back at my asshole ex too,” Amelie lied, knowing it was the exact thing the woman needed to hear to seal the deal.

She nodded with a smile, “I’m in. Let’s send these fucking assholes back to hell.”

Amelie leaned against the wall in the back corner of the bar, the shadows covering her presence. Mavis - the woman from the bathroom who’s name she’d quickly learned - strode across the bar with purpose, her make-up near perfect and her hair about an inch taller. To anyone else, Mavis looked like she’d been partying most of the night and nothing more. Amelie grinned. Barnes had no idea who he was up against.

Mavis beelined for a jacked twenty something man in the far corner of the room. Amelie had pegged him earlier after watching him grab the waitress’s ass. The slurs he continued to shout at her for the rest of the night meant that Amelie couldn’t find it in her to feel bad for what was about to happen.

The slap of Mavis’ long manicured fingers across the asshole’s cheek resonated through the bar, and if that hadn’t caught everyone’s attention, her high-pitched screeching did; even the Winter Soldier stopped to look at what was going on.

“You fucking jerk!” She shouted, watching the man sputter as he tried to recover from the slap, “I can’t fucking believe you! On our anniversary! And with my best fucking friend of all people! You’re a fucking piece of trash and I hope you rot in hell!”

They guy recovered, glaring at her, “What the hell is going on? I don’t even know you! Crazy bitch!”

“So mature, Carl. Pretending like you don’t even fucking know me. I don’t need this and I sure as hell don’t need you. Next time do a better job at hiding your fucking evidence,” Mavis flicked the hotel card at his chest and spun on her heel.

Amelie could tell Mavis was trying hard to keep a straight face as she walked by and out of the bar. That random guy hadn’t actually been her Carl, but at least she’d gotten to yell at someone.

Barnes, patting his pockets, blanched when he realized who’s card she’d just found. Amelie sunk further into the shadows when he looked around, probably trying to find her. His brows furrowed when he turned up short and she sighed with relief. Amelie had been lucky that Barnes kept his money in the same pocket as the card and that he’d likely assume that the card had fallen out when he’d gone to pay for a drink. As long as he didn’t see her leave the bar, she wouldn’t be a suspect.

The sputtering asshole turned to his friends, cursing loudly between gulps of beer, the key card long forgotten on the ground behind him. Barnes wouldn’t get it right away, the odds of starting a bar fight too likely, probably jeopardizing whatever he’d come here to do.

Amelie would have liked to stay for the rest of the night, but it was too risky. If she wanted to use the information she’d gotten tonight, she couldn’t draw any more attention to herself. Amelie considered the night a success, grinning. She would have to buy Mavis a bottle of wine for that performance.

“So, what did you find?” Amelie yawned when she walked into the office the next morning.

“I don’t think this is something we could be talking about in the office,” Karla glanced up from her laptop, her eyes lighting up when she noticed the second cup of coffee in Amelie’s hands.

“Maybe,” She handed over the coffee and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, “But I’m just too tired to care right now.”

Karla kept typing on her laptop, “What did you do after I left you apartment last night?”

“Went to a bar,” Amelie almost told her she’d seen Barnes but kept her mouth shut. The less Karla knew the less danger she’d be in. And maybe it was also a little bit because Amelie didn’t want to share her encounters with anyone else. She doubted Karla would understand either way, “Stayed way too late.”

“Did you find anything interesting?” Karla stopped, looking up.

“Nothing yet,” Omissions didn’t count as lies, “What about you? Any patterns?”

Karla looked around nervously, “Carey is going to kill us if we don’t have our stories in by noon.”

Amelie shrugged off her coat. “Mine’s handed in.”

“What?” Karla glanced at her laptop as if she’d magically finish her own article, “When did you have time to do it?”

“Yesterday. At the bar,” Amelie shrugged.

Karla shook her head incredulously, “I don’t get you.”

Amelie grinned, “Thank you.”

“I’m still not telling you what I found until work’s done,” She said, getting back to her laptop after a sip of coffee.

“So you did find something!” Amelie leaned over the cubicle, waking up for the first time all day.

“What did she find?” Arnie asked, sauntering over with a false grin on his face.

Karla stared at Amelie with wide, panicked eyes but Amelie wasn’t fazed.

“Karla found a way to get the milk to stop sticking to the bottom of the pot when making custard. Turns out you just have to boil some of the sugar with the milk instead of beating it all with the egg yolks. Who knew, right Arnie?”

He nodded, his disappointment clear, “Yeah…who knew?”

“I swear I’ve been making it wrong my whole life. I’ve been making my life so much harder than it had to be. Did you know” Amelie continued blabbering, hoping to bore Arnie out of his mind.

It didn’t take long for him to grab the moment she took a breath to tell her he needed to get to this really, really important story he was working on. Amelie nodded enthusiastically and looked over at Karla, who shook her head with a small smirk on her lips.

One day Karla would get used to Amelie’s not-so-conventional tactics. Even though she was desperate to know what Karla had found out, she knew Karla was right and that work wasn’t the place to get into it. And she really didn’t want to get Karla fired because she was doing work for her instead of for Cary.

Amelie considered going up to Cary to ask him for another assignment but decided against it. Until he assigned some other unimportant fluff peace for her to work on, she could focus on Barnes.

“Sergeant Barnes didn’t defect.”

Amelie almost dropped the kettle filled with boiling water, “What?”

Karla nodded as if this was no big deal, sifting through Amelie’s selection of teas.

“And you waited this long to tell me?” Amelie practically yelled.

She shrugged and chose a tea, “I wasn’t going to tell you at work, and it seemed like the kind of thing to say when we were settled in.”

“How did you manage to find out?” Amelie snatched the bag or earl grey from her hand and dumped it into the teapot unceremoniously, “I thought everything on Barnes was more than classified.”

“Yeah…”

Amelie stopped her pouring at looked at Karla, who was most definitely avoiding eye contact. Their laptops were set on her kitchen table amongst a spread of papers, pens and a bowl of popcorn, none of which Karla seemed to be focused on despite actually looking directly at them. Amelie didn’t need her gut instinct to know Karla wasn’t in a sharing mood.

“And how exactly did you get his classified information?” She asked, watching Karla intently.

She shrugged, “A friend of mine has pretty high clearance…”

“High?” Amelie raised a brow, “It has to be more than high to get this kind of information.”

Karla fiddled with a napkin, “She may have taken the liberty to get the information another way.”

“But it’s legit?”

Amelie knew there was definitely more to this ‘friend’ of hers, but she didn’t push the matter. Not now, when there were other more important things to figure out. After that.

“Yes, it’s legit.”

“Good,” Amelie nodded and began pulling up documents on her own laptop, “Do you have the file?”

The silence stretched out for so long that Amelie almost repeated her question, thinking Karla hadn’t heard, but she was staring at her, wide-eyed.

“What?” Amelie asked.

“Aren’t you going to tell me that what I did was wrong?”

“No,” Amelie shut her computer and gave Karla her full attention, “If you could have gotten this legally, you would have?”

Karla didn’t hesitate, “Yes.”

“And did anyone get hurt in the process?” Amelie continued.

“Not yet,” Karla pursed her lips, “Or that I know of.”

That last comment made Amelie wonder what kind of friends Karla had but it didn’t matter, “Exactly. You did what you needed to get to the truth. Sometimes it’s not always conventional. Show me the file?”

Karla pulled it up on her laptop and slid it across the table so that she could get a good look. Amelie read it, paused, then read it again just to be sure.

“Can I print this?”

Karla shrugged and poured herself another cup of tea. Even staring at the printed version, Amelie still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. She’d known something was weird, but she hadn’t expected this.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Karla asked, breaking the silence.

Amelie nodded, thinking, “You’re sure this file is legit?”

“One hundred percent,” She affirmed, “My friend wouldn’t have gotten me anything less.”

“This says Barnes died in combat eight years ago: body never retrieved.”

“Train accident in the alps,” Karla continued, reciting the rest of the file as if she’d memorized it, “No known missions at the time.”

Amelie flipped through more files, “Do you know what unit he was a part of? I found something about the 107th infantry unit but apparently that was deactivated years ago.”

“I was wondering the same thing, so I asked my friend to dig a little deeper. We found a note that said something about CS. I didn’t ask how, but my friend figured this out: they’re an off the books squad of about a dozen seriously tough guys, half of them heads of their own units before this one. The two leading men were Captain Steve Rogers and Marine Frank Castle, with Barnes and Russo - another marine - as seconds. My friend couldn’t get me those files, but I got a look and all four men were marked down as dead in combat. Apparently, they had defied orders and went off without the rest of their squad or backup, and none came back,” Karla raised as brow, the look on her face saying she didn’t believe there wasn’t more to that story.

Amelie ran her hand through her hair, trying not to pull at it, “So the U.S government assumes they died because they defied orders? Or because they followed orders and they couldn’t find the bodies - the proof. Then Barnes turns up on some security camera years after the assassination of the Belgian Prime Minister - which they later linked to him. When he does, the big news outlets are pressuring the military for some explanation and they come up with a fake one that takes all the fault from them. Right?”

“Right. And they wouldn’t even have to come up with a fake file,” Karla began, “Any high enough ranking officer gives a speech or talks to the press ‘under wraps’ and then it’s considered legitimate.”

Amelie felt herself getting swept up in the idea, “And when they figure out that Barnes is alive, they don’t change the file because they might even be as confused as we are.”

Karla pulled up a different file and turned the screen to face her, “Here’s what I don’t get; seven years ago, they thought he was dead, but soon realized he wasn’t. What did Barnes do in those three years between his ‘death’ and his first kill?”

“Maybe there were kills before that, but they weren’t linked to him?” Karla continued when Amelie said nothing.

“Maybe.”

They sat in silence, both mulling over the new evidence.

“Something about that three year-gap doesn’t add up,” Amelie mused, “We’re missing something important.”

“What are you thinking?” Karla asked.

“Put yourself in his shoes. You’re a sergeant, twenty-six years old, no family, no responsibilities, just your work and your friends - who are presumable overseas with you. Why leave a good paying job? Sure, it’s no mercenary’s salary, but it’s not like he has a sick relative or some other reason that would be ‘worth’ the price of murder. Could Barnes really just boil down to greed and nothing more?”

Amelie refused to believe that. The man she’d crossed paths with couldn’t be boiled down to something as simple and boring as money. But really, he could. Just because she didn’t have the common sense to be afraid of him, didn’t mean she actually knew him. Amelie knew nothing about him other than he was rude, grumpy and far more soft-spoken than she’d expected for a soldier. Even though she didn’t believe it for a second, he could be putting on an act the same way she was.

“And then we have that weird switch in victims…” Amelie sighed and flopped back onto her sofa.

There were so many questions and not enough answers. Amelie had known this story wouldn’t be easy, but she’d at least expected to get somewhere.

Karla’s brows furrowed.

“What is it? Amelie demanded, trying not to get to get her hopes up by that look.  

Karla placed the list of Barnes’ kills in front of Amelie, drawing a line after the first third, “What if this change is a change in profession; a change from mercenary to vigilante. We said last time that looking at him like a serial killer is out best bet, well, what if he’s not working for anyone. He starts off working for someone else, gets tired of it, and decides to ‘redeem’ himself?”

Amelie had a feeling that there was something off with Karla’s theory, but she didn’t say anything. They needed all the theories they could get and when she thought about it, Barnes hadn’t told her who he was working for. Wanting to avoid the queasy feeling she was getting, she turned their attention to a different question.

“What about the three years between his ‘death’ and his first kill? Why wait so long?”

“What if he was in the hospital?” Karla nodded, warming up to the idea, “What if - whatever happened in Europe - almost left him dead, but somehow he ends up in the hospital and when he figures out the military has abandoned him, he decides to go rogue.”

“Maybe…that would make sense. Probably our best bet right now,” Amelie scribbled the theory into her journal, “So the guy almost dies, wakes up to find that the army has abandoned him, decides to work as a mercenary as payback then kind of grows a conscious and becomes a serial killer vigilante?”

Karla grimaced, “When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”

“It’s our best theory at the moment. Did you find anything on Goulson?” Amelie decided to change the subject completely, not liking the theory she had scribbled into her notebook.

She couldn’t pinpoint why, but her gut was telling her she was missing something. Something big. And she also wanted there to be more to Barnes than the few words on her paper. He had been far too interesting for her to believe he could be summed up by revenge, greed and a violent change of heart. But her brain was also starting to hurt, and she knew she wasn’t going to get anything more on the subject tonight.

“Honestly your article probably had the most information on Goulson I could find,” Karla said, “I could try and find more if you’d like.”

Amelie closed her eyes, “Sure, yeah, talk to your friend. Maybe he can find something I missed.”

“You okay? You look a little distracted.”

“Yeah I’m fine.” Amelie forced a smile, “I just feel like I’m missing something important you know?”

Karla nodded sympathetically, “Yeah I know.”

“If only I could just ask him” Amelie mumbled, not realizing she spoke the words aloud until Karla choked out a laugh.

“Yeah, somehow I doubt you’d live to tell the tale.”

Amelie lifted her eyes, but Karla was already focused on her computer again, having dismissed Amelie’s words without a second thought. The Winter Solider was reputed to be dangerous and violent. There was no way Karla would take her statement seriously.

But Amelie had been serious, even if she knew there was no way she could ever ask Barnes for answers. He’d never give them up willingly. She knew she needed to see him again though. He held missing pieces that she wasn’t going to get anywhere else.

“I heard Cary changed your section in the paper?” Karla said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yeah,” Amelie smiled, thinking Barnes would be pretty amused if he heard, “Jacobs is out for the next two weeks on sick leave so I’m taking over the sports column.”

“How did that happen?”

Amelie shrugged as if it was no big deal, “No clue.”

Karla didn’t seem to think anything of it and got back to her research.

Jacobs going on sick leave was - even if it was unfortunate for him - the best thing that could’ve happened at the moment. Amelie had had to beg and pester Cary the whole day, but eventually he’d agreed to give her the column until Jacobs came back. If her job involved watching the games, then who said she couldn’t do if from a certain pub. Sure being at the game itself would make a better column, but she was only filling in for two weeks. No one was going to mind if it wasn’t stellar. Amelie was banking on the fact that Barnes had to be at that pub and if she had her name on an article as her alibi for being there too, well, it wouldn’t draw the suspicion from her completely, but at least it would help.

**

Even though she’d be going to the game tonight, Amelie had decided to stake out Barnes’ motel. She’d parked her car in the lot of another sketchy motel across the street for most of the day now, and Barnes was nowhere to be seen. If she hadn’t gone in earlier to confirm with the clerk that a man matching his description was staying in room six, then she would’ve decided he’d skipped town. The fact that he hadn’t only confirmed her theory that he still had bigger fish to fry.

The game was an hour away and Amelie still needed to go to her apartment and get ready before heading to the bar. She sighed, annoyed he hadn’t made an appearance, but convincing herself that he’d show tomorrow. Pulling the car out onto the boulevard, Amelie could shake the feeling of disappointment. Where had he been all day? Had she simply missed him? She’d been there all day and hadn’t seen or heard anything.

The light ahead turned red and she slammed on the breaks, realizing she’d been lost in thought. She glanced left to make sure she had the right of way to turn before she could turn and froze, her pounding heart the only thing that worked. Sitting in the black SUV beside her was the exact man she’d been looking for all day.

His eyes widened when he recognized her and he looked like he was opening his mouth to say something, so she sped off, terrified he’d realize she was staking out his motel. They were a five-minute drive away from the motel, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. When she was almost back at her apartment and certain he hadn’t followed her, she eased off the gas, realizing how stupid she’d been. If she’d held back, she could have gotten his licence plate number. At least she knew what kind of car to look for - that was if he didn’t swap out his car now that she’d seen him. Amelie still felt that uneasy feeling coursing through her veins, but she tried to ignore it. She had a game to watch tonight and a mercenary to observe.

*

“Another one, Amelie?”

She smirked, “Knox, you treat me so well.”

“I try darlin’” The bartender shot her a knowing grin, pulling the bourbon from the shelf, “Can’t have a pretty lady like you going thirsty.”

She slid her empty glass across the bar, earning a wink in return. Despite the Friday night game and packed bar, Amelie had found a cozy spot at the corner of the bar, her phone out to take notes on the game. Barnes hadn’t shown up, but the night was still early. There was still time.

Typing up a few quick notes after Boston’s third missed free throw of the first quarter, she took a sip of the drink Knox had poured for her. Amelie had learned a long time ago - when she’d been a bartender herself - that no one knew as much information as the bartender. Befriending them was never a bad decision, even if Knox’s loyalties did lie with the Irish Mob. He wouldn’t give her anything on Goulson, but she doubted he’d feel any remorse on turning over the Winter Soldier. As long as it didn’t hurt the mob, he could turn out to be an extremely useful source of information.

She almost called him over to ask how often he’d seen Barnes this week when she felt someone ease into the barstool beside her. Her heartbeat picked up. She didn’t need to turn to see who was there. It was almost as if he radiated the kind of danger and excitement that had her blood pounding in anticipation.

Amelie tilted her head, letting it loll to the side to get a good look at Barnes. He wasn’t looking at her, but at Knox, signalling for a whisky on the rocks. His hair was an unkempt mess, falling partly in his eyes, down to his strong jaw, which was covered in a light stubble as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was a far cry from the clean-shaven soldier she’d seen on his military ID, but she couldn’t say it was a bad look.

When he got his drink, his gaze slid over toward her, cool blue eyes curious. Amelie kept staring unabashedly, thinking two things. One; she didn’t mind the view and two; if he’d come over to say something, she’d wait until he did first. The bar burst into cheers, probably from a successful three-pointer, but he didn’t flinch at the sound, never breaking eye contact. She narrowed her eyes at him. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Would you care to explain what you were doing this afternoon?” He asked, raising a brow.

She shrugged, “Research. What about you, Sergeant?”

“Research,” He echoed. She couldn’t decide if it was in disbelief or if he was also telling the truth, no matter how vaguely, “And what about that research of yours, Novak?”

“Oh, you know,” She waved a hand, “Just sports.”

He chuckled, and this time she was sure he didn’t believe her.

She grinned, “I thought I told you I was still stuck doing the sports column. Turns out that little article about you didn’t get me that promotion I wanted.”

He licked his lips as if he was trying to keep a smile off his face, “That’s too bad. Though it’s kind of hard to believe after that little article.”

“Oh, I only put that out because I happened to fall upon something vaguely interesting and I was really bored,” She unlocked her phone and showed him her notes on tonight’s game, “If you read the paper tomorrow, you’ll find my name right there in the sports column. Why else do you think I’m here tonight?”

“And here I thought you were here to see me,” He took a long sip of his drink.

“You told me to stay away,” She leaned further into the innocent act, “Why on earth would I come here to see you?”

He moved so close that his hair brushed against her cheek and levelled his gaze to hers so that when he looked up at the TV screen he could barely see, “Because you’d actually be at the game tonight if you really wanted to see anything.”

“True, but the Garden doesn’t have a bartender half as good as Knox,” She said, nodding toward Knox, who caught her look and winked back.

“You come here for the bartender?”

She laughed at his tone, “You don’t seem to believe me.”

“I underestimated you once,” He titled his head to look her in the eyes, their faces so close she noticed flecks of green in his eyes, “I don’t plan on doing it again.”

“That’s a smart move, Sergeant,” She murmured.

He leaned back, “To your disappointment.”

She chuckled, surprised by the fact that it was real, “Yes, to my disappointment. Why are you here, Barnes?”

“For the bartender of course,” The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She leaned in a little closer, “Aren’t you in a good mood tonight.”

His smile dropped and he backed off even further. Amelie immediately wanted to take her words back, but because she couldn’t she rephrased her question, “Why are you here, sitting beside me? I’m sure a man like yourself would have other, more important things to be doing with his time.”

Her question seemed to put him more at ease, though his stiff posture told her that however much he’d let his guard down before wasn’t going to happen again, “I’m here because this is the second time we’ve seen each other today.”

She fluttered her lashes, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Are you sure?” He drew out the words, leaning in as he spoke.

Amelie pretended to think about it for a moment, “Yes. I’m sure.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Why are you here, Novak?”  

“A great story,” She replied honestly. When his eyes widened in surprise, she continued, “Though the game is only beginning, so I can’t be sure that I’ll be able to get something worth writing about tonight.”

His gaze flickered to the screen and back, “And what happens if nothing good happens by the time the buzzer goes?”

“Then I do my best to write something with what I’ve got.”

“Will it even be worth it?” He asked, playing along with the analogy, “To submit something that has nothing good in it?”

She traced the rim of her glass with her finger, “I have a feeling that won’t be a problem. The game has been pretty interesting so far.”

“Interesting,” He echoed with one of his little huffs that she now knew was something akin to a laugh, “But didn’t you say you wanted to stop doing sports stories? I think you should get out of the game and let the professionals do their job.”

“I’m more qualified that you think, Sergeant,” Amelie jut her chin up.

He leaned in closer, cornering her between the wall, the bar and his body. What little humour was there, vanished, “I don’t doubt that in the slightest, but I don’t think you understand how qualified you need to be to get the job done.”

She stared into those piercing eyes, refusing to back down, “I’m not afraid of getting hurt.”

“Obviously,” He snapped, “But you should be.”

She rolled her eyes, “Your threats are getting old.”

“They’re not sinking in,” He growled.

“Why does it matter?” She stared at him for a long moment, for a second there, sure he was going to look away, “Do you care if I get hurt, Barnes?”

A sigh escaped his lips and she could practically see him deflate as he sat back down in his stool and signalled for another drink, “How can you be so sure I’m not the one who will be the reason you get hurt.”

His brows furrowed and she watched the way his hand tightened around the glass.

“A gut feeling,” She said softly, her words barely heard over the crowd.

“How reassuring,” He answered dryly.

She shrugged, and took a sip of her bourbon, “Reassures me.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, head tilted in interest.

“Because,” She dipped her glass toward him, “It’s led me to you every time.”

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 10x13: What We Become -Details

Okay, let's talk details. This won’t be terribly long. Most of these are things we’ve been talking about for years, so I don’t think I need to over explain them. If you have questions about anything I point out here, send me a message or an ask. ;D

***As always, spoilers abound for 10x13 below. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

There are a lot of small symbols that were very important, but also things we’ve seen a lot before, so I won’t go over absolutely every instance. For example, in Michonne’s hallucination of Andrea, she finds bullets on the ground. I thought that was significant.

We saw a lot of boats, such as the little boat Michonne and Virgil arrived in. She had him locked in handcuffs on the boat, a symbol of the sheriff. We also saw a lot of fives. Virgil said something about how she could've unlocked him five hours ago, his kid was five years old, etc. Of course, we also saw a lot of threes.

The herb garden reminded me of Herschel at the prison, and the fact that Virgil kept talking about making tea was kind of a call back to Herschel making the tea in order to fight the virus in S4. I'm also wondering if the tea theme this episode might be related to the Tibet theme we've seen a lot of lately. When talking about his kids playing, Virgil mentioned sailors and buried treasure. interesting references, no?

Okay, one thing that jumped out at me was the fact that we saw three graves for Virgil's family. It reminded me of 7x04 when Father Gabriel filled in an extra grave so that they could lie to Negan about Maggie having died. In the episode, it only really focuses on the one grave (the fake one) but if you think about it, there were three graves. Glenn, Abraham, and then the fake one for Maggie. Well, TD pounced on that at the time because we're literally talking about an empty grave. About someone Negan thought was dead, but who's really alive and well in a different place.

So, a callback to that, but I'm starting to think the three graves represent the three resurrections from the pickle story. I will talk a little bit more about that either tomorrow or Thursday.

Virgil’s backstory was just a little bit confusing. Apparently, this facility was still functioning, even after the apocalypse hit. But when stragglers would come to the islands in boats, they would take them in. He talked about how people started to run short of food rations and a fight broke out and resulted in a newbie being killed. I kept thinking that that story and wondering how we're supposed to apply it.

Then it hit me. I do believe that this entire thing was sort of a replay of Grady. Think about it this way. Grady didn't really take in stragglers so much as force them in, but they were bringing people in all the time. The newbie who was killed in a scuffle could be Beth. 

Plus, you have the fact that Michonne was thrown into a cell, imprisoned, and at one point, she makes a break for it, much like Beth did. She even let people out on her way out, just as Beth let Noah out with her. And, like Beth she wasn't able to escape as she'd hoped, because the boat was on fire. Also, the food try Virgil gives her looks an awful lot like the ones they used at Grady.

When Michonne and Virgil first go into the facility, there's a whole bunch of debris almost blocking the hallway. There's a small space they can squeeze through, but a blonde, female walker is caught in the space. So, Beth walker. After Michonne kills her and lowers her to the ground, you can see a phone cord and receiver wrapped around her. More of the Communication Theme there. It also reminded me a lot of Still, when Beth and Daryl had to go over and under things and right the clock because it was in their way. Just reminded me a lot of the golf club.

They even use a stretcher as a shield – talk about a hospital theme — and there are lots of posters about that talk about not spreading virus. That's a little weird with the pandemic going on right now, but obviously there is a theme here. (And yes, it’s a VD poster. 😊)

As I mentioned yesterday, there are people hanging in the room, just like a golf club.

I also thought the dead rats in cages were interesting. It reminded me of the pet shop in 6x03, which was right before Glenn’s death fake out. This is also the second time we've seen rats the season. The first time was right before Alpha’s horde arrived when a pack of rats ran across the field in front of Yumilo and Kelly. I’m not sure how to interpret the rats, yet, but I’ll keep an eye on them.

There's technically a water theme because of the island, but we also kept seeing water dripping from the faucet. We found out that Virgil accidentally locked his wife and kids inside the right happened. It's a lot like Father Gabriel, only the opposite. He locked inside instead of out, but they still died.

Every time Virgil looked through the door, he reminded me of Rick and the Governor and last season Daryl looking to the door the same way. That theme very much revolves around Coda.

Threes. Virgil told it had that conversation three times and he kept saying, "I want you to see." Part of the speak no evil theme. When Michonne is hallucinating, she says she's cold, and he says, "then picture of the sun." Remember that we saw the sun drawing at the prison and it's always been sort of a symbol of Beth.

Another big thing that jumped out at me is that when Negan gave Michonne his bat in the clearing, he said, "wish them a happy new year from us, will you?" I'm not entirely sure clear on what this means, but we have definitely heard it before. In 4x16, when the Claimers were about to kill Rick, Joe Claimer also talked about New Year's Eve. These are the only two times I can think of that we've heard it, though I might've missed other instances. 

The only thing I can think of is that New Year's comes after Christmas. If Christmas represents someone returning from the death fake out, then maybe New Year's Eve makes a weird kind of sense. Nobody really had a death fake out quite like Beth in S4, but it's also true that when everyone scattered from the prison, no one knew if anyone else was alive. Rick and Michonne didn't know if Daryl was alive and Daryl didn't know if they were alive. I don’t know. I’ll have to think on it more.

I will say anything more about Michonne’s hallucination, except that it was really epic. I really enjoyed that part of the show.

When she gets out and realizes the boats been set on fire, she tackles Virgil. He's talking about his wife and says, "she always told me the right thing to do, and then she was gone, and I didn't know what to do." Sounds like something Daryl could say about Beth, right?"

Michonne talks about mercy and letting Virgil live. I thought that was sweet because it was a callback to what she and Rick learned from Carl.

The next day when she talks to him in his cell, he talks about looking up at the stars (constellation = Sirius) and also about heaven, will Michonne talks about hell. So there's a big heaven and hell theme going on here.

After she finds the boots in the storeroom, he takes her to the boat. One thing I noticed was that he talked about the boat washing up in the big storm. I think the characters were talking about a big storm in the very beginning of the season, so I’m assuming it's meant to be that one. There’s something strange about that big storm because they keep referring back to it.

We see red crustaceans and reads near the boat. I’ll talk more about those in my next post. On the boat, we see a yellow life preserver, blue coolers, and a pickle jar (resurrection. Yea!). All important symbols.

The book Michonne finds suggests the boat set out from the New Jersey shipyard. I'm assuming that's where she’s headed.

When Virgil is surprised that they're willing to let him come with them, Michonne says, "sometimes the most injured are also the most forgiving." Just reminded me a lot of Daryl.

I thought it was super cute that RJ chose Little Brave Man for his call signal. I totally didn't get it at first, but remember that earlier in the season, Judith was telling RJ the story of Rick on the bridge and she called him, "the Brave Man." So, using “Little” Brave Man, is just another way of saying Rick Junior. Super cute.

Here are some other quick things my fellow TDers have pointed out:

During Michonne’s hallucination, the camera angles were weird and skewed, much like a Grady.

Andrew had a bone-handled knife, just like Beth did.

When Michonne killed herself in the clearing (hallucination) she said, "welcome to the New World." That was originally Jesus’s line. I'm not sure if we should be reading into that too much, but it could be that they're going for the fact that this kind of the opposite. Jesus’s line was said with hope, where Michonne says it here in a negative, homicidal sort of way.

I thought it was sad that Virgil ended up staying behind. Even though he said he pictured heaven with his family when he hallucinated, the island is actually his personal hell, because they're dead. He's just staying behind to put flowers on their grave every day. So, it's like he’s staying in hell. Also, the flowers are very much a symbol of death and loss in this episode. I'm sure that will segue into the next episode, Look at the Flowers.

Finally, the two people Michonne helped were interesting. It reminded most of us of the two people Morgan helped at the end of Here’s Not Here. In this case, the guy was wearing a sheriff's hat and a poncho, which I find suspicious. But no way to know where that's going yet.

Okay, I think that's all the details I have. I'll probably put up a new TWD video tomorrow. The next day, I have something I'm super excited to show you guys. It's gonna be crazy! Stay tuned.

[peggysousfan]

Bad Romance

I have no idea what this series is. It was meant to be a one-shot but I decided to experiment and turn it into a series. Long or short I don't know yet, but we'll see what happens lol. This is chapter 1

As the sun begins to set and the stars come out from behind the clouds, the music below bellows louder; as does the laughter. A new semester starts for the students and teachers of New York University, and tonight they celebrate before getting to work.

Whilst everyone stands out in there own way in this bustling crowd, a young woman in particular keeps a low profile and walks among those that surround her. She notices a young man sitting alone by the bonfire, his arms resting on his knees with his hands clasped. Before she realizes what she's doing, she sits next to him and offers him a beer.

"Oh, uh...thanks." His face falls in confusion, but he accepts the drink nonetheless.

"You looked like you could use it." She says, answering his unspoken question. He chuckles lightly and reaches out his hand.

"I'm Daniel. Daniel Sousa."

"Margaret. Margaret Carter." They shake hands and smile at one another. "But everyone calls me Peggy."

"Okay... Peggy. Its nice to meet you."

"And you." She grins and the clink glasses before each taking a swig. Her face contorts to a sour look as she swallows.

"Not your cup of tea?" He laughs, then realizes what he said and begins to stutter. "T-that's not meant as like an insult or, uh, anything. You know, because of your accent. I-I didn't mean like, anything by it or, uhm-"

"It alright, I get it." She laughs. Silence fills between the two before she asks her itching question. "Why are you sitting all by yourself? The party's over there." She points. He sighs and takes a sip of his drink.

"I just... I'm not really into this sort of thing."

"Really?"

He laughs shyly and looks into the fire. "Yeah. I'm more of a...at home kind of guy." He glances at her and quickly looks away. "I know, sounds pretty stupid."

"No." She shakes her head and looks into the fire as well, her eyes lighting up and reflecting the bright flame. "I don't think it is."

"Yeah?"

She chuckles and shakes her head. "I get it. I'm not one who enjoys these sort of outings and get together anyway."

"Then why come?"

"I suppose I could ask you the same thing."

Daniel laughs and takes another swing from his drink, and Peggy does the same. For several moments all is quiet, until he clears his throat and breaks the silence.

"I guess its because...I didn't want to be left out. New year, new school, new semester. I already stand out as is. I guess I didn't want to be-"

"The lone wolf." At this he nods with a sigh.

He gazes up at her, watching as her eyes reflect the dancing flame, the red and orange light wisps though her golden brown eyes. He nudges her leg lightly and she turns to look at him, then laughs shyly.

"I'm gonna take that as you feel the same way."

"In a manner of speaking." Daniel raise a brow and leans in to look at her, making her laugh and glance at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks, amused.

"I mean technically speaking that answers pretty vague."

"Oh hush." She shoves his shoulder playfully, making him laugh in return. "I only meant that, I get it. I have my own ways in which I feel like that; alone. As if no one understands. Even like this," She stops and looks around at the people and the party, gesturing to the immense joy and connection they all feel.

"Everyone together, connecting and knowing each other. I could do that but they're not like me- Foreign." For a moment he's taken back by this. He looks at her with with shock and shakes his head to shake it off while she continues.

"Its easy enough making small conversation, but they can never truly understand what its like to miss something, something small that reminds you of home. I've lived in the states for several years but I still miss London. The people and the culture will always be apart of me...its my home. My heart. Its where I can connect with those that know and understand...well everything. Being in America is amazing and I do love it, but-"

"You'll always miss that part of yourself. Your home."

"Exactly."

As they sit next to each other, unaware of their close proximity, they rest their hands on the log and their fingers brush against each others.

"You're not alone, Peggy. I get it, well, some of it anyway." He laughs nervously. "I moved to the States when I was a kid. I wasn't born here either."

"Really?" She asks, her interest peaked. Peggy leans closer to listen and Daniel smiles; captivated by her curiosity.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "I was born in Portugal, just like my parents, and theirs before them. When I was about 5 years old we moved here and I grew up in the lower east of Jersey. We moved to Brooklyn when I was 13, where my dad set up a deli shop. Best sandwich's in all of New York."

"Is that so? What's it called I may have heard of it."

"Frank's Uptown Deli. Heard of it?

"I have actually!" Peggy laughs with a bright smile. "I go there nearly every Saturday for lunch and have my favorite sandwich. Its so similar to what my brother use to mash together back home."

"Which one?"

"Bloody hell what's it called. Uhm... oh! Os sete pecados mortais"

At this proclamation, Daniel laughs wholeheartedly. "I came up with that actually!"

"No! Are you being serious?" She laughs, reaching out to his arm in an attempt to ground the laughter bubbling from inside. He nods as to say yes and she can't hold it back any longer, they both chuckle in amusement

"My nephew helped with it actually. He loves being in the kitchen and tries to help as much as he can." As their laughter dies down, Peggy looks over to him and listens openly. "I caught him one day mashing all of these different things and," It takes a moment for him to stop chuckling at the idea before his words spill out. "and he asked me to try it, so you know, I did and it was actually really good."

"I have to say that's an understatement!"

"Okay I did have to change a few things and I named it, but Marco did most of the work. And yes it is the best thing we sell." Unknowingly they move closer while they laugh once more, the air around them light.

"Well at least you're giving him the proper credit. Most people would take it," She teases, nudging his shoulder lightly.

"Yeah... I'm not that kind of guy." He looks away bashfully, the fire now dancing in his eyes. Peggy sees this and catches herself staring, and yet does not look away.

"What kind are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." He teases back. She laughs and looks away before looking back.

They look up at one another and unconsciously lean in. Their lips meet and she combs her other hand through the hairs on the base of his neck. He takes his other hand and places it on the middle of her back.

Once they pull apart, and the atmosphere fills with silence, they peer at the other. Peggy hesitates before wrapping her arms around his neck, and Daniel wraps his around her back, before they indulge in a less gentle taste. After minutes of nipping, kissing, and testing, they pull away breathless.

"Maybe...We should take this somewhere else?" He asks with hesitation. She laughs and pulls him in for another kiss before standing and taking his hand in hers.

They make there way to his truck and climb into the back. Peggy looks up at the stars and grins, they shine brightly in the clear sky. Daniel watches her for a moment, in awe of her beauty. He reaches out and kisses her neck, causing her to gasp. She turns to him and their lips crash into each others. He turns her around so she faces him, and he lays her down. She laughs as he lays above her, his smile shining as bright as the stars. She leans up and takes the collar of his shirt to pull him down for another kiss. Daniel laughs an obliges her. Peggy moans in their kiss as she rests her hands on his chest. She unbuttons his shirt as he does the same, and for the rest of the night, they fill each other with pleasure.

(Next Morning)

As the sun begins to rise, the sky's color fills with vibrant colors. The brightness or the morning wakes the two lovers in the bed of the truck. As her eyes flutter open she looks up and notices Daniel begin to stir. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and hers is wrapped around his torso, with her leg lying across his. He begins to move around, causing Peggy to lift her head.

"Good Morning." He slurs. She laughs in return and sits up.

"Good morning." She replies as she looks around for her clothing. Once found she slips on her shirt and buttons it half way before grabbing her trousers.

"You're in a hurry," He jokes.

"Well it is the start of the semester. I have to get down to the University soon before I'm late." As she says this, he jumps up and looks for his own clothing.

"Shit! I almost forgot."

Peggy laughs as he too hurriedly gets dressed. For a moment she's distracted while watching him slip on his shirt over his abs, and watches as he buttons it up and redoes his sleeves. Daniel looks at and notices he's being watched. He laughs and grabs his pants.

"What? See something you like?"

"Maybe." She shrugs before jumping off of the truck and grabbing her jacket. As she starts to walk away, he calls to her.

"Hey! Wait!" He jumps out of the back and runs to her.

He grabs her by the waist and presses his lips to hers, and instantly she leans into him. Once they pull apart her eyes are still closed and her lips are still puckered. Daniel laughs and waits for her to open her eyes. When she does they chuckle.

"Maybe we could do this again some time? Maybe, say... dinner? Do this the right way?"Peggy laughs and presses a kiss on his cheek.

"Maybe..." Her words say one thing but her eyes say another.

"Playing hard to get?" He chuckles, pulling her waist closer to him. She bites her lower lo and glances down, knowing full well what she is doing.

"Hmm, wouldn't you like to know." They kiss gentle and pull apart, the morning beckons its call. "I'll see you around, Daniel."

"See you around." He watches her run off then reality hits him.

Its the start of the semester, and he hasn't gotten ready for class yet. He curses under his breath and runs to the drivers side of the truck and drives to his dorm house.Once inside he hurriedly takes a shower and falls all around as he tries to get dressed quickly. His roommate, who is already for class, laughs as Daniel trips over his shoe.

"Haha! You shouldn't have slept in." Daniel glares at him and grabs his bag.

"Shut up, Jack."

They walk out of their room and rush over to class. Once they get there, the door squeaks open and everyone takes their seats. They mutter their apologies to the professor and take their seats. She pays them no mind as she finishes writing on the board. When she does turn around, however, Daniel freezes in fear.

"Bonjour à toute la classe. I am Miss Carter, your professor for the semester in French. Now before we start, lets get settled on the basics of-" As she looks around the classroom at her students, she stops mid sentence at one in particular; the one she knows very well from last night...

Daniel gulps in nervousness and so does she. With a few moments she composes herself and continues speaking, willing the blush in her cheeks to go away. Throughout the entire duration of class, Peggy avoids looking in his direction.As the class is dismissed and prepares for study hall, Daniel stays behind and approaches Peggy once he's sure they're alone.

"Professor, can I, uh, have a word? Alone?" Peggy sighs deeply and walks around the platform, trying to avoid looking at him.

"That may not be wise given-" She stops herself and glances up, knowing what they did is now completely wrong. "You're my student."

"Yeah... I kinda got that when you introduced yourself as the French professor this year." He steps closer, books in hand, trying to get her attention, but she keeps herself occupied. "Peggy-"

"Don't." She closes her eyes tightly, frustration and defeat creeping on her emotions. "You can't call me that. Not here."

Unconsciously a grin appears on his face at her words. 'Not here'. Could that mean she wants to continue what they started last night? Of course the only way of knowing it to ask...

"So I'm taking it we're still on for dinner, madame?" Although she's tried to fight it, a small smirk pulls at her lips.

"Daniel-"

As if her life was not complicated enough, her new lover, her student above all, presses his lips to hers, his hand brushing against her cheek and willing her protest away. Peggy knows it is wrong, she knows they can't be caught like this, and yet she doesn't pull away. She reaches up and holds his face in her hands, keeping him close...

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

HAPPY NEW DECADE MY DUDES! IT IS WODENSDAY AND I BRING YOU GHOSTS!

Nerds chat, big sisters are consulted, ghosts are fought, magick is performed

“You know, Danny, one day you have to do something that isn’t mind-blowingly awesome,” Tucker said.  “One of these days it’ll happen. You’ll say something plain and boring, not ‘I’ve been to the moon’ or ‘I found the ghost that was haunting my locker and made fast friends with him’.”  Tucker didn’t really mean that of course, he wasn’t sure Danny was capable of doing something that wasn’t impressive. Then again that might’ve just been because Tucker thought everything Danny did was impressive.  They were flying over Amity Park on hoverboards controlled by their gloves, all because of Danny.

“Tucker, please,” Danny scoffed, “It’s not that what I say will be something dull and normal, it’ll just be what our new normal is pretty soon.”  Danny had his hood up, somehow, and didn’t both wearing his helmet. Unlike Tucker, he didn’t actually need it to keep safe in the air. He wove around Tucker in circles before diving for the park, a cheer on his lips.  Tuck dove after him, and soon enough a monochrome figure came into view, blurry at the edges but his face matched his yearbook photo easily enough. The two skidded to a stop and hopped off their boards - which took more effort than was convenient, he’d have to figure out a way to fix that - and Danny held up a hand for a high five.  Sidney flinched back a bit and Tuck cleared his throat.

“Danny, high fives were invented around the ’70s.  Sidney is from the 50s.” Tucker slapped Danny’s hand to demonstrate and grinned.  “It’s just a greeting, like a handshake but faster. Hi, I’m Tucker Foley.” He held out his hand and Sidney stared at him.  “I’m the furthest thing from a bully.”

“Tucker is the geekiest guy in the world.”  Tucker stepped on Danny’s foot for that, grinning at the yelp he received.  “That’s a compliment you dork!”

“Sidney Poindexter,” he finally shook Tucker’s hand, and smiled.

“So, Sidney, how’s it been, finally being back on Earth?”  Leave it to Danny to ask the awkward question.

Sidney just lit up like a christmas tree though and spread his arms out to gesture at the park.  “It’s been amazing! Everyone looks so different and all the cars are so much faster and sleeker than before - colorful too!  I’ve never seen so many different kinds of people just hanging out with each other! Though there’s a lot I don’t understand, and I guess that’s just how the future is supposed to feel but goly these rectangles people are tapping on seem to do a lot .”

“Yeah, different time periods make for pretty different experiences,” Danny mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Speaking of experiences, what’s it like on the other side?” On one hand Tucker wanted to smack Danny with his hat for that, but on the other he understood wanting to know.  They weren’t exactly about to go through the portal to find out and get lost.

“Oh.  Well uh, for a while I was just floating around in the green void, passing through doors and islands and buildings and even other ghosts.  According to some Will O Wisps I wasn’t really a ghost yet, just a soul that got stuck in the Infinite Realms.” Danny had pulled out his journal, looking at Sidney intently and Tucker knew the look on his face.  Danny was hyperfocused by now. “That’s what it’s called, by the way, the Infinite Realms. Cause it goes on forever n ever and apparently anybody from everywhere can end up there. It felt like I was in there for years before enough of the uh…”

“Ectoplasm?”  Danny held up a hand and with visible concentration silvery green light jumped between his fingers and wrapped around them like a blanket.

Sidney snapped his fingers.  “Yeah, ectoplasm! Enough of it bonded to me that I could touch things around me again, which was swell!  It was pretty scary too, though, cause anything can become a ghost…”

“Huh… like dragons, and jersey devils and chupacabras?”  Tucker snorted at Danny, rolling his eyes.

“What, have you met bigfoot?”

“No, but I did meet the Fiskerton Phantom, and a komodo dragon that can turn invisible.”

“Like I said, scary stuff.  But uh, ghosts can make these things, places, called Sanctuaries where they can be safe, which is what most of the islands and stuff in the Realms are.  And I managed to make one, and I was safe from most of the more dangerous ghosts out there! But… that safety didn’t really last.”

“Did you go through a portal and end up trapped in your mirror somehow?”  Sidney flickered like static and laughed, a hollow sound that made Tucker shiver and his skin crawl.

“Oh wouldn’t that’ve been better?  No, I messed up. I hadn’t listened to the ghost with the blue dress and blonde hair that told me how making a sanctuary works - or I guess I didn’t ask enough questions about it.”  Sidney’s eyes flickered red and Tucker felt a tug in his hand, looking down to see his helmet was glowing green. “It was based on my memories .  The most recent ones too, so I ended up in my own Casper High with a bunch of… I dunno, echoes or shadows of the bullies from my life and by the time I realized what had gone wrong I couldn’t get out.”  Sidney wrapped his arms around himself and Tucker was absolutely about to lose hold of his helmet.

“Sidney, would you like a hug?  Cause you sound like you need a hug.”  Danny spread his arms wide open for Sidney, and over the din of insults and jeers and horrible laughter that Tucker could hear from Poindexter, he could hear the ebb and crash of waves on a beach coming from Danny.  Sidney blinked, looking up at Danny with wide eyes and for a few moments he didn’t do anything. Then he nodded and was being pulled into the inescapable warmth of Danny’s hug.  

“Dang, that sounds like a job for Jazz.  She can use her super psychology powers to help you out.”  Tucker set down his helmet, which was no longer about to fly away, and pulled the Fenton Finder™ out of his jacket - which Tucker had figured out how to add a porta pocket to while he was building the tangibility modulator.  When he looked up, Sidney was far more solid looking and Danny was staring at him like he’d handed him the moon and said it was his. “What?”

“Tucker Foley, you absolute genius! ”  Danny’s arm swung out and Tucker was dragged into the hug.

“Okay, I absolutely am a genius, but what did I say?”

“Sidney, I have an older sister named Jazz - who you cannot tell about my ghost half by the way, that’s a big secret - and like, a hug is good for a lot of things but having someone to talk to is way better!”

Sidney squirmed in the embrace and phased out of it, leaving Tucker to his fate of being pressed against his best friend like a teddy bear.  “I uh. I dunno about that. Last time I had someone to talk to it was the guidance counselor and that uh.  Well let’s just say my death was more than just bullies being too rough.”

Oh, Tucker did not like that at all.  “I promise you, Jazz is 500 times better than that.  She’d never hurt anyone that needs her help like that.”

Sidney still looked sceptical but Danny let go of Tucker and lowered his voice to something soft and sure.  “Sidney, Jazz is my big sister. She’s literally always trying to make sure I’m feeling as good as is humanly possible in the face of all the weirdness our parents have put us through.  When I was 7 and she was 9 the christmas turkey came to life and she fought it off because I was too small to fight at all and then she taught me what she knew about martial arts. There’s not a thing in the world I wouldn’t trust Jazz with, and you should trust her too.  But, I can’t make you trust her and I still have to ask her if she’ll do it.”

Sidney took a breath, fully opaque for once, and gave Danny a shaky thumbs up.  “Sure.”

“Awesome as that is,” Tucker said, raising the Fenton Finder.  “I need to scan you so we can make sure that the security system doesn’t shoot you if something bad happens in the school.”

If there was any one chore that Jazz would happily dump on her little brother were he there for her to give it to him, it was moving boxes of scrapped experiments to the shed.  Danny very clearly needed the exercise and Jazz didn’t, and it was tedious. She was a good older sister, she deserved a bit of pettiness. Besides, it meant that she could only give Spike half of her attention as he complained about his little brother cryptid hunting.  “Tell Wes that even if he’s right, he shouldn’t endanger the cryptids by trying to show them off to humanity. If you appeal to his empathy he’ll probably either actually stop, or at least stop coming to you about it so that you don’t try and guilt him for what he’s doing.”

“Wouldn’t expect that kind of manipulation from you, Jazz.  Is that what you do to get your brat to be quiet for five seconds?”

“First of all, I’m studying psychology Spike.  I know how people work.” She set down a box of broken tools and failed devices that would only see the light of day as melted down and repurposed scrap in some other experiment.  “Secondly, how dare you insinuate I don’t find Danny’s info dumps about space interesting. It’s adorable and he’s very informative.”

“Uh, rude?  I’m not cute, in the slightest.”  Jazz turned to see Danny pouting in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.  “I’m a total badass.”

“Badasses can carry all this scrap from the lab to the shed, shorty.”

“Heck, aren’t you clever?  Like, the best at thinking up any response to anything.  You know, I uh. I have something you might not have the perfect answer for.”  Danny’s hands were stuffed in his pockets now and his shoulders were hunched. This was important.

“Spike, I’ll talk to you later.  Remember, morality!” Jazz hung up and ruffled Danny’s hair, grinning at the pout he gave her.  “So?”

“So,” he said back, rocking on his heels.  “You don’t like, agree with Mom and Dad about ghosts, right?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to disagree they exist when I shot one off of you, little brother.  I’d be pretty bad at the scientific method if I ignored proof right in front of my eyes.”

Danny huffed a laugh and shook his head.  “No no, I mean like… what they think of ghosts.  You don’t think they’re all ‘evil’ for being ghosts, right?”

Jazz rolled her eyes.  “Danny there’s no such thing as evil.  I may have been… less than correct about ghosts existing but I do know that Mom and Dad know nothing about psychology.”  She watched some of the tension in Danny’s posture die down and poked his stomach.  “Why?”

“Right,” he said and took a breath.  “So, if I were to show you, hypothetically, someone in need of therapy who may or may not be a bit deceased-”

“Can someone only be a bit deceased but otherwise ok?”

“You’d be surprised,” he huffed.  “Enough that it’s obvious anyway? Would you, hypothetically, be able to help?”

Jazz rolled that over in her head a bit.  Danny had found a ghost that disproved their parents’ hypothesis - or prejudiced stereotype, a toss-up if any - and felt they needed psychiatric help but didn’t trust any Amity doctor not to call the Fentons or try to charge the dead a fee.  That or he was fucking with her, but Danny was bad at hiding his distress and the longer she stayed silent the more he fidgeted.

“So whose ghost are you asking me to help out?  I’m not Mom and Dad but I do have every right to worry about a stranger you’re inviting into your life.”  Danny sighed and relaxed more than he had in a while around her. Jazz couldn’t help but smile, even as she was crushed in a hug.  “Lungs.”

“You’ll be fine and his name is Sidney Poindexter.”  Danny squeezed her one more time before letting go.  “According to Tucker, he’s the guy who used to have my current locker.”

“You have a haunted locker at school… why am I not surprised?”  Jazz shook her head, covering her face with her hand. “Sidney Poindexter, that kid who reportedly suffered the most bullying in the history of the school and … ok, wow, he really would need therapy if he were to hypothetically come back to the land of the living.  I wonder where I might find him?” Danny didn’t need to hear any of the less pleasant details of that story unless Sidney chose to tell him.

“No clue.  When I finish coming up with that hypothetical part of the situation I’ll tell you.”  Danny fired her a pair of finger guns and backed away slowly, somehow not tripping over his own feet like the last time she saw him do that.  “Later Spazz.”

“Remember not to smear your weird UV paint all over your jacket, Picasso.”

“THOSE WERE NOT SMEARS, IT WAS ART,” he said, and Jazz held onto the door while she laughed.

“I’m worried about Danny.”  Jazz had to wait until lunch and sped through eating just to find him, but she’d tracked down Vice-Principal Lancer and he agreed to walk and talk.  “He’s been through a lot lately, what with tests and bring hunted by a robot like an animal and social pressures and I know it’s getting to him.”

Lancer arched a brow and sighed at her as they turned a corner.  “Have you tried talking, Jazz? It’s the staple of human survival, communication, and all kinds of relationships.”

“I’d talk with him if I could, Mr.Lancer, but I’m his older sister and I’m afraid Danny’s reaching a point in his life where you keep things from your family while you try and figure it out on your own to be more independent.”  If Jazz noticed Lancer giving her a pointed look, he hadn’t verbally acknowledged her glasshouse so she could throw as many stones as she so pleased. They stopped and Lancer fished out a ring of keys. “He wouldn’t talk to me about this, probably wouldn’t even listen when I try and tell him to open up to someone.  Also, why are we heading into the guidance counselor’s office? Have you gotten a license in that as well?” It was a joke among the upperclassmen that Lancer was at least vaguely equipped to substitute teach literally every class in their underfunded school.

Lance snorted and flipped through keys.  “No, Jazz, we’ve actually finally managed to grab a guidance counselor.  You know I can’t do everything around here.”

“You most certainly seem to.”

“Be that as it may, Jazz, he may listen to me and I’ll try talking to him but have you considered this all is- Great Gatsby!”  Jazz turned away from Lancer to see what startled him and felt every muscle in her body lock up in shock.  The room was a mess, burn marks reminiscent of Dad’s latest weapon going off randomly at home littered the walls, the desk was flipped upside down and acrid smoke met her nostrils nearly choking her.  Or maybe she had simply stopped breathing when her eyes landed on the figure in the center of the room, green light radiating from their form in all directions casting eerie shadows everywhere and wide green lights bright as torches shone from underneath a cloud of white and above a mass of black and white material.  They pulled a black hood up over their curly white hair and a masculine voice hissed out a quiet, forceful and slightly reverberating, “ Shit. ”

Holding up his hands, the figure’s eyes dimmed slightly and Jazz could make out bright blue skin tinged with a bit of green.  “Now I know what this looks like, but I promise there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”

“You’re a ghost.”  Jazz wasn’t asking a question, her voice pitched up in a desire to be horribly wrong more than curiosity.

“Lab Safety is important.”  The green light flickered, a blue face made indistinct by the light show and the shadows of the hood visibly cringed and Lancer gasped in horror in front of her.  “I know that maks this illogical by default.”

“That depends,” Jazz said slowly while reaching into her pocket and fishing for a small tube of what would look like lipstick to anyone else, “on why you trashed the room.  This does look pretty-”

“Jasmine what are you doing!?”  Lancer hissed, and while Jazz was certain he meant the talking in general, the light in the boy’s eyes shifted toward her hand.  He sucked in a superfluous breath and vanished from sight while Jazz let off a litany of swears in her head.

“I was trying to get some information from him, Mr. Lancer.  He had an explanation apparently and I wanted to hear it.” Jazz dropped the lipstick tube back into her pocket and crossed her arms.  “Didn’t you just tell me that communication is important?”

“Important as it is, Jasmine,” Lancer said with what Jazz recognized as a lecturing tone and decided that she already didn’t like what he had to say. “That was a ghost and I do believe the experts - your parents - have advised us all to avoid grabbing the attention of a ghost unless we want to become one.”  Of all the times for anyone to actually acknowledge her parents’ work and knowledge and it was now?

“With all due respect, Vice Principal Lancer, I think that of all things to listen to my parents about for once, their biased prejudice against all things ghost is hardly the one to believe.  If everyone that died was malicious then the second they got a way into the living world we’d be overrun and there wouldn’t be a living world anymore.”  Gesturing to herself and a staring Lancer she drawled, “I’d say we’re proof that my parents are wrong.”

While Lancer tried visibly to come up with an intelligent response to that, Jazz flicked on the lights and gave the room a closer look than she had before.  Walking around she noticed the tiniest drops of ectoplasm lingering near where the burn marks were, and just under the desk. Pulling out a vial or three and some cotton swabs, Jazz put away a few samples to check over later.  Even if she didn’t want to so much as acknowledge that her parents were right about ghosts existing, or fight them, she wasn’t going to bury her head in the sand and ignore all the evidence that said she needed to either get someone else to do something or do it herself.  What’s one more thing to steal my sleep away?

She turned to a puzzled Lancer and cleared her throat.  “It looks to me like a fight was happening here. A teenaged boy venting his anger over being d-” Breathe and don’t think about it.  “In his particular situation would go somewhere he probably won’t get caught, not a school with a security system made specifically to shoot until he’s a bubbling pile of green sludge upon activation.  I wish I knew what he was fighting and why but unfortunately he saw me reaching for a weapon and bolted.”

“Reaching for a weapon, Jazz?”  Heaving a sigh she met the arched brow on Lancer’s face with a very practiced look she gave teachers that tried to paint her as being wrong about something.

“Principal Ishiyama said that we can use them in emergency situations and while I hardly share my parents’ opinion that all ghosts are malevolent mindless creatures, a teenager made of thoughts and emotions that just finished fighting isn’t someone I want to talk to without an option to defend myself.  I’m safe around other human beings because I practice several martial arts, not because everyone is harmless.”

“That’s rather… pragmatic of you, Jazz.”  Lancer let out a breath and the tension left his shoulders.  He clasped a hand on her shoulder and Jazz was lead out of the destroyed room.  “I personally feel that you need to speak with someone about all of this as much as Daniel does.  After all, it is happening to you too.”

“I appreciate your worry, Mr. Lancer, but it’s not necessary.”  Jazz smiled at the man. “As much as I’m sure this guidance counselor will be great for the other students, I have someone I can talk to already.”

“That’s good, Jazz.  Still, if you need any help I’m certain that Ms. Spectra will be happy to give it to you.”

"She saw me.  She saw me in a busted up room with my hands glowing, and I shit you not, she reached for a weapon."  Danny paced in Tucker's room with his hood down and hands wildly gesticulating. “Now she and Mr. Lancer probably think I’m some destructive monster.  There’s no way I could’ve made a worse impression.”

“Well,” Sidney said from his spot reclined in the air and watching Tucker play God of War, “when I first met you I thought you were bullying someone.”

“Plus,” Tucker chirped as he attempted, fruitlessly, to fight a Valkyrie, “you could’ve accidentally shot them.  Much worse impression.” Kratos died on screen and Tucker growled to himself, lifting his controller to toss it and dropping it with a grimace instead.  “That thing really fucked up my arm, huh?”

Danny sucked in a breath and held up a hand, pulling out bands of silver and green light from his center, gathering it above his palm as best as he could.  It flickered and slipped out of his grasp every few seconds, like trying to hold water in a barely cupped hand. “I could try healing you?”

“Danny,” Sam drawled while putting down her book, “are you sure you know how to do that?  It looks like your ectoplasm is glitching through you instead of listening to you.” Danny observed his arm, focusing on the first plane of existence as hard as he could, and huffed a sigh in agreement that it did look like a patch of glitchy green and white around his hand.  “Hold out your hand, and Tucker hold out your arm for me.” The boys obliged and Sam held out a hand of her own, eyes closed, and pinched the ectoplasm haphazardly flowing around Danny’s hand. Danny’s eyes widened as she pulled the silvery light out of him and into her own aura, a few words being muttered in Hebrew as it flowed through her body to the other hand, and into Tucker’s arm.  When the light faded, Danny felt tired and hungry, while Tucker looked far more relaxed than he had in a while. “Viola.” 

Tucker looked from his arm to Sam and back several times, flexing and stretching the appendage.  “Sam, I cannot emphasize this enough, holy shit. ”  Sam grinned smugly at them while Danny, Tucker, and Sidney all stared at her in awe.  “How did you do that?”

“I put forth some effort and actually looked into this ghost stuff from an angle that wasn’t the Fentons’ research.  That lead to magick, which leads us to this.” Sam held up her book Magick: the Life Blood of the Earth.  “I had a feeling that using Danny’s ectoplasm might warrant immediate effects, especially since he was focusing on trying to heal Tucker.”

“Right,” Danny drawled.  “Next time ask me first? I feel hungry enough to eat a whole pig right now.”

“Mom ha-

“But with like, vegetables and stuff because I value my health.”  Tucker stuck out his tongue and Danny laughed.

“Tucker, do you have a flashlight?”  Everyone turned to look at Sidney and Tucker shrugged, pulling a miniature flashlight out of his pocket and handing it over.  Sidney turned it on and pointed it at Danny’s face. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Care to share that idea with the class, Sidney?”  Tucker picked up his controller and chuckled as he started up the fight anew.  “Is Danny supposed to photosynthesize?”

“Basically, yes!”  Danny blinked a few times and tilted his head.  “Ghosts are all made of ectoplasm, which drains pretty much anything of energy around it like a plant taking in sunlight, but some ghosts use particular forms of energy to sustain themselves, and when you were trying to heal Tucker everything got all dark, so I thought you might run better on light than just on the heat in the room.  Better for your body if your ghost half isn’t sucking all the life-sustaining heat from it, right?” Everyone stared at Sidney for a long beat, trying to process what he’d said. Danny held out his hand and pinched the beams of light coming toward him. After a moment of consideration, he imagined himself drinking the light and the flashlight immediately went dark as it flowed into his hand.  “See?”

“Sidney, you’re a genius!”  Danny pulled Sidney into a hug and beamed.  Then he started pulling on the strands of light racing through the air that he was sure no one else could see, absorbing what he was certain were the higher frequency gamma and uv lights around him.  In moments the room looked the way it had before he’d gained his new Sight and for a moment Danny felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. When he looked around the room however, he couldn’t help the pang of sadness that came with the lack of all those beautiful colors that only he (and Sidney he supposed) had been able to see.  “I think I’ll save doing that for when I’m desperate, but that’s awesome to know!”

“So not only are you ghosts, but you’re also plants.”  Tucker snorted. “No wonder Sam likes you so much.” Sam bopped him on the head with her book as he picked up his controller and he made an offending noise, which everyone ignored.

“Speaking of ghosts, I think I’ve just figured out a way for you to kill two birds with one stone, Danny!  If we go on patrol with the Fenton Finder™ to find the blob ghost that tried to kill us and catch it before it hurts anyone, we can capture an aggressive ghost and show the public - and your family - that ghosts aren’t all evil.”

Danny frowned, watching Tucker get his butt handed to him by Kara on screen for the 28th time, and considered that.  The shapeshifter was definitely going to hurt someone if they didn’t do anything about it and Danny knew his folks would jump on any amount proof that ghosts were all evil, likely to claim that this second malevolent spirit was a clear pattern of spiritual behavior.  They didn’t need more help sowing anti-ghost sentiments among whoever thought they weren’t entirely crazy, and he didn’t need more harassment from the asshats who thought they were and that he probably was by extension. Ugh. “Tuck, where are you on figuring out who the guy is?”

“Did you seriously think I could find out who this sentient blob of green slime with fangs and glowing red eyes that apparently shapeshifts is supposed to be?  With what, ghoulgle?” Sidney chuckled and Sam laughed, shaking her head. “I’m a genius, obviously, but I’m not a wizard, Danny.” Danny’s shoulders slumped and he sighed.  “Unless..”

“Unless?”  Sidney and Danny echoed.  Tucker looked at Sam’s book and so did the other boys, the idea sparked in their minds.

“Danny and Sidney combined aren’t going to have enough power to help me see through space and time to find out who this shapeshifter was.  If we really wanna know, we’ll have to catch them and ask them through the thermos.”

“Alright, that’s fair.”  Tucker lost in the game once more and turned the HorrorStation off.  “Y’know what, sure. Let’s go hunt a ghost. I’m up for a fight we can actually win.  Sidney, you in?”

“I-uh I’ll leave the fighting to you guys.  I’m gonna give this youtube thing a try and see what I can learn.”  He smiled and waved them off, and the trio shrugged, heading down the trap door to Tucker’s room and waving his parents goodbye.

While Sam and Tucker took their hoverboards to the air, Danny found the nearest alleyway and made sure no one was there to see him.  He took in the sight of the vivid indigo surrounding him and reached inside for the ectoplasmic green and pearlescent white inside of him, watching it unfurl over his body in a flash and carve away at the ties between him and the Earth.  He lifted off the ground and shook himself, sure that he’d never get used to it, before flying up to where Tucker and Sam were waiting for him with the Fenton Finder™ already out and his ectosignature blocked from it.  At his insistence, they decided to search together in a group since splitting up was for the idiots getting picked off in a horror movie.  Danny let himself slip into the space between spaces, where the background light of the world was blue and violet refusing to blend properly into indigo but just as intense as the indigo had been, if not more.

After an hour of searching, Danny saw a green dot at the edge of his full-body vision and the radar picked up on an ectosignature.  They all dove toward the music store where people were beginning to run while screaming their heads off, and Danny dove through the illusion people called a wall foot first, slamming into the shapeshifter mid snarl.  “Whoa there, flubber!” Danny ducked a swipe of claws and smirked. “I know jello can dance if you play loud enough music in front of it, but I didn’t know you wanted to. Screaming isn’t music unless it’s a Metallica song, man.”

Tucker and Sam burst through the doors and Sam opened fire, striking the blob while charging it like the crazy person she was.  It lunged at her, knocking over a shelf on its way, and Sam barely avoided a bladed arm cutting her head off, though her leg was nicked and she fell to the ground with a litany of swears that Danny couldn't understand.  Tucker shot the arm as it retracted into the shapeshifter and Danny dove between the angry monster and his best friend just in time for a fist the size of both of them to knock them into another shelf full of CDs. “Damn, we just fixed my arm and now my back is fucked up, Tucker groaned as he and Danny stood.  Danny saw red.

Light and heat and power gathered above Danny’s palm like a raging river into a whirlpool, while Sam shouted insults at the shapeshifter.  “Did anyone order a snot rocket?” His blast connected, knocking Discount Venom back into the help desk. An arm whipped out and caught Danny by his leg, slamming him into the ground and dragging him toward the ghost, bumping his already pounding head against every surface it could on the way.

“Aren’t you just the cleverest little bloodthirsty mutant?”  Well, they finally heard it’s high masculine voice and Danny already hated the sound of it.  “I actually felt that, you little freak.”

“If you think I’m the freak here, then you haven’t looked in the mirror lately,” Danny spat.  “I know it’s hard, but you have to acknowledge that some people have actual bodies.”

“Such a sharp wit to go with those sharp teeth, too!  Oh, but don’t worry, ghost kid, being a ghost isn’t what makes you so violent, clearly.”  Danny heard the whine of an ecto pistol and sucked in a gasp as he was chucked into the air at the same time that a blast was fired.  PAIN .  “Just ask your little murderer!  That’s twice she killed you now, isn’t it?  You really should let the other kid get a shot if you can, would-be witch.”  The blob’s voice grew distant and muffled as pain filled everything inside of Danny, and while he didn’t remember returning to human form, he knew that it was blood on his back, not ectoplasm.  His vision went dark, indigo, then blues and purple, then everything was a beautiful and impossible Lilac, and he could see and hear the stars calling out to him. He reached out and accepted their pull away from the pain in his body.

[thecorteztwins]

Fanfic Idea: Fabian asks Maximus for his help to get rid of Razor Jim, however things don't go according to plan as the metal-platted possum proves to be more than a match for the two.

        “Prince Maximus of House Ago, rightful ruler of Attilan, I beseech you,” said Fabian, bowing his head on the comm screen. Maximus knew that this meant Cortez wanted something, but since he also enjoyed the show of obsequiousness nonetheless, he let Fabian continue with the compliments, before finally asking, “Alright, Fabian, what do you need my brilliant genius for?”Cortez had a psychic sister, so it was not Maximus’s telepathic gifts that Fabian was likely after, unless it was for something of such...debatable morality, that his unsophisticated twin Anne Marie would not be privy to it, seeing as how she could not wrap her mind around how things that seemed wrong could really be quite right, depending on who it was “right” for!“I seek to fell a great enemy, Prince Maximus. He has plagued me for too long, mercilessly and relentlessly and without reason. He is as a shark, single-minded and powerful, but also as clever and wily as---”“I’m NOT helping you with Magneto. We’ve been over this.”“I said clever and wily, of course I’m not talking about Magneto you twit!”Ah, there was the real Cortez, impatient and entitled and insulting. Maximus crossed his arms with a smug expression; how nice it was to be holding all the cards over this petulant child.“Careful, Fabian---you need my help, remember?”Fabian grumbled, and then finally muttered something.“What was that?” Maximus asked sweetly, assuming he had been given an apology.“I said, it’s a possum.” Fabian couldn’t meet the Inhuman’s eyes.“...what?” Maximus had not been expecting that. He didn’t even know what that WAS.“A possum.”“Define...apossum?” Perhaps it was some new alien species!“It’s an animal.” Fabian admitted, sounding ashamed, as he should! Maximus’s expression fell from curious to insulted,“An animal? A common Earth beast? For THIS you dare trouble the mighty and magnificent Maximus, who definitely has better and far more important things to do and isn’t just watching Jersey Shore and The Maury Show to find out who is NOT the father, over THIS?! Pa! I would not even send Lockjaw to chase this creature for---BWAAAAH!”Maximus was cut off by his own scream at the image Fabian had just sent over. He leaped behind his chair, cowering, peeking around it to gaze in horror at the unholy creature opening its diminutive but still all too large jaws before him.“What...is that?” he trembled.“That,” said Fabian with great dramatic intonation, “is a normal possum. And we are dealing with something even greater. A true challenge to your genius.”Maximus was on-board.

***“Though its hide may be altered, the animal within is still just that, an animal,” said Maximus. He and Fabian were standing above a great metal enclosure which he had hastily instructed the Alpha Primitives to construct. Maximus had also just as hastily procured and changed into a safari hunter’s costume, in accordance with what he deemed human custom for the situation. He was also on-and-off affecting what he believed was an “Australian” accent.“And that means it’s no smarter than your average beast---it can easily be lured with food!”“And you think he has a taste for steak, do you?” said Fabian, looking down to the cow that was tethered in the enclosure. He didn’t know exactly what that abomination was looking for when it assaulted their garbage cans, but he had a feeling it wasn’t a whole bovine.“Of course! Crikey!” said Maximus, brandishing his hunting rifle, which sported more than a few alien modifications beneath its “antique” veneer, “I saw it in a movie! This’ll lure any monster out, it will!”Jurassic Park was a documentary, right?Fabian was about to dissent, but then...the bushed beyond the cow rustled. Both men tensed.“Get ready,” Maximus commanded in a whisper to the Alpha Primitives.“Get set,” Fabian said, aiming his own weapon near the cow, which was remaining placid in the way common to cows.“Get---” they both began.“Gordo!” cried out a high-pitched voice as the monster emerged from the bushes. She was six-foot-one, built like a tank, and had short blue hair. Anne Marie Cortez marched across the clearing towards the cow, which lowed in greeting at her as she began to pat it and then untie it.“Gordo, how did you get out here?” she asked it.“Hey, she’s stealing our bait!” Maximus protested.“Anne Marie, get out of here!” Fabian yelled down at her.Anne Marie gave him the middle finger, and led Gordo the cow away.“Clever girl,” muttered Maximus grumpily.***“Are you serious?” Fabian asked when he looked at Maximus’s next plan.“Completely,” said Maximus, “I had the right idea with bait---I just needed a different sort.”The “sort” that he had now was a stuffed possum which had been crammed into a red bikini and had garish matching lipstick smeared across its face. A red bow was also affixed to one of its ears, a tertiary sexual characteristic to mark it as “female” in case the other signifiers had not been enough.“Appealing to a very different sort of animal instinct,” said Maximus, with an incredibly awkward wink. “Did you...did you buy it like that or did you do this yourself?” said Fabian, looking down at the ghastly marsupial sex doll, “Wait, no---I don’t want to know!”The mental image of Maximus studiously applying cosmetics to a plush toy in hope of making it appealing to a trash rat was more than Fabian thought he could bear.Maximus set the toy down where the cow had been. But it didn’t end there. He also lit a candle, and scattered some rose petals near it. Then, when he rejoined the speechless Fabian up in the metal construct above, he went to the control panel for the traps and pressed a button...and Barry Manilow began to play.“Perfect,” he hissed in satisfaction. Fabian prayed to wake from this nightmare before their target arrived. He didn’t think he could bear to watch the consummation. “....Cortez?”“What?” Fabian murmured through his hands, which were over his face so that he wouldn’t have to see.“Is that the right possum?”Cautiously, Fabian peeked out from behind his phalange shield. There was indeed a possum sniffing around the decoy...courting it, it seemed. It put a little arm around “her” shoulders, and then it...“The cheeky little bastard!” Maximus ejected as the male possum---or lesbian, perhaps---went in for a full-on smooch.“He didn’t even buy her dinner first, he----OH RANDAC’S GENES, HE’S GROPING HER! Cortez, he’s running off with her! He’s stealing the bait! Do something!”And as the possum ran away with his “date” clutched under one arm, they could see that, somehow, it had a ginger ponytail.***At last, Razor Jim, the real Razor Jim, was cornered and all but caught. After their first two red herrings, their subsequent attempts had come close to getting the real thing...sometimes too close, as evident by the scratched and disheveled state that Fabian and Maximus were now in. They were also soaking wet, smudged with smoke, electrical burns, and serious carpet burns, all procured in the process of Razor Jim turning their own traps back at them.But now it was over. The little monster was worn out. Grinning maniacally, the two men advanced on what they believed was a dead or unconscious possum.And realized, only too late, why the phrase “playing possum” was a thing.

[andremarcusburky]

Thumbs up - A.B

A/N: so here’s to the caps going to finals and burky scoring two goals. 

Plot: Just some sweet fluff with a media intern and burky wanting a date

masterlist

Everything ran smoothly, surprisingly enough. You’d been so nervous when you first came to the capital one arena, the first day of your internship. But everyone had been so sweet, they guided you through everything and the first week flew by.

Of course you watched hockey, that’s why you’d wanted the internship so bad. But you weren’t ever starstruck or anything when you met the players. Perhaps Ovi and Backy, just a little bit. You got to join in when they did some simple interviews for a youtube special, asking the players questions about things like favorite movies and what made them cry. Most of them didn’t even realize you were in the room, but Ovi immediately went up to you to say hi.

One player in particular caught your eye. He wasn’t new to you or anything, and it wasn’t a surprise that he was cute. But watching him on TV in a game isnt the same as seeing him in person. He was tall with the most gorgeous smile. Even though he looked attractive when he’s all sweaty in games, it can’t compare to what he’s like off the ice, in person. Burakovsky was a treat.

He didnt notice you at first, but halfway through the interview you caught his eye and he smiled sweetly. Once they were done he shook your hand and introduced himself, a crooked smile playing on his lips. Andre’s grip was somewhat smooth, but still hard. It was clear he could probably crush your hand if he wanted to, but soft because he wouldn’t.

The next week went by even faster. More players noticed your presence and introduced themselves, everytime you walked by one of them they’d always greet you. Ovi and Kuzy once sat down at your table for lunch, that was probably the best day you’d had yet. You may have also learned a few nasty words in Russian.

Andre didn’t often greet you, yet you always caught his eye. He’d smile at you, everytime. Once when you walked pass Ovi and him, Ovi had stopped you and asked if you’d met yet. You’d both said ‘yes’ and Andre had given you that crooked smile again, teeth showing. Then Nicklas walked by and that’s when Ovi decided to take it further.

“Nicky! Nicky! Don’t you think she be great for andre!” and god Andre blushed so hard. Nicklas laughed and told Ovi to ‘leave the kids alone’, but Ovi had simply winked at you. “Eh? what do you think?”

Not knowing what to do, you laughed and exchanged yet another smile with a very red-faced Burakovsky before walking off to do your job.

Another week and it was time for your first real task. It was time for another video with the players and you were going to ask all the questions, one being the ‘celebrity crush’ one. Most people had no answer, or the same answer. Only one player said Beyonce, much to your surprise (and disappointment).

Then came Andre. He greeted you and sat down, looking calm and relaxed as ever. Meanwhile, your heartbeat was going through the roof. God he looked good.

“So who’s your celebrity crush, Andre?” at first he looked taken back by the question, before a smile spread on his lips. “Do you have a look-a-like celebrity?” he asked you.

Not really knowing where he was going with this, you took a few seconds to think before answering. “No.. I dont think so, why?”

“Well if you find a celebrity that looks like you then that’s my celebrity crush” he said, proudly may I add. A few whistles were heard in the room along with surprised laughs. Andre looked you dead in the eye with a big smile, while you must’ve looked like a tomato. Breaking eye-contact, you looked down at your papers while trying to gather yourself. You laughed lowly and glanced up at the still brightly smiling Burakovsky before speaking.

“Okay, then. I’ll take that as an answer” you, too, were smiling now. Trying to keep it professional, you kept asking your questions. Andre smiled at you the whole time, but gave proper answers. Once done, you said ‘thanks’ and he shook your hand. “My pleasure”

Now, every time you walked by each other he’d say ‘hi’ and you’d do everything you possibly could in order not to blush, each time you’d fail.

The next time you talked was in the break room. You tried to work the vending machine as it wouldn’t give you your bar. Then once you finally got it working, the fucking bar got stuck.

“Need help with that?” the voice startled you. Behind you was a very tall, very handsome Burakovsky. “Uh, yeah. I guess?” you answered.

He grabbed the machine shook it harshly, it only took one try and the bar fell down. A slight giggle left your lips at the lack of struggle he had. Andre smiled at you and gave you your bar. “You know those taste awful, right?”

You let out an exaggerated gasp at his remark. “They do not. These are what makes life worth living”

Andre laughed and turned back to the machine to use himself. “I wouldn’t eat one of those if my life depended on it” he said. He picked a different bar and payed. “I’m not sure if I can be friends with someone who despises my favorite bars that much” you joked.

Andre smiled widely as he took his bar from the machine. He turned back to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Good thing i have no intention of being your friend, then” he winked at you and walked away. You were left standing there, trying to decipher what he just said.

The day after you ran into Carlson who immediately stopped you to talk. You were a bit confused by it, he’s always greeted you but you’ve never really held a conversation before. But it didnt take long before you realized the conversation wasn’t just going to be simple small-talk. “So, quick question. What’s your view on burky?” you couldn’t help but smile widely at the unexpected topic and John smirked widely at you. “He’s a real good guy, seriously. I mean he’d get you flowers and everything, I know he would”

“Okay, John. Note taken. Have a good day” you said and walked away. “You, too!” he yelled after you.

The next day you got to join in as the team had practice. Some of the players were mic’d up so you’d catch every interesting conversation that might be fun for the fans. There were headphones to wear so you’d hear the conversations, which were occupied by your supervisor.

Andre was one of the players who were mic’d up. He didnt notice you as you walked into the rink, but once you’d sat down by your crew you’d caught his eye immediately. He smiled to himself and tried to play it cool, but his teammates started teasing the boy. “Hey, Y/N!” you heard Kuzy shout. He gave you a big wave and a few other players joined in, welcoming you.

Andre only smiled at the ice and went to take a few shots, most of them went in. A few minutes later you saw him grab his jersey to bring the mic closer to his mouth. He said something and glanced towards you as your supervisor tapped you on the shoulder. “Y/N, can you take over? I have to go to the restroom”

You nodded slowly and put the headphones on. Andre went to take a few more shots before skating up to the bench. He leaned against the boards, watching you. “You look really pretty today, you know” you heard through your headphones. A blush quickly spread over your cheeks as you realized what he was doing. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to be your friend”

You were sitting on the other side of the ice, making the distance between you far enough for it all to look incredibly innocent. No one else realized he was talking to you.

“I wanna take you out. Like, on a date.” his offer startled you. Sure, he was cute and all, and he had shown interest. But you didn’t think some nhl millionaire was going to ask you out.

“And I mean I proper date, I’m serious about this. We can get dinner, maybe catch a movie if you want? You can pick whatever movie you like” he said, still keeping his eyes on you. You were pretty sure some of his teammates were catching up to his act by now. He grabbed the mic and held it to his mouth, eyes trained on you. Meanwhile, you sat at the other side of the rink with headphones. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.

“I'll be real nice, I promise” his voice was really soft now, he almost sounded nervous.

“Say yes, Y/N!” John shouted. You could see Andre smiling into his mic, the rest of the team now turning to watch you. “Thumbs up if you say yes” Andre said.

You laughed slightly at his stupid behavior before sighing and putting your hand up, signaling a thumbs up. Next thing you knew, you heard a loud groan in your headphones as Andre was tackled by several of his teammates.

Practice ended shortly and you returned the headphones to your supervisor. She smiled knowingly and walked away. When you turned around you were met by a very broad chest, almost making you jump in surprise. “Hey”

“Hey” you answered, smiling brightly. Andre was leaning onto his hockey stick. He was sweaty with his face flushed, but he looked as pretty as ever. “So, is tonight good? I can pick you up at 6?” he grinned widely.

[geminicblue]

20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Chapter 15

A light flared up behind Jayson. As Ru's eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, she made out a large hummingbird in the center of the light, perched on top of a bush. It had a long, flowing, curled tail and tiny black feet, and prismatic feathers that gave of a sharp glittering glow. It watched them out of one white eye.

Jayson turned slowly, trying not to scare it. "I think this bird just said something."

"Parrots talk," Ru pointed out. "I don't see why other birds can't."

Jayson lifted the bill of his hat and leaned towards the bird. Its head twitched upward to meet his eyes. "Parrots don't glow," he concluded.

"Neither do pendants," Randy said.

"I'm a lytra."

The voice clearly came from the bird. It gave them no more time to speculate. It sprung into the air, its wings becoming a blur. The higher it flew, the brighter its feathers glowed, until it dissolved into a light like the Star. Ru shielded her eyes.

"You may call me Fuse," it said. It had an accent that mostly affected its vowels, but there was something familiar about the way it spoke. "I see I disturb you as I am. This may help."

The bird flashed, and the light fell away in sparks. Glowing feathers littered the ground. In the bird's place stood a tall, charcoal-skinned human. Ru had never seen a person like this before, slender but sturdy, rainbow eyes, squarish fingers. Colleen gave a small whimper, and Ru noticed she was wide-eyed and paler than ever. So much for not being disturbing.

"I ask that you listen to my story," Fuse said, "And what will be yours. No one will notice you have left your homes."

"That's supposed to make us feel better?" Jayson scoffed.

Fuse spoke similarly to the Blue Star, with a gentle but direct voice that kept all of their attention. "As I said, you are no longer on Earth, but the planet Aereka. It orbits a star on the opposite side of the galaxy, which you call the Milky Way. We know it as Loraesa." She swept her hand in an arc over her head, tracing the stars. "Loraesa is part of a system of twenty galaxies."

"We call that the Local Group," Jayson said.

His voice had a touch of mocking, which Fuse apparently missed. "The Accilean System," she corrected. "I represent this galaxy in a council that is dedicated to protecting the system and guiding its people to live good lives. You have been called here because we need you."

Somehow, she looked all four of them dead in the eye at the same time. "Your planet, which we call Skae, is outside the system. It is the one unawakened planet within the twenty galaxies. Because you are outside the system, you are the only ones who can help us. You have been chosen to be Skaeya-cyu -- "flying fighters," as you would say. Warriors who protect the System from invaders. Through the System, you can harness power to aid you, power you never thought possible on your planet. It is not an easy task, but you will not be alone."

The four responded with a silent stare.

"This is a pretty good prank," Randy snickered. "How'd you do the special effects? I bet Joe could never come up with something like this."

Prank, dream, the words did not fit right in Ru's head. They were obviously in a completely different place, and she trusted Colleen's judgement about dreams. "We're just kids," she said at last. "How can we defend galaxies?"

Jayson was already wandering off. "No thanks," he said, "I don't really want to dream about being a superhero."

"Wait!"

Fuse's voice rose in a frightening way, and startled Jayson into looking at her again. Ru saw tears brimming at the edges of her eyes. "Please, don't go. I know it is a lot to ask of Skaeyans your age, but we truly do need you."

Colleen, surprisingly, was the first one to speak up. "It isn't a dream. We should listen."

Jayson crossed his arms. "OK, let's say we're not dreaming somehow. Ru brings up a good point. Why kids? Why not Secret Service agents or the Army or Police? Why not you?"

Fuse quickly regained her composure. "Members of the Accilean Council are not allowed to fight. I cannot answer for the others. I do not choose the Skaeya."

Jayson's scowl deepened.

"You don't seem to realize how serious this is," Fuse said. "If you refuse to become our guardians, then you, everyone on your planet, everyone in this galaxy, will certainly die."

Silence fell across the clearing. "Why?" Colleen whispered.

"Because of the Lraenu."

Ru flinched. That unfamiliar word felt like it could break her ears if Fuse had said it louder. She was hesitant to ask what a "Lraenu" was, and could not pronounce it the same way Fuse did.

Fuse motioned for everyone to come closer. Jayson was the last to join their circle, his eyes sharp and gleaming in the shadows of the brim of his hat. Ru knew that stubborn expression well.

"The first of our Skaeya rebelled against the Accilean Council," Fuse said. "Since then, the galaxies have been under attack by his soldiers -- vicious, ghostly creatures we call Lraenu. The Lraenu can shapeshift, but in their true form they are practically invincible. Practically. You four have the power to stop them."

"Cool," Randy said.

"But we don't have power," Ru said.

"You will soon. Not long ago, one of our agents made contact with you. You did not know what what happening at the time, but he was taking the material necessary to make those talismans you wear. He activated your power and it has been building since then." Fuse knelt in front of Ru. "What is your name?"

"Ru."

"It's actually Prudence," Randy said loudly.

Ru stared daggers at him. Fuse seemed not to notice. She pointed at Ru's pendant. "These talismans have been granted to help you access your tools. It is important that you keep the talisman with you at all times. Consider it a part of you. Don't lose it. Don't give it up. Most importantly, don't break it. Ru, I can sense it will be easiest for you to learn how your power works. First, you must arm yourself." Fuse rose and backed up a few paces. "Call out, 'switch meteor!' as loud as you possibly can. As if you wanted the sky itself to hear you."

Ru glanced at the others, looking for a hint of what to do. All eyes were on her, Jayson skeptical, Colleen nervous, Randy intrigued. It couldn't hurt to say a few words, she reasoned. The forest was too quiet to be screaming, but Ru sucked in a slow, deep breath. "SWITCH METEOR!"

The cry echoed through the trees. After a few seconds of silence, she was sure her face was a bright enough red to see in the starlight alone. The fact that none of the others were laughing kept her calm. She expected it from Randy, but he looked disappointed instead. "What's supposed to happen?" Ru asked Fuse. "Why'd you make me yell like that?"

There was a slight smile on Fuse's lips, but a sincere one. Colleen gasped. "A shooting star!"

At first, Ru could only see the twinkle of strange constellations. Then, a glittering blue streak of light came into view. "That's too big to be a shooting star," Jayson said. "And too slow."

A breeze kicked up. The palms swayed, hissing ominously, and suddenly the stirring of air felt more like a storm was moving in. The star ballooned to the size of the moon and lost its tail. "I think it's heading this way," Randy gulped. "Run!"

The entire forest turned blue-white under the light of the incoming meteor. The trees thrashed as the wind gusted and howled. The winds were pushing everyone away from Ru. She stood motionless at the center of the storm, unable to take her eyes away from the sky. Randy and Colleen locked their arms around tree trunks to keep from being blown away. Jayson had dropped to the sand and was clawing his way back to his sister. "Ru! Ru, move!"

His voice was so distant. Her ears were filled with the rush of air. The light of the meteor blocked everything out.

It hit. The impact knocked her spirit from her body. She was rising upwards at an incredible speed, through clouds, through the sky, stars and suns swirling endless all around her, all reaching for her. When they touched her, something inside shattered.

She never felt so free.

Abruptly she was back in the forest. She was keenly aware of every one of those trees, every grain of sand under her feet, all the stars overhead, even what she couldn't see. Her nerves hummed with the energy of it all. The absolute clarity of her mind and senses astonished her. Fuse was close by now, and even without light, she somehow radiated color even more vividly than when she had been a bird.

Colleen peered out from behind her tree. "You're -- you're different."

Ru glanced down. Her clothes had changed, though they didn't look all that out of the ordinary. A blue t-shirt with white sleeves, black jeans, blue sneakers with white wing decals on the side. A blue headband with long tails was tied firmly around her head, and there was a barrette above her right ear that she couldn't see. A tiny light pulsed inside the gem of her pendant, something she would not have noticed if her senses hadn't been heightened.

At the same time, Colleen and the others were different as well. It was as if Ru had stepped into a movie and they were figures in the oldest, grainiest black and white photo. They were lifeless, missing details. They approached slowly, wide-eyed.

"You are the Skaeya of the Sky," Fuse told her. "The leader of this generation."

The weight of the word "Skaeya" hit her opened mind with full force. In that instant she knew just what a Skaeya meant to the galaxies, what was waiting inside her to be awakened. She felt like a star just lit, burning with unimaginable energy.

"Hey, can I do that?" Randy asked eagerly.

Fuse smiled more openly now. "Give it a try."

Randy's meteor didn't take nearly as long to arrive as Ru's. It fell so fast Ru barely saw it land. The light it created on impact was too bright to look at. Even Fuse turned her head away. When the brilliance faded, Randy was wearing a green jersey with the number ten on it, a silver cape, black pants, and tall metal cyborg boots. He was not so stunned by his transformation as Ru was. "I mean, a jersey wasn't what I was expecting for a superhero, but whatever." A devious grin spread across his face. "What's my power?"

"You are the Skaeya of Light."

Randy's enthusiasm left in a hurry. "Light?" he scoffed. "Ru gets like lightning and tornadoes and stuff, and I get light?"

Ru hadn't given much thought to her elemental potential. She imagined summoning a big storm, and picked up the grin Randy had dropped.

"Randy, is it?" Fuse asked. To her credit, she didn't seem annoyed at all like most people did when Randy threw a tantrum.

Randy crossed his arms and gave Fuse his toughest look. "Yeah."

"Your clothes right now are similar to what you normally wear, based on what you think you should look like. When you are a full Skaeya, it will change. As for the power of light, it is wise not to underestimate any element."

Randy grumbled, but had no arguments. Fuse approached Colleen. "Would you like to try next?"

Colleen jumped. There was a panic in her eyes Ru didn't understand. Colleen was normally nervous around strangers, but this was something beyond even what an alien should have inspired.

"What's your name?"

Colleen's mouth worked.

"Sorry? I didn't hear you." Fuse inched closer.

Colleen trembled and gripped her pendant with both hands. "I-I can't be a guardian."

Fuse looked concerned but unbelieving. "Why not?"

"I mean, she is kind of a coward," Randy cut in.

"She probably has a more useful power than yours," Ru snapped.

Colleen swallowed. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "This necklace can't be what you think it is. My mother left it to me. I've had it since I was a baby."

Fuse's eyes widened. "May I see it?"

Colleen handed over the pendant and backed away. Fuse's prismatic eyes hardened as she sunk into deep thought. Her gray lips pressed together. "Strange," she said at last. "I have no doubts this is a Skaeya pendant. But you should have obtained it recently."

Ru gasped, then burst out, "Was her mother a guardian too?"

Fuse shook her head. "It wouldn't matter if she was or not, each pendant is supposed to be unique to the guardian."

"Oh." Ru deflated a bit, but her mind was already running away with other possibilities. "Maybe the same person who gave us our pendants switched Colleen's mom's pendant out sometime. I don't know how because you wear it all the time," she said to Colleen, "But I don't know how I lived through getting hit by a meteor, either."

Fuse handed the pendant back with a smile. "Just try switching. It won't hurt you."

Colleen's mouth formed the words, but Ru couldn't even hear a whisper. "You're too quiet," Fuse said. "The meteor isn't receiving your command. Try again."

Ru suspected Colleen was distracted by something, but couldn't imagine what. "It's pretty cool. C'mon, let's see what your power is!"

"Yeah!" Randy gave her a thumbs up.

Colleen huffed, breathed deeply, and screamed louder than Ru had ever heard before. "SWITCH METEOR!"

The air grew cold. Snowflakes filled the air, glistening in the rosy light from the approaching meteor. It seemed to hit in slow motion. Ru felt frozen in place. She caught a glimpse of Colleen's strangely empty eyes just before impact.

When the snow blew away, Colleen appeared hunched over. Her dewy eyes darted all around. Her uniform had become a glittering, full-length pink coat. There were white gemstones and ribbons, white wings on her shoulders, and boots. "Wow," Ru breathed. "Yours is pretty!"

"What is this?" Colleen whimpered. "Why does everything feel so strange?"

"You're awakening to the system," Fuse said.

Randy was yelling, somewhere more distant than he had been. Apparently he'd already lost interest in whatever Colleen would be. "Light power! Shine!"

"That won't work yet," Fuse called to him, amused. "We'll start practicing that when you're all armed."

The group looked at Jayson. He was leaning against a tree, arms tightly crossed, hat pulled down over his eyes. "That's my brother, Jayson," Ru said. "He thinks he's dreaming."

"How am I not?" Jayson said. "This is impossible."

"He's a chicken," Randy sneered.

"That doesn't work on me," Jayson replied coldly.

Ru walked closer. "C'mon, you're next."

All coolness evaporated. "Um, no, I don't have to do this. You guys, don't you see it? Something isn't right here!"

"If you think you're dreaming --" Fuse started.

"SWITCH METEOR!"

Fuse jumped.

"There, you happy?" Jayson glared at the sky. "I don't have to do this. I didn't say I won't."

Ru grunted in annoyance, but had no time to speak. Hot winds poured in from the sky. Flames burst from the ground as the meteor struck. She was surprised none of the trees ignited.

Jayson came out of the fire. He had kept his hat, but the Sox logo had vanished and was no longer dusty and frayed. He wore a black jacket with a four-point star in red on the left side, black pants and shoes. But Ru couldn't see the rest --

"Dude, your shirt's on fire!" Randy yelled.

Jayson looked down, yelped, and batted frantically at the yellow flames that had engulfed his entire shirt.

"Stop drop and roll!" Ru shrieked.

Colleen pulled at Fuse's shirt. "How do I use ice? Quick!"

It was then that Ru noticed Fuse didn't seem worried at all, and Jayson stopped rolling in the sand a minute later. The fire apparently wasn't hurting him, it seemed to be a part of his new shirt. The flames faded significantly as Jayson rose to his feet and dusted himself off.

"It's clear what your power is, correct?" Fuse said with a smirk.

"I hate you," Jayson replied in a level voice.

Fuse grinned, gave them all an approving glance, then closed her eyes. An undercurrent of energy radiated from her feet, into the ground, spreading and circling the entire planet beneath them. Ru felt like she understood how that was done, though she could not put it into words or quite understand why Fuse was doing that. "The Lraenu do not realize we are here. I have time to grant you another ability."

"I get to learn how to shoot lasers now?" Randy made a finger gun.

"Flight," Fuse said.

Ru didn't think Randy's face could light up any more, but it did. She felt a flutter of excitement herself. "We can fly?"

"Skaeya-cyu means 'flying fighter' -- it's not just a name. I hear Skaeyan humans often dream they can fly. It's because they know they can. They were made to forget."

"By who?" Jayson demanded.

Fuse eyed the stars. "I -- don't actually know," she admitted. "It happened long before my time. Perhaps long before the System's time."

Jayson was not about to let it go so easily. "And what exactly do you mean by the System? You say it differently than -- I mean -- well, we can't be outside the system like you said, because Earth is in a galaxy, right? On the edge of one, anyway."

"The System is more than the physical location of the stars," Fuse started.

Randy waved a hand between the two of them "Um, excuse me? We were about to learn how to fly, and you want to sit here and talk?"

Fuse laughed and looked to her left. There was suddenly a presence. An enormous, shadowy, but familiar presence overwhelmed Ru's mind. She knew who it was before they stepped out of the trees. The red of their cloak was fiery in the meager starlight.

"You!" Randy exclaimed.

"This is Ember," Fuse said. "He is the Council's guardian. He can help you remember."

Ember moved no closer, but Ru felt her eyes being drawn to that void where his face should have been. Her eyes and mind focused in an uncomfortable way. Then, a click. A door opened. That weightless feeling came flooding back, that rush of previously unfathomable freedom. She bolted forward and leapt into the air.

Her feet never touched the ground.

"It worked!" Randy yelled.

She heard him grunt and a heavy thud as he landed face-first in the sand. "Ember has to teach you first. You'll know when you've remembered." Fuse smiled up at Ru. "I knew you would learn quickly."

Ru kicked at the air and tried to draw herself forward with her hands, but she only made herself rotate in place. "It isn't like swimming," Fuse said. "The easiest way to start is picturing yourself going where you want to go."

Ru's eyes went straight to the sky. Pink starlight gleamed beyond the silhouettes of palm leaves. Fuse waved a hand at her. "Go on, try it out! Just don't go far, and if you see or feel anything wrong, come back right away."

The air was less dense above canopy. Ru started up slowly, taking in the full breadth of the elegant, sparkling skies. The air swirled lightly around her, tossing her hair but keeping it out of her face. There was no fear as the ground swept away from her. This was where she belonged.

A vast field of palms lay beneath her, blue and feathery in the night, littered with tiny, glistening yellow lights. Beyond, there was an ocean, a perfect crystal reflection of the brilliant arc of fuchsia stars near the horizon. The sheer size of the yellow moon nearby left Ru breathless, especially compared to their single, pale-faced moon at home. The more she sighted, the more she could feel. Every single star had its own energy. She felt like she was glowing herself.

"Wow," she heard Colleen sigh.

Ru hadn't realized she'd stopped. The others were drifting her way, she didn't even need to look at them, they had a place in her mind too. Jayson flickered, Colleen shimmered, Randy blazed, Fuse beamed. The full sky overwhelmed them all. Ru recalled the sky of her home planet, perfect blue, crystal white, wild, seething gray and black, and realized she would never look at it the same way again.

Fuse's wings hummed loudly as she drew near. "The bulk of your training will take place at the Council's complex," she said, "but the only gatestone from Skae leads here. You will have to come to Aereka before you transfer there."

There was a strange implication in the bird's voice. It was hard to tell what she was looking at. Ru squinted at the shoreline running off to the horizon. At first, she saw nothing but the thorny silhouettes of trees. On a second sweep, something caught her eye. It was very far away, but it was square and unnatural. She thought she could pick out its signal from all the others she was receiving, like a single line of smoke rising into the sky. "What's that?"

Fuse knew exactly what Ru had found. "That is a Lraenu hive. You must keep clear of it until you are well-prepared."

"What? Where is it?" Randy flew higher. "That's the bad guys, right? I'm ready, let's get em!"

"You are not ready," Fuse said gently, "But I am going to send you home now. Especially when your powers are new, you must return to Earth to keep them strong."

"Our powers are like a battery?" Jayson scoffed. "How are we supposed to protect galaxies if we have to stay home all the time?"

If a bird could smile, Fuse would be. Her voice radiated warmth. "You will see. Return tomorrow night and I will guide you to the Council's complex."

"What if the Lraenu are here waiting for us?" Colleen said fearfully.

"You must be prepared at all times," Fuse warned. "They can travel to Earth. You have a few advantages there -- your power is strengthened and theirs is weakened, and you have allies on your planet watching over you. Eventually, though, you must learn to defend yourselves."

They summoned their meteors again to change back into normal. Fuse lead them back to the gatestone with a few words of encouragement, then they were on their way home. Ru's sneakers touched down lightly, as if she was still part of the air, part of the fog that had collected in Tanager Park sometime during the night. The park had been so striking when they'd left the planet, now it was just old. Quarterhill's backyard. The Quarterstone, the gatestone, was no longer illuminated.

"This is awesome," Randy exclaimed.

Jayson's eyes were hidden under the brim of his hat, the corners of his mouth turned sharply downward. Colleen clutched at her pendant, which had returned to its original dolphin shape. Ru's head was spinning, but Randy's enthusiasm was contagious. They had powers. They could fly. They had just met an alien, of all things. Was it real?

Blue light illuminated the hedges. The Blue Star and Ember were near. There were four bracelets  in Ember's hands. He swept closer and fastened one around Ru's wrist. Without understanding, she touched it, and gasped as symbols appeared in the air above it. The others gathered around her, even Jayson looked intrigued. "What is this?"

"These are each copies of a book of Accilean legend and prophecy, written before the system came into being," the Star explained. "Learning the Accilean language will help you master your abilities, and we hope, in turn, you may help us better understand its contents."

Ember handed out the other bracelets as Ru poked the symbols. They scrolled sideways with her finger, rows disappearing on the right and more appearing on the left. "I've never seen this language before," she protested. "How will we know where to start?"

"It will come to you." The Star's voice was soothing. "The Accilean language is a little different from any of Earth's. Anyone can understand it when it is spoken, but to read, write, or speak it takes practice."

"Anyone can understand it?" Ru repeated. "How? Like pictures?"

"You never noticed that I am not speaking English?"

All four pairs of eyes snapped to the star. "Say something again," Randy said slowly.

It was true. The words that whispered from the Star's tranquil flames were unlike anything Ru had heard before, yet the meaning of the words stood out to her instantly. "You understand now. Return home. Come back to the stone at midnight."

The Star winked out. Ember was gone with it.

"Like I need extra homework," Randy said. "At least it'll give us powers."

"You guys, you know we gotta keep this a secret, right?" Ru said.

Randy rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"Dude, we all know you'd be the first one to call down your meteor if you were about to get in another fight with Joe," Jayson said. "Seriously, they said the Lraenu are here, and it's probably better if they don't know who we are."

Colleen's voice trembled. "We don't know what they look like."

"Hopefully we don't need to know yet," Ru said.

With that, they all rushed home. Ru noticed she wasn't the least bit tired. She and Jayson talked about the bracelet books on the way -- they didn't want their mother to find the books by accident, but she was rarely around to take care of the house anyway so it wasn't likely she'd stumble across them.

"But I guess aliens would explain all the weird stuff that happens in Quarterhill," Ru whispered.

"Or dreaming," Jayson said flatly. "I'm going to try and sleep."

"How can you? There's no way I can." Ru was about to take her pendant off, hesitated and left it hanging around her neck. "Hey Jayson? Just because you think it's a dream, it doesn't mean you can't play along, right? Why wouldn't you want to be a superhero?"

Jayson paused at the door. "Flying is pretty cool. I just don't trust the bird. I think she was hiding something."

"Like what?"

"Who knows? We've apparently got twenty whole galaxies to deal with. Good night."

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