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comphersjost · 4 years

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All For You (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and the one time Matty did it for you) ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

reahi, i had an idea and opened a document and i couldnt stop writing, this is what came out. it was edited but i made a lot of changes after, so please forgive any mistakes, typos, plot holes, etc. enjoy :)

Finally fed up with pining over your best friend from afar, you enlist the help of Matthew to help you get the guy - you’re just not really sure who the guy is anymore. Or: 4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and the one time Matty told him for you.

word cout: 5.1k (sorry lmao)

warnings: a LOT of angst, like a lot. smut, nothing as wild as ive written before, car sex, cockwarming, etc. etc. usual cussing, love triangles ig? alcohol, super brief mention of weed, mentions of sex while drunk/high

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

You tried to take Matty’s smile and what was supposed to be an encouraging nod to heart, and let it boost your with confidence. But it didn't. It really, really didn't. You could see Brady on the other side of the room, smiling down at your mom the way he always did. It was that smile he reserved for your parents, the charming, boyish, smile. It was the same smile that got your parents to let you out of the house late in high school even though you were grounded. It was the smile you got to see sitting on your rooftop just a little too tipsy at 2 in the morning. The same smile you wished you could kiss right off his face.

Brady glances up from your mom’s face for a moment, and catches your eyes. His smile widens impossibly, and you watch him excuse himself from your mother. She smiles knowingly at you, a gentle sparkle in her eye as Brady finds his way towards you.

You latch onto him as soon as you're in his arms, pressing yourself to him, closer closer closer. “Hi,” you hear him mumble against the top of your head.

“Hi, B,” you breathe back, barely audible over the chatter in the room. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, buttercup,” Brady beams down at you, squeezing your shoulders again.

Your throat dries up as you stare up at him. You always loved the way his eyes crinkled shut when he smiled big like he was now. A tiny part of you wants to say fuck it and stand up on the tips of your toes to kiss him full on the mouth. You feel yourself swallow, your mouth opens and you want to get the words out, just like Matthew said you could.

“Listen, Brady I-”

“Y/N I want you to meet someone.”

You and Brady spoke at the same time, and rather than let you finish your sentence, Brady lets you out of his arms, resting his hand against your lower back and leading you somewhere deeper into the house.

“I want you to meet my friend,” he continues, “I know you haven't seen anyone since… but anyways, yeah I think you might like him.” Your lips remain parted, the words stuck in your throat. Of all the things you expected coming to the Tkachuk house tonight, of everything you could have thought might happen during your plan to confess your feelings to your best friend, an off-handed mention of your piece of shit ex-boyfriend and Brady attempting to set you up with someone was far from it.

Your eyes are hazy, your focus far from the situation at hand, even as you let Brady introduce you to his friend. You barely remember the poor kid’s name, too caught up in trying to keep your shit together. Your eyes find Matthew’s, hating the sympathetic smile on his lips.

You don't want his pity. It just makes you feel worse. You turn abruptly to Brady’s friend and stop him mid-sentence. “I’m really sorry,” you say, “I just don't think this is going to work out, I have my eyes on someone else.” He doesn't say anything as you walk away, bee-lining straight for Matthew.

You grab his forearm, ignoring his protests when you drag him out to the backyard.

“Why did he do that?” you say once you're outside. “Why did he introduce me to someone that I could date? What if you're wrong, Matty? What if he doesn't like me like you think he does?”

Matthew didn't have an answer for that. He did know one thing though.

“Then he’s an idiot, Y/N, and he can't see a good thing, a great thing, even when she's right in front of him.” You let out a wet laugh, trying your best not to read too deep into what Brady had tried to do tonight. Instead you let him tuck a strand behind your ear and pull you into a comforting hug, the both of you unaware of Brady’s eyes on you, a smile tugging at his lips at the thought of you two together.

II.

Ottawa playing a game against Calgary meant you had to cancel any and all plans you had for that weekend. The whole Tkachuk family couldn't make it from St. Louis, but you living in Calgary made up for it. You were shaking with excitement - you hadn't seen Brady in a month and a half, since that horrible attempt at telling him how you felt. You hoped that this time would be different.

The arms that wrap around your waist in the middle of the hotel lobby are all too familiar to alarm you.

“Hi, buttercup,” comes the soft whisper, and you can't even attempt to fight the smile that pulls at your lips.

“Hi, Brady,” you whisper back, feeling Brady loosen his hold on your so you could twist around in his grip. “You've been gone too long.”

“Hmm, I know,” Brady hums, kissing your hairline gently. “I'm sorry I'm not visiting as much, you know it has nothing to do with you right?”

“I know, Brady,” you reassure him. “I just miss you.” I love you. The thought is screaming in your head, begging for you to let out.

I love you I love you I love you

“Just say the three little words, Y/N, tell him how you feel.” Those were Matty’s words, just this morning when you had a crisis about seeing Brady again. You paced across the floor of his living room, the walls and tables all over his apartment covered in jerseys and odd paraphernalia he’d acquired over his time playing in the NHL.

“I can't, Matty, what if he,” you gasped for air at the idea, “what if he doesn't love me back, I don't think I could handle that.”

Matt had laughed at you this morning, assuring that to the best of his knowledge (and he knew his brother pretty damn well), Brady was in love with you too. Besides, he'd said, even if he wasn't in love with you back there was nothing you could do to make him want to stop being friends with you.

Brady pulls away from you, preparing to head to whatever restaurant you were supposed to meet Matthew at.

“So, Brady, there was something that I-”

“Hey, what's this?” Brady’s curious expression made you pause. He tugs the fabric of your sweater down a little by your chest, exposing your collarbone, and a dark purple mark you hadn't meant for anyone to see. Your blood runs cold, knowing exactly where that's from.

Matthew had given it to you, when the both of you had gotten just a little too wine drunk and you'd ended up in his lap. It was ironic really, you'd been discussing how to drop more hints to Brady about how you feel about him. He'd been helping you with that dilemma since the summer. And then last Sunday, you'd been over at his place for dinner, and the night had ended with him grabbing handfuls of your ass while you whined desperately against his mouth.

There was no way you could tell Brady how you felt now, not with him having just asked about the bruise his brother had left on your skin.

“You and my brother finally getting it on?” Brady says suggestively, a shit eating grin on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You feel like a deer stuck in the headlights.

“Why would you even say that?” you snap, ignoring the way he recoils, lips parted and eyes wide in surprise. “Come on we have to go meet your brother for dinner.”

III.

You and Matthew had bought your plane tickets home for Christmas together, deciding that it made more sense since you both lived in Calgary and were going home to the same neighborhood. Brady’s flight was coming in the day after. You’d been spending most of your time at the Tkachuk house, lounging around with Matthew. You’d hung around their house to stay out of your mom’s way, knowing having people around would only just stress her out as she prepared for your whole family to come home.

Today was the day Brady’s flight was coming in. Chantal and Keith chose to spend the day out shopping before heading to the airport to pick up Brady late in the afternoon. Taryn was spending the day at her friend’s house, leaving you and Matthew alone in the house.

Which, you should have known it was a bad idea. You swore it was nothing between you and Matt, you swore it was just about Matt helping you get the guy, get Brady. But it seemed like the more you, Matt, and alcohol were all involved, you ended up in precarious positions.

Today you chose not to drink, hooded eyes watching Matt take another drink of whatever liquor he’d chosen this time, before your gaze slid back to the pipe in your hand, lighter dangling between two fingers. You knew how this would end, you and Matt would get wasted, you’d fuck, rough, hard, fast, desperate, and then you would go back to pretending it never happened, went back to him helping you with getting Brady to notice your interest. You didn't talk about it, and you were almost always some kind of inhibited.

You refused to fuck Matthew in his childhood bedroom, arguing that it was bad karma. He laughed at you then, a soft laugh, clear of any indication that Matt is drunk out of his mind. The laugh is too innocent of a laugh for the way his voice lowers after it ends. He talks you into it, seduces you more like. He’s got you sliding into the backseat of a beat up old Toyota Corolla, his first car (“And how exactly is that any better than your childhood bedroom, Matty?). He tells you that you have hours alone in the house before anyone comes home and you might as well pass the time.

The talking and seducing turns into heated, sloppy kisses. You giggle against his mouth, tugging at the curls at the back of his head while avoiding the thought that you swore to yourself you would tell Brady how you felt when he got home tonight. But then Matthew’s lips trailed away from your mouth, over your jaw, your cheek, the curve of your throat, and any thought of Brady was gone.

The messy kisses turned into you riding Matt, his old car rocking back and forth as you bounced on his dick. He kisses you to quiet his moans. No one was supposed to be home for hours but, just in case. He's got you whining desperately while you clench around him, his giant hands squeezing your hips. He guides you up and down on his cock, relishing in the way your body moves the way he wants without a fight.

I bet Brady couldn't fuck you like I can.

The thought flashes through his brain before he can stop it, and then it's like someone put a red tint on his world view. You belonged to him. Matthew’s possessive rage has him fucking harder into you, his hands falling from your hips to your ass to slam you forcefully down on him. Growls fall from his lips, the thought of his younger brother fucking you making him intent on bringing you to as many orgasms as possible. That thought is also what made his teeth come down on your skin. He sucks and bites into your skin all over your chest, leaving marks that would expose that you were having sex with someone to anyone who saw - that would expose you to Brady.

You let out almost a squeal when you cum, clenching around Matthew’s cock and sobbing desperately. You don't see the smug grin on his face when he watches you cum, only letting him keep doing what he's doing because it just feels so damn good.

Matt follows through on his mental promise, fucking you through as many orgasms as he could (5, the last time he checked, he lost count). His hands flex over your ass, sighing contentedly as he pulls you so that you sink all the way back down on his cock. He pulls you to his chest, nuzzling into you as the two of you doze off.

Brady finds you that way, seeing the way you’re nuzzled into his brother’s chest through the windshield. The fact that he only saw you through the windshield protected him from seeing the most incriminating part, Matthew’s cock, still stuffed all the way inside of you. He can still see the bare skin of yours and Matt’s shoulders, so he opts out of waking you up, instead heading towards his room to shower off that airport smell and nap, a devastatingly pretty blonde attached to his hip.

When you wake up, you feel groggy, but more sober than before. After you moaned pathetically when Matthew lifted you off of his cock, the two of you snuck back inside the house, managing to get you out the door and back to your house, and Matthew to his room. When you and your family made their way over for dinner later that night (the hickies and bruises on your skin successfully covered up), you feel your heart twist in your chest at what - or rather, who - greets you there.

“Y/N! Hey!” Brady sounds so excited, so you humor him, hiding the way it feels like you're about to explode into a million little shreds. “This is my girlfriend, Autumn.”

And - you really can't hate her. She's so nice, so incredibly kind and radiant and you really don't blame Brady for not taking his eyes off her the whole night. You didn't even know he was bringing her. Matthew catches your eyes, shaking his head sadly and mouthing I didn’t know.

You shrug, your gaze falling back to the design on the carpet, how the spirals of each shape in the carpet almost mirror your heart, spiraling out and falling apart before your eyes.

Matt’s gaze remains on you. Something about seeing your skin clear and bare after he had taken such good care to leave as many marks as possible didn't sit right with him. It made his gut twist; he wanted everyone to know. He wanted Brady to know.

You hate the unpleasant feeling in your gut every time Autumn says something. And you really hate the way Brady smiles apologetically at you when you pulled him aside to say “You never told me you were seeing someone.”

You just had to get through this night and then it was back to Calgary.

IV.

Of all traditions your family has with Tkachuks, the vacations are your favorite.

You're in California this offseason, renting a house in some random, tourist-attracting beach town. Both your families had always done something similar to this (letting the boys take care of a large chunk of it now that they're on NHL salaries), renting 2 houses and splitting you up between the parents and you and the Tkachuk kids once you were old enough.

Brady had broken up with Autumn in May, which you couldn't be more thankful for, knowing that had that not happened she would've been on this vacation. “Nothing terrible happened,” he assured you over the phone that day. “She's an amazing girl, she really is, she's just...she's not the one for me.”

You were glad he couldn't see the smile that pulled at your lips at those words.

As for Matthew...well, you'd barely done as much as look at him since Christmas, not wanting to fall back into the habit of sleeping with him whenever you managed to get drunk enough to forget Brady’s existence for half a second.

But now Brady and Taryn are at the beach, meeting up with some friends they somehow convinced to drive up from Orange County, and you were laying outside in the rented house’s backyard on one of the pool chairs. You’d opted to stay home this time, having spent almost every minute of this vacation attached to Brady at the hip.

It was pathetic, almost, the way you followed him around. Matt thought so, at least. What he thought was even more pathetic though, was the way Brady had the perfect fucking woman in front of him - pining after him even - and he still couldn't see it, no matter how hard you and Matt tried to make him.

Matt hates that he finds himself wishing that the whiny voice you used to get Brady to do things you wanted was following him around instead, like the incessant bug he'd teased you about being when you whined for the millionth time to Brady that it was hot.

Brady had looked at you all soft in the moment, leaning down to kiss your forehead before placing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “Not hot enough for you not to cuddle with me,” he’d said, your giggles prompting him to tickle your sides until you'd both forgotten about your complaining.

“Y/N, you left your water bottle outside,” Matthew says abruptly, adding on a “by the way” so you two would stop staring at him like he interrupted something. Like he wasn't even supposed to be there.

“Oh,” the realization makes you frown, and the pout that accompanies your furrowed brows almost make him combust from how cute you look. “Didn't know you noticed I left it out there.”

Brady keeps his arm around you as he lets you take him back outside for the water bottle, making you miss the way Matt whispers “I always notice.”

You briefly wondered what Matthew was doing, before the question was answered for you by a soft sensation against your knee. His lips trailed up your thigh, nosing at your skin before pressing another open-mouthed kiss into your thigh, making your eyes flutter open briefly. It's hot, your skin feels like it's on fire, buzzing, like you're vibrating from the inside out.

Even with the sun washing over you the way that it is, the fire you feel on your tanned skin, Matthew’s lips make you burn. He makes you ache, the way he hasn't touched you like this in months.

“Everyone is gone for the day,” he murmurs against you, kisses becoming more frequent across your hips. “All of them. I could fuck you and make you scream and no one would know.” His words make you shudder, your back arching as his lips traveled upwards, teeth coming out to mark you up all over your tits. “So pretty like this baby, when I mark you up like that.”

You know that if you don't stop him now, Matt will get you in his bed - he would get you in his bed and then from there he'd take you apart with his fingers, his cock, his mouth. Then he’d use that same damn mouth that got you into bed with him to talk you into staying there. And as much as you love Brady… you can't resist him. You place your hand on his shoulder, his skin is warm, and it takes everything out of you to push him away.

“Matty, stop, Matthew, stop it.” Suddenly you can feel the sun back on your skin, Matthew having retreated from you completely.

“What's wrong?” he says softly, “Please, what did I do?”

“Nothing,” you lie, closing your eyes again so you wouldn't have to look at him as you say your next words. “I'm telling Brady how I feel. Tonight. No matter what happens I’m telling him tonight.”

“Oh. Good luck, then, I guess.” That's all Matthew says, then there's a shuffling noise and silence. Then the slam of the sliding door to the kitchen.

You shift uncomfortably and turn your thoughts back to Brady.

It’s later, when you’re curled up against Brady’s chest with a random movie playing on tv that you get cold feet. It’s just you and him, on the couch of the first floor of the house. Matthew is God knows where, and Taryn still hadn't gotten back from her friend’s house. This moment on the couch with him is perfect, it feels so domestic. You don't want to ruin this moment by telling him how you feel, and potentially - probably - being rejected.

You promised yourself.

You take a deep breath, ready to blurt out those three little words, and then -

“So, you and my brother huh?” Brady murmurs, eyes remaining trained on the action scene on the screen in front of him. “I know you got defensive last time I mentioned it but you guys are good together, and I'm glad you finally see it.”

You feel like you can't breathe, your throat choking up. You want to cry, yell, scream, something to just let him know that you love him.

“Actually, Brady -”

“Hey, don't worry it’s okay,” Brady laughs, reassuring you and pulling you closer to squeeze you. “I promise, I've seen you with him, and I think you guys are good together, don't worry about it.” You fall silent, not really knowing how to work your way out of this one.

“We’re not together,” you say quietly, and you had the way Brady’s hum of acknowledgment sounds like he doesn't believe you. You give up on telling him tonight.

The expression on Brady’s face drops when he meets your eyes across the table. You were just so tired. And you knew that he could see it in your face. What with work absolutely kicking your ass, to the point where you were barely able to get this week off to come home to St. Louis. It’s the end of summer, which means you and Brady were about to go through months of hectic schedules and voicemails that say “Hey, sorry I just missed your call, life has been crazy lately.” Your gaze falls from the lines of Brady's face to the seat at his right side.

Autumn smiles at you, and you hate the way the warmth that radiates from her feels like a knife twisting deeper into your gut. You hate yourself for how much you hate Autumn, you know she doesn't deserve it. Brady catches your eye again, a brief flash of recognition sliding across his face before it's gone. You'd been avoiding him for the past three days since you got here, and you almost felt guilty for it.

Matt’s hand gripping your thigh draws your attention away from Brady. He squeezes your thigh, smiling reassuringly at you and bumping your shoulder gently. It’s when Autumn finally stands from the table, smiling sweetly at Keith and Chantal, that you release the breath you'd been holding in all night. Brady says he's going to walk her out, a car waiting for her outside to take her to the airport back to Ottawa.

You don't fight it when Matthew tells you to head downstairs and he and Taryn could take care of the cleaning up. You curl up on the couch in the basement, stealing Matt’s Flames hoodie off the back of a chair and a blanket from the closet. Your eyes flutter shut to the muted noises of the dishes clinking together.

You let your eyes flutter closed, only opening them again when you feel a warm heat slide in beside you. You hum when Matt kisses your temple softly.

“You okay?” he nudges you gently, stealing the end of your blanket to cover his legs.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumble back, voice muffled by the pillow your face is half-buried in. You know Matthew knows better than to believe your blatant lie, but you're okay with the way he chooses to move past it and not make you talk about it.

The two of you lounge on the couch silently, Matt switching on some Netflix show he’d been watching after you heard Taryn say she was going to bed. You tried not to think about how long Brady was taking upstairs with Autumn.

They'd gotten back together over the summer, she’d reached out to him before he left for the off season, which he failed to mention until it was nearly over. Against both yours, Matthew’s, and Taryn’s advice, Brady had bought a plane ticket back to Ottawa, saying that he might as well give it a shot.

Matthew had held you when you cried that night, Taryn bringing the two of you water and food when it was clear you weren't leaving his room, much less his arms.

He wanted to hold you right now too, god how he wanted to hold you. But he couldn't, not with Brady due back any second from waiting out front for Autumn's ride. He couldn't risk Brady seeing the two of you, not again.

Brady had made comments here and there about Matt’s relationship with you. No matter how much Matt insisted that the two of you weren't involved, Brady wasn't convinced, insisting that he was okay with it.

But right now, in this moment, he wanted to believe him. Matt’s hands ached to touch you, hold you, draw patterns on your skin, he yearned for it. He wanted - he needed to make sure that you knew that everything was going to be okay. Just as his resolve starts to crumble, his hands twitching in his lap as he begins to reach for you, a voice comes from the stairs.

“We should talk - right?” Brady is talking to you, making you open your eyes to look at him. “Like - things are weird, have been weird, and we have to talk about it right?”

You nodded silently, shifting in your spot so that you're sitting up, any physical contact you had with Matt now lost. “Yeah,” your voice comes out small, a whisper, and then stronger, firmer. “Yeah, we need to talk.”

This is it.

The silence in the room is almost unbearable, and you're unable to choke the words out. Brady stares at you, while you stare down at your hands. Matt refuses to look at either of you, gaze trained on the wall behind the TV, jaw clenched so tightly that if your eyes were on him you'd tell him he was about to break his teeth.

“Is this about you and Matt?” The words come out of nowhere, and it feels like you've been slapped.

“What?” Matt’s head snaps towards Brady, as does yours.

“No, really,” Brady says, “Did you guys break up oh something?

“What are you talking about Brady?” You can't stop the frustration from seeping into your voice. “That's not what this is -”

“‘Cause you know I’m okay with you guys together,” Brady continues obliviously, “I keep telling both of you that it's fine but I don't get why you insist on-”

“Oh my god you idiot!” Matt’s outburst shuts Brady up pretty quickly, leaving the younger brother staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Matt looks at you and his eyes are sad, regret and apologies already written all over his face for what he's about to say next. “She's in love with you.”

He speaks so quietly you almost don't hear the second part of his statement.

“And I’m in love with her.”

Time screeches to a halt. You're convinced it's a dream, nearly pinching yourself to prove that it is. Brady is staring at Matt now, and you're staring at the ground.

“You're lying.” You don't believe the words you're saying either, and neither do Matt and Brady.

“I love you.” He's telling the truth, you can hear it in his voice.

“Stop.”

“I love you and you love him.”

“Stop it!”

“I love you, and, fuck - Y/N, it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing that’s ever fucking happened to me.”

“Please! Matty, please! Just stop!”

“Is he telling the truth?” This time it’s Brady. His voice quivers with every word. Like he doesn’t want it to be true. “You're in love with me?”

You wrap your arms around your torso, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping - praying - that when you opened your eyes, this would all be over and you'd wake up in your bed. But when you opened your eyes again, you were still on the couch in the Tkachuk’s basement, blanket tangled between you and Matt.

“You should have let me tell him,” you say to Matt, ignoring Brady’s question, still lingering in the air. “I wanted to be the one to tell him, you knew that.”

“Well, he hasn't been letting you, now has he?” Matt snaps back at you, the regret showing up on his face almost instantaneously. “Baby…”

The name slips out on accident, he doesn't mean to say, and he sure as hell doesn't mean for Brady to hear it.

“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Brady finally yells, fed up with being kept in the dark. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

“I don't-” you start to say, trying to say it before Matt does.

“She loves you, okay?” Matt grabs your hand for a moment when he starts to speak, giving it a squeeze before taking his own hand back again. “She loves you in more than a friend way, and we’ve spent nearly the last year trying to get her to tell you but every time - every time Brady! - some stupid shit happens, like you trying to hook her up with someone, or - oh, I don't know - randomly springing your girlfriend on us!”

“That was one time!” Brady argues, “Besides you were the only one who knew Autumn was coming, why are you even mad?” You flinch at the mention of her name, but freeze at what comes after.

“What?”

Matt looks like he's been caught red handed - and he has, really. He just didn't mean for you to find out this way. He didn't mean for you to find out any of this the way that you just did.

“I can explain -”

“Please don't,” you stand up just as Matt is reaching for you. “I don't want an explanation. I don't - I just want to - I’m going home.”

While Brady doesn’t even look at you, Matt nearly lunges for you when you walk away from the couch. Walk away from him. He hates the way the thought stings. He barely manages to brush his fingertips against the red fabric of his hoodie before you're halfway up the stairs and the door to the basement slams shut.

#n e wayz #matthew tkachuk #matty tkachuk #ratthew!!!!!#brady tkachuk #ottawa senators #calgary flames #hockey #imagine #smut #nhl #4+1

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mariecuttlefish · 3 years

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Cooling Off [3k words, MariexAgent 3]

It's been a while since I had new writing to post! This is a belated piece for @receding-tides, mainly starring their Agent 3, Faye, and Marie (though Callie and another of their OCs are there as well).

External links: [Google Docs], [AO3]

Warnings: None. Appropriate for teenage audiences.

Description: When Marie has a hard time handling the summer heat, Faye steps in to offer some comfort.

---

The sky overhead was as blue and bright as the air was thick and soupy. Midsummer heat bore down persistently, each brief respite of shade subdued by an ever-present humidity that clung to exposed skin and made ink drip from tentacles. What little breeze did manage to cut through was slow and dampened by the squiff.

Marie clung to her parasol, fighting her tired arms to keep it aloft and get what little shelter from the sunlight she could. The weather forecast playing on the lobby television before she left the hotel that morning had warned of high temperatures, and she'd prepared as best she could to deal with it, but for all her efforts to stay cool she'd still sharply underestimated how draining it would be to spend the day mostly outside. Several hours of milling between storefronts had left her exhausted and struggling to keep pace. At least the group she was with was small — just her, Callie, and their respective partners — so she didn't have to worry about crowding on top of it.

"Alright, you guys! The concert is starting soon, let's head over!" Her cousin, on the other hand, seemed no less energetic than she had been that morning, bounding forward without a care. Marie couldn't understand how she was still so upbeat, especially with her near-black tentacles that had to be tied up just to keep her from tripping on them. Surely those things were unbearable heat sinks, right?

"Hopefully there'll be some place to sit," Jake said from Callie's side. He was making a noticeable effort to keep his balance as Callie swung his hand to and fro in her own, and if Marie only possessed the energy to be amused she probably would have had a hard time containing her laughter at the sight. As things stood, she could only think about how much she agreed with his sentiment. "My legs are killing me... couldn't we have shown up to the mall later if we're just here for the show at the boardwalk?"

Callie raspberried that notion. "It's the Seaspray Galleria, of course we're not just here for the concert!" She shook the collection of overly decorative bags in her other hand for emphasis. "This is basically the biggest mall outside of Inkopolis! No way could we spend a week in the area and not go on a shopping spree! Right, Mar?"

"Mmh." Marie offered a noncommittal shrug, trying (but probably failing) to seem a bit less exhausted as the couple turned to look at her. She wasn't the biggest on shopping even in a good mood — trying to find places for everything back at the apartment was too much of a bother — but this mall was big and fancy enough to include a couple of niche health food stores, so she'd gotten to enjoy the rare indulgence of stocking up on snacks she would actually be able to eat. She just wished they would've put a roof over the place instead of pursuing the 'open-air market' aesthetic.

Whatever Marie's opinions of the mall were, though, her acting was about as weak right now as she imagined. Immediately Callie slowed down, a look of concern in her eyes. "Wait, are you doing okay? You look super out of it…"

There was exactly the thing she'd hoped to avoid: people noticing she wasn't feeling well. Marie was too used to being the more sensitive half of the Squid Sisters, the one who avoided any big events their manager didn't push her to attend and who was more often than not the cause for them having to leave things early. Seeing how excited Callie was to visit this place and watch one of their shared favorite bands perform on the boardwalk outside the mall had made her determined to stick it out and get through the entire day, and now that it was getting into the evening and the sun was starting to set she was almost there. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint her cousin by forcing them all to head back to the hotel early. Sure, the alternative meant a probably-miserable hour of noise and confusion when she was already feeling lightheaded from the temperature, but it wasn't anything she hadn't put up with for her own performances before; she could tolerate it to make her cousin happy.

Then followed another wave of embarrassment as she felt a gentle hand come to rest on her back. "Are you sure you don't need to go back to the hotel?" Faye asked softly, aiming her words at Marie alone rather than the whole of the group. Of course her girlfriend had picked up on how tired Marie was first, and had asked about it a couple of times whenever Callie and Jake weren't paying attention, but when Marie had insisted she was fine Faye had let the topic go. Marie knew she wasn't going to be so lax about it now that the others had confirmed she wasn't just misinterpreting things.

"'m fine," Marie answered with a meek wave of her hand. The words didn't quite want to come out, but they would have to deal with it.

"Just... tired."

"Marie—" Callie took a step forward but stopped as Faye raised a hand, gesturing for her to give some space.

"We have some time until the concert thing, right? Let's sit down for a bit in the shade," Faye said, carefully guiding Marie to a bench a short distance away. As the two sat down Faye offered a bottle of water, which Marie traded for her parasol without protest. Callie and Jake followed close behind, Jake taking the opposite end of the bench to rest his legs while Callie leaned up against the wall beside; both looked worried — more worried than Marie wanted them to be — but seemed at least to take the hint that crowding around her wouldn't help.

For a while they sat there, Faye fiddling with the parasol to figure out how best to block the sunlight while Marie tried to find a balance between the desire to curl up in her girlfriend's arms and the knowledge that they were still very much in a public space. Several minutes passed without many words spoken until, at last, the awkward quiet was broken by Callie pushing off of the wall and gesturing toward the restrooms across the nearby courtyard. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom real quick, should I grab some more water on my way back?"

"I got a couple more bottles, don't worry," Faye replied. As Callie headed off across the courtyard, her attention returned to Marie. "How're you feeling? It's okay to go back to the hotel if you need to."

Marie frowned and clung to her girlfriend's arm. "Callie wants to see the concert..." she answered reluctantly. Her voice felt scratchy and gross even though she was halfway through the bottle of water at this point; maybe, she decided, she would just avoid talking after all.

Faye leaned her head against Marie's. "Is that why you've been saying you're fine all this time, so Callie doesn't have to leave early?" Marie didn't want to answer that, but she knew her silence gave it away. "Love, you and I can go back just the two of us. I'm sure Callie and Jake'll be fine on their own for another hour or two.”

That... somehow hadn't occurred to Marie. The prospect of going back to the hotel to be alone with Faye was already an easy winner in her book, and if she could have that and not have to make Callie miss out on something at the same time... Of course, she would still miss out on a band she adored, but that wasn’t as much a concern; she’d already seen the Chirpy Chips play at least a dozen times before, and in more pleasant weather. Hesitantly, she nodded her head, and Faye wrapped an arm around her shoulder to give a comforting hug.

"We'll head back, then." Faye motioned for Jake's attention (which wasn't hard to get when he had already been keeping an eye on Marie to begin with) and nodded in the direction Callie had left in. "Can you let her know once she's out of the bathroom?"

Jake nodded. "Can do. Text one of us once you're there so we know you made it back alright?"

"Yeah," Faye agreed. "And make sure you both take care, too. I know you're alright with the heat but I have a feeling Callie's gonna start feeling it soon herself." Taking one of the remaining bottles of water she'd brought with her, she handed it to him.

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out! I hope you feel better soon, Marie." Marie managed a polite nod in place of saying anything, hoping Jake would interpret that as a sufficient gesture of appreciation.

"Thanks, Jake," Faye added, and moments later she and Marie were away, navigating back through the scattered crowd of shoppers to make their way to the bus stop.

* * * * *

Air conditioning was simultaneously the best and worst thing after a day like this. On one hand, the heavy, artificial breeze that billowed through the bus to the hotel was exactly what Marie needed to stop her from feeling like she might melt at any moment; on the other, it did little to negate the humidity, instead simply blowing the moisture around until Marie was coated in an invisible layer of grime. By the time she and Faye walked back into the hotel and felt the sweet, freezing relief of expensive "we-don't-want-a-single-customer-complaining" central air, Marie felt substantially more comfortable emotionally but also five degrees of unpleasant physically.

They wasted no time lingering in the lobby. It felt even more awkward to be overheated and out of it in a neat and quiet place like that than it had sitting outside in a public mall, and with the privacy of their room so near Marie could at least muster up the energy to carry herself into the elevator and down the hallway. No sooner was the door opened than Marie was finding her way to bed, lazily tossing aside the mask and sunglasses she'd worn to hide herself from any paparazzi and letting down her tentacles as she flopped face-down into the welcoming embrace of an overly-plush comforter.

Behind her she heard the sounds of Faye settling in as well, setting aside the few bags the two of them had brought from the mall (and putting the snacks Marie had bought into the room's minifridge; Marie made a mental note to give her a kiss for that later) before quietly sitting down on the bed beside Marie. Fingers brushed the back of her neck, coming up to soothingly stroke her mantle, and Marie slowly rolled onto her side so she could look up at her. "Hey there," Faye said, her voice even more tender now that they were alone.

"Mmm... hey," Marie murmured, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. Wordlessly she lifted her head up and scooted over to rest it in Faye's lap, curling up by her side.

Faye looked down at her with a gentle smile. Carefully she brushed Marie's longest tentacles to the side, keeping them out of her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Kinda dumb…" Marie wasn't eager to admit it. She averted her eyes, which unfortunately left her with little to look at but the front of Faye's shirt. In the back of her mind, she silently cursed the fact that feeling bad could make eye contact with her own girlfriend so hard.

"Marie," Faye started, not a trace of frustration behind the word. A hand slid under Marie's jaw to guide her to look back upward; Marie settled for the compromise of staring at Faye's cheek. "It's okay. It's good to tell people when you aren't feeling well."

"Says you," Marie murmured. "You're like, the queen of not asking for help." As soon as the words left her mouth she worried they'd come out meaner than she meant, but Faye just smirked.

"Takes one to know one, I guess." Pulling a pillow over from the end of the bed to place behind her, Faye laid back, tousling Marie's tentacles. It was a comfortable feeling, and Marie couldn't help but purr as she nuzzled her head into Faye's hand.

"I guess you're right," she said quietly. "Sorry I was so resistant."

Faye shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, it's okay. I'm just glad you said something before it got too bad." Stretching, she held her arms out, gesturing as if she was waiting for a hug. "Now c'mere, dear."

Marie smiled and scooted up to meet the embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around Faye, half-laying on top of her, and nestled her head into the crook of Faye's neck. A small part of her worried that the accumulated grime from being out in the heat would make cuddling less appealing, but before she had the chance to dwell on that thought Faye was hugging her closer with one arm wrapped around her shoulders, leaning down to plant a kiss at the top of her head. Another long purr built up in her chest and Faye chuckled, idly running a thumb along her shoulder.

The pair got comfortable like that, relaxing together for a moment before Faye reached into her pocket suddenly. "Oh—" she started, then pulled out her phone and began tapping something out with the hand that wasn't occupied holding Marie.

"Hmm?" Marie glanced up through one half-open eye, her face buried against Faye's skin. Her girlfriend was comfortable, and despite how they'd spent the day still had a faint pleasant smell about her; now that they were alone together and able to relax under proper air conditioning, it was taking all of Marie's concentration not to fall asleep where she was. "Looking something up?" she mumbled.

"Just texting Jake," Faye answered. "Almost forgot to let him know we made it back to the hotel."

Marie hummed. "Ask him how Callie's doing? Probably pretty well, if the Chips have started playing."

Faye smiled at that. "I'll ask." She typed out a few more words before at last hitting send, then plopped her arm onto the bed beside her with the phone held just loosely enough that she'd notice it vibrate if a text came in. She didn't need to wait long; hardly a minute later the phone buzzed with a pair of incoming messages, and Faye picked it up again to read them.

"Says Callie's doing fine, but he noticed the heat was starting to get to her too so they found a bench in the shade for the concert. Callie won't stop dancing in her seat. Oh, and Jake says hello."

Marie snorted. That sounded like her cousin, for sure. "Hiii, Jake," she murmured lightheartedly. Satisfied to know things were fine back at the mall, she stopped resisting the exhaustion in her eyelids and let them droop shut, instantly feeling the urge to fall asleep take over her. The passive discomfort of overheating was still there — Marie made a mental note to take a long bath as soon as she had the energy to get up — but she was cozy, her girlfriend was soft, and the slow rise and fall of Faye's chest as she breathed in and out held the perfect rhythm to lull a very tired squid to sleep…

When Marie opened her eyes again, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. The dim evening light filtering in through the curtained windows was gone, leaving most of the hotel room dark save for the single light turned on at the entrance. Faye was in the same place she had been (predictably so, considering how thoroughly Marie was curled around her), watching what looked like an old soap opera at minimum volume on the TV that she'd somehow managed to turn on. When she felt Marie stirring, she turned her head to look at her and smiled. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Marie started to speak, but the difficulty of forming words was compounded by the grog of waking up at odd hours. Instead she just rubbed her cheek against Faye's neck and purred affectionately, content to stay comfortable in her love's arms. Faye smiled and brought her hand to rest against the small of Marie's back, gently tugging the back of her shirt up to rub soothing circles against her skin. The contact made Marie shiver as her nerves woke up, and she clung tighter to Faye, wanting nothing more than to stay there for as long as she could.

"You fell asleep for about an hour and a half," Faye cooed, guessing the question Marie had tried to ask. "Callie and Jake got back to the hotel a little bit ago. They said the concert was great, Callie wishes you could've been there for it.”

Marie gave a little nod, turning her head away from Faye to clear her throat. When she spoke her voice came out raspy and inconsistent, but she could wait a little longer to get up for a drink of water. "Did they say if they were going to sleep yet?" Even if she still wasn't feeling well, a part of her wanted to poke into their room and verify that she was, in fact, alive and not a pile of melted ink on the floor.

Faye shrugged. "Nah, but knowing the two of them they've probably just been in their room making out since they got back."

"Gross." Marie grimaced, giving her shoulder a playful nudge. At least that meant one less potential reason to stop cuddling with her own girlfriend.

"What? It's not like we wouldn't be doing the same if you were feeling a bit better," Faye teased. Marie made a point of pouting at that remark, but she knew she couldn't dispute it. Heck, the only thing stopping her from kissing Faye right now was the knowledge that moving her head to do so would make it impossible to get back into the perfect comfort spot she had settled into. She had no choice but to concede, taking Faye's free hand in her own and lacing their fingers together.

The two lay there for a long while, disturbed only by the barely-audible sound of fictional couples getting into melodramatic arguments on the television screen. Occasionally Faye would turn her attention to the show when (Marie presumed) things started to get interesting, and the tiny little laughs that escaped her at the far-too-corny jokes only made Marie want to kiss her even more. The urge to fall back to sleep filled her again but this time she fought it, not wanting to miss out on the feeling of being with someone who she loved so dearly.

At last Marie's need for hydration overpowered the desire to cuddle and she slowly sat up, planting her palms against the bedsheet to stay steady. As she stretched and stood up to walk to the mini-fridge Faye stood up as well, joining her and wrapping both arms around her belly for a gentle hug from behind. "I love you, Marie."

"I love you too, Faye," Marie responded with a tired smile. "Thank you for taking care of me. You're the most wonderful girlfriend a squid could ask for."

"Right back at you." Faye leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Marie's neck, drawing one last purr from her before Faye let go of her with a giggle. "Now that you're up and moving, your wonderful girlfriend is gonna go run a bath. Both of us could stand to clean up and cool off."

Marie nodded. "You wanna go first or should I?" she asked absentmindedly, digging past all the snacks she'd bought to find the chilled water bottles at the back of the fridge.

"Either or," Faye answered as she ducked into the bathroom, and Marie thought she heard a quieter 'Both works too' tucked in under the sound of the bath's faucet starting up. She smiled, closing the fridge and returning to sit on the edge of the bed to take a long sip of water. Only one thought sat in her mind:

I'm so glad she's in my life.

#splatoon #marie #callie #agent 3 #mari3 #outside ocs #tidal writing #the t rating is just to be cautious due to one offhanded line of dialogue #...i feel like i had more to say in the tags but i forgot it in the process of getting things formatted #oh well

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debbiechanclub · 4 years

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 26

This is it: the last chapter of BTOOT 😭

I wrote a long, sappy post about what this means to me *months* ago when I thought we would finish much sooner than we did (whoops), so I won’t get into all that again. However, I will say that this is a huge accomplishment for me because I have never finished a multi-part fic until now. But I didn’t do it on my own. I absolutely could not have completed this in the time that I did without @hotyeehawman, and BTOOT absolutely would not be the fic that it is without her. So thank you so much, Lauren. We wrote a whole ass 123,419-word, 228-page mf’in fanfiction novel in less than a year 😳

And, at the risk of sounding cheesy AF, we couldn’t have done it without you all, either. The response to this little wrasslin’ fic consistently blows us away. SO THANK YOU. It means more than words can say. So once you finish reading this last chapter, please come scream at me in your tags, in the comments, in my asks, in my DMs. Because I cannot wait to hear your thoughts.

Alright, enough of that 🤧 I’ll let you get to reading 😉

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 26/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC, Matt Jackson x OFC x Cash Wheeler, Adam Page x himself

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language; MAJOR angst

Catch up on previous parts here.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @comeasyoudar @heelchampbucks @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-darbyallin-exe @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @kingswitchblade

Callie pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time again. 8:57 a.m. She put it back and glanced anxiously around the hotel lobby. She and Cash had agreed to meet there at nine to head to Orlando, and with each passing minute she worried that it would be Matt who stepped out of the elevator instead.

Their conversation had played on a nonstop loop in her head all night. This all happened way too fast. Yeah, I guess it did. Over and over again. Except, in her head, it didn’t end the way it had last night. Instead of Matt walking off she called out to him to wait. She told him that the reason she’d been avoiding him was because she felt guilty about how much she enjoyed being with him. Her brain told her it was wrong, but her heart told her otherwise, and because she didn’t know how to reconcile the two it was easier to just avoid the issue all together.

And that’s exactly what she was doing now: avoiding the issue by going to Orlando with Cash. And she wasn’t just going for the day—she was staying the night at his place.

It had been Cash’s suggestion that she spend the night. It’ll save me a round trip, he’d said via text. It made sense; they both had to be back in Jacksonville for Dynamite tomorrow, so there was no point in making Cash drive four extra hours tonight. So, Callie had agreed.

But, deep down, she knew she’d mostly agreed because it helped her avoid Matt that much more.

She pulled out her phone again, but rather than check the time she opened the camera and flipped it to face toward her. Her double black eyes had worsened from last night, turning an ugly bluish color, but thankfully some full-coverage concealer had made them barely noticeable. Even so, she pushed her oversized sunglasses onto her face. The last thing she needed was people thinking she was a battered woman.

The elevator dinged, and Callie’s chest constricted as the doors slid open. Mercifully, it was Cash.

“You ready?” he asked as he moved toward her. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

She nodded and jumped up from her seat. “Mhm,” she said as she grabbed her suitcase. She couldn’t leave the hotel fast enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

The drive to Orlando was mostly quiet. Cash had asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted to do or see, but she’d just told him she was up for whatever. She knew absolutely nothing about Orlando outside of the fact that Disney World and Universal Studios were there and the little bit she’d seen when she’d stayed with Britt. But Cash didn’t seem bothered by her apparent lack of enthusiasm; he’d just grinned and said, “I got you.” It made Callie’s stomach flutter.

They dropped off their bags at his place and she met his English bulldog, Pawla, before they set off for their first stop of the day. Cash seemed excited as he steered his truck into a parking lot in front of a large complex. Callie, however, was more than just a little confused when she saw what it was.

“Go-karts?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but Cash just let out a laugh. “What? You don’t like go-karts?”

She didn’t answer, looking skeptically out the window at the building. For whatever reason, it made her think of Alex. Go-karts seemed more her speed. She frowned. I wonder if he took her here, too.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Cash said. “I think you could use the adrenaline boost.”

“I can think of better ways to get an adrenaline boost.”

As soon as she said it, Callie wished she could take it back. It had just slipped out, implication and all. She looked hesitantly at Cash. He was smirking.

“I’m sure you can,” he returned. Callie felt her cheeks burn hot behind her sunglasses.

“Come on,” he repeated as he unbuckled his seat belt. “I’ll let you pick where we go to lunch afterward.”

He got out of the truck, and Callie drew in a deep, calming breath through her nose as she did the same.

Maybe avoiding Matt wasn’t the only reason she’d decided to stay overnight in Orlando.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex still hadn’t gotten over what had happened at the Labor Day party. In a word, she felt awful. She wanted to text Callie and apologize again, but between nearly breaking her nose and all but telling her to stay away from Matt, she doubted she wanted to hear from her. So, in hopes of boosting her mood, she’d decided to sit out by Kenny’s pool and soak up the last vestiges of summer while she still could.

But, so far, it hadn’t worked.

Her phone chirped next to her on the lounger, and she picked it up and unlocked the screen. She had a text from Trent.

Hey loser. You have plans today?

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as she typed back. Not really. Why?

She hit “send,” but instead of setting the phone back down she opened up Instagram. She clicked on Jay White’s story and let it autoplay through a couple more people before it unexpectedly came to Cash’s story. It was a Boomerang video of an indoor go-kart track. Alex recognized it; he’d taken her there one of the first weekends she’d stayed with him in Orlando.

A banner appeared at the top of her screen with Trent’s reply. Because Sam is in town if you want to come hang out.

That caught her off-guard. Sam, the boys’ friend who she’d first met five years ago. Alex had had no idea she was going to be in Jacksonville. Had one of them told her and it’d slipped her mind? But she didn’t think too much of it as she opened the text and sent her response.

Idk. After yesterday I kind of just feel like being a hermit today.

She went back to Instagram and refreshed the page—and her eyes widened at the first picture that popped up.

Callie, a bright smile on her face as she posed in a helmet at the very same indoor go-kart track from Cash’s story.

“Are you shitting me?”

“There you are.”

Alex nearly dropped her phone on her face at the sound of Kenny’s voice. He gave her an amused look. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” she started. But she thought better of it and huffed, “No.”

Kenny cocked his head in concern as he sat down on the edge of the lounger next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Alex let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan. The last thing she wanted to do was to complain to Kenny about Callie and Cash, of all people. But if she couldn’t talk to him about it, who could she? “I’m just frustrated with the whole Callie situation,” she breathed.

She glanced at him from underneath the bill of her baseball cap. He frowned sympathetically at her. “I know, baby. But you didn’t hit her on purpose. If she doesn’t believe that it’s her problem.”

“It’s not just that,” she interjected. “According to Instagram she’s in Orlando with Cash right now.”

His brow furrowed in confusion when she said that. Alex knew exactly what he was thinking. “I don’t give two shits about Cash,” she assured him. “He can do whatever and whoever he wants. Honestly, I expect bullshit like this from him. But I don’t get where Callie’s head is at. Where the hell does she get off blaming me for ruining her relationship with Adam while she’s off driving fucking go-karts with the guy who stabbed him in the back? It hasn’t even been two weeks since she left him!”

“Because it’s what Callie does,” Kenny blithely returned. “She thinks she’s blameless in everything and doesn’t take accountability for anything. This isn’t the first time she’s shown you that’s exactly the kind of person she is.”

“But we were friends, Kenny! Somehow, we got over all the bullshit and became friends, and then fucking Adam…”

She trailed off, her voice growing thick with emotion, and looked to the ceiling. She didn’t want to get upset. But it was hard not to. She felt betrayed. That was the only word for it.

“Hey.” Kenny put a hand on her bare leg, drawing her eyes back to his. “Do you want my honest advice?”

She nodded.

“Stop wasting your energy on Callie and Adam. They’re not worth it, Alex. You’ve given them so much of your time and effort and what have you gotten in return?”

A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away. She didn’t need to answer him. They both knew the answer. “I know,” she softly agreed. “You’re probably right.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Of course I am.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “I was thinking about ordering sushi for dinner tonight. That always makes you feel better.”

She perked up a bit at that. “Can we get sake, too?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’ll get you sake, too.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He gave her leg an affectionate squeeze and stood. “Well, I’m gonna go get a workout in. Wanna join me?”

Alex couldn’t help herself. “Is that a euphemism?”

He grinned. “No, despite how much I want to take that bikini off you right now.”

She just playfully rolled her eyes in response.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Endorphins will make you feel better, too.”

Alex emitted a dramatic groan as she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. “Not if you try to kill me like you did last time,” she argued.

“But I always take good care of you afterward,” he said. “That was a euphemism, by the way.”

She returned his smirk. “Yeah, I got it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

To Cash’s credit, the go-karts had been fun—but Callie was more than happy to take the lead on the rest of the day. She’d picked out a restaurant on International Drive for lunch (Cash had groaned and said that was where all the tourists went, to which she’d cheekily replied that she was a tourist), and afterward he’d convinced her to ride the Ferris wheel at ICON Park, where he’d pointed out some of the different areas of the city to her (Callie, who was afraid of heights, had kept a death grip on his arm the entire time). Then, at Callie’s request, they’d driven around some of the neighborhoods so that she could get a better feel for them (“Obviously, I recommend my neighborhood,” Cash had said). Overall, it had turned out to be a good day after all, and Orlando was looking more and more like the place Callie wanted to move.

But, the more time she spent with him, the more she started to wonder how much of that feeling was due to Cash.

“What’re you craving?” he asked as they sat on the couch in his living room.

“You pick,” she returned. Pawla lounged between them, and she reached down to scratch her behind the ears. “I’m honestly still stuffed from lunch.”

“Chinese it is,” he decided, and he pulled out his phone to order. Callie did the same, but to open up Instagram—and she found that Alex was the first person in her stories queue. She stared at the little circle of her profile picture, hesitant. But she was too nosy not to look, so she angled her phone screen away from Cash and clicked.

There were only two pictures in her story. The first showed her in sweat-drenched workout gear lying face-down on a gym room floor with the caption, “@/kennyomegamanx tried to kill me again.” The second was of her smiling in satisfaction in front of a takeout container of sushi. “He made up for it,” the caption read.

“I guess Alex and Kenny aren’t hiding their relationship anymore.”

She froze and glanced at Cash out of the corner of her eye. That was the second time that day she’s put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “They’re probably the last two people you want to hear about.”

But Cash shook his head. “I don’t care. They can have each other.”

Callie frowned. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he spoke up again before she could.

“Do you prefer beef and broccoli or chicken?”

She thought for a second. “Beef.”

A few more clicks and he finished putting in the order. “It says it’ll be here in thirty-five minutes,” he said as he stood from the couch. “You want a drink? I have a bottle of The Rock’s tequila, it’s really good.”

Callie’s nose scrunched up. “Do you have vodka?”

“Yeah. You want it on the rocks or mixed?”

“Mixed please.”

He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Callie occupied herself with petting Pawla until he returned with their drinks a few minutes later. “Here you go; vanilla vodka and Coke Zero.”

“Oo, that sounds good,” she said as he handed her the cocktail. She took a sip. He’d made it just right, not too much vodka, not too little.

“So, what’d you think of Orlando?” he asked as he sat back down. “Did I convince you to become my neighbor?”

His choice of words made her stomach flutter again. “I think so. There’s more to do here than in Jacksonville, and a two-hour drive to work is a lot better than a cross-country flight.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I like it. Dax is planning on moving back to Asheville, but I think I’m gonna stay here. It’s grown on me. Plus, I like Disney and Universal Studios too much.”

“Yeah, I definitely want to check those out,” she returned.

“We should plan a weekend,” he smirked. Callie took a sip of her drink to hide her blush.

They fell into silence, and they both turned their attention to the random show Cash had put on the television. But there was something hanging in the air; Callie could feel it. She was about to speak up when Cash beat her to it.

“So, we’ve avoided the topic all day, but I kind of feel like I have to ask now.”

There was no need for him to clarify what he meant. “Matt?” she guessed.

He nodded. She shifted in her seat. “What about him?”

“Well… are you two not together?”

He sounded almost hopeful. She hesitated to respond.

“That was the rumor backstage,” he added.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it was. But I guess, yeah, at one point it was moving in that direction. But… I actually told him last night that I think we rushed into things.”

“Oh,” Cash said. It was obvious that he expected her to continue, but her confusion over Matt was the last thing Callie wanted to get into right now. So, she deflected.

“There’s something I need to ask you, too.”

Cash arched his eyebrows as he raised his glass to his lips. “That doesn’t sound good,” he joked.

But Callie wasn’t joking. “Why’d you do what you did to Adam?”

He paused to cock his head at her. “What do you mean?”

She shot him a flat look as he took a sip of his drink. “I mean when you stabbed him in the back, Cash.”

Cash made a noise as he swallowed down the tequila. “Damn, not pulling any punches, huh?”

“You didn’t with Adam.”

He looked back at her in surprise. She didn’t waiver. He breathed out again.

“Alright, look,” he started. “I don’t have anything against Adam. I’ve known him a long time. But he and Kenny had what we wanted, and we did what we had to do to get it.”

She rolled her eyes again. That was such a canned response.

“What?”

“You did not have to do what you did,” she returned. “You didn’t have to manipulate him the way you did.”

His eyebrows arched. “Manipulate him? Callie, all we did was point out that Kenny and the Bucks don’t give two shits about him. He did the rest himself.”

“What?”

“I swear.”

“So you didn’t tell him to sabotage Matt and Nick in the gauntlet match?”

“No! He did that because he was upset about you and Matt!”

Callie’s brow puckered in confusion. “What?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He told us at the hotel bar that night that he found out right before the gauntlet match that you were staying with Matt in California, so he retaliated by sabotaging their title shot. Dax and I didn’t have anything to do with that, I promise you.”

The room grew silent as his words sunk in, stunning her. That was exactly what Alex had surmised when Matt had confronted her immediately after the gauntlet match. But Callie hadn’t wanted to believe it, and after FTR had turned on Adam she’d assumed that they’d been the ones to put the idea in his head.

But if Cash was telling her that they hadn’t, then it meant she really was to blame.

“Hey,” Cash softly beckoned. She looked back up at him. His eyes were earnest. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Callie stared down into her drink, tapping her fingernails on the glass. She appreciated the sentiment, but she didn’t agree. Not really. “Well, technically I walked out him, so…”

She trailed off and took a long drink. She felt like such a bitch. I shouldn’t be here.

“And?” Cash returned, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I’m sure you had good reason to.”

Callie didn’t answer right away, nearly draining her drink. Once she’d had enough, she looked down at Pawla and scratched her head again. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said.

“Done,” he said, and she sent him a tight, grateful smile. “So what do you wanna do? Watch a movie?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just have one request.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Anything but Mean Girls.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When Matt arrived at Daily’s Place on Wednesday, he had half a mind to go to Tony and tell him to cancel the mixed tag match. He had no desire to wrestle a match with Callie anymore. To be frank, he didn’t want much of anything to do with her at the moment.

He knew she’d been in Orlando with Cash yesterday. He’d seen her Instagram photo at the go-kart track and hadn’t thought much of it. But not long after, Kenny had texted him.

Hey, did you know Callie is in Orlando with Cash right now?

It had caught him completely off-guard. No? he’d responded. Who told you that?

He’d been more on-edge than he cared to admit while he’d awaited Kenny’s reply. Alex. I guess they posted photos from the same place on Instagram or something.

A quick search for Cash’s Instagram profile—Matt didn’t follow that asshole—had confirmed the claim to be true. It wasn’t a photo, but a Boomerang video on his story that gave it away. It was unmistakably the same indoor go-kart track from Callie’s picture.

I just thought you should know, Kenny had followed up. Matt hadn’t responded. He’d tried to put it out of his mind ever since, but he couldn’t. He kept going back to what Callie had said to him the last time he’d seen her.

This all happened way too fast.

He didn’t disagree; they had moved fast. But what confused him was that Callie had been the one to set the pace, not him. He’d thought she’d wanted everything that had happened between them.

But the way she was acting now made him feel like nothing more than a regret.

“Matt.”

“Hm.” He looked up from his phone at Brandon. He, Nick, and Kenny all stared expectantly at him from across the EVP room.

“Do you want me to film the mixed tag match for BTE?” Brandon asked. His tone that conveyed he was repeating himself. Matt obviously hadn’t heard him the first time.

“Oh, no. Sorry,” he replied, and he looked back down at his phone. He saw the three of them exchange a wary glance out of his peripheral vision. Thankfully, they just left it alone.

“Alright, I’m starving,” Nick announced as he stood from his seat. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Brandon agreed.

“No,” Kenny wearily returned. “I got that interview with JR.”

There was a pause. And then, “Matt?”

He looked up again, this time at his brother. He shook his head. “No. I’m not hungry.”

Nick let out a breath. “Alright,” he said, and he and Brandon went out the door, leaving Matt and Kenny alone. The silence in the room was deafening. But it didn’t last long.

“Have you talked to Callie at all?” Kenny asked. “About the match,” he quickly clarified.

Matt shook his head again. “No. I haven’t talked to her period. Not since Monday.”

There was another beat of uncomfortable silence. Again, Kenny was the one to break it. “Look, about yesterday. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t,” Matt abruptly cut him off. He knew exactly what he was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m glad you told me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

He raised his palms in surrender. “Fine,” he said, and Matt hoped that really was the end of it.

But then Kenny added, “But I think you owe Alex an apology.”

“What?” Matt cut his eyes at him in disbelief. “For what?”

“Oh, come on, you know exactly for what. For the whole reason the mixed tag match is happening in the first place.”

That confused him even more. “The mixed tag match is happening because Trent can’t mind his fucking business.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Oh, okay,” he sarcastically returned.

“What?”

“You called Alex a slut, Matt!” Kenny burst. “That’s what led to the mixed tag match! You accused her of putting Hangman up to sabotaging your title shot and you called her a slut for being involved with both me and Cash. But where was Callie yesterday? In Orlando with Cash, even though she’s apparently with you. So yeah, I think you owe Alex an apology.”

Matt sat back, physically stung by Kenny’s words. They hurt because there was more than just a grain of truth in them. But, at the moment, he was too stubborn to hear it. “Oh, so Callie’s the slut now? Is that what you’re saying?”

Kenny expelled an exasperated breath. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It sure fucking sounds like it is.”

“I’m saying she’s making you look like a fucking idiot.”

They were thrown into silence again, their arguing replaced with quiet, palpable hostility as they sat opposed on either end of the room. Matt’s eyes turned dark. He didn’t need this. Not now. Not from his best friend.

“Fuck you, Kenny,” he spat. He stood and stalked toward the door, and as he gripped the handle he turned back, a cutting remark on the tip of his tongue. But in a moment of clarity, he decided it was better left unsaid. The shoe was on the other foot now. So he just went out the door, suddenly glad that he did have a match. He needed to hit something.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Are you guys going out for Jim’s match?”

Alex glanced across the locker room at Trent, looking for him to answer Chuck’s question. He met her gaze before responding.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “We’ll probably stay back here and focus on our match.”

Chuck nodded. “Yeah. I wish it wasn’t mixed tag rules. I’d like to see Alex hand Matt his ass.”

“Oh, she doesn’t even need to touch him to do that,” Trent returned. “Didn’t he train Callie?”

Alex knew he was asking her, but she didn’t look up as she rummaged through her suitcase. “I think so.”

Trent smirked. “So then kicking Callie’s ass will be kicking Matt’s by proxy,” he said. Chuck blinked at him.

“Wow, you actually used that correctly.”

He sucked his teeth. “Fuck off. I know big words.”

“‘Proxy’ is a five-letter word.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Spell it.”

“Are you serious?”

Alex smirked to herself and let them continue to argue while she grabbed the top to her gear and a pair of joggers and went into the bathroom to change. Truth be told, she didn’t want to talk or even think about the match against Callie and Matt. It was a complete one-eighty from a week ago—she’d been aching to kick Matt’s ass then. But now, she just wished the entire situation would go away.

She finished changing and returned to the main area of the locker room. Chuck was still challenging Trent to spell different words. “I’m going to hair and makeup,” she announced over them.

“What gear are you wearing?” Trent asked.

She turned to face him as she pulled on her zip-up hoodie. Her top was a sparkly dark silver-purple with black trim. “This gear. Why?”

“Because we should try to match. I knew I should have brought the gear from Fyter Fest…” he trailed off as he dug through his things and pulled out his dark gray tights with the blue and pink designs. “Do these work?”

Alex gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, those work. I’ll ask Stella to do a blue and pink eye look,” she said, and she went out the door.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get ten steps before she ran into Adam.

He slowed to a stop when he saw her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned, and her brow puckered with concern as she looked him over. He had his ubiquitous glass of whiskey in hand, but he at least looked better than he had when she’d seen him at the hotel on Sunday. “Going somewhere?”

He looked confused at that. “No… why?”

She awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Well, you just look dressed for TV and I didn’t see you on the card tonight. I wasn’t even sure you were here.”

Adam hadn’t said a single word to her since she’d texted him to ask if he was going to the Labor Day party. But she hadn’t said a single word to him since then, either. Because the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d realized how right Kenny was. It was exhausting putting so much effort into a friendship where she wasn’t getting the same effort in return.

“Oh,” Adam regretfully said as he looked down at his pale blue button-up. “Yeah, I just had an interview with Schiavone.”

“Oh,” Alex repeated. “About—”

“Where I go from here,” he interjected. “I said I was still open to tagging with Kenny if he was.”

He laughed wryly to himself and took a sip of his drink. Alex frowned and looked away. Kenny was not open to tagging with him again; she knew that for a fact. But judging by the look on Adam’s face, deep down he knew that, too.

“Where are you headed?”

She looked back up at him. “Oh, hair and makeup. For the match tonight.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. And then, sadness and hurt. “Oh, right. You have the mixed tag against Matt and Callie.”

“Yeah.” Alex fidgeted and glanced away again. She couldn’t bear the look on his face. But then she wondered: did he know that Callie had been in Orlando with Cash yesterday? Should she tell him?

No, she quickly decided. It’s not your place or responsibility.

“Well, I should get over there,” she said, gesturing in the direction of hair and makeup.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded as she started walking. “Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, and she turned and hurried off as quickly as she could.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the years since she’d started wrestling, Callie had never felt as much of an outcast as she did now. As soon as she’d arrived at the arena with Cash, she’d realized she had nowhere to go. The EVP room was out of the question, and she didn’t want to go back to sharing a dressing room with Britt—she was the one who’d blabbed her business all over Daily’s Place to begin with. Cash had offered for her to share with him and Dax, but she’d turned him down; she could only imagine the rumors that would start if people noticed her sharing a locker room with FTR. No, she needed to keep a low-profile, and so she’d found an empty room away from everyone else. Now, she sat in one of the lounges watching the show as she awaited her match, alone.

Orange Cassidy had just beaten Angelico with the Orange Punch. Callie had expected Best Friends and Alex to be at ringside for the match, but they weren’t. She looked away from the TV and down at her phone as Bryce Remsburg raised Orange’s arm in victory, but a commotion a moment later redrew her attention. Santana and Ortiz had attacked Orange from behind. The assault didn’t last long, however, as Chuck and Trent ran out and chased them off like a pair of guard dogs. Callie couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Trent angrily paced the ring, shirtless in his skinny jeans. She sincerely hoped Matt would get a quick pin on him in their match.

Chuck grabbed a mike to speak, but Callie’s phone buzzed in her hands and she looked down at the screen. It was a text from Cash.

Are you free? I need a favor.

Her pulse picked up a bit as she unlocked her phone to respond. Yeah… what’s up? she typed back and hit “send.” She watched as the typing bubble appeared and, soon after, his answer.

Don’t laugh. I can’t decide on a shirt.

Despite his request, Callie couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. But she couldn’t blame him too much; FTR was having an in-ring celebration in honor of their championship victory at All Out that night. He probably wanted to look his best.

Usual room? she asked as she stood to leave.

Usual room, he replied, and she headed off in the direction of FTR’s dressing room.

The door was slightly open when she arrived, and she knocked to announce herself before she let herself in. Cash stood alone in the middle of the room in a pair of dark navy slacks and socks, shirtless. Callie’s mouth went suddenly dry as he looked over at her.

“Okay, I can’t decide between these two.” He motioned to a pair of dress shirts hung up in the cubby behind him—one white with tiny blue dots, the other with a subtle blue and white checkered pattern. She walked over and pulled them both out of the cubby so that she could hold them up next to him. He smirked at her as she studied them. She did her best to ignore it.

“This one,” she decided, handing him the checkered shirt. But she frowned as she returned the white shirt to its place. “Are those the only dress shoes you have?” she asked, nodding at the pair of black square-toed loafers on the floor.

“Yeah…” Cash slowly returned. “Why? Is something wrong with them?”

It took every fiber of Callie’s being not to blurt out with, “Yes, they’re hideous.” Instead, she said, “Just brown would look better with navy, is all.”

“Oh,” he realized. “I guess I should have asked your advice before we left this morning.”

She smirked. “Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he answered as he pulled on the shirt. Callie watched as he fastened the buttons, and she realized she was staring. She fidgeted and looked awkwardly away, but Cash didn’t seem to notice. “Are you ready for your match?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Physically, yes. Mentally… not at all.”

He snorted. “Make Matt do all the work. He’s the one who dragged you into this.”

Callie anxiously bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong; of the four of them in the mixed tag, she was the only one who hadn’t been present when the match was made. But even so, she couldn’t do that to Matt. “No, I don’t want to do that. And besides, Matt didn’t ask for the match, either—Trent did. All because he didn’t like Matt mouthing off about Alex.”

Cash rolled his eyes as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That doesn’t surprise me. I think he has a thing for her.”

She scoffed. “You think he does? Please, it’s obvious he does,” she said. And then she muttered, “It seems like everyone has a thing for her.”

“Not me,” Cash abruptly announced. “I’ve moved on.”

Callie looked up at him, but he turned away to grab his suit jacket. She wondered if he had more to say—it felt like he had more to say—but before she could ask the door to the locker room opened and Dax walked in. He halted when he saw her.

“Oh, hey, Callie. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

He glanced between her and Cash. They both quickly shook their heads. “No, I just asked her to come help me pick out a shirt,” Cash said.

“Ah,” Dax nodded. Callie didn’t miss the little smirk on his face. It was her cue to go.

“Well, I’ll go so you can get dressed,” she said to Dax as she started to leave.

“Good luck if I don’t see you before your match,” Cash returned, and she gave him a tight smile and went out the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex’s hands were clammy as she stood at Gorilla with Trent. The mixed tag match was next. Unfortunately, it was right after FTR’s joke of a tag team championship celebration. She did her best to tune out Dax’s egotistical blathering as she rolled her neck and loosened up. She needed to focus. A match was a match, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to this one, she still wanted to do her best.

“You ready for this?” Trent asked.

She looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah. Are you?” she meaningfully returned. She still couldn’t believe that he and Chuck had challenged Santana and Ortiz to a parking lot brawl next week. On top of worrying that they’d murder each other, she was concerned that Trent’s focus was no longer on their match.

“Yes,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about me.”

Alex smirked. “Man, have I got bad news for you next week.”

He gave her a crooked smile; but then his eye was drawn to a spot just past her shoulder. She turned to look. Matt and Callie had arrived.

Trent scoffed. “They don’t match at all. Losers.”

Normally, Alex would have laughed. But it was obvious even in the dim lighting of Gorilla that Matt and Callie’s gear wasn’t the only thing off about them. Callie in particular seemed unsure of herself. Her eyes met Alex’s. She turned away without a second glance.

Back in the ring, the “celebration” came to a screeching halt when Jurassic Express dumped a cooler full of beer cans over Cash, Dax, and Tully’s heads. Thankfully, they returned backstage a different way than through the entrance tunnels.

Alex drew in a breath and shook out her arms and legs as the show went to commercial. But it seemed like no time had passed at all when she heard the distinctive beat of the Best Friends theme song sound throughout the arena.

“Let’s do this,” Trent said as he held out his fist to her. She bumped it confidently with her own, and they walked into the tunnel together.

* * * * * * * * * *

A boulder settled in the pit of Callie’s stomach as she watched Alex and Trent disappear down the entrance tunnel. She didn’t know why she’d expected Alex to be just as nervous as her. On the contrary, she’d looked laser-focused; her and Trent both had. It was glaringly obvious that they were ten times more prepared for this match than she and Matt were. The two of them hadn’t even walked to Gorilla together—they’d just happened to get there at the same time.

“I’ll start the match,” Matt said. “I’ll try to keep your ring time to a minimum.”

Callie looked at him in hurt and confusion. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s obvious you don’t want to do this,” he breathed. “So I’ll just make quick work of Trent and get it over with, alright?”

“SUPERKICK PARTAYYYYYY!”

The opening of the Young Bucks theme interrupted before Callie could say anything. Matt didn’t so much as glance at her before he walked into the tunnel, and she had no choice but to follow him out.

The crowd offered a mixture of boos and cheers as they walked out onto the stage, but Callie couldn’t hear them over the music. She stood awkwardly next to Matt and waited for him to do his signature pose, but he never did. He just glared into the ring at Trent, who glared right back.

BOOM!

The cannons on the side of the stage shot fake $100 bills high into the air, making Callie flinch. She looked back into the ring as the paper money floated down around them. Alex rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned to say something to Trent.

She stood stiffly at the top of the stage until Matt moved, and they made their way down the entrance ramp. Trent started jaw-jacking, but Callie tuned him out as she took her place on the ring apron. Matt, however, took the bait; Aubrey had to push him back as they yelled at each other. Eventually, Trent scoffed and turned back to Alex.

“You wanna start?” Callie heard him ask.

But Alex didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth before Matt yelled, “No, we’re starting the match!”

Alex and Trent exchanged a look, but she stepped through the ropes and out onto the apron next to the turnbuckle. Matt removed his leather jacket and tossed it to the floor. Aubrey called for the bell, and the match started.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex didn’t know if Matt was ignoring Callie, if Trent just wanted to beat the shit out of Matt, or if it was some combination of both. But whatever the case, the match had been going on for nearly ten minutes now, and neither of them had even tried to tag in her or Callie. It was aggravating, but at least it worked in her team’s favor. The match had effectively become a singles contest, and Trent had far more experience wrestling on his own than Matt did. That, and his cardio was better. If it continued like this, it would only be a matter of time before they won.

Matt tried to whip Trent toward the ropes, but he reversed it and pulled him into a side headlock. He pivoted toward a corner and charged, running up the turnbuckle to hit a float-over DDT. He went for the pin—but Matt kicked out at two. Afterward, both men remained still on the mat, taking what chance they could to catch their breath. Alex eagerly stepped up onto the bottom rope and banged on the turnbuckle. She wanted in.

“Trent! Tag me in!”

She leaned into the ring, reaching as far as she could, and he looked over at her. But just as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, Matt hit him with a clubbing blow to the back. He grabbed him by the hair and jerked him into a chinlock. It wasn’t a move that Matt typically did. Alex knew it meant he was getting tired.

The crowd started clapping in rhythm for Trent, and Alex stomped her boot on the ring apron in time. Trent wrenched at Matt’s fingers, prying them away from his face. In response, Matt pulled him to his feet and swiftly maneuvered to hit a float-over DDT of his own. Alex bit down on her jaw as she watched him hook his leg. Trent got his shoulder up at two.

Alex stepped back up onto the ropes. She was tired of this. “Why don’t you tag in your partner, huh, Matt?” she taunted. “Worried she can’t beat me?”

Matt glared daggers at her as he climbed to his feet. “I don’t want to subject everyone to having to watch you wrestle,” he spat.

But Alex’s wit was just as quick. “Oh really? You look awfully lost without your little brother out here doing all the work.”

That needled him. She knew it would. But what she didn’t expect was his response.

“Please, you wouldn’t even have a contract if you weren’t on your knees for Kenny every night.”

For a second, Alex was stunned into silence. But then a white-hot rage bubbled up inside her. She ducked through the ropes and charged toward him.

“What’d you say to me?”

“You heard me.”

“Why don’t you say it again.”

“Get out of the ring, Alex!” Aubrey ordered.

“Matt!”

At Callie’s warning cry, Matt instinctively whirled around and dodged—and what happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion.

Trent flew toward Alex like a bullet. He crashed into her and knocked the wind from her lungs, sending her violently back into the turnbuckle. She felt a pop in her right shoulder, and then nothing but searing hot pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Trent realized what he’d done, he felt sick.

He hadn’t known Alex was in the ring. That DDT had left him dazed, and he’d been oblivious to his surroundings until he’d spotted Matt with his back turned to him. So he went for a spear. But Matt dodged at the last second. Trent had absolutely no chance to stop himself or correct course, and he rammed full speed into Alex.

He watched in stunned horror as she writhed against the turnbuckle. She clenched her right arm, her face screwed up in pain. She was hurt. He’d hurt her.

“Alex—”

Smack!

He was abruptly cut off by a superkick to the jaw. He crumpled to the mat. Matt dragged him by the ankle further into the ring and pinned him. The count sounded distant and faint.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rung. Trent felt Matt throw down his leg as the music started, ringing in his ears. He stared up into the lights, unblinking, while Matt’s arm was raised in victory. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her and then lost the match.

“Alex,” he said again as he rolled over onto his hands and knees. She was still huddled against the turnbuckle, clutching her arm as Aubrey checked on her. He felt sick all over again.

“Alex.” He crawled over to her and put a hand on her knee. She looked up at him. Unshed tears shined in her eyes. It broke him. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It was an accident—”

“Alex!”

Suddenly, Kenny was in the ring. He practically pushed Trent out of the way as he knelt in front of Alex. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“I think it’s dislocated,” she winced.

Trent looked at her right shoulder. It hung visibly lower than her left. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Let’s get you to Doc,” he said as he tried to move toward her again.

But Kenny blocked him. “I got it,” he bit. Trent didn’t have it in him to argue.

He watched as Kenny helped her to her feet and ushered her to the ropes; he held them open for her so she could gingerly duck through. As she stepped to the other side, Alex looked back. For a brief second their eyes met. But then Kenny put his arm around her, and she turned away and disappeared into the back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie couldn’t stay out there a second longer. She was horrified by what she’d witnessed. The way Matt had taken advantage of Trent’s awful mistake, how he hadn’t hesitated to kick him in the jaw—there’d been a viciousness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. And she didn’t want any part of it.

She stormed off before Aubrey could even raise his arm in victory, marching quickly up the ramp. Kenny nearly bowled her over on his way down to the ring, and she turned to watch as he ran to Alex’s aid. But then she saw Matt coming after her, and she turned back around and hurried through the entrance tunnel.

“Callie!”

She didn’t stop or even glance his way. She just kept walking.

“Callie! What the fuck?”

That got her stop and face him. “Me what the fuck? You what the fuck, Matt? What the fuck was that out there?”

If looks could kill, she was certain she would have been dead on the spot. “Are you serious?” he spat. “I won the match and you just ran off!”

Her eyes darkened. “Well, I didn’t want to be a part of it anyway, right?”

Matt bit down on his jaw. There was nothing he could say to that. She gave him one last glare and turned her back on him again, praying that was the end of it. She just wanted to leave. Alone.

“I want your shit out of my house by the weekend.”

Callie halted. His words were like a knife in the back. They hurt. And suddenly, she wanted him to hurt, too.

She turned around again, her head held high. “That’s fine, because I don’t want to move back to California anymore.”

She held his gaze in defiance. But Matt just laughed, cruel and low. “Let me guess, Orlando with Cash?”

She faltered. He knew about yesterday. But she steeled herself again. “No. I want to move to Orlando for me.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

“That’s the truth!”

“Was all this just a rebound to you?”

If his previous words had been a knife to the back, those were a blow to the gut. Tears sprung to the back of Callie’s eyes. Her voice came out strained. Apologetic. “No. I care about you, Matt. So much that it scares me.”

He laughed again and looked away. “Coulda fooled me.”

She took a step toward him. “Matt—”

“Have fun in Orlando,” he cut her off, and that time it was him who stormed off and left her behind. Alone.

#aew fanfiction #kenny omega fanfiction #cash wheeler fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction #the elite fanfiction #young bucks fanfiction #best friends fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfiction #ftr fanfiction

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years

Text

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 5

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series. I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series. There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some. Tuesday, December 17

As she left her apartment that morning, a figure was waiting on the steps for her. Her eyes went wide as she shut the main door to the apartment building behind her. “Race, what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, actually.” He grinned, offering her one of the cups in his hand. “Jack mentioned that you loved Peppermint Hot Chocolate.”

Accepting the cup, she took a hesitant sip before grinning brightly at him. “And what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you so early on a Tuesday morning? Usually, you’re the one that doesn’t get out of bed before noon unless something important is going on.”

“Well, some might consider this really important.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out the familiar emerald green notebook. “I believe you are anticipating this.”

Taking the notebook from him, she grinned. “Did you know that he’s been planning this?”

“Somewhat. He mentioned it when he was last over at mine and Spot’s apartment. We offered him help but he denied any help. He said he had it all mapped out and that it was going to be epic - his words not mine.” Race shrugged.

Kat giggled. “It’s been pretty epic so far. This is going to be hard to top with my Christmas present to him.”

“I don’t think he wants you to top it.” Race smiled. “I think he just wants to have something that you can look forward to in the day's ahead. Also, he mentioned that he just wanted to see you smile.”

Her chocolate brown eyes flew up to meet his bright blue eyes. “So you know what’s going to happen?”

“I didn’t say that.” Race evaded her glances. “He did mention that you’ve been down these previous few weeks so he wanted to do something that would make you smile and create something that makes you look forward to the upcoming holiday.”

She smiled, taking another sip of her drink. “He’s a good guy and I absolutely love him for doing this.”

“You better get to work. It was good seeing you and Merry Christmas, Kat.” Race gave her a half hug, dropping a kiss on her head.

“Thank you for this and the talk.” She grinned. “And Merry Christmas to you and Spot as well.”

With that, he hopped down the stairs, walking in the opposite direction she would be walking to get to work. Slipping the notebook in her bag, she headed towards the subway station to catch the subway towards Time Square.

Once seated on the train, she pulled the notebook from her bag, flipping it open to the marked page.

Good morning Kat!

Happy day 5 of this adventure. Did you like your surprise this morning? I may have asked some of our friends to help out ensuring you receive the notebook. Gotta keep you on your toes, Plums!

I had a wonderful time on our date night - it’s always wonderful to spend time with you and last night’s cuddle session on the roof was the perfect way to start the week. The way your face lit up when you talked about the notebook and the adventures, I would say this has been a resounding success so far and that makes me happier than you could ever imagine. But there’s so much more to come.

So from the moment I met you, I could tell you were a reader, not that you ever willingly shared that information. Or not until we were officially dating. But one of your favorite places, no matter where you are, is getting lost in a bookstore. In fact, I have been with you, several times in fact, when you have gotten lost in the bookstore.

So today, your adventure is going to a bookstore. Not just any bookstore but you’re to go to the Westsider Books. I don’t believe you’ve ever been here but it’s one of the great hidden treasures within the city. When you get there, ask for Cora, she’ll be able to help you.

Flipping the book close, she ran the name of the bookstore in her head. Truly to Jack’s words, she hadn’t ever been there, nor she’s never heard the name before. Jack was right, she could get lost in any bookstore and she had thought she had visited most of them throughout the city but as Jack usually does, he surprised her.

Getting off at the subway station, she made her way above ground before heading to the Times Building. Much like she did most days, she tapped her ID, allowing her to gain access to the elevator before heading up to the 14th floor. Making her way to her desk, she dropped her bag on the ground, turned on her computer, and collapsed into her comfy chair. A happy sigh escaped her mouth before she got to work on the day ahead.

4:30pm

As she shut down her computer, her cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Picking it up, she heaved her bag to her shoulder before heading to the elevators. Wishing some of her colleagues a good night, she walked into the elevator watching the doors slide shut as she descended. Unlocking her cell phone, she smiled seeing Jack had texted her.

Been to the Westsider yet?

She shook her head at his text, a giggle escaping her mouth as the elevator dinged and she headed out into the lobby before walking out into the bitterly cold New York City wind. Pulling her coat and scarf tighter, she made her way towards the subway station.

Waiting for the train to arrive, she took the time to reply to Jack’s text. Heading that way now.

Hopping on the 1 line, she swayed with the train as it traveled underground. Getting off at the correct station, she mentally prepared herself for the cold once more before heading up to street level.

She consulted with Google Maps before heading in correct directions, arriving a few minutes later. Looking up at the building, she shivered, pulling open the door before escaping into the warmth of the bookstore. Her eyes went wide at how utterly gorgeous the inside was. Every square inch was covered in bookshelves that were heaving with various books, all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were a few chairs downstairs but only one was occupied by a man reading.

A giggle caught her attention, her head whipping in the direction. “Hi! Welcome to Westsider Books. Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Cora.” She asked, walking closer to the counter.

The young girl’s face brightened nodding. “I’ll go get her. Can I have your name to tell her?”

“It’s Katherine.” She said, watching the girl walk to the back as her eyes swept the shop. Everywhere her eyes went, there were stacks and stacks of books. There was a stairway that led upstairs to even more books. She felt a familiar warmth that she typically associated with bookstores but this was much more homey than normal.

“Katherine?” A middle aged woman asked, walking closer to her as not to scare her.

Pushing a smile onto her face, Kat held out her hand. “Yes that’s me. You must be Cora?”

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Cora smiled, shaking Kat’s hands.

Biting her lip, she looked at the woman in front of her. “Unfortunately, I’m not that well in the know.”

“Jack mentioned as much.” She laughed, walking towards the stairs. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”

Kat smiled at the girl behind the counter before following Cora upstairs. As they reached the top of the stairs, Kat smiled seeing a couple of cozy chairs in the middle of the room with bookshelves surrounding the walls. “Come have a seat.”

Once settled, Kat glanced over at Cora. “So, how do you know Jack?”

“He’s my great nephew. His grandma and I are sisters. He’s been coming here since he was little.” Cora smiled. “He even worked a few summers here, cataloging the books as they came in.”

Kat smiled. “I’m sorry we haven’t met until now but he has mentioned you on occasion.”

“I am too but I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I know you, which is why I wanted to give you this.” Cora handed Kat a worn book that looked like it had been read many times.

Kat flipped open the book, flipping through the first couple of pages until she came to the title page “The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh”. She smiled at the title. “It’s a first edition, isn’t it?”

“It is. But more than that, it was always the book that drew Jack’s attention when he was here.” Cora smiled. “I often wondered why a teenager would be drawn to a children’s book, as it’s not the oldest book we have in the shop, nor the prettiest. But he said that whoever’s book it was, must have loved that book because of how worn the pages and cover is. He loved that the book could tell its own stories, even when it was passed along to someone else. Don’t let him fool you, he was often found hiding between the shelves with a stack of books beside him, reading the day away.”

Running her hand over the cover, Kat smiled. “He’s always been pretty sentimental, at least around me. It probably doesn’t hurt that he’s an old soul.”

“He’s always been that way, even as a little boy.” She smiled fondly, caught up in whatever memories she was reliving. “Anyways, I wanted to give this to you so that you can add it to your collection, as Jack mentioned you’re bibliophile.”

Kat nodded, holding the book to her chest. “Thank you. I’ll cherish it.”

“You’re welcome.” Cora stood. “Jack told me to tell you that the note continues on in the notebook - I’m assuming you know what that means?”

Chuckling, Kat nodded, pulling the notebook out of her bag. “I sure do. Thank you for sharing that story with me.”

“You’re welcome, Kat. Stay as long as you want.” Cora smiled at her before descending down the stairs.

Flipping open the notebook, Kat grinned seeing Jack’s rough handwriting.

So you got to meet my Aunt Cora. I really hope she didn’t spill any embarrassing stories about me but if she did, don’t hold them against me.

I spent my teenage summers in that bookstores - cataloging the books as people brought them in. Don’t tell Aunt Cora but I spent a lot of time reading the books and getting lost in the stories. One of my favorites is the book that is in your possession - The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. I always loved reading what Pooh and his friends would get up to and what Christopher Robin would have to get them out of.

George R. R. Martin once said “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.” And I know that’s why you read. You are always looking for adventures but you have all those books at your fingertips - you can travel the world and never leave your living room.

I know you have too many to count, but think about your favorite books. What have they taught you over the years? Have you lived your thousand lives? Any place in particular you want to go? Write down your thoughts . . . let yourself dream for a few minutes.

Grabbing her pen, she shook her head at Jack. Writing down her top 20 favorite books, though difficult, she smiled at her list. “To Kill a Mockingbird”, “The Secret Garden”, “The Selection Series”, “Matilda”, “The Nightingale” and “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks” all were in her top 20.

She wrote about all the places she had visited in books and one day dreamed of visiting - Ireland, London, Spain, Germany, Thailand, Poland, Mexico, Brazil - the list was endless. Smiling softly, she hadn’t lived her thousand lives, not yet at least, nor was she any way near close but each of those lives she took with her into the everyday society she lived.

I’m sure there are some of those books that you wrote down that I’ve never read . . . . I’ll even bet on it. But those books are what make you, you. And I love those books, even though I’ve never read them, simply for helping shape you into the woman I fell in love with.

Now there’s a surprise awaiting for you. Head back downstairs and go to the left corner by the window. Your surprise should be there.

Love you!

Jack

Carefully putting the notebook and her new book in her bag, she headed downstairs. She smiled at Cora behind the counter before walking over to the corner by the window. She saw someone sitting in the chair reading “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer”. She paid them no attention, opting to walk past them and towards the corner. She grinned, seeing a navy blue bag sitting in the corner. Taking on the couch, she pulled the tissue paper out. Unwrapping it, there was nothing there. Tilting her head, she looked in the bottom of the bag where a slip of paper was. “Look up” was written on the piece of paper.

Doing as the paper said, she glanced up. Instead of “The Many Adventures of Tom Sawyer”, she saw Jack sitting in the chair with an amused look on his face. “Hi love.”

“Hi yourself.” She shook her head, chuckling at him. Putting the tissue paper back in the bag, she watched him join her on the couch. “This is different than the previous few days.”

Shrugging, he reached over and laced his fingers with hers. “Like I said, I gotta keep you on your toes, Plums. Did you like the book?”

“I did. Cora and I had a nice chat.” She said, as he grinned.

Sheepishly, he gave her a look. “I know. I’ve been here all afternoon.”

“Oh have you?” She was amused by how shy he had gotten all of a sudden. “Why?”

Squeezing her hand, he smiled at her. “Because I knew this was one that I had to see your face when you walked in. This is going to become one of your happy places. Besides, I haven’t seen Aunt Cora in a while and wanted to catch up with her.”

“Thank you Jack.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re amazing and I love all of your entries in the notebook.”

He laughed. “Oh you think this is over? You’ve got 7 more days. But I’m guessing you want your surprise?”

“I’m guessing you want the notebook?” She reached into her bag for the emerald green book, handing it over to him as he handed her a wrapped box.

He tucked the book away, watching her open the present. “You put a lot of pressure on a girl, you know?”

“Good thing you didn’t realize I’ve been watching you open your presents these last few days.” He said, as her wide eyes flew to his.

“I knew I felt someone watching me but every time I looked, I couldn’t see anyone.” She cried, reaching over and hitting his shoulder.

He laughed. “You just didn’t know the right place to look. Besides, I’m in those places to ensure that I retrieve the notebook and no one else does.”

Shaking her head, she was starting to realize how elaborate this plan actually was. “Thank you for doing this . . . this has been absolutely wonderful.”

“You’re welcome . . . now are you going to open that present or leave me in suspense?” He joked, nudging her side. She gave him a look before continuing to unwrap the present.

Popping off the lid, she smiled seeing a pen charm nestled in the cotton. She picked it up, looking at it closer in detail. “It’s gorgeous, Jack.”

“A pen for the best writer I know.” He grinned, leaning over and capturing her in a kiss.

“You’re biased, Kelly but I really do love it. Thank you.” She kissed him back.

He smiled, watching her put the charm back in the box before tucking it away in her bag. “Can I buy you dinner?”

“You did that last night. How about I buy you dinner tonight?” She suggested, standing, swinging her bag onto her shoulder, offering him her hand.

He started to argue as she gave him a look. “Please, let me do this?”

He nodded as he let her pull him to his feet. Once he was steady, Kat wrapped her arms around his waist, tugging him towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Waving goodbye to Cora, the two set out into the wintery night, playfully arguing about where to go for dinner.

What did you think of Jack surprising Kat? Feedback would be wonderful and much appreciated. Five days down; seven more to go - any predictions on what you think will happen in those seven days?

#Newsies #Newsies Fan Fiction #Newsies Holiday Fic #Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings #writing #jack x katherine #holiday fic

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Apocrypha Chapter Twelve: Lofty

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twelve: Lofty

Notes: Welcome to the community, Kokox10! I loved reading your comments. It's always to have a new face around here to interact with. I hope that every single one of you had a good week and that you're staying safe. And thank you for continuing to read the story!

(-~-)

The Sparda Express pulled into the station at half past eight am, the cool waters of the bay area glimmering like a mirage in an arid desert. The sands were practically untouched, evening wind shaping them into smooth, wavy rows that perfectly accented the dark surf at the water's edge. It seemed as though the residents of the sleepy beachside town had yet to venture out of their homes, and those that had were at work or school. As an added bonus, their hotel was just across from the boardwalk that bordered the white sands of the seafront, providing them easy access to the shops and their earthly possessions. This was advantageous to the members of the Devil May Cry agency, as it meant that they would attract even less attention than they normally did back home.

Accommodations had been arranged ahead of time by Morrison to help avoid any complications. Things were never simple when you were dealing with such a large group of people. Much to the shock and horror of basically everyone involved, there were enough beds to go around, but only three rooms, meaning that someone would be staying with the children. Nero volunteered almost instantly, all to aware of the fact that Kyire would do so if someone else didn't. That was just who she was as a person. But he hadn't talked her into coming just so she could spend all of her time worrying over the boys. And besides, he had been looking for another opportunity to spend some quality time with the children. It all worked out in the end for the five of them.

Who it didn't work out for was V.

In a decision that surprised literally no one, Dante and Vergil ended up sharing a room. But unlike Lady, Trish, and Nico, who were sharing the remaining room, and Patty, who had booked her own private room that she decided to share with Kyrie at the last minute just because she'd come to enjoy her company on the train ride over, V ended up with two less than ideal choices. He could either stay with Nero… or he could stay with his father and uncle, a choice that carried the added risk of being awoken in the middle of the night by a charged sword fight if they got into a disagreement.

Considering the fact that the accommodations had been taken care of by a third party, no one aside from Patty had considered who they might end up sharing a room with, least of all V. He'd simply agreed to some because he'd never been to the beach before, and he was curious to see what it was like. But, in the end, he decided to go against his sense of self preservation and stay in the room with Dante and Vergil, a choice that seemed to take both twins off guard. They were only sleeping in the same room. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Yes.

Yes it could.

After taking their bags to their respective rooms and grabbing the necessities that they would need for the foreseeable future, they split into groups to check out different parts of the beach. Nero and Nico headed to the beach, noting that containing the excitement of the children was difficult. It was best to simply go ahead and let them start exploring the water's edge and enjoying the summer sun. Lady, Trish, and Patty absolutely insisted that Kyrie come with them to a local clothing boutique they'd seen on the way into town, noting that she needed something "cute to wear to the beach." The young woman reluctantly agreed, more than likely afraid of what the two devil hunters would try to get her to try on.

But Dante and Vergil were still at the hotel, roaming the lobby. Despite the fact that he had agreed to come to the beach, V had told everyone else to go ahead. Apparently he was still trying to talk himself into leaving the hotel room and actually going to the beach. They had no idea what the conflict could be, but Vergil had opted to stay behind and wait for him, unbeknownst to his oldest son. This was partially due to their agreement to talk on the train, and to help Vergil avoid the concept of actually going to the beach yet. Vergil had spent enough time near the water for his tastes. And as such, Dante had chosen to stay and wait with him. He has obvious motives for doing so, but that went without saying.

"So… what do you think is keeping him," Dante said as he flipped through the magazine that he'd found on the table in front of him. He was reclined in a comfortable lobby chair while Vergil chose to lean against the wall by the window. V was still upstairs in their hotel room, doing who knew what. Everyone else had left a few minutes ago.

Vergil folded his arms, looking out of the corner of his eye at the window. Blue as far as the eye could see. No sand from this angle. Just light water that slowly melded into deeper water and what seemed to be a large rock or small island in the distance; nothing but a speck on the horizon from this distance. He didn't find that as tranquil and enticing as he imagined that most people would.

"It was your decision to stay behind, Dante. No one is forcing you to be here," Vergil said flatly, hoping to halt any plans his younger twin might have of asking that question repeatedly in order to drive him slowly insane," He can't be expected to rush, especially when he has no idea that anyone is waiting for him. He has no compelling reason to hurry."

Dante leaned back slightly and craned his neck to the side, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. He wasn't accustomed to Vergil being this patent. While his twin was admittedly very good at planning and enacting long, drawn out plans, he wasn't normally so good at sitting (or standing) and waiting for long periods of time. Or any period of time, for that matter. Being left along to wander through his subconscious was a bad course of action, more often than not. And the longer the eldest Son of Sparda was forced to wait, the thinner his tolerance grew. Patience was not normally a quality his twin brother possessed as an extension of that fact. But here he was, resisting the urge to go knock on the door and tell V that they were waiting for him. He really was trying, wasn't he?

"Yea, but he might have decided to take a nap or something for all we know," Dante said, turning a page in the periodical he was browsing through. He hadn't found anything super interesting yet. No news of anything demonic in the area. Maybe the residents of the town didn't believe in that sort of thing? "Don't you think you should go check on him or something?"

Vergil shrugged slightly, seemingly indifferent to the suggestion. At the end of the day, he was in no hurry to go anywhere. They would be here for a few days. He felt no reason to rush. He really didn't have anything planned once they reached the waterfront. "When last I checked, your legs were perfectly functional. Why not go ask him yourself?"

Dante shook his head slightly and returned to his magazine. He didn't really have a comeback to that statement. Yea, he was physically capable of doing that. He just didn't feel like doing that at the moment. As far as he was concerned, Vergil had a point on this one. But he was willing to admit that it was still possible that he could be correct, too. He would wait for a few more minutes before heading upstairs to double check what was causing the delay.

A passive silence fell over them both. For once, the silence between them wasn't a result of hostility or bitter feelings, so there was one silver lining to this situation. But either way, Dante hoped that V would come down soon and spare them from the lack of conversation. It was too early in the trip of things to be so uncomfortable. They hadn't even gotten sand where it didn't belong yet!

Off in the distance, the faint sound of a door closing could be heard. Dante subconsciously hoped that his wish had come true while Vergil shot a slow but brief glance in the general direction of the stairs. Neither of them had any idea how many rooms were in this building, especially considering the fact that there were two wings with rooms in them, but that didn't change the fact that it could possibly be V. The youngest Son of Sparda's hopes were dashed a second later as a young woman walked past them, heading out of the building. She proceeded to the checkout counter, paid some sort of fee, and then vacated the building, towing her bags behind her.

The youngest of the two twins flipped through his magazine, checking to see if anything else caught his eye before admitting defeat and casually flinging it across the table. It landed in the center of the table with a soft smack and then folded open again, the wear and overuse it had suffered through clearly leaving a permanent crease in one portion of the thin booklet. Dante almost pitied it in a way. Sometimes he felt like that magazine.

A chance glance in Vergil's general direction revealed that he had slowly migrated closer to the bottom of the steps, rounding the corner that he had been around. Part of him wondered what had motivated him to do so, but he was actually more curious as to why a hotel with five stories didn't have an elevator in it. Yes, it was older and seemed to be retrofitted with newer amenities, but that didn't make it any less of a hassle. Their room was on the third floor. At least it had a bathroom.

Faint footsteps could be heard from throughout the entire building as different patrons went about their business, going to and from their rooms. The soft classical music that played throughout the building lended a relaxing air to the place that you'd expect considering the fact that it was on a waterfront. No one wanted to come here and not relax. That would be stupid. As this thought passed through Dante's mind, another visitor came down the steps, shooting a curious look over their shoulder as they reached the bottom of the steps. Upon seeing the twins, the young man furrowed his brow for a moment before heading towards the buffet area. A knowing look crossed Vergil's face.

"You may get your wish sooner rather than later, brother." Vergil said calmly as he watched the man leave, paying little attention to his twin's reaction.

Dante nodded. "Yea, seems like he was suffering from a serious case of deja vu." He stretched out, making himself comfortable," Or maybe he saw our hair color and just thinks we're old or something. He wouldn't really be wrong."

The comment seemed to incense Vergil, causing him almost serene demeanor to shatter like porcelain in an earthquake. Dante could practically feel him get pissed off at the statement. "I'm not old, Dante. You'd do well to remember that."

Upon hearing his brother's statement, Dante laughed, garnering him an almost ticked off look from his older twin. "Vergil, were twins. If I'm old, you're old. And I'm pretty sure I'm old," He said, shaking his head at the inevitability of their mortality," You have two grown kids. One of them had three kids of their own. Only old people have adult kids, brothers. I'm sorry to break it to ya, but you're old!"

Vergil looked equal parts furious and horrified at his brother's statement. Dante knew that regardless of what his brother felt, that didn't change things. They both knew they were not as young as they had once been. That was just how life worked. But it occurred to him in that moment that maybe Vergil hadn't considered how much of his life he had lost to his time in the underworld until now. The gravity of having spent half his life down there had probably hit him like a brick shithouse. They'd come here to enjoy a relaxing seaside vacation, and he'd given his older twin an existential crisis instead.

Eh, he wasn't upset about it, either.

"I'm... were not having this conversation today." Vergil said, clearly flustered. Dante was lucky that Yamato was nowhere to be seen. That being said, he was sure Vergil had stashed the blade somewhere around himself. It seemed to appear from nowhere half of the time anyway. Their father's old sword was just weird like that sometimes.

"Fine by me… but you're still-" Dante started, barely suppressing the shiteating grin that was threatening to spread across his face. It was good to see that he could still get under his older twin's skin this easy.

"Don't you dare!" Vergil said, his voice slightly elevated, but his tone darker than normal. It was extremely alarming and intimidating. Dante was half sure that his twin was about to whip out his trusty katana and cut him a new one. His older twin took a step towards him, more than likely about to say something when there was a loud thump and a yelp. Vergil pivoted and took a few quick steps to the left without looking, just barely stopping in front of the stairs in time.

Without warning, V came rocketing down the steps. The young summoner had more than likely missed a step, and his misplaced footing had sent him headfirst over the top of the stairs. Vergil caught him under the left arm and right side respectively, sliding back slightly as he braced himself carefully, seemingly noting that, due to his height, not holding him up was probably just as bad as simply letting him hit the floor. V gasped for breath slightly as he hit his father's chest first, knocking his head against his shoulder. If V had been heavier and Vergil less coordinated, the sheer force of impact would have probably sent them both tumbling to the floor. Dante had clambered to his feet during the excitement, heading over towards them. What the hell had just happened?

V took a second to steady himself, rubbing his head slightly as his legs buckled. After a moment, he stood up all the way. He seemed startled and slightly dazed, but otherwise unharmed. Dante walked over to the stairs and picked up the shoulder bad that V had dropped. He was willing to bet that it had thrown him off and caused him to go flying down the stairs. At least he was alright.

"You alright there, mister poetry?" Dante asked as he walked over to him, handing him the bag. He considered shaking him slightly to test this, but decided against it once his self preservation instincts kicked in. "What the hell happened?"

The younger white haired part devil shook his head slightly as if doing so would help him part the clouds in his mind. He accepted his bag from Dante with a grateful nod before turning back to Vergil. It was then that he noticed that he was braced against the older devil hunter, his balance not yet fully returned. It seemed that his equilibrium was still slightly off. V took a step back and swayed slightly, his head swimming and pounding like all the blood had just rushed to it. What was wrong with him?

"... Thank you for catching me. I'm fine now." V said softly, his head still swimming. It was like he was caught in an echo chamber. The sensation was nauseating. "And for my bag, Dante. I appreciate it."

Vergil craned his head to the side, giving him a thinly concealed look of what V identified as concern. Or, at least that's what he thought it was. He couldn't be sure, but that was the reaction that made the most sense to him.

"Your a poor liar," Vergil said with a huff, steadying him by grabbing his forearm. He was trying his level best to look calm and composed, but the eldest Son of Sparda was admittedly still playing over how things could have gone if he hadn't caught him." We decided to wait for you. Can you stand?"

The hint of concern in his father's voice and the way that Vergil had offhandedly asked him if he was alright resonated with him, catching him slightly by surprise. Getting used to Vergil treating him like this was going to take a lot of getting used to. He hoped he wouldn't need to. Constantly being in danger didn't agree with his physical composition.

Where had his demonic blood failed him?

Why did he suffer from such a distinct lack of… durability?

V took a moment to fix the loose white button down shirt that Kyrie had absolutely insisted he wear on this trip when she had surprised him and Nero with them. Apparently she'd wanted to take pictures of them in matching outfits. Despite the fact that he was still wearing loose pants and Nero was wearing knee length shorts, the prospect of a photo opp still gave him hypertension. But Kyrie had asked so…

"I'll be fine. We should go and meet Nero and the others. I'm sure the children have overthrown him by now." V said as he rubbed his shoulder in mild discomfort. He was relatively sure he'd pulled something when Vergil caught him under the arm. It was a fact of life that his bones despised him and possessed the combined durability of a broken light bulb and the rigidity of a dry spaghetti noodle. His physical composition seemed engineered to fail painfully at times, especially when his limbs simply stopped working like his leg had on the stairs. "And I suppose we should have that talk now, shouldn't we?

Vergil nodded slowly, giving him a careful look as Dante headed towards the front door. He could tell they needed a moment, so giving them some space had been a no brainier.

"Yes, I believe that might be the right course of action. Come then." Vergil said as he stepped past him. He paused for a moment, turning back towards V," Ah yes… I almost forgot."

With that, he snagged V's bag and turned back towards the door, walking a few steps before stopping. He seemed to be waiting for him. V took the hint and followed after them both, flabbergasted. It seemed that there was some unwritten rule stating that he was not permitted to carry bags while in his father's company. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet, to be honest.

(-~-)

Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm happy today I finished it on Monday at 6:20 am! I'm not glad that I'm up this late, per say. I'm just glad that I'll be finished with Friday's chapter come Thursday morning! Being on schedule for once is a nice feeling. Have a safe week and I'll see you again on Friday!

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elliotlikespuke · 5 years

Note

Plz post them!!

why can I never just post a short thing. why can I never just say “hey wouldn’t it be cool if [this thing] could happen”?

knee injury (I just learned that a paramedic and emt are not the same thing??? So pretend this says paramedic and not emt) -I’m so torn, because I don’t want him to have to take time off from competing, but every athlete will at some point -at some point during a gp series, yuri dislocates his knee -he’s been a skater for a long time, and he knows how to take a fall, and therefore its so so stupid that he managed to slam his kneecap into the ice at an awkward angle -it had happened before, sure, usually leading to some swelling and an intense bruise. it had also happened on his hips, ankles, elbows, you name it -this time though, the pain cuts through him before he’s aware of anything else, and suddenly he feels like he’s going to be sick all over the ice, or pass out, or both -he can’t even cry, he can barely make a sound the pain is so extreme -since the rink he skates at is always full of skaters, someone helps him off the ice and onto a bench before he dies, since it looks like he might do that from the shock -an ambulance is called immediately, because in the leggings he wears you can clearly see his right kneecap is well off from where it’s meant to be -he can barely get words out, but when yakov makes a move for his knee, ready to poke around it to assess the damage, yuri all but squeaks at him not to -he doesn’t want to look down at his leg, and is almost certain that if he does, he’ll puke -he doesn’t know why yakov asks him to straighten it, it’s clearly dislocated, what good could that possibly do, but he tries, and that’s when he starts crying -theres no warning, no possibility of holding back any tears, one minute his eyes are dry and the next his cheeks are wet with big fat tears -from what we saw at the 2016 gpf, he’s not a pretty crier, nor is he a quiet one -injuries aren’t uncommon in the rink, but injuries to this degree definitely are, and everyone collectively comes to a standstill -yakov stays beside him, handing him tissues to press his face into since he hates letting people see him cry -yakov keeps talking to him, telling him the ambulance will be there soon and to just keep holding on, but yuri still feels like he’s going to pass out -yakov feels a responsibility to his students to go with them when they are injured, and this is exactly what he does -he dismisses the rest of his students for the day, understanding that viktor, yuuri, mila, and georgi will likely meet him at the hospital -the ambulance finally arrives, and yuri’s troubles had only just begun. -the first thing they did was brace his leg. one emt grabbed yuri’s leg, above and below the knee, and he cried out. touching any part of his leg was absolutely torturous, sending pain through his whole body, and making his vision go white -the other tapped his foot, asking him to move it. he did, against his will and his better judgement, letting himself explode in pain again. the second emt began to press his toes, making sure he still had feeling -fuck, he had feeling. he had way too much feeling -once the board and bandages came out, his stomach gave up the fight. it was either puke or pass out, and he wished so dearly he could pass out -he barely got the words “m gonna puke” out of his mouth before he was heaving. a bag was pushed under his chin to catch what they could. -“alright,” one of the emts said “when we get you in the ambulance, we’ll get you some medication and have you feeling a lot better” -viktor and yuuri had floated over, after rushing to change from skates to street shoes. yuri couldn’t be assed to pay attention to them -the emts counted down, and lifted him from the bench to the stretcher, and walked him to the ambulance with yakov following behind, carrying a bag of puke -once he was in the ambulance, everything got a lot easier. the man in the back with him and yakov gave him a needle to the arm, full of heavy pain medication, and very quickly he felt much better -“how do you feel, yura?” “better. tired.” -the medication definitely helped. he felt a bit floaty, a bit tired. -“how do you feel, yakov?” “i’m fine, yura”

heat exhaustion -japan, especially a southern town like hasetsu, got much, much hotter than st petersburg -visiting japan in the off season had become one of yuri’s favourite things since his first time, and having otabek there made everything so much more fun -the only thing he didn’t count on was that otabek loved the heat, arguably more than he should. he must be used to it, yuri supposed, because almaty was just as hot, albeit less humid -yuri felt like he was suffocating. he’d never been very good at thermoregulation, given his stature and lack of body fat, and blood the consistency of rabbit piss, apparently -runs every morning, usually followed by skating or ballet, which otabek skipped in favour of something more suited to him -today, however, the sun was out, the weather was “beautiful” (according to otabek) and they were on vacation, so after their morning run otabek decided he wanted to go shopping -it was somewhat of a tradition ever since barcelona, to shop together around whichever city they found themselves in. yuri, ever impulsive, usually ended up buying more than otabek -he’d noticed it first on the run with otabek, and then again about an hour into shopping. his thigh muscles would cramp for a few minutes, almost halting him in his tracks, or forcing him to the ground. -the next thing he noticed was a faint sense of dizziness. he went through a mental checklist. he’d eaten breakfast, had water before and after his run... -otabek noticed something was off fairly soon after. -“can you blame me? i'm fucking boiling. i feel like a lobster.”“you're starting to look like a lobster. did you put sunscreen on?” -otabek pulled his bag off his shoulder, and offered him a water bottle. yuri accepted it gratefully, the liquid inside the metal bottle somehow not boiling from the heat of the sun. he only took a few sips before handing it back to otabek. it was making his stomach twist -otabek raised his eyebrows but said nothing other than “do you want to head back?” and yuri nodded, not having bought a thing in his sour mood -the walk back was harder. they’d walked further than he thought from the katsuki’s inn, and his stomach was really starting to turn. everything in it felt undigested and heavy, and he was forced to stifle burps into his hand to relieve the pressure -he started salivating. weird, because he could have sworn any liquid in him had been sweat out of his pores. he desperately gulped it back, so glad otabek wasn’t much of a talker, but wishing he wasn’t either, so the lack of conversation wouldn’t be so noticeable -“fuck,” yuri said “this is disgusting”otabek hummed a question“it’s so fucking hot.” -walking into an air conditioned room somehow broke him, and he made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, ignoring the dizziness and confused looks from the few people in the lobby -he collapsed in front of the toilet, his whole body shaking with the desire to vomit, and the desire to do absolutely anything but that -what he desired was irrelevant, because soon enough he was spewing into the toilet, a torrent of near-projectile strength, the meagre water he’d taken from otabek, all the food from breakfast and a good deal of stomach acid -he heard a door and felt his long hair being gathered up, but couldn’t turn much given the almost constant retching -he’s just wondering to himself how on earth someone his size could possibly hold so much vomit when the retching begins to taper off -“do you have a headache?” yuri thinks its a strange first question to ask someone who’s just vomited so roughly there are tears streaming down his face, but he answers “no, i’m just so dizzy.” -otabek’s hand is still fisted in his hair, rather roughly, but yuri supposes he’s glad, because his shoulder-length hair would definitely have gotten dirty -“and you’re still sweating, that’s good.” yuri’s about to reply that it’s nearly forty degrees and humid, of course he’s fucking sweating, when otabek says “that means it’s not heatstroke at least.” -they spend the better part of an hour camped on the bathroom floor together, yuri occasionally heaving, and otabek holding an ice pack against the back of his neck

allergies and nosebleeds -you know what else hasetsu has a lot more of than st petersburg? ragweed. the plant that torments yuri the most -it’s no wonder he picked a winter sport when just a few minutes outside in the summer will give him sneezing fits, leaving his nose and eyes watering, and his mouth itching -allergy medicines are always trial and error too, some years they work and some years they don’t, and this year they definitely don’t -yuuri and his family have become so familiar with the phrase “but’ zdarov’” that they’ve started using it themselves -for what it’s worth, otabek thinks his sneezes are adorable, especially when they’re directed into his sweater paws. -yuri usually doesn’t stifle, since he tries not to do anything by half, but in the crowded restaurant at the katsuki inn, he doesn’t have much of a choice -his nose is still tingling from being outdoors that day, and no amount of nose blowing, showering, or steam from the hot springs will clear it -he directs his stifles into his fist mostly, lacking tissues with him and enjoying his meal with otabek too much to get up and grab them -otabek is telling him a story when suddenly he stops, looks intently under yuri’s nose, and says “I think your nose is bleeding” -yuri swears and swipes at his nose with the back of his hand. otabek is right, a thin trickle of blood is starting to flow from his abused nose. he swears again and grabs one of the hot (now cold) towels from the beginning of their meal and bring it to his nose -luckily it’s black, but he’s not sure if the restaurant will be able to reuse it after this. it’s still better than bleeding all over himself and his meal -otabek will joke later that it was he who gave yuri a nosebleed, because yuri finds him just so irresistible

#yuri plisetsky #whump #yuri on ice whump #shut up elliot

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strawori · 5 years

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I Will Always Remember - Chapter 1 | Elu (1/7)

Summary: "Can you believe we’re in the Galapagos?” Yann asked him. “And that we only had to pay for the hotel?”

Or, the one where Basile wins plane tickets to the Galapagos and takes his three friends with him for a one week vacation; there Lucas meets Eliott and, suddenly, one week doesn't seem like enough time.

Words: 3k

can also be read on my ao3 @ invisible_slytherin

Spending his Christmas or any other of his vacations outside of Paris was something Lucas, as a broke university student, never thought would happen.

It didn’t seem plausible. Vacations cost money and money was something Lucas didn’t have at his disposal, so it was never an option.

He was happy to spend his break from university with his friends and his mother and he didn't need to go somewhere abroad to have a good time. So, it wasn't like there was a deep desire to travel within him that came to life the days before every vacation.

Which didn't mean that he wouldn't accept the opportunity to go somewhere with open hands. In fact, he would accept it very quickly and be thankful for it. He just never thought it would happen.

But here he was. In front of the hotel where he and his three best friends would be staying for the next week. In Puerto Ayora, in the Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos.

It was a complete and unexpected change in scenery. And it was all, surprisingly, thanks to Basile, of all people.

If Lucas was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure how this even came to be. It had all started two months ago when Basile had been driving home after a date with Daphné and heard about a Christmas contest on the radio. In Basile's words, hearing it after spending time with his girlfriend was a sign of faith and he had to join in and try his luck. When he had gotten home that day and told Lucas, Arthur and Yann about it, the three of them had given him endless shit about it, joking about faith and destiny and powers.

But they had ended up eating their words. All their words. Because Basile had somehow won the contest and, with that, he had appeared home with four shiny tickets to Santa Cruz Island.

They kind of deserved all the teasing they had gotten from Basile and the threats of leaving them behind and taking Daphné with him that had come after that.

Of course, Basile being Basile had already told them that he wanted it to be a vacation for the gang and there wouldn’t be any girls, ‘or boys, Lucas’, involved. That reassurance had toned down the fear of losing their opportunity to go to the Galapagos a bit. Just not enough to prevent them from doing Basile's chores for a whole two weeks without complaining.

It had been worth it, though. It had been worth it for the sun beating on their skin and the smell of the sea that was now enveloping them. For this, Lucas would do Basile’s chores for a month.

“So,” Basile grinned at them, opening his arms wide. “Am I the best or am I the best?”

“I have to admit,” Arthur nodded, approvingly. “Just this one time, you are the best.”

Basile laughed and threw his arms around Lucas’ and Arthur’s shoulders, leading them into the hotel and yelling at Yann, who was walking behind them, to hurry up.

“I would be faster if you guys would carry your own bags,” Yann grumbled.

“You lost the bet, Yann,” Lucas turned his head to grin teasingly at him. “Deal with it.”

They had made a bet while they were waiting for their plane at the airport back in Paris that the first person to fall asleep during the flight would have to carry all their bags from the cab to the hotel. Yann had been pretty confident that Arthur would be the one losing, but, in the end, he had spent nearly the whole flight sleeping and had actually been the first one to fall asleep.

“If you want help though,” Arthur interrupted Lucas and Basile’s laughs. “Just say so.”

“Don’t worry,” Yann grunted, fixing the strap of the backpack he had on his shoulders. “I got this. I’m just glad none of us brought too much shit.”

The hotel lobby was full of life when they entered, guests were talking and sitting on the sofas that were there and employees were walking around. A mix of different languages and accents could be heard and Lucas wondered if they were the only French people in the place or if they would meet anyone who had come from the same place.

The four of them walked further into the lobby, Arthur and Basile deciding they would be the ones doing the check-in and getting their room keys for them while Lucas and Yann found an empty sofa to sit on and wait.

Yann sighed, letting the bags drop to the floor and sitting down without a caring if there was something in them that could break and Lucas shook his head at him. Four backpacks and a suitcase didn't seem like much when he wasn't the one carrying them.

He let himself sit next to Yann and relax into the sofa. The air conditioning in the hotel lobby was a big improvement from the excessive heat outside and Lucas couldn't be more grateful for small mercies of modern times as he was right now.

He knew that December in the Galapagos Islands is supposed to be like June in France, which, technically, means warmer temperatures and the beginning of Summer. He knew that, but today was still a bit too hot to be considered normal. Global warming was laughing at them right now, no doubt.

He hoped that the temperature would drop a little in the next days. He did want it to be warm enough to enjoy their time there and go to the beach, but he didn't particularly want to melt into his towel while doing so.

“Can you believe we’re in the Galapagos?” Yann asked him. “And that we only had to pay for the hotel?”

The contest had only given them the plane tickets, they had had to pay for the hotel and, of course, their meals and anything else they wanted. But the flights were the most expensive thing and Arthur had found a relatively cheap hotel for them. Even if it was a little bit more than Lucas would have liked to spend, sometimes it was good to indulge in a little treat for himself and it wasn't like it had been that much.

“I think the most surprising thing is that Basile was the one who brought us here," he chuckled.

“Serves us right for making fun of him for entering a dumb radio contest,” Yann said, amused to no end about what said 'dumb radio contest' Basile had entered did for them.

“Not so dumb if it brought us to the Galapagos,” Lucas shrugged, slapping Yann’s back playfully. “You should try to join a contest for Easter. Maybe we’ll be able to go to Dubai or something next.”

“Why do I have to be the one joining the contest?”

“Why not you?”

Yann was just about to answer, with some biting remark no doubt, when Basile came up to them. He was jumping up and down a little too excitedly, but, to be fair, reasonably so. Lucas wouldn’t make fun of him for it. Not this time, at least.

“Arthur is just getting the room keys, we can go up soon and then we can go explore,” he rubbed his hands together.

“I don’t know if I wanna go anywhere today,” Lucas shook his head. “I’m kinda tired.”

“Lucas,” Basile said while turning to Lucas and putting his hands on his shoulders, expression serious. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re in Galapagos. Galapagos, Lucas. And you want to sleep?”

Lucas rolled his eyes at Basile’s over the top reaction.

“Excuse me for being tired after a twenty-hour flight.”

“I don’t care if you’re tired. We’re in Galapagos and we’re going to enjoy it.”

“We can enjoy it tomorrow.”

“Why enjoy tomorrow what you can enjoy today.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the saying goes-”

“I got the keys,” Arthur’s voice interrupted their silly argument.

Basile yelled out, making some of the people in the lobby turn to stare at him, before snatching one of the keys from Arthur’s hand and running to the elevators.

“I wish I had that much energy,” Lucas grumbled, grabbing his bag from where Yann had left it.

“Come on, Lulu, you can rest a little while we’re in the rooms and then we can go out later,” Yann assured, putting a hand on Lucas’ back and pushing him to where Arthur was scolding Basile while they waited for the elevator.

***

Yann had been right. All Lucas needed was a little rest before the adrenaline of being in the Galapagos really kicked in.

He was in a dreamy, warm place with his friends for the second half of his Christmas vacations. There really was nothing more he could ask for and, as much as he didn’t like to admit it, Basile was right. It wasn’t every day that they were in the Galapagos, they had to enjoy it as much as they could for the week they would be there. And Lucas would make sure to enjoy it as much as possible with the boys.

Yann had woken him up thirty minutes before they were supposed to leave for dinner, roughly pulling the blanket that had been covering him and almost yelling in his ear about warm weather and nice food. As annoyed as Lucas had been about it, he couldn’t deny how much he actually wanted to go outside and experience the completely different place they were in.

However, considering he had been continuously telling Lucas to hurry up, Yann was now the one making them late and taking his sweet, sweet time in the bathroom.

Lucas had knocked on the door three times now and Basile had sent him over ten texts, all in caps lock, telling them they either hurried or him and Arthur would leave them behind. But there was really nothing much Lucas could do except stare out the window while waiting for Yann.

He could see the sea from there. There were people on the beach, people in the streets and the sun shining above all them. There were birds flying and a girl was walking her dog right in front of the hotel. He contemplated opening the window and letting the breeze coming from the sea into the room, but right when he was about to do that, the bathroom door finally opened and Yann walked out.

“Took you long enough,” Lucas raised an eyebrow while he pocketed his phone and grabbed the room key.

“Taking care of yourself takes time, Lucas. You should try it sometime.”

“Sure. Just hope Basile doesn’t kill you and all that effort was for nothing.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Lucas shook his head, laughing at Yann’s completely laid back attitude and looked his friend up and down. He was now surer than ever about the reason why he had taken so long getting ready.

“Planning on bringing someone to our room tonight?” He asked. “Because if you are, I want to know so I can go and room with Arthur and Basile.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into our room, Lucas,” he rolled his eyes, amused. “I’m not gonna kick my best friend out for a hookup.”

Lucas hummed.

“Very grateful for that.”

They stepped out of the room and closed the door behind them, making sure the lights were turned off and that they had everything they needed on their pockets so that they wouldn’t have to come back to the hotel earlier than expected.

“Next time, please wake up earlier, Lucas,” Arthur told him when they met at the lobby. “I couldn’t stand listening to Baz whine any longer.”

“It wasn’t my fault, alright? I was awake for a long time. Yann was the one getting all ready to find a lady tonight.”

“Well, I hope keeping us waiting will be worth it at the end of the night, then,” Arthur shrugged before leading the way out of the hotel.

The evening wasn’t too hot like Lucas had feared after the dreadful heat they had experienced when they had arrived. It was actually the perfect warmth to walk around comfortably and enjoy the view.

Puerto Ayora was a beautiful place, full of life and sounds and colours. Lucas didn’t even know if he wanted to look at the people passing by, at the stores, at the sky or at the sea. Everything was calling his attention, screaming softly to be looked at.

“Baz, I gotta say. This is amazing,” he couldn’t help but say, awe in his voice.

“It is, isn’t it?” Basile grinned at him, bumping their shoulders together, pride and excitement written all over his face.

“You can enter whatever contests you want to in the future and we won’t even say anything,” Yann promised.

“Next time I win,” Basile said as if it was already a sure thing that would happen without any doubts. “I’ll go on vacation with Daphné, though. This time it was for us, but she’s my girlfriend you know.”

“How sweet,” Lucas said sarcastically.

“Don’t worry, Lulu, you’ll understand one day. When you find your own Daphné.”

Lucas snorted.

“I don’t think I want to find a Daphné, thanks,” he clapped Basile on the back while Arthur and Yann sniggered next to them.

“Or, you know, your male Daphné.”

“My male Dahpné?”Lucas raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Basile looked a little unsure but ready to go on with his idea. “You know-”

“Basile, buddy,” Yann threw an arm around his shoulder. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t even try to explain that one.”

Basile blinked, before shrugging and almost pulling Yann with him in his hurry to get to the restaurant he had just seen.

To be fair, Lucas was hungry too and he also couldn’t wait to get somewhere where they could finally eat something since they hadn’t really had any real food since their flight.

***

Their dinner had been great. Maybe a little too expensive for them, they would surely have to find a more suited place for the money they had in the next days. They would have time for that when they do some exploring of the city, a meal at a more expensive restaurant was hardly a big problem.

They were now walking by the beach. The smell of the sea embracing them and the breeze touching their skins. It felt amazing and relaxing and Lucas felt like he was exactly where he wanted to be and where he belonged, despite the long distance from home. He was with his three best friends, their laughs loud and full while they recorded something dumb for their Insta stories and Lucas stopped and sat on a stone bench and just looked around himself.

He was lucky to be here and he was more than grateful for it. Maybe spending vacations in a completely new place was exactly what he had been in need of without even realizing it.

“You alright, Lucas?” Arthur asked, approaching him while Basile attempted to do a handstand in the middle of the sidewalk while Yann filmed it.

“Yeah,” Lucas smiled at him. “This is great.”

Arthur grinned, turned to look at the other two and his grin stretched a bit more.

“It really is.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Arthur probably knew that Lucas was just taking everything in and processing what was around him, enjoying the peacefulness that was bathing them.

“Are you guys coming?” Yann called out.

Arthur turned to stare at Lucas with a raised eyebrow, a silent question.

“Yeah,” Lucas answered, firstly only to Arthur and then louder so the other two could hear him. “We are.”

They approached the place where the other two were, both bent over their phones, publishing the dumb videos they had made to their Insta stories. Lucas smiled and kicked Yann’s shin playfully.

“So, any more plans for tonight?”

“We could go to a club, I’m sure we can find one easily,” Basile suggested, already looking around for one.

“We only just got here and you already want to get into a club? You can do that back at home!” Arthur argued.

“But I’m sure clubs here are different.”

“Different. Clubs are clubs, there are drinks and people and music. You really can’t do that in many different ways.”

“Still. Are you telling me that you come to the Galapagos and don’t even want to go clubbing once while you’re here?” Basile sounded quite offended by that thought.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that this is our first night here, we could spend it in a different way and go clubbing tomorrow.”

“I’m with Arthur on this,” Yann interrupted before any of the two could say anything else. “Lucas might have slept the afternoon away, but I didn’t and I don’t know about you but I’m tired.”

“We can just walk around for a little longer, maybe get ice cream, eat it on the beach, and then go back to the hotel and call it a night,” Lucas said, hopping the suggestion was good enough for the three of them.

“Sounds good to me,” Arthur shrugged.

Yann agreed quickly too and Basile, although still looking a little mad about not going to the club, followed them without complaining too much, only grabbing his phone and typing away with a small pout on his lips, before it quickly vanished into a smile, no doubt at the sight of a text from Daphné.

If every night was like this one, and even though he would still be with his friends in Paris, it would be terribly hard to say goodbye to the Island and this trip.

#skam france #elu #lucas x eliott #fanfic

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littlereyofsunlight · 6 years

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Goodbye, Dreamland (part 1)

Steggyweek2k18 Day 2! Part 2 of this needs a little more polishing, so it’ll be up later today. This one goes out to @roboticonography and @indiefic, who spit-balled ideas with me for this story one fine May day.

Fic: Goodbye, Dreamland Pairing: Steve/Peggy Rating: T+ Summary: Steve and Peggy take a trip to Coney Island in an alternate-timeline in which Peggy is brought to the future and Ultron never happened.

“It’s real different than my day,” Steve said, slight hesitation slowing his voice. They’d come out of the sprawling Coney Island subway station on Stillwell between Mermaid and Surf, right by the Subway sandwich shop, into a dazzlingly bright late June morning. A solitary breeze wafted the sea air past overflowing trash bins, combining those scents into a familiar Brooklyn perfume as they walked up the steps by the improbably twisted red and blue tracks of a roller coaster.

Peggy, preoccupied with digging into her beach bag to touch up her sunscreen—it had been over two hours since she’d last put it on, and all of today’s literature suggested, as did Peggy’s own fair-skinned experience thus far this summer, that reapplication was necessary after that much sun exposure—so she didn’t quite catch it. “Well darling, it’s been seventy years.” She held up the tube, triumphant, then frowned up at him from under her floppy-brimmed hat. “Also, wasn’t there a flood recently?”

Steve shoved his hands in his shorts pockets and started to amble down the boardwalk. “2012, Superstorm Sandy. Maybe five months after the Chitauri attack on Manhattan.”

“Steve,” Peggy said, realization dawning as she rubbed extra SPF onto her cheeks, “I thought you hadn’t been here since you’d…” She stumbled over just what to call it, his miraculous return to the living.

“Since I was defrosted?” There was a sardonic edge Peggy didn’t miss this time. Wisely she held her tongue, knowing he’d elaborate in his own time. She offered him the sunscreen, but he wrinkled his nose and waved it away. “We all watched the storm from Stark Tower. There was a crane in Midtown that collapsed, and Tony went out in the middle of it, to secure that. But mostly we could only sit around til it passed.” He looked over at her. “Hell of a view, though.”

He took her hand, directed her past the entrance to Luna Park, headed away from most of the crowds. “They thought I’d be helpful here, since there had been looting. The beach had been washed clear up over this whole boardwalk, and all I saw were store owners trying to clean out and citizens just trying to get by when everything was closed or wrecked.” He shrugged, and Peggy squeezed his hand. “Coulda done something more in Breezy Point, maybe, but I went where they sent me.”

“Steve, I wish you’d told me.”

He gave her a lopsided smile and squeezed back. “Well, you said you wanted to come. I know you lived in the city for a while before you came to this time, so I figured you liked it, or maybe hadn’t had the chance to visit.”

Peggy gave a brittle laugh and stopped walking so she could face him. “Neither, I’m afraid. I have been before, and I was miserable the whole time.” Steve blanched, frown lines forming between his brows. “Darling, I came out here when I first moved because you’d spoken fondly of it, and then I spent the entire day crying about you, because you weren’t with me. I suggested this trip because I thought you’d want to see it again.”

His confusion gave way to sadness as his heart clenched, thinking of Peggy alone on a bench, staring out at the freezing winter surf and missing him. He drew her close, intending to sweep her into a hug.

But Peggy started laughing as she watched the emotions play across Steve’s face. “Listen to us! This isn’t an O. Henry story, Steve, it’s a trip to Coney Island! Sunshine! Roller coasters! Hot dogs! Splashing in the water! For pity’s sake, we’re here together and the beach is back where it’s supposed to be, so let’s just enjoy it.” When he smiled in return, she rewarded him by throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss so deep, an onlooker wolf-whistled as they passed.

“You know,” Steve said, straightening his crooked collar, “I have a feeling today’s going to be a good day.”

Some time later, having walked the length of the boardwalk several times to soak up the sun and take in all their options for amusement, Peggy happened to remove her sunglasses and see just how red Steve, staunch refuser of sun protection, had gotten since they’d arrived. “Steven Rogers!” she exclaimed. “You are turning into a lobster before my eyes.”

Steve gingerly touched his nose and winced at the too-tight, sore feeling of a sunburn. “It won’t last,” he said, sheepish. “As soon as I’m out of the sun, I’ll be fine.”

Peggy goggled at him. “We have no indoor plans! Do you mean to tell me I’m to spend my entire day with a man turning ever-increasing shades of red?” He shrugged. “Steve, doesn’t it hurt?”

He squirmed under her scrutiny. “I’ve had worse.”

Peggy snorted. “Forgive me if I don’t exactly trust your sense of scale. I’m buying you a hat right now.” She steered him into a souvenir shop. “Your ears look absurd!”

Though he protested the bucket hat Peggy had first tried to cram onto his skull and lobbied unsuccessfully for a baseball cap (“Steve, your ears!”), they eventually compromised on a straw trilby, which had enough of a brim to satisfy Peggy’s shade requirements and didn’t make Steve feel as though he’d missed the boat for a fishing trip, or a John Candy movie. In retaliation, Steve picked out a t-shirt while Peggy was at the register. He wouldn’t let her see it until they’d left the store.

“Oh, bloody Nora!” Peggy pulled the shirt from its plastic bag. “Honestly, Steve, this is a complete waste of money. You should return it.”

“What?” Steve asked, all innocence now that he’d managed to turn the tables. “It’s cheeky. You’re cheeky. I thought you could use a souvenir.”

Peggy turned the shirt over to examine the back, which, like the front, was printed with a cartoon woman’s bikini-clad body. “It’s cheeky, all right,” Peggy muttered. “I’m never wearing it,” she told him.

“That hurts. You don’t like my gift?” He tried to hold a pout but the outraged look on Peggy’s face was too much, and he broke down in giggles. “It’s terrible!”

“It is terrible!” Peggy couldn’t fathom why he’d bought it.

Steve slung his arm around her shoulders and started walking again. “It’s not a day at Coney without a terrible souvenir.” He went to drop a kiss against her temple, but Peggy’s sensible hat got in the way and all he got was straw and a bit of grosgrain ribbon. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Peggy grumbled, outrage melting slightly as she shoved the offending shirt into her bag. “Still not wearing it.”

“Nah, you’re way too classy for that shirt.” Steve agreed. “We can give it to Tony when we get home.”

That, at least, made her smile. “He would like this shirt.”

“The man’s got no class, we all know it.”

They’d arrived at the entrance for the midway games, and Peggy had an idea. “You know what? I think it’s time I took you to school, Rogers.” She grabbed his hand and set off through the milling crowd, making a beeline for the shooting range. When they arrived, Steve took one look at the carnival game and then looked back at her. “Loser buys lunch?” she suggested, oh-so-casual.

Steve chuckled, knowing just what he was getting himself into, but he still said yes. This was going to be fun.

Twenty minutes later, the barker running the shooting range was pleading with Peggy to move along. “You’re intimidating everyone! No one wants to go up against you! I’m not gonna hit my numbers if you stick around, lady, come on.”

Peggy surveyed the small mountain of stuffed animals she’d amassed with her sharp-shooting skills. “Well, I suppose this will do, then.” She turned to Steve and loaded him up with an armful. “Let’s pass these out and then see what other games look fun.”

It didn’t take long for word to spread to all the kids on the midway that there were free toys to be had, and they quickly dispersed Peggy’s winnings among the group. Task accomplished, they decided against the ring toss and some game known as “Fried Frogs,” but Peggy made Steve stop when they reached the strength tester.

“Aw, Peggy, I hated this one back in the day,” Steve complained.

“Great,” Peggy winked at him. “Now you get another crack at it.”

Steve rubbed at the back of his (sunburned) neck. “I don’t know, isn’t it just...showing off now?”

“I don’t know why you’re not seeing that’s precisely the idea,” she said, a wicked gleam in her eye as she raked her gaze over his impressive physique. Oh. Now Steve got the point. Could you blush with a sunburn? Because he was pretty sure he was doing that just now, and feeling warm all through his body as Peggy continued to openly appreciate his looks.

Some of the kids had followed Peggy and Steve after the stuffed animals, so there was a small crowd to witness when Steve, quite unexpectedly brought the hammer down and broke both it and the bell when the force of his swing shot the puck straight through and off the tower.

“Woah!” One of the kids, a tousle-headed boy there with his chubby friend, exclaimed. “Did you see that Ned? Did you see it!”

“That guy’s gotta be as strong as Thor,” Ned replied.

Peggy just smirked while Steve stammered an apology to the flabbergasted worker. He couldn’t beg off when the woman insisted he take the prize he’d won, either, but Ned and his scrawny friend were all to happy to step forward when Steve offered it to them.

“Are you Thor?” The kid shouted at Steve, eyes wide with awe. “Mister, are you THOR?”

“Peter, you can’t ASK people if they’re Thor!” Peggy heard Ned admonish as they waddled away, dragging a giant stuffed bear between them. “What if he’s UNDERCOVER?”

Laughing, Peggy looked back at a still embarrassed Steve. “Well, is it time I collected on my winnings? I think I fancy a hot dog for lunch.”

All ten registers at the boardwalk Nathan’s were stacked at least twenty people deep. Peggy couldn’t quite make out the menu board from so far back, but Steve’s super-soldier eyesight was helpful in that endeavor.

“Two fifty for a hot dog?” Steve sputtered, incredulous. Several people turned to stare, Peggy included.

“We’ve been out to eat before, Steve. You know what things cost now.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had some version of this conversation, but she’d thought he had finally accepted the changes inflation had wrought over the past seventy-odd years.

He looked at her, then back at the menu plastered with colorful photos. “It’s just, the last time I ate a hot dog here, it cost me my last nickel.” He shook his head. “Bucky wound up sharing his lemonade with me ’cause I couldn’t afford a drink.”

Peggy grabbed his hand and laced her fingers with his. He gave her that lopsided smile again and she felt a sympathetic pang in her heart.

“Sorry, I’m doing it again. We’re here now and the sun is shining, right?”

Peggy tipped her chin up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s a good day.”

Still, he’d drawn the line at buying himself more than a single hot dog and a small lemonade. Peggy rolled her eyes and ordered herself all the food she fancied, including the chilli cheese fries. Steve grumbled a bit but he didn’t welch on their bet.

He polished off his lunch in no time flat, then snuck fries off of Peggy’s plate when her hands were full of the burger she’d ordered. He stopped after she glared at him, because he knew better than to get overly familiar with Peggy’s food if she hadn’t offered. Eventually, slowed down a bit after the hamburger, hot dog and giant lemonade, she gave him a few more fries of her own accord.

Though it was past noon, the day seemed to just keep getting hotter. Steve suggested they duck into the small museum, but they were chased off by an overzealous docent who spouted one too many incorrect facts about the time period Steve had grown up in. Peggy suggested they try some of the rides, instead.

#steggyweek2k18 #steggy week day 2 #peggy in the future!#steve rogers #peggy carter #my fic #steggy fic #steggy

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kdreamscenario · 6 years

Text

V Diary: Jin Log

Diary of Jin AU

Rated: M Smut

Warnings: Car “Sex”, mutual oral, 69 position, slight voyeurism

Word Count: 1582

Suga Log Three | Jungkook Log II

I’m writing here to confess for the first time that I’ve been seeing Y/N. No one else knows. I guess I’m writing here to get the secret off my chest. Namjoon and Yoongi would be fine to tell but being the only older member affected by her is embarrassing. As far as I know neither of them care at all to be with her. Namjoon would but he’s too much in the leader role to get involved.

Hoseok being so interested in her is a shock honestly. He’s usually the one who helps me keep the kids in line at home. Though I don’t think Jungkook has done anything with her. He’s a sweet kid and more the romantic type. If he’s feeling like sharing, Tae will eventually get him involved. Odd enough that he shares her so openly with Jimin. Makes no sense that he fights with Hoseok over her.

It’s only been a few times now. I really didn’t expect to be interested but I guess I’m a healthy young man like any other. I’ve not had a girlfriend since the trainee days so it’s been a long time.

A few days after the underwear incident in the living room incident I asked for her help. It was super awkward at first but she’s really professional and understanding. The second time was after the night the others let her sleep in my bed. The image of her in my bed half naked was effective.

The problem of course is getting privacy from the others. As the oldest I can’t be as open telling Tae and Hoseok not to fight over her and focus but also getting involved. Noona and I have been using the company vans pretty often. The managers usual leave me with a set of keys.

Today was the second time she’s come into the studio to bring us coffee and sweets. She was waiting outside my practice room after my voice lesson. I was her last delivery so I offered to walk her down stairs. The others were all busy with private lessons and practice so it was perfect timing. I asked her if she was busy on the way to the elevator. She said no she wasn’t in any hurry with a knowing look in her eyes.

I made a quick stop to my personal locker to grab the keys. With luck we didn’t meet anyone in the hallways. Inside the elevator she hit the button for the parking garage and not the lobby. She knew exactly what I was asking for.

The vans are parked in a separate gated area in back of the main lot. I took her hand and lead her along, looking around for anyone to see us. We were both quiet all the way there. My heart still pounds heavily even if it’s the third time.

I took one last look around to be sure no one was around then opened the van doors. Y/N goes in first and waits for me in the center seat. After closing and locking the doors I get into the back. Once I’m settled I pull Y/N to straddle my lap. We both know there’s not a lot of time. She leans right in to kiss me.

The closed in silence calms my nerves and I notice there’s quite a chill in the air. Winter has started but I don’t want to risk running the van for heat. Though it does feel nice to share our body heat this way. I much prefer it to the stifling heat of late summer when this last happened.

I do feel a bit bad for how cold her hands felt on my neck already. Mine sat at her waist over her coat. I would’ve loved to have felt her skin but my hands were also pretty cold.

Keeping the time in mind, she breaks the kiss and starts to slide down to the floor as she usually does. I hold her arm and tell her to wait as I had something else in mind this time. I’ve been feeling bad that the last two times were only her pleasuring me and not getting anything in return. She always says it’s fine but really not very gentlemanly of me.

After kicking off our shoes and some shifting we manage to have me laying on my back and her over top of me. Each of her knees are on either side of my head. Lately she’s been wearing skirts when she suspects we might want her. Which I notice is getting to be almost every day. The warmth from under her skirt is nice compared to the cold air of the car.

Once we got settled neither of us waste any time with undressing the other. She pulls my sweats and underwear down just enough to pull out my dick and keep my legs warm. It takes a lot more shuffling but I manage to get her panties off completely. They get gently tossed onto the middle seats.

We both jump at each others cold hands touching our bodies. She gives me a few slow strokes with her cold hand that gives me a chill. The wet warmth of her mouth takes over. The contrast makes it feel like I’m melting. For a few minutes it’s too distracting. All I can manage is to rub and massage the insides of her thighs.

She keeps a nice even rhythm of sucking me and swirling her tongue. I get a grip on myself and run my hands higher. I run two fingers over her slit. Not sure if I should be surprised that she was already pretty wet. Makes me wonder if I’m the only one who’s played with her today.

I spend a few minutes running my fingers over her to spread the wetness. She hums around me when I push them into her. The pace of my fingers matches the slow pace of her mouth. Working together in the same rhythm is as if we’re really fucking.

It’s really enjoyable but shortly we’re both ready for more. She takes a deep breath through her nose then presses down further to swallow me down to the base. I can’t keep back my moan that time. To retaliate I curl my fingers to rub the spot I know most girls like. She hums again in a higher pitch. The vibration nearly pushes me over the edge.

With a tap on her hip I tell her to stop, that I’m close and thankfully she listens. She pulls up to run her tongue over the crown and gives me another shock of her cold hands. I take my fingers out of her and pull her down to sit on my face. My tongue follows the pattern my fingers had previously done. I know we should be quick but I got too focused on really pleasuring her.

I focus all of my efforts to her clit, licking and sucking away. Because of the angle she couldn’t really reach to suck me, but that worked out for the better. It gave me time to get her to her climax before mine. Her cries had gotten louder and her thighs would shake when I’d lick her just right.

I tried to keep the same motion going that really make her squirm. She was having a hard time keeping from bucking her hips at the feeling so I had to hold her in place. It wasn’t long after that, she got quiet and her whole body went rigid. I could feel her pussy throbbing on my tongue and her wetness dripping more on my face. I wish it wasn’t so dark that I could’ve seen her dripping and clenching around nothing.

I made sure to lick her gently through her orgasm. She gave a little whine and tried to sit up when she’d had enough. I flipped her skirt up out of the way and let her lean forward. She’s so incredible. Without a second to catch her breath she leaned down and sucked me right back into her mouth.

The nice strokes from her hand the entire time I played with her and kept me on edge for so long. I grabbed her thighs to get a good look at just how wet she’d gotten. She moaned around me from my touch, then swallowed me down to the base again. That’s all I could stand. I squeezed her leg and warned her before cumming hard.

Returning the favor she sucked me through my high and pulled up to swallow my load. She already had my settled back into my sweats before I caught my breath. On jelly legs I shuffled up to the front of the van where we keep some tissues. I gave them to Y/N with her panties so she could clean up.

I looked out the windows to check for anyone around while she got fixed up. When we were both ready I helped her out of the van and closed it up. We walked to the parking garage entrance she usually leaves from. It’s still a bit awkward for me in the after effect. I managed a shy thank you and wishing her a safe walk home. A part of me feels like I should do something more. Like kiss her cheek or something but that doesn’t seem right either. Oh well, I guess time will smooth things out.

A/N: Jin’s first log! If you notice he says that Y/N has coming twice now with coffee. (Hint Hint: Yoongi has called her in once more since his last log)

#jin scenarios #jin smut #seokjin smut #seokjin scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #bangtan #seokjin #jin

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ezilyamuzed · 6 years

Text

There’s no place like home- Part Two

Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?

Setting: End of season 13. This takes place between 13.17 and 13.18.

Warnings: language. POV may switch after certain sections.

A/N: I am new at posting these online, so please be patient. Do not mistake my lack of experience for ignorance if I do not quite get it yet. Sorry for any grammatical errors. This is part two of a series that has been in the works while watching the episodes unfold. Thanks for taking the time to read! Comments are always appreciated.

Series Masterlist

Sam couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. What you said about them ruining the world wasn’t exactly wrong. They didn’t mean to do any of those things, but somehow they were always involved in a major way when it came to the impending doom of humanity. Saving people was what their ultimate goal was, but in the process they have ended up hurting so many others. So many that they cared about that they promised to protect. What exactly would Bobby have said when she yelled at them? What would he have done? Sam knew one thing for sure, Y/N had to be protected. Not only was she Bobby’s daughter, but a girl that had a pretty normal life while trying to hunt monsters a concept impossible to him to even fathom. The idea that any harm could happen to her made Sam feel like his insides were twisted. He had to make this better for her. He had to watch over her. That’s what a brother would do, and as far as he was concerned she was family now.

Dean was already passed out when Sam got back. He had been able to get a couple hours of sleep in before Dean had texted and said they needed to meet. He sat in the raggedy old chair in the hotel and opened up his lap top, curious as to what Y/N was and who she was. What did she say she could do? Read auras? Did that mean she was clairvoyant? Probably not, didn’t really fit her description of her capabilities. Sam dug through the web trying to see if anything popped up that made sense. Synesthesia came up came up after a couple of pages, the crossing of the senses. Maybe this was it or at least a scientific reasoning behind her abilities? Sam could not help but to think he was wasting his time now as the afternoon approached. A google search was not going to answer all of his questions. Perhaps she was a new type of supernatural being. Cas would probably know, but who knows where he was right now. Whatever she is, Sam couldn’t help but to think how useful having powers like that would be on the road during a normal hunt. Right now he wished that was all he had in front of him. A normal monster or a quick salt and burn. He could already feel the stress rising in him as he thought about the impending doom that seemed inevitable. Michael and his angels destroying the world.

Dean started shifting in the bed like he was going to wake up. Sam shut the lap top and stared at his brother still snoring. Dean was such an ass to her before. How could she even consider them being around? Not only was Dean an ass, but she clearly had hatred for the name Winchester. Sam wanted to prove her wrong. They weren’t the fuckups that she had heard of, they were just normal good guys trying to help the world. Well as normal as they could be in this life. It wasn’t their fault that they were born to lead this life. Higher powers pushed them towards it. He picked up the keys to the impala and set forth to Y/N’s hotel. He had to try again with her.

After figuring out which room she was in by showing one of the fake badges to the front desk Sam walked up to her door. Definitely not the kind of hotel he was used to. You could actually smell something sweet in the air, not the musty smell of aged furniture. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“No housekeeping!” yelled Y/N on the other side.

“Y/N, its Sam.” He yelled back through the door while shifting his weight in unease.

Y/N opened the door looking like death had run her over. Hair in a tangled bun of a mess on top of her head and make up smeared around her eyes. Sam tried not to glance down and notice the too short of shorts on her with an oversized Journey tee.

“Hey Y/N, I’m sorry if I woke you up. I figured you might want a ride to your car and maybe some lunch?” Sam said apprehensively.

She rubbed her eyes, only spreading the make up more. She looked like a little raccoon now. A short little raccoon that was probably capable of taking him down within seconds.

“Yeah, sounds okay. Give me 10 minutes okay? I’ll meet you in the lobby” she said with her eyes half shut and a yawn escaping her mouth.

____________________________________________________________

Ugh, who the hell is it knocking on your door this early?

“No housekeeping!” you yelled while still holding the pillow tight to your face. You glanced at the clock on the little nightstand next to you realizing it was well after noon as you heard the voice from behind the door yell that it was Sam. The giant of a man with puppy dog eyes was knocking on your door after you had basically told him that you hated him and his brother. What could he possibly want? You got up from the bed, not caring what you looked like. He was no one that you cared at all to impress, even with him trying to ask nice last night.

As you opened up the door he immediately spoke up as if he was holding in a speech he had prepared. You needed to get your car and the rumble in your stomach told you that you should probably eat something sooner rather than later. He was trying and you could see it. It would take a lot to change your mind about him and his brother, but you appreciated his effort. You reluctantly agreed while remembering that you did care at least a little bit about others seeing you in this condition, so you told him to give you a few minutes.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror as you turned on the hot water. God you looked like hell. No not hell, you looked like you just wrestled with a werewolf and won. A grin appeared on your face remembering how easy it was to drop him down. The grin grew a bit larger when you remembered the look of shock on Dean’s face like he couldn’t believe someone like you just took down the Big Bad wolf. There was an appreciation in proving that you weren’t just some “little girl” which he had called you during your initial encounter.

The dream you had about Charlie started to rise into your thoughts. She was right about one thing, they were handsome. But you could not see how they were like brothers to someone who was so warm and fun to be with. You wondered if you should mention her in front of them, but decided that since you haven’t seen her in years it was probably a bad idea. What if they no longer spoke? Even worse, in this business what if something happened to her because of them?

You threw on a white t-shirt, a clean pair of jean shorts and your comfy sneakers. You were able to get rid of the raccoon eyes, but there was no need to apply any other make-up. Again, you didn’t care to impress your driving companion on the way to your car and food. You brushed your teeth and hair fast while you looked around for your things. Wallet, keys, and knife. Check.

It had only taken 15 minutes since Sam walked away from your door to get ready. He could live with the extra 5 minutes you took. You see him standing in the lobby looking very out of place amongst the business men checking in and the dolled up housewives gripping their purses and shopping bags. He wore very beat up jeans, boots, and yet another flannel shirt. Did this man not realize it was almost summer?

He smiled at you as you walked past him, immediately heading for the old impala. This was the car that was parked next to yours when you met them. It had seemed like it was in pristine condition when you had rushed past it yesterday to get into your car. After last night’s adventures and the brightness of the sun today you start to notice that this car has been through a lot. Tiny little marks along the fenders suggest that the drive on the dirt road last night had definitely not been the first. As Sam opened the door for you, you slid in and noticed how worn the steering wheel was, like someone had held on to it for life on more than one occasion. The seats worn down suggesting that hours have been spent by people sitting in them. A slight smell of men’s musk filled the air as you shut the door. These boys spend way too much time in here. A slight smile came across your lips when you realized that one could say that same about your baby, you spent way too much time with her as well.

Sam had already gotten in as you looked over to him and said, “Nice car here”. He gave you a smile back as he turned the ignition over bringing her to life. The purr of your baby always provided a soothing release for you when you were stressed, and this one was no different.

“Thanks, it was my dad’s” he said while making sure there was no one in his way as he backed out of the spot.

“Was?” you asked trying to be civil and have a simple conversation to get to know this man more. It’s not like they gave any insight to their lives, and while you knew about them you never heard their full story.

While not letting his eyes leave the road he simply replied, “Yeah. He died about 12 years ago now.”

You couldn’t help but to feel bad that you had brought it up. Even with all of your training you have had in being empathetic when emotional situations were brought up, you did not want to use any of them right now. He was not your client. He was just a man giving you a ride to your car was the agreement you had come to within your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “So in like 5 blocks you are going to make a right.”

He nodded in agreement with your directions. He might have actually been aware of where he was going already. Dean probably told him. He reached over to the radio and turned on whatever tape was inside. A smirk ran across your face as you started to recognize the tune. “Of Wolf and Man by Metallica,” you found yourself stating towards Sam.

His eyebrows raised and glanced over at you with a smirk on his face. “I don’t know really anyone else but my brother that could name that song so fast.”

“Well some people I guess don’t appreciate the greats in the world,” you said while looking up ahead. “I’m parked right over there”.

Sam looked into the direction that you were pointing and let out quick laugh. “That is your car?”

You looked at him confused and quickly answered “yes” with a hint of a question mark at the end. Was he being a typical guy and thinking that a girl didn’t deserve to be driving a “man’s car” or was he really interested?

“When we saw it yesterday at the coffee shop Dean stared it down. I think secretly he liked it but of course this will always be baby,” he said while patting the dashboard.

Baby? Dean calls his car baby too? You started to feel yourself becoming disgusted by all the things you were finding to have in common with this man, but also intrigued at what else you might share with him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an ass you might have considered getting to know him.

He pulls right up next to your baby and your heart sank as you saw it. FUCK! The back window laid in shards all over the ground. You jumped out before Sam had even fully stopped the car. This was not happening. Who hurt your baby? Your fists start to tighten up next to you as you hear Sam on the phone with whom you presumed to be Jody telling her what had happened.

Only 30 minutes later you found yourself saying goodbye to your baby as she was being pulled by a tow truck to the local repair shop. Jody was down to you within minutes going over every detail in your car to make sure that nothing had been taken. She had reassured you that she would figure it out, but you knew that there was probably a slim chance in actually catching the assholes responsible.

Sam sat down next to you on the curb as the tow truck pulled away. You tried to cover up the tears that started growing in your eyes. Don’t let him see how much this hurt you. How everything just kept going from bad to worse. He moved his arm to embrace you, but stopped himself short as you started to tense up at his presence.

“Take me back Sam,” You said softy while looking away in the distance.

Sam looked at you and nodded even though you couldn’t see him. The both of you walked slowly back to the impala in silence and rode back to your hotel.

___________________________________________________________

Dean heard the loud noise of a car door shut outside of his room as he started to wake up. What a night. Bobby’s offspring was just like him; tough and stubborn. He heard a loud knock on his motel room door, he started to reach under his pillow to pull out his hidden gun when he heard the familiar motherly tone yelled at him. “Dean open up.”

He got up and opened the door, stepping to the side for Jody to walk in all dressed in her sheriff’s uniform. “We need to talk,” she said as she sat herself down at the tiny kitchen table. Dean sat down next to her in the other chair at the table as if she was commanding him to do so. She took a deep sigh before looking directly at him and saying, “We’ve got trouble”.

“What kind of trou…” Dean started to ask as Jody stopped him by holding up her phone to show a picture of an old Camaro with a broken out window. “Nice car. Sucks to be the owner. Who’s is its?” he said while wiping the sleep put of his eyes.

“Y/N’s” was all she said while still holding up the phone.

Y/N’s car? The girl had some taste. He definitely didn’t expect that. He thought she was probably an ecofriendly driving judgmental bitch with an attitude.

“Why does her broken out window mean there’s trouble. Maybe she just pissed off someone else with her bitchy attitude?” Dean said while getting up from his seat to grab a water bottle from his bag.

“Because she killed a werewolf last night. Because I watched the footage. Dean, it was another wolf that did this,” she said with concern in her voice.

Ffffuuuccckk. Of course it was. He hadn’t of thought about the fact that werewolves rarely travel alone last night as he had helped her dispose of the body. He took a large gulp from the water bottle. “Claire and Alex are already on it,” said Jody from behind him.

“So you want us to help them gank this monster?” Dean said while turning back to her.

“No I want you and Sam to watch out for Y/N. She doesn’t know yet, and honestly with all the crap that she has walked into in the last couple of days, I don’t really want her to.”

“So babysitting duty?” Dean said with a scowl on his face.

Jody gave him a smirk while she crossed her arms. “Think of it as a chance to actually get to know one another. Your latest impressions didn’t exactly woo her into thinking that you are a good guy.” She got up to walk to him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “Prove to her that Bobby helped raise the decent man I know you to be. Show her all the goodness that I know you like to hide away from the world.”

Dean sighed and looked her in the eyes, “I’ll try. I can’t say that I will like it, but I will try”.

Jody had left soon after, letting Dean know that she or one of the girls will stay in contact about the wolf hunt. Dean was already showered and dressed when he heard the door unlocking with Sam following directly in with the swoosh of the door.

“So Y/N’s managed to piss off something else,” Dean said while tossing his dirty clothes in his bag. Sam’s eyes widen, questioning how Dean could possibly have known about her car. “Jody stopped by.”

Sam nodded and sat down on the bed while opening up his lap top. “Jody said the girls were on the case. We are on babysitting duty,” Dean said while grabbing a beer out of the little green and white cooler that was their traveling companion.

Sam looked up from his screen, “So what’s the plan?”

Dean paused and shrugged. He looked down at his beer. “This,” he said with a shrug while shaking his bottle.

______________________________________________________________

When Jody had watched the video footage from the bar, the feeling of dread was confirmed. Another werewolf had smashed out Y/N's window because of the scent she had left at the scene. Dean was there too, so he was probably in danger as well. He, of course, would run at the chance to take down a werewolf, but that is not what he should be doing right now. He should be trying to get to know Y/N, Bobby's daughter. She made the call that the boys wouldn't be involved in this hunt. Not this time.

After visiting Dean at the hotel to implement her plan of making Dean and Sam spend time with Y/N, she went back home where Donna, Alex, and Claire were waiting.

"We got a job to do," Jody said to the group of girls sitting around the kitchen table.

"What kind of job?" Claire asked with excitement. It had been a couple of days of quiet around the area, and Jody knew she was getting restless.

"There was a werewolf attack last night over at the Irish pub," Jody started to reply, but Alex interrupted her.

"There wasn't any news at the hospital about an attack, just a drunk girl that was passed out in their ally."

Jody nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he was stopped before any damage was done to his victim."

"So if he was stopped, then what are we doing here then?" Claire said with a roll of her eyes.

Jody glanced back and forth between the three women in front of her and sighed audibly. "There's another one hot on their tail. They attacked their car that was left at the bar last night. It was it was probably just following the scent." Jody said reluctantly.

She knew that she should have had the conversation with the girls about Y/N, but she hadn't been ready. Every time she thought about the news the last couple of days has brought, emotions fled through her that she didn't want to face. No. It was that she couldn't face them. Anything that brought up the memory of Bobby made her feel completely helpless. She knew that there was nothing that she could have done to save him aside from selling her soul to make a deal, but he would never have wanted that. Bobby Singer was a selfless man, who only cared about the safety of others. A trait that she had noticed about Y/N as well.

Jody knew she couldn't keep everything to herself anymore as she started to explain everything from the beginning. The girls all listened quietly while giving their full attention to the story of Bobby's daughter, her gifts, and her quick takedown of the beast.

"So it's mate, she's a ticked off, eh?" Donna asked with her Minnesota accent. Jody nodded and gave them a detailed description of her appearance that was seen on the camera footage.

"So why exactly aren't the Winchester's doing anything? Or that girl for that matter, since obviously, she can take care of herself. Why is this our case?" Claire asked while raising an eyebrow to Jody.

"Things definitely did not go well between them. Dean was his normal charming self when he is suspicious of someone’s intentions," Jody said while rolling her eyes towards Donna.

"Oh, I know how that one looks. He's not the friendliest hunter in the bunch when he gets his nerves all riled up," Donna replied while looking towards the two younger girls.

Jody nodded in agreement. She returned her eyes to Claire that was still awaiting an answer to her question. Jody sighed heavily, hoping that they would agree with the decision she had made.

"They need this. They all need to be forced together to realize how stubborn everyone is being. For the sake of Bobby's memory."

Claire went to speak, but stopped herself short and sat back in the chair and nodded.

"She doesn't know about the second wolf in town, and the boys think they are just babysitting her for her own safety. If trouble finds them, I know that they will be fine as a group. Sticking together like a family keeps us all safer than when you are alone," Jody said calmly while shifting her eyes between the three women in front of her.

Donna smiled a toothy grin at them all. "Let's go save our family then huh?"

______________________________________________________________

Sam hadn’t protested too much at Dean’s idea of going to a bar with Y/N. The way that Y/N had acted earlier, she might actually need it. He followed his brother to the car, allowing Dean to be the driver as he gave directions to Y/N’s hotel. He took the lead towards her room and gave a little knock at which Dean rolled his eyes to. Y/N opened up the door, looking like she had just recently showered and changed again. Her face looked like she was shocked and confused as to why they were at her door again.

“Hey Y/N, we were around and figured that you would probably be getting hungry here since you didn’t eat earlier. We were hoping that maybe you would like to go get something with us? Maybe try that start over I was talking about before?” Sam said giving her the best puppy dog eyes he could muster while awaiting her reply.

She gave a deep sigh and said yes. She took a minute within her room to collect her things and followed behind the boys to the car outside. Sam knew Dean would want to drive, so he politely told Y/N that he would take the back. She raised her eyebrows at him while giving him a look up and down. “I’ll fit,” Sam said with a smirk as he opened up her door and let himself into the back door.

After a couple of minutes in a silent car ride, they were all getting out the impala and walking toward another worn down bar on the outskirts of town. It is surprising how many run down bars a town can have, and how his brother always knew where to find them. Then again if you couldn’t find Dean all you would have to do is follow the smell of stale cigarettes and whisky to find him held up in a corner usually.

“I thought you said food?” asked Y/N while looking in Sam’s direction.

Dean spoke with a cocky grin, “Don’t worry they got that here too princess.”

This was going to be interesting. Hopefully neither one stabs someone by the end of the night. Sam rolled his eyes while shaking his head as he followed Y/N and Dean inside, hoping that tonight he would prove that they aren’t who she thinks they are.

Keep reading- part three here

#spnfandom #spn #noplacelikehome #spn fan #spn 13 #dean x sam x reader #part two of many #first time don't kill me

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wavewood · 7 years

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The Girl at the Museum: A Zelink Modern AU

The Girl at the Museum FFN AO3

Word count: 10,344 Summary: "There was little to do on his long shifts at the museum, but he was happy to look at her and let himself craft stories about her life and his life and how one day they would intertwine in the most elegant way. Often times it felt like fate." Link spends a summer working at a museum, Zelda is the mysterious girl who is always there. Zelink Modern AU Oneshot BOTW-ish

Today, Link imagined her as a foreigner.

She came from Termina, had a thick accent, and often said, “How do you say…?” She was here for the summer on a research trip, and at the end of the season she would return to a small town in a distant country to write an obscure archeology book Link would one day find years from now, when she was just a distant memory. She would bike in the early morning to a dusty library to write in a leather notebook and eat pastries her neighbor baked. One day they would accidentally meet at a hotel bar, and she would find him charming and funny.

Yesterday, Link imagined her as a painter.

In reality, he knew nearly nothing about her. Everything he did know he gleaned from watching her, and that was still barely any information. He knew she absentmindedly ran her delicate hands through her long, golden hair when she was reading. He knew she liked to braid it when she needed a break, and then let it loose when she biked away. He knew her milky skin turned pink when she sat in the sunlight for too long. He knew she preferred jean shorts and loose t-shirts with vintage lettering. He knew she loved the museum.

Based off of her appearance, he assumed she had to be around the same age as him, or maybe he just wished it. Was she also eighteen years old, just a few months away from attending university? Maybe she was deceptively young looking but actually worked in a bank and had a husband? He constantly wondered.

At first he tried to control himself and actually do his job, but his job as a Visitor Services Associate at the Mila Vah Windfall Museum was boring. By the third day she was the only interesting thing he could see from the front desk, and so he finally gave up and watched her.

He often imagined her as a girl from his high school who was so shy that he had somehow missed her throughout the past eighteen years. Then he would charm her and she would slowly become comfortable around him. One day he’d drive her to the movies in the rain but they wouldn’t want to leave the comfort of the car, so they’d snuggle up and –

Link hadn’t meant to let his imagination run so wildly, but as the time ticked by each shift she seeped deeper into his thoughts until he spun an entire life story for her, many of which ended up with her enthralled by him just as much as he was enthralled by her.

Today she was sitting in the Wintergarden. Link sat at the front desk, as always, and stared at her through the massive window across the lobby. She sat cross-legged on the step of the small, stone fountain in the center of the glass room. Sunlight streamed down from the windowed ceiling, slipped past the leaves of the enclosed trees, and cast dappled rays on her delicate form. She was absorbed with a large book in her lap, so large that Link would guess it was a textbook. Occasionally she would run her hands through her long hair and nibble at her bottom lip. Surrounded by luscious plants, vibrant flowers, and spotted sunlight, Link thought she looked like a princess.

Sometimes he imagined her as royalty, but those dreams always left him feeling distant and hopeless.

There was little to do on his long shifts at the museum, but he found he did not mind the solitary hours. He was happy to look at her and let himself craft stories about her life and his life and how one day they would intertwine in the most elegant way. Often times it felt like fate.

He vividly remembered the first day he saw her. It was just the beginning of summer - his last one before he went to university across the country - and his first day at his new job. He had been dressed in jeans and a simple black shirt that had the words Mila Vah Windfall Museum in neat, elegant white letters. That morning he had even brushed his light brown hair, but despite his best efforts it still stuck up a bit in the back.

The Mila Vah Windfall Museum was actually a mansion that had once belonged to a wealthy woman who had very expensive tastes. She was a bold, charming woman who, by the end of her life, had collected so many treasures that she needed a museum for them all. After she died, her children transformed her mansion into a display of all her most prized possessions, from paintings and sculptures to animal skins to rare flowers. The museum was technically just a house of junk, but the junk of Mila Vah Windfall was all incredibly expensive and historic. On his first day, Link was required to wander through the rooms to become familiar with the layout and collection. He passed through room after ornate room, each time surprised at what this woman had managed to collect. She had soldier’s greaves from the Reestablishment Era, portraits of her done by Hyrule’s most famous artists, skeletons of Lynels, and even diamond encrusted lingerie.

Despite the vastness of the collection, the museum was not as popular as Link would have thought. It resided on the outskirts of Akkala, high on a hill and surrounded by gigantic trees. Not many people from the small neighboring towns had interest in making the trek, all except for one.

When she came in on his first day he had been ready to greet her as he had done with the few other guests - an overzealous smile and cheery welcome - but she ignored him and strolled past him straight into the Wintergarden. At the time he had just been amazed by her presence. She was beautiful, and he wanted to know her, yet she also had a haughty, unattainable air about her that just made him even more intrigued.

She was there nearly every day of the week from morning to early afternoon. Often times she would read, but she also frequently strolled through the rooms, taking notes in her tiny, leather notebook, and sometimes she would even draw. On these days that she wasn’t in the Wintergarden, Link would make more walkthroughs of the museum. He was supposed to check for discarded maps, but he just liked to see what she was doing.

Sometimes he tried to busy himself with something besides her, but he would always go back to dreaming of finally walking over and making conversation. He had never heard her speak before. He wondered how she sounded. He wondered if they even spoke the same language. He wondered if she would like him.

He generally liked his days off since he got to sleep in and wander around town with a few friends. Sometimes his grandma would give him some money and he’d take his younger sister out for ice cream. Sometimes, though, he found himself thinking of her and he would wait anxiously until the day came where he would work at the museum again.

A month into his job and he hadn’t gotten any better at filling his long hours with something besides watching the mysterious girl. He also hadn’t gotten the nerve to talk to her, mostly because he had no idea what he would even say. Hi, I just wanted to know if any of the many daydreams I had about you were remotely accurate? He had a feeling that would not go over well.

Sometimes when the days were particularly sunny and the amount of visitors particularly low, Link would get so bored he would even attempt doodling. He mostly just colored in the words on the note pad. Today, he was bold enough to attempt flowers. The person who worked before him had drawn intricate flower petals with many patterns and colors. They had left the doodle on the desk, and so Link felt like challenging himself and copying the intricate designs. He was surprised by how absorbed he became in the task. His lines were sloppy and uneven, but he was determined to get better.

“Excuse me?”

Link reluctantly looked up from his masterpiece of a doodle, only to freeze at the sight before him. The mysterious girl who had shown up every shift without fail was now standing right in front of him. He had never seen her this close before. Her face was gracefully round, her pink lips small and cute, and her long hair was a luscious gold. She had stuck a neon pink pencil behind her ear. Her doe eyes were a striking sea green that held such an intensity he thought for sure she knew everything about him, even the fact that he daydreamed about her constantly.

In his shock, he had not replied to her. He stared dumbly at her and noticed that she had a light smattering of freckles across her pale skin.

She lifted a brow. “Hello?”

So, she did speak his language.

“H-h-hi,” Link stammered as if his mind was a computer that had just sputtered to an end. He then abruptly stood up from his chair, accidentally knocking his pen down to the floor.

She paused for a moment and studied him carefully, likely calculating his level of sanity. Her eyes then traveled down to the desk where she noticed his many attempts at drawing flowers. She didn’t say anything, but he knew she must have been judging him for his doodles. His face was becoming redder by the second, and though the museum was required to be at a comfortable temperature, he felt suddenly hot.

“Right,” she said, regaining her composure and remembering why she came in the first place. She took a breath, and then explained in a rush, “There is an error in one of your exhibits. The plaque for the vase depicting the Battle of Lake Kolomo is incorrect. The year should be 1456 at the earliest, since that is when the battle actually took place, and currently it is 1356, which is preposterous because the coalition at Lake Hylia hadn’t even been formed yet. I am sure one of your curators made a simple error, but if there are any questions to my reasoning I am happy to discuss it. I do believe that the vase was made in 1457 since creating pottery took a fair amount of time back then and so it would have been at least a few months. I wouldn’t estimate the vase was made any later than 1460 since that was the year when new pigments were introduced to Hyrule and there are very few colors in this vase. Anyway, please let the appropriate party know of the error and that I am here to explain my reasoning if need be.”

Link could only stare. None of that had registered.

“Sorry,” he said slowly, waking up from his daze. “Could you say that again?”

The girl audibly sighed. “Please tell the curator of the East Wing section to come to the front desk because there is an error in the plaque,” she said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

“Oh,” Link said simply, blinking a few times before he finally felt alert again. “Right, okay…so for complaints you need to fill out this comment card and then – ,”

“No, this isn’t a complaint about the bathroom not having enough toilet paper – which, by the way, it doesn’t,” she interjected, leaning against the counter. “This is a flagrant error in the exhibit, and who knows how long that has been there? This needs to be addressed now.”

Link was still taken aback, now by her boldness and confidence. She gazed at him with those intense green eyes, waiting for him to follow her commands.

Remembering his training, Link placed the complaint card in front of her and replied, “I can assure you that we respond to all of our complaints promptly. This will be dealt with shortly once you have filled out the card.”

“Really?” she replied skeptically, leaning farther over the counter to glare at him. “How promptly?”

“Um…” Link stumbled as he tried not to notice how much closer she had gotten. “Very…promptly...”

They stared at each other for a moment in which Link wondered how far she was going to push this. He assumed she was wondering the same thing.

“Fine,” she resigned. She slipped the pencil out from behind her ear and quickly filled out the form with brisk movements. When she was done she slipped the pen back into her ear, gave one last final glare, and left the building.

Once she was gone, Link quickly looked at her complaint form. She had ignored the lines of the paper and the sections that had requested the date, name, and email; instead, she just wrote in large letters:

Battle of Lake Kolomo is wrong – call me.

Beneath that she wrote a phone number and signed off with her name in bold, confident strokes.

Zelda.

For a moment Link looked at the door in a daze. Zelda was not at all what he had been expecting.

As if on autopilot, Link placed the complaint card in the slot where all the other cards go. He really did hope this error would be fixed promptly.

The next day the girl – Zelda – entered as she always did: quickly and without a single glance towards Link. She didn’t go off into the Wintergarden today, but instead headed straight for the staircase into the heart of the museum. Link felt an odd mix of both relief and disappointment. Now that he had learned her name and actually had an interaction with her, which he began to realize maybe hadn’t gone that well, he couldn’t predict how his shift would go. Would she ignore him? Could he continue to spend his hours imagining storylines for her if he knew her name? Things just felt different and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet.

He was so worried about the future of his daydreams that he didn’t even notice her approaching until she slapped a hand on the desk in front of him. Link’s head jerked up with a start to see her staring at him with those keen emerald eyes.

“It hasn’t been fixed.” She stated.

It took Link a moment to process her words. “Oh,” he replied simply. After a second, he swallowed the lump in his throat and continued with more confidence than yesterday. “I’m sorry, Miss. I am sure it will be fixed soon.”

She glared at him a moment, and he could tell she was calculating her options on how to proceed. Like the day before, she huffed “fine,” and walked away from the desk.

The next day followed the same pattern. She briskly walked into the museum and headed straight for the East Wing, and then she briskly walked back to the front desk. She informed Link that the sign remained unfixed and Link assured her that it would be fixed soon, even though he had no idea if that was true. This time she didn’t even say fine, just glared for a moment and then stomped away, her long golden hair swishing behind her with flair.

The same thing happened the following two days. Whenever she spoke to him Link really wanted to do something different – maybe offer to look at the sign with her, or ask why she cared so much – but he would always fall back into the same instinct because her presence made him inexplicably nervous and excited.

He didn’t understand why she had this effect on him. He knew he was prone to romantic, elaborate day dreaming, but this was the first time he had actually felt genuinely infatuated with somebody. Much to his embarrassment, he was a hopeless romantic, and for some reason he was enthralled by her. He must have dreamt of every possible life for her – one where she was popular in the city, studious in a faraway land, a princess in disguise – but somehow he had never dreamt of her as she truly was, and that was perhaps the most exciting part of it all.

At the end of the week the sign had finally been fixed. Link knew this before she came in that day, and he was unexpectedly nervous when she walked in. Would she thank him? Would he finally be able to say something substantial and she would think he actually had a brain? He frantically thought of different scenarios and how he would respond to them in a way that would make her want to hang out with him more.

He was ashamed for the disappointment he felt when she returned from the East Wing only to go straight to the Wintergarden, not even glancing his way.

For a day Link denied that her ignoring him had any impact on him at all. By his second shift he had accepted that he was disappointed. He tried to go back to inventing a storyline for her, this time using the small bits he knew that he got through their interactions to fill in the gaps, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t have the same engagement with his daydreams like he usually did. He was tired of wondering what she was like. Now he wanted to know.

By his third shift, he was so incredibly bored that he did something incredibly stupid.

It didn’t take her nearly as long to notice as he had expected, and for that he was grateful. He had just finished restocking the pamphlets when she approached the front desk. She stood proudly before him with her hands on her hips and her head held high. By now he had time to prepare himself so that he was bold enough to look her in the eye and not glance away.

“There’s another error,” she stated. “In the West Wing, the sign for the Rito Tapestry of Voo Lota says that the Voo Lota Shrine is in the province of Hebra, but it is actually in the province of Tabantha.”

She spoke in a rush, like her mouth couldn’t keep up with her brain, and it threatened to rattle Link again, but he remained focused. He fought his instincts this time to go back to what he always said, and instead replied with, “So, are you really into history?”

“Excuse me?” She said defensively, crossing her arms.

“You just know so much about it,” he answered, trying to keep a calm exterior when he felt total panic on the inside. “You must really like history.”

“Oh, goddesses, no,” Zelda rolled her eyes. “I detest history. It’s almost entirely memorization, a little bit of philosophical thought, but far too stagnate for me.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly, caught off guard again by her answer. He had thought for sure that she was some kind of history buff. He did not expect somebody who knew all of these random details to hate it. “How do you know so much then?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, some things you just hear and it sticks, you know. Like when you’re listening to music and you don’t even realize that you have somehow learned all the words to a song you don’t even like.”

Link looked at her skeptically. “Yeah, but that’s for music, not for geography or historical facts.”

“What’s the difference?” She responded, and Link was amazed again by the intensity in her striking green eyes. He had a feeling she was rarely wrong.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Are you a genius? And I don’t mean somebody who has a few good ideas, but I mean a real, certified genius who could read at six months and do calculus in fifth grade.”

She blinked a few times, taken aback, and her cheeks had a hint of red in them now. She looked down at her feet for a second, and he realized it was the first time she had looked away from him during their many interactions.

“The odd thing is,” she said, moving right past his question as she leaned against the counter. “The sign was accurate before, and now suddenly somebody changed the information to something that is completely inaccurate.”

She peered at him curiously and he tried not to smile. “Hm, that is odd,” he agreed. “Thank you for letting us know, will you please fill out this comment card so that we can fix the issue?”

Her lips turned up into a wry smile, and this time he felt himself blushing under her sharp yet amused gaze. He slipped the comment card in front of her but she didn’t even glance at it. “I expect this to be fixed promptly,” she said in an almost teasing way.

“Of course,” he put on his most charming grin and she glanced at him suspiciously one last time before sauntering away, leaving the comment card untouched.

Hours later, once she let her hair down and left the museum, he grabbed the original sign from the drawer. He discretely returned to the tapestry and switched the signs, tossing the incorrect one in the trash on his way back.

It took longer for her to notice the next error, but three days later he was thrilled to see her marching towards his desk again with the same mix of confidence and irritation at there being false information in the world.

It was an especially hot summer day so she had her golden hair in a loose bun. She wore a navy tank top that showed her pale shoulders and a smattering of freckles along her collarbone. Link was jealous of her comfortable attire – a black cotton shirt and pants was not exactly great for this summer heat.

“There’s another error,” she said. Unlike the last time, however, she was smiling. Link hoped she was smiling because of him. “On the Terminan translation for the Book of Vows, one of the words is in present tense when it should be in past tense.”

“I’m not surprised, but you know Terminan?” he asked, trying once again to seem calm and professional but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“Not very well,” she admitted. “Just enough basic grammar to know that the sign is incorrect.”

“Will you fill out a comment card?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, and then spun around and left.

The next time the error was an incorrect date that was off by a year, then the wrong type of rock for a sculpture, then an artist’s first and last name were switched. She caught every single one. Each time she strode confidently to the front desk and announced the flaw. He hoped she played along because she got a reason to speak with him, but he was confident that she just loved to test her knowledge.

On a particularly rainy day she approached him again. “There’s another error,” she didn’t even wait for him to ask what it was. “The sign for the taxidermy crane says the scientific name is Dromaius Novaehollandiae, but it’s actually Gruidae.”

He opened his mouth to reply but she suddenly leaned in much closer than before and his words caught in his throat.

“Make it harder next time,” she whispered. “This one was too easy.”

She quickly jumped away and walked back to her spot, leaving Link stunned and his heart swollen with an undeniable crush.

Link tried his best to keep his eyes on the old women he was talking to, but he could feel Zelda’s gaze on him and he never had to work so hard to just look at something. He gave his usual speech about handicap accessible ramps, and if he smiled a little more than usual he would not admit it was because the mysterious girl finally seemed interested in him.

It had been a week since Zelda approached him and hinted that she knew his game. She didn’t always solve his inaccuracies within a day, but his most recent one had stumped her. On the third day he heard from two of the guards that she had been circling the museum all day reading each placard multiple times, looking more frustrated as time went on. A whole week later and she still had no idea what he had done.

Now she seemed to think the best plan of action was to sit in the Wintergarden and stare at him like he was some kind of specimen on a microscope. Her attentions made him flustered, hot, and a little bit light-headed, all of which he tried to keep hidden but he knew he was doing a poor job of it.

“You feeling okay, young man?” One of the elderly ladies asked, peering up at him through her half-moon glasses.

Link chuckled nervously and continued his spiel about elevators, ignoring her question.

He soon said goodbye to the group of ladies just as his manager came up to watch the desk while he went on his lunch break. He took his paper bag out from the drawer and began to walk across the lobby to the employee break room as he always did. Halfway there, however, Zelda stepped right in front of him.

For a second she just glared at him, but then she said, “Let’s get lunch.”

Link’s heart skipped a beat. Although he became incredibly nervous, he obviously agreed.

“Tell me about yourself,” Zelda ordered as she took one of his grapes from his lunch bag and popped it into her mouth.

They sat on top of the hill just above the museum in the shade of a large tree. It was a cloudy summer day, but the air was warm and the gentle breeze was a relief against his flushed face. They sat side by side on the grass. Link munched on his meager sandwich while Zelda stole his grapes.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

“Anything that will help me figure out what you’ve changed this time,” she replied, gazing out at the dense forest that surrounded the museum.

“So you want a clue,” he clarified and her sharp green eyes snapped to him.

“No,” she said defensively. “I don’t want you to give it away. I just need to figure you out more and that will help me solve this puzzle.”

Link wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Did he mind being just a game to her? He felt like he should have some dignity and be offended, but he was too excited to be talking to her to care.

“So,” she prompted as she leaned forward with her arms on her knees, looking at him keenly. “Let’s start with your name.”

He chuckled around a mouthful of food. “I can’t believe you don’t know my name after all this time. It’s Link, by the way.”

“Link,” she muttered, mulling it over. “Not what I expected.”

“Oh really? What did you think it was?”

“I’ve always just thought of you as Mr. Misinformed since you’re spreading misinformation to the world.”

Link let out a short laugh, nearly choking on another mouthful of his sandwich.

She popped another grape into her mouth. “Why do you work at the museum?” she continued.

“Needed money and they were the first people to offer me a job,” he replied simply.

“What do you use the money for?”

He felt it was already becoming an odd line of questioning, but he didn’t hold back. “Saving up for college mostly, sometimes I buy food.”

“When are you going to college?”

“In August.”

“Where?”

“CTU.”

“What will you be studying?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Are you excited?”

“I guess.”

“Are you happy that you’re going to CTU?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound thrilled.”

He paused now and looked at her. “Don’t you think it’s my turn to ask you questions?”

“I don’t see the point in that,” she sighed as she flopped onto her back and stared up at the clouds. Her golden hair fanned around her head, blades of grass poking between the strands.

“Well, I do,” Link said, finally finishing his sandwich.

“You ate that quickly,” she stated bluntly.

“I’ve always thought I should become a professional speed eater,” he replied as he began eating his few remaining grapes.

“Is that what you’ll study at university?” she asked teasingly.

Link gave her an amused look, knowing she was trying to steer the conversation back to him.

“So, are you at university or in highschool or neither…?” He asked, trailing off and wishing he had the same confidence she did.

She sighed, clearly annoyed he insisted on asking her questions. In a rush of words, she said, “I’m about to go into my second year at Rhoam University. I’m still undecided in my major but I’m choosing between mechanical engineering and molecular biology. I was born and raised in Castle Town. I’m allergic to bees.”

“There,” she added a second later, smiling slyly at him as the wind played with a few loose strands of her hair. “Now that you know these basic facts, let’s get back to you.”

“Wait,” Link cut in, the words just registering. “You go to Rhoam University.”

“Yes,” she answered simply and he shook his head in amazement. Rhoam University was the top in the country, one of the best in the world, but he wasn’t surprised she was at that school. Plus, Rhoam was in Castle Town, which is where he would be starting in September…

He stopped his thoughts before they spiraled any further down that rabbit hole.

“So then, what are you doing in Akkala?” He questioned, finishing his grapes and moving on to a granola bar.

She was quiet for a moment and looked back to the passing clouds. Her smile had fallen and she looked a bit sad. After a moment, she replied with a bit less confidence than before,

“My father is sick. Nothing life-threatening, but the doctors recommended that he get away from the city to escape the stress of that lifestyle and get some fresh air. So we came to Akkala where there are plenty of trees and nothing ever happens.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Link said quietly, his heart squeezing with sympathy.

“Don’t worry,” she brushed it off, sitting back up again. “It seems to be working well for him.”

They were silent for a second, Zelda staring down at the museum beneath them and Link looking at the pieces of grass now entwined with her hair. He wanted to know more about her father, but didn’t want to push too far.

“Do you like Akkala?” He asked, resisting the urge to pluck the blades out for her.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I see the appeal, but I don’t have much to do here.”

Link huffed in agreement. That was the story of his life.

“Is that why you’re always at the museum?” He inquired and she looked at him again with a sharp gleam that made his heart flutter.

“Precisely,” she nodded. “This is the most interesting attraction around that I can bike to. And it’s air-conditioned.”

Link chuckled. He always missed the coolness of the museum on his days off.

“Now, enough about me,” she said, regaining the confidence and quickness of her usual self. “I need to learn more about you in order to figure this out.”

And so Link spent the remaining twenty minutes of his break answering an array of seemingly random questions, but apparently it did not suffice. Zelda was still at a loss for what was missing in the museum. Before he returned to his desk, she insisted they get lunch again tomorrow so that she could continue her investigation of his psyche – or something along those lines. Oh, and he needed to bring more grapes too.

Link couldn’t have stopped grinning if somebody paid him to.

The next morning Zelda marched right up to the front desk. When she finally stood before him, she let out a big breath and announced, “I’m an idiot.”

Link smirked, already knowing where this was going.

“It was clever of you, to hide it in such plain sight,” she grudgingly conceded, “but last night I came to a revelation and realized what was wrong here.”

“And that is…?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Your name tag,” she answered. “It says Pipit but your name is Link.”

“That’s correct,” he grinned, finally able to snap off the wrong name tag that he had been wearing for the past week. “Are you embarrassed it took you that long?”

“No,” she huffed before spinning around and stomping away, clearly both embarrassed and annoyed. Link, on the other hand, felt triumphant.

Although Zelda had solved the puzzle, Link was happy that it didn’t stop her from demanding lunch with him. The next few days followed a similar pattern as the one before. During his lunch break they would walk out to the shade of the tree on the hill and Link would eat while Zelda stole his grapes and asked a series of questions that popped out of her stream of conscious. With each day Link was able to get her to answer more and more of his own questions. He discovered that she was in fact a certified genius but only had a love for hard science, nothing that couldn’t be quantified. She told him about a volunteer program she was a part of in Castle Town where she taught chemistry to underdeveloped schools. She talked about her roommates who would drag her out of the library to parties, and how she would sometimes dance by herself in her lab when nobody was around. He also learned that her mother had passed when she was very young, and her father was overworked and often gone, but he was kind and all she had left.

He also learned she enjoyed eating chips and apples, in addition to stealing his grapes.

On Friday it was a complete downpour and so they couldn’t go to their usual spot for lunch. Instead, they ate in the Wintergarden on the same bench Zelda always sat in. The rain pounded on the windowed ceiling, and Link noticed her frequently glancing up at it, enchanted by how the water splattered and rippled on the glass.

“What are you studying all the time?” he asked as Zelda peeled one of his oranges. He was sure to bring two this time so that they could both have one.

“Whatever I feel like,” she answered. “Sometimes when I don’t know what to research I find a random artifact in the gallery and learn all I can about it.”

Link was both amazed and intimidated by her desire for knowledge and her ability to seemingly understand anything if she chose to research it. He wondered if that was what she was doing with him: researching him completely so that she could solve all of his puzzles.

He had nearly forgotten about this game he had started. They had begun speaking more as friends and less about the game. She even smiled at him when she came into the museum now. It was a coy, teasing smile, one that took his attention away from whatever he was working on.

“Can I see your notebook?” he asked, pointing to the leather book she was always vigorously writing in. It sat beside her on the bench, the pages thinning and warping with use.

She shrugged and handed it to him like it was no big deal, but Link felt as if he was holding a very important part of Zelda. The leather was cracked in his hands as he flipped through the pages. The notebook reflected much of Zelda’s own mind. It was overflowing with information, words often becoming smooshed together around the edges and arrows drawn between sections, connecting her disparate ideas. Her handwriting was both messy and elegant, the stems and swoops of her letters long and elegant but tight together.

“Don’t you ever get bored of the museum?” He wondered, running his fingers gently across a doodle she did of a flower. Perhaps they weren’t so different after all.

“Sometimes. I wish I could drive to other places, but all I have is my bike so I can’t get too far anywhere,” she answered.

“Where would you like to go?”

“The old research lab up north,” she replied. “I hear it’s a pretty small, unimpressive museum, but that’s where a lot of scientific advancement took place so I’d like to see it nonetheless.”

And, as if his mind had suddenly disconnected from his mouth, he said without thinking, “I could drive you there if you want.”

Link could feel his face become flushed with embarrassment. Why did he offer that? Would she think it was a date? What if they went and she grew bored of him, or he crashed the car?

“Really?” She exclaimed happily, shocking him out of his panicked thoughts. “Would you really take me?”

“O-of course,” he stammered out. “I mean, if you want to – ,”

“I do!” she jumped in, full of a passion that she always gets when she talked about her studies, or fruitcake. “Can we go this weekend? I’ll pay for gas and whatever else you might need.”

“It’s only forty minutes away.”

“Nevertheless, I will make this the easiest forty minute drive of your life.”

Link highly doubted that considering he was now going to lie awake all night in a mix of panic and excitement. He agreed to take her tomorrow anyway, knowing there was no way he would say no to her.

Later, after they had made their plans and exchanged phone numbers, he returned to his desk and came to an important realization. He didn’t actually own a car.

That evening Link had to beg his grandma to let him borrow her car. Even though he would be horribly embarrassed to drive Zelda in it – it was brown with peeling paint and the brakes screeched so loudly dogs would bark – but it would do. He told her that he and some of the boys from school were going to go to the beach for the day. Although he wasn’t doing anything unsavory, he knew that she would become unbearably annoying and thrilled that he was going to spend the day with some girl, so there was no way he was going to tell her. Though she was hesitant at first, she did eventually agree.

“Yes, thank you so much, Grandma,” He said excitedly, kissing her cheek with glee.

“But you should bring Aryll,” she added and his heart dropped to his stomach.

“Grandma,” he started with exasperation but she held a finger up to stop him.

“Poor girl hasn’t been to the ocean in a year. Be a good brother and take her with you. I’ll even give you money for ice cream.”

Link felt guilty – he hadn’t lied to his family since middle school when he stole a candy bar – and now his only hope was that Aryll, his twelve year-old sister, would suddenly hate the ocean and refuse to come.

He was disappointed (but not surprised) to see Aryll bouncing up and down with delight at the prospect of going to the beach tomorrow. What had Zelda done to him? She made him all worked up about going to a museum that he lied to his family and now was in a stupid mess. He supposed he could come clean but then his grandma would definitely embarrass him about going out with a girl and trying to keep it a secret. Shit.

That’s how Link ended up in the car with Aryll on the way to Zelda’s address begging her to lie to grandma and say they went to the beach when instead they were going to a museum up north.

“I’ll do it for a hundred rupees,” She huffed, grinning mischievously at him from the passenger seat. She had always been annoyingly coy and confident while Link felt like a fumbling, awkward boy all the time. He envied how easy everything seemed for her, and then he remembered that she was only twelve and it just made him feel worse.

Despite all that, he still loved her the way brothers do: unconditionally but never to be said aloud.

“That’s absurd,” Link rolled his eyes, steering the car further up the hill towards. “I’ll buy you ice cream.”

“That’s nothing, Grandma told me she gave you money for that,” she retorted. “Just for that, I am making it 150 rupees.”

“Fine, I’ll give you ice cream and ten rupees,” Link countered and she was silent for a moment, pondering the deal.

“That and you fold my laundry for a week,” She replied quickly and Link just shook his head in exhaustion. He didn’t like it, but they were close to Zelda’s address now and he didn’t have any more time to bargain.

“Deal,” he agreed and she squealed with victorious delight. “And don’t be annoying, or ask too many questions, or talk about – ,”

“Wow, you must really like her,” she interrupted with another smirk.

“Shut up,” Link said just as they pulled up in front of the address.

Or at least he hoped it was right. The house was massive and absolutely beautiful with a manicured garden, cobalt paint, and the Hylian flag floating in the breeze outside of their front door. He wondered if anybody else lived with Zelda and her father. Why would two people need three floors to themselves?

As Zelda rushed out of the front door and across the lawn, Link became horribly embarrassed of his Grandma’s car again, and of Aryll who looked positively thrilled to be meeting this mysterious girl Link had tried to hide.

“Get in the back,” Link ordered Aryll but she crossed her arms in refusal.

“I was here first.”

“You aren’t even old enough to sit up front, get back.”

“Fifteen rupees then,” she countered and Link wanted to throttle himself.

“Ugh, fine,” he hastily agreed as Zelda reached the car and Aryll quickly crawled into the backseat.

“Hey,” he greeted her, trying to be as charming and cool as he could in Akkala’s oldest car. The door creaked as she swung it open, and he noticed her wince.

At that moment he really wished he had just continued admiring Zelda from afar. It really was much easier than this.

“Good morning,” she greeted cheerily, plopping into the passenger seat. Even after talking with her for the past week, she still had that unattainable air about her. Her long blonde hair looked paler in the morning light and the sun reflected brilliantly in her emerald eyes. She wore jean shorts and a black t-shrit that had the words Rhoam the Earth on it. Link thought she was the coolest girl he had ever seen.

“Sorry, I had to bring my sister along,” Link apologized nervously as he began to drive again. “This is Aryll.”

Before Zelda could even say hi, Aryll bluntly asked, “Are you rich?”

Link wanted to throttle her now.

“Yes,” Zelda replied without a pause in the same terse, matter-of-fact tone she often used when answering questions. “Are you?”

“No,” Aryll unashamedly replied while Link’s face became scarlet with embarrassment. “What do your parents do?”

“My dad’s a politician of sorts,” she replied, nonplused. “What do your parents do?”

“Mom’s a waitress. Our dad is dead.” Aryll corrected as if it were another ordinary, uninteresting fact. Link kept his eyes on the road even as he felt Zelda glance to him. He had never mentioned his dad. He wondered if she would be weird about it.

For now, at least, the two moved past the topic and continued to bounce questions off of each other. Link was glad that Zelda didn’t seem to be upset about Aryll joining them, and he thought that they got along well. They both were honest and blunt in a way that few people ever are. Link drove in silence as he listened to them talk, and though he was still bitter towards Aryll, he did enjoy learning more about Zelda.

“Do you like Link?” Aryll asked with a teasing lilt to her voice as Link’s face became red again for what felt like the twentieth time that day.

He felt Zelda glance at him again. After a second, she replied with the same mischievousness as Aryll, “He’s alright.” And then the two giggled together and Link once again regretted everything he had ever done to that point in his life.

At the Akkala Research Museum, Link learned very little. It was a tiny museum with even less traffic than the Mila Van Windfall Museum. It sat atop a cliff right on the coast of the East Hylian Ocean and the tall, skinny trees swayed at the slightest breeze.

He followed Zelda throughout the museum, his heart squeezing with affection whenever she pointed something out with excitement or jotted a note down in her journal. She possessed an infectious joy and passion when she talked about her studies, and Link couldn’t help but feel a bit of that same enthusiasm, even though he had no idea what she was talking about most of the time.

Thankfully, Aryll stayed out of their way as she was occupied by a children’s interactive exhibit where she could build little robots. It seemed both girls got something out of their visit, but if anybody had asked Link what his favorite part was he wouldn’t have been able to give an answer. All he knew was that his crush on this mysterious girl had grown into something more and he was thoroughly doomed.

After they wandered the museum for a while, they ate some food Zelda had the foresight to pack and sat on a bench beside the cliff. Despite the panic and embarrassment in the morning, Link couldn’t help but feel content with Zelda sitting beside him and a beautiful view of the sea. Zelda and Aryll talked about the little robots that she had been playing with for a while, but then Aryll decided to wander off on her own and explore the small surrounding area. Link and Zelda continued eating their lunch, contently listening to the squawking seagulls and the distant rumble of waves crashing on the beach.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Zelda said quietly, suddenly breaking their comfortable silence.

Link looked to Aryll, who was a ways off chasing the butterflies floating amongst the flower bushes. He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried not to think of his dad.

“Thanks,” he replied a bit awkwardly, never really sure what to say.

“My mother died when I was six,” she added.

Link looked at her now. She had a serene yet sad smile on her face and her eyes gazed out to the horizon. In this cloudy weather, her usually vibrant green irises seemed more teal than emerald. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he trusted that Zelda knew he felt the same useless pity that she felt for him. Instead, he talked about his dad, something he almost never did.

“My dad died a few months before Aryll was born,” he explained quietly. “He was in the military and died in combat overseas. It’s odd…I never really knew him that well, but I miss the idea of what we would have been like if he had come home.”

He stared at his sandwich, no longer interested in it. He had never spoken about that feeling before, but it was a relief to finally voice it.

“Do you…” Zelda started softly, before trailing off in uncertainty. She paused, and then tried again in a frail whisper. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

Link turned to her to see her eyes glistening, but that serene smile was still present. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t like his answer, and that she already knew it, so instead he gently placed his hand over hers and hoped that she gained the same comfort from his presence as he did from her.

This time her smile had warmth in it, and it made the heaviness that had fallen in Link’s heart lighten just a little.

At that point Aryll came back and announced that she was bored. They left the museum soon after with Link driving and everybody quietly listening to the radio. As they drove onto the highway, Link glanced to Zelda to see her looking at him with that warm smile on her face again. He couldn’t help but smile as well, and he felt inexplicably drawn to her even more since he first saw her at the museum.

At his following shift at the museum, Zelda brought him peanut butter brownies and a bag of grapes.

“This is me repaying you for taking me to the museum,” she said sweetly, handing over a box of brownies. “Aryll told me you loved chocolate and peanut butter.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Link started, touched by the fact that she took time to make him food, but Zelda quickly moved past him.

“I know, but I did.” She then pulled out a bag of green grapes and plopped them on the desk. “And these are for all the grapes I’ve stolen from you.”

Zelda then glanced to the side and Link followed her gaze, seeing his manager approaching as he usually did in the mornings to check-in.

She lifted a brow. “See you at lunch?”

“Obviously,” Link replied with a wide grin.

She winked at him and then walked back to her usual spot, her hair swishing behind her.

Link and Zelda became inseparable after that. When he worked at the museum he would constantly glance at Zelda and she would glance at him, and they would share smiles they thought nobody else could see but them. They weren’t as subtle as they thought though, because soon the security guards in the lobby would tease Link every day.

“You should tell her she looks like a model and you want to make her into a sculpture,” one security guard helpfully supplied, chuckling with his coworker as if they once again spent a few minutes trying to think of museum pick-up lines.

“Oh, oh, how about…are you an artist, because I’m drawn to you,” the other one added.

Link wanted to quit right then as the two guards laughed together beside him at the desk.

When he wasn’t trying to evade the security guards, he looked forward to his lunch breaks where they would lie on the grass beneath the tree on the hill. On particularly slow days, Link would watch her draw flowers in the Wintergarden. On the weekends they would meet up and Link would drive her to some part of Akkala she had never been to. Aryll frequently joined, much to his annoyance but Zelda was always happy to have her. The places they went to were areas none of his peers were interested in – burnt forests, lake shores with high mineral deposits, muddy banks brimming with frogs – but he soon realized he would go wherever she wanted just to spend time with her.

He often wondered how to become more than friends. He dreamed of her boldly marching into the museum, announcing she wanted to date him, and then they would kiss and laugh and it would all be so easy. Occasionally he would seriously consider marching up to her and announcing his wish to date her, but just the thought made him horribly nervous and nauseous. He always reassured himself that he had more time to figure it out, that he would know when the moment was right and it would work itself out.

That’s why when she told him she was going back to Castle Town in two days, he felt like time had passed unfairly quickly.

“What?” he gawked as they walked up the hill during his lunch hour.

“It’s a little early,” she explained. “But we start earlier than CTU does, and I need to move into my apartment before classes overtake my life.”

Link didn’t know what to say, but his disappointment must have been apparent.

“Let’s hang out tomorrow night,” Zelda suggested enthusiastically. “I need to have some more of Lon Lon’s Ice Cream before I go back to Castle Town.”

“That sounds good,” Link agreed, but the usual excitement he felt for their get-togethers was mixed with the dread of her leaving. Nevertheless, they made plans to bike and meet there tomorrow to celebrate her last night.

“It’s not like this will be the last time we will see each other,” Zelda smiled, sensing his distress. “Once you get to Castle Town and settle in, text me and we will meet up. I’ll bring you to some upperclassmen parties.”

“Oh, look at you,” Link teased and rolled his eyes. “You’re just a second year and you think you’re all high and mighty.”

“Better than being a first year,” she jibed back. “But seriously, I’m excited that you’ll be in Castle Town with me. It’ll be nice having another friend there.”

Link just smiled and kept the rest of his concerns to himself. Though they would be in the same city he worried she would become consumed by her rigorous classes and labs and hanging out with better, way smarter friends. He bet all the guys she hung out with had their own cars and could follow along when she spoke of molecules and photons.

Those thoughts plagued his mind for the remainder of his shifts, and they still bounced around in his head as he biked to Lon Lon’s ice cream café the next night. He told himself once again to stop thinking about it and just enjoy their last summer night together, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

At the ice cream parlor they laughed and chatted and Zelda got some of her vanilla ice cream on her nose, which was so frustratingly cute Link had to look away. They sat by the pond and watched the fireflies slowly begin to awaken and lazily float around them. She laughed at his jokes and briefly touched his arm. He tried to get the courage to tell her he would miss her horribly for the next few weeks, that he liked how much her intelligence intimidated him, that her energy was vivacious and infectious, and he felt drawn to her like a moth to a lamp.

He didn’t know how to say all of this though. Instead, he just said, “You are nothing like I expected.”

She licked her cone and raised a brow. “Oh really?” She teased. “What did you expect?”

Link smiled and shook his head. Twilight was fading into night but her green eyes were still as bright and as intoxicating as they were in the Wintergarden. Her golden hair fell gracefully around her shoulders, and her cheeks and nose had a hint of red to them, still a bit sun burnt from their latest excursion. He didn’t know if it was because he was inclined to romantic fantasies and all that, but he truly thought she looked as elegant as one of those paintings in the museum even in jean shorts and an old t-shirt.

“I don’t know,” he said after a second. “but you are nothing like I ever imagined.”

“Is that a good thing?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “Very.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Link so desperately wanted to kiss her. His fingers actually ached from resisting the urge to cup her cheek and stroke her hair.

But then she went back to licking her ice cream, and he felt the moment was gone. He asked if she wanted to do anything else that night, but she had an early train in the morning so she decided to head back home.

They slowly walked to their bikes that were propped up against the side of the ice cream shop. It was only a few dozen yards away, but Link frantically spent the entire walk begging time to slow down and thinking of the words to say to show how he felt. All too quickly they arrived at their bikes and Zelda hopped on. She was about to take off when she stopped and looked at him.

She smiled a bit sadly and began slowly, “Well, I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks…”

“Yes,” Link agreed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“You better text me when you arrive,” she ordered with a slight glare.

“Will do.”

What to say? Would she feel the same?

“Well…” she looked to the road and adjusted her pedals. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Link said even as he internally screamed at himself to stop her and say something different. “See you later.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, shooting him one last weird glance before sighing and adjusting her bike again. She then pushed off the curb and began biking away, her blonde hair floating behind her.

Link watched her till she turned the corner.

He sighed. “Shit,” he said to himself.

Immediately he felt the weight of regret sinking in, and he realized he made a huge mistake. He knew he would never have the perfect words to say, but it would be better to say them than not at all.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his bike and began to peddle after her as fast as he could. He weaved between a group of moms and their toddlers, past a truck, and even ignored a puppy to try to catch up with her. It didn’t take him long to find her, but he was still as winded as if he had run a mile.

He peddled furiously down the long straight road, easily gaining on her. When he was a few feet behind her, he called out to her and she spun her head around with a start.

“Link?” She called in confusion, braking to a halt.

Link jumped off of his bike before it even came to a complete stop, tossing it into the grass. His breathing was heavy and his heart was beating furiously. She looked at him with confusion, her eyebrows furrowed and her pink lips pursed together.

“You’re like nobody I’ve ever met,” he said in a rush. “I took up more shifts just so we could hang out more. I think I’ve spent a total of fifty rupees just trying to get Aryll to behave so that she wouldn’t embarrass me in front of you. I also risked getting fired every time I switched those signs because you and I both know that’s not okay, but I did it because…because…”

“Because…?” Zelda urged, looking expectantly at him with her big green eyes.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Because I…I like you. A lot. In a, you know, more-than-friends way.”

The grin that immediately broke out on her face was triumphant and wicked and absolutely joyous. Meanwhile, he felt horrified and was ready to sprint all the way home if he had to. She jumped off of her bike and snapped the kickstand into place, never taking her sharp gaze off of him. In just a few steps she was standing before him, her doe eyes gazing up at him and her hands held sweetly behind her back. For a second she just stared at him, and Link forced himself to hold her mischievous gaze even though he was terrified out of his mind.

“It’s about time,” she finally said, and then she tugged on his shirt and brought his lips down to hers.

He was stunned at first. His brain didn’t reboot until she was just starting to pull away, but then it was like he snapped back to life again. His arms circled around her waist and held her against him as his lips moved with hers. Her lips were softer than he ever imagined. Her silky blonde hair tickled his arms and her sweet smell washed over him.

He then started laughing and had to break the kiss for a breath. She laughed with him as they held each other, their foreheads pressed together.

“I’m sorry that took me so long,” he apologized.

“Seriously,” she playfully rolled her eyes at him.

He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Well, why didn’t you make a move?” He asked, not at all accusatory.

“I don’t know…” she shrugged, blushing and looking up at him with those big green eyes that he could never disobey.

“No, I know,” he replied and she laughed merrily again before reaching up to resume their kiss.

They gently held each other and shared kisses again until a minute later when a car whizzed by and honked at them, making them blush and laugh all over again.

“You better come to Castle Town quickly,” she demanded as Link picked his bike off the ground. “I am very impatient.”

“Oh, I know,” he replied and she swatted playfully at his arm. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in for another kiss. He was worried he was starting to become addicted to them.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, giving her one last hug.

“I’ll see you soon,” she echoed, pressing her lips to his cheek. They finally stepped away from each other and got back on their bikes.

“Bring grapes,” Zelda ordered as she slowly began to bike away from him.

“Obviously,” he replied and she smiled at him over her shoulder.

He watched her bike away, already imagining all the things they would do together in Castle Town.

Notes

As usual this took an embarrassingly long time to write and it was supposed to be a short oneshot but it came out to be over 10k words.

This was inspired by “Me at the Museum, You in the Wintergardens” by Tiny Ruins.

The museum is based off of The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

Thanks for reading!

~~Wave~~

#zelda #legend of zelda #link #zelink #zelink fanfiction #botw #loz #loz fanfiction #fanfiction #Zelda Fanfiction #princess zelda #modern au #oneshot

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leigh-kelly · 7 years

Text

Oh How We’ve Grown, I Can’t Wait to Go Home

Happy 3rd Anniversary to Brittany and Santana!! This is a sequel to Same Old Lang Syne and Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

You’ve been back together with Brittany for nearly two months. You can’t believe how good it feels to have her back in your life after nearly two decades apart, and you savor every minute. You tell yourself not to think about her divorce—even as she still works on finalizing it—and you tell yourself not to think about all the years you spent apart. They were insignificant because you’re back together, they were insignificant because you have resolved everything that came between you.

For the public eye, you manage to keep your relationship private. You’re used to your fame being a lot, but for Brittany, she wants to keep things between the two of you, at least until she settles things with Asha, and tells her parents that the two of you were back together. So you take her to restaurants where you know they’ll respect your privacy, you use the back entrance to your building to avoid the persistent paparazzi who camped out in the front, and things are good.

Unfortunately, you have to leave for a concert in Denver a few weeks after you get back together, and you can’t believe how much you ache about being apart from her. Things are so new again, so easy, and you hate the idea of a disrupted dynamic because you’ll be out of town. You wish so much that she could come with you, that you could show her around Denver and wine and dine her there, but she has classes to teach, and you never would have expected her to drop her whole life because of your fame.

You just arrive in Denver International Airport when your phone starts chirping with Google alerts. That happens a lot when you travel, you’re used to being spotted in airports, and maybe it’s a little bit vain, but you like to know what the news outlets are saying about you. But when you unlock your phone, you don’t expect what would be before you, and you feel a little sick to your stomach as pictures of you and Brittany out to dinner the night before flash across your screen. You’d been so careful, and yet there it is, under the headline Santana’s New Lady Love? There’s a goofy grin on your face, and a smile on Brittany’s, but looking at those pictures, you’re far from smiling.

“Shit. Fuck.” You mutter, dialing Brittany’s number, though you knew she was teaching and that it would go right to voicemail.

While you grab your bag, you listen to the voicemail from your publicist asking for you to make a public statement, but you don’t call her back. You can’t make any sort of statement before you talk to your girlfriend, and you have seventeen minutes before her class ends. The driver waits for you outside, and while he gets your suitcase into the trunk of his black car, you climb into the back seat, and you look at the pictures again. There’s nothing compromising about them, you could easily just be friends, but you wonder if the world will see how much you love Brittany, just from the smile on your face.

“Hey, babe.” She calls you when you’re halfway to your hotel, and you take a deep breath before you reveal to her what’s going on.

“Hi Britt. I have something to tell you.”

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I made it to Denver fine. It’s just...okay, don’t freak out, okay? We got papped last night. There are pictures of us all over the internet, and my Twitter mentions are a total disaster of people asking me who you are.”

“Oh.” Her breath comes out in a shudder, and that one word is all she gives you to gauge how she’s feeling.

“I know you weren’t ready to go public, and I thought we were really careful. I’m sorry, Britt. My publicist wants a statement from me, and I didn’t want to do anything until I talked to you. I can tell her we’re just friends, you don’t have to get caught up in this right now.”

“The people who I’ve been worried about finding out are going to know we’re not just friends. My mother knows it’s impossible for me to just be your friend, and Ash...I mean, it’s pretty obvious why our marriage didn’t work out.”

“Britt, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I know you tried to keep everything private. It’s just, like, I have some damage control to do.”

“Do you want me to let you go?”

“Yeah...no. First, how was your flight?”

“It was fine, I’m here, so...I lived.”

“I can’t believe after everything how much you still hate flying.” You hear the smile in her voice, and you breathe a sigh of relief that she’s not mad at you, even though you think she probably has the right to be. It’s your life that did this, after all.

“I’m not scared of flying, I just don’t like it.”

“Even in first class?”

“Even in first class. It’s gross. People spread the flu by being on airplanes, and someone always tries to talk to me when I just want to sleep.”

“I’d say first world problems, but the flu is pretty nasty.”

“Speaking of the flu, how was class?”

“Fine, I guess. I still have a bunch of them out because they’re sick, so I know I’m inevitably going to have to go over all of this again next week. I’m just ready to go home and take a bath and order a pizza. But I guess I have some phone calls to make...”

“Maybe no one saw it...”

“I’m looking now. It’s all over the Internet. You’re like, the biggest pop star in the world. If they haven’t seen it yet, they will, and I’d rather my mom not find out I’m dating you again from TMZ.”

“Fuck TMZ, honestly.”

“Well.” She sighs. “I’m not going to disagree with you.”

“We’ll talk tonight?”

“You have a concert tonight.”

“After, I mean.”

“I’m going to try to stay up.”

“You don’t have to...I know you have an early class tomorrow.”

“I’m going to try. I like falling asleep with you on the phone.”

“I like that too.” You smile. “And I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up the phone, and you sigh. You hate the fact that she’s going to spend the rest of her day dealing with the aftermath of the Internet, and you hate that you’re not there to be more supportive. But this is the life you chose, and when your driver pulls up in front of your hotel, you pull your black glasses down over your eyes, and you let him carry your bag into the lobby.

It’s not like you have much time to get ready before you have to leave for your concert. You have back to back radio appearances scheduled in the morning, and you leave your room in a state of disarray as you get back in another car. When you’re in the back seat, you send Brittany a text message telling her that you love her again, and then you’re off. It’ll be all hair and makeup and costume adjustments for the next two hours, and you know that you won’t be as accessible as you’d like to be. It’s the worst day for it, and you sigh for what feels like the thousandth time since you stepped off the plane.

The concert is a success. It always is, but you feel like tonight, when you sang When We Were Young there was something more to it. It’s the first time you’d done it on stage since you’d gotten back together with Brittany, and you felt every word of it. With everything going on with her, you hope she doesn’t decide to give up on this life you’re trying to build together again. Fame is hard. You love it, but it’s hard. You want to stay in one place sometimes, especially now, you want to be there to deal with things with your girlfriend when they get hard, and you don’t want to be the cause of the hard things.

You call her from the dressing room. It rings three times before you pick it up, and you know she was sleeping. It’s two in the morning in New York, and you feel bad calling, but you promised you would, and after everything, you swore you’d never break another promise to her again.

“Hey, I’m really sorry I woke you up.”

“S’okay.” She mumbles. “I slept with the phone by my head because I wanted you to.”

“How did everything go today?”

“Not great.” You can hear her ruffling the comforter on her bed as she makes herself comfortable. “Don’t wanna talk about it tonight though. We’ll talk when you get back to the city.”

“Okay...whatever you want. I’m sorry it wasn’t great though.”

“It is what it is. It’s not your fault.”

“I still feel bad about it.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You sigh as you pull your dress off and change into jeans and a t-shirt. “I wish I was there.”

“I wish you were too, but...how was the concert?”

“It was good. Denver’s always a really good crowd. I sang your song.”

“I wish I could have been there to hear it. Maybe over summer break?”

“You know there’s always an open seat for you at any of my shows, Britt.”

“I know.” She yawns, and you slide your sneakers onto your feet.

“Do you want me to let you go back to sleep?”

“Maybe a little. I’m exhausted, and I just want to wake up to a new day.”

“Okay.” You bite your lip, wishing there was something you could do. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Santana. A lot.”

You pocket your phone, and you pack up your things before you go to the car that’s waiting for you. When you settle into your bed, you struggle to fall asleep. In your head, you keep repeating her words in her head. Not great. Don’t want to talk about it tonight. She had a rough day as a result of the pictures of the two of you on the Internet, and you weren’t in New York to help her deal with it. Memories of your first breakup, when you were never around rush over you, and you feel sick to your stomach. You don’t want to do that again. You don’t want to hurt her, and you don’t want her to resent that sometimes your career makes it hard for you to be a good girlfriend.

When you wake up in the morning, you look like shit. You hardly slept, and you have these two radio shows to do. Figuring at least you’re not doing a television appearance, you put on jeans and a black v-neck shirt. Your hair is fine, having been done for the show last night, and you slowly apply your makeup, trying to conceal the bags under your eyes. You have three texts from Brittany, and you answer them, telling her again that you love her, telling her you’ll see her tomorrow, even though the wheels have already begun turning in your head. It’s the first thing they ask you about on the first radio show. So who’s the mystery girl? You brush them off, saying that they shouldn’t believe everything they read, and reminding them that you’re there to talk about your new album. But the badger you, and you hate that you have to lie. So much of you wants to shout your love for Brittany from the rooftops, but until she’s comfortable with you doing that, you play coy, and you go back to talking about music.

On the second show, somewhere across town, it’s the same thing, and you do the same routine. By the time it’s over, you’re frustrated, and you go back to the hotel and start throwing things into your bag. You have the airline on the phone, and as it turns out, they don’t care who you are, they just tell you that the only flights out this afternoon are standby. You know it doesn’t make much of a difference if you get back tonight or tomorrow morning, but you feel like the symbolic gesture of showing up at Brittany’s apartment eighteen hours earlier than you were set to arrive says something.

So you go to the airport. You sit around, and you wait. You think you’re not going to get on the flight at all, but just before they finish boarding, your name comes over the loudspeaker. As quickly as you can, you race up to the counter, and the woman hands you a seat assignment. You want to give her a hug, honestly. It doesn’t matter that it’s a middle seat in coach, and you’re used to flying first class. All that matters is that you’re getting on the plane, you’re getting back to Brittany, and you’re going to make sure she knows that you want to be there to support her, no matter how hectic your schedule is.

The flight is absolute hell. Brittany was right about you being afraid of flying, and the fact that you’re crammed into a middle seat with someone kicking the back doesn’t make it any better. You had hoped to put your eye mask on and sleep, but between the kicking, and the several people who ask for your autograph, you realize that isn’t going to happen. So you order a vodka tonic, and you sip it slowly, not wanting to be drunk when you get back to the city, back to Brittany.

She’s still at work when you get out of your cab in front of her building. You go down the street, and you buy a bouquet of wildflowers, and then you pick up Thai food for the two of you to have for dinner. Her doorman lets you into the building, and by the time you get up to her floor, you know she’s home. You knock on the door, and when she opens it, she’s standing there in sweatpants and a tank top, taking a moment to register that it’s you.

“Santana! What are you doing here?”

“I got a flight out today. I didn’t want to tell you, because I wasn’t sure it was going to work out. But after yesterday, I just...needed to be here.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” She murmurs. “But I’m really glad you did.”

“These are for you.” You hand over the flowers, and her face lights up. “And I got a whole bunch of Thai food. Unless you want to go out to dinner, then we can just like, throw this in the refrigerator for tomorrow. I don’t know, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest.”

“Come inside.” Her smile widens, and she kisses you. “You’re the cutest thing.”

“I didn’t sleep last night.” You tell her as you step through the door and push your suitcase up against the wall. “I was worried about you.”

“It was a lot, yesterday. Let me get plates, and then we’ll talk.”

While she goes into the kitchen, you slide out of your shoes and unpack the takeout bag on her coffee table. You’re more than a little nervous, and you don’t know why. It’s just Brittany, and with all the talking you’ve done since you got back together, talking is the last thing you should be concerned about. But you are. You don’t want road blocks, things have been going so smoothly, and knowing that she probably talked to both her mother and her soon to be ex-wife, you’re a little squirmy.

“How many people are eating?” She laughs, setting the plates and silverware down beside the unpacked food.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, and I wanted to surprise you, so I didn’t call to ask. There’s pad Thai, and there’s curry...and spring rolls...and soup.”

“You really are my favorite.”

“Still?”

“Santana. I’m really not mad at you about the photos. You couldn’t have helped it.”

“But if I wasn’t famous, I—“ “But you are. That’s the reality. When we got back together, I knew I would be with Santana Lopez, pop superstar. I’m okay with that. I just didn’t expect it all to come out so quickly, not when you’ve been so careful.”

“Neither did I, and I know it makes things complicated with Asha and the divorce.”

“I called her yesterday. Her sister sent the pictures to her.” She tells you, taking a spring roll and dipping it in the sauce.

“Was she mad?”

“She was...upset. She wanted to know if I got back together with you before I filed for divorce. After all of the time we spent in therapy trying to make our marriage work, I guess it probably really hurt her, seeing me smile like that in those pictures.”

“Did she believe you when you told her we didn’t even see each other again until after you filed?”

“I think so...I don’t know, Santana, my head was just spinning from everything. She’s not going to, like, make the divorce more complicated or anything, but it made me sad hearing her sad.”

“Because you obviously still care about her.” You squeeze her hand, and she sighs.

“I do. Just because I don’t love her doesn’t mean I don’t care. I hate the idea that I hurt someone who was so good to me. And then my mother...”

“Oh God.” You shiver. As much as you always loved Whitney Pierce, you know that she has a bite to her like no one else, and it scares you what she might have said.

“She grilled me for an hour about what makes me think that my choice to be with you this time is any different than why we broke up. When I told her you were in Denver, she told me that this was exactly what I was afraid of fifteen years ago.”

“Does it feel the same for you, Britt? I get it, if it does.”

“No! It doesn’t at all. I lived without you for all of that time, now, you go away, and I know you’re going to come back. I mean, look at you, you flew back a day early to surprise me, you talked to me the whole time you were gone. All you did was prove that the fears I had all those years ago were for nothing.”

“Do you know what today is?” You ask her suddenly, having not planned to bring it up.

“No?”

“It’s the anniversary of the first time I told you I loved you.”

“Santana, I—“

“No, I mean, it’s totally fine that you don’t remember. It’s probably better, because it was such an embarrassment for me back then. But I think about it every year. It was a harder day for me than our old actual anniversary, and I’m not sure why.”

“It was the first time you let yourself be vulnerable.”

“That’s the thing, I hate that feeling, being vulnerable. But with you, I don’t. I feel like I can put everything on the line, and you don’t make a fool of me.”

“I’m learning to be vulnerable too. It’s not something I’ve ever done well, and I think...well, that’s what went wrong last time. I’m not changing my mind about this. Yesterday, I was all freaked out after talking to my mom, but then you called, and it was just like...everything was better.”

“So I guess I’m going to have to do a lot to get back in your mom’s good graces?”

“It’s not you. Please, she loves you, she basically never recovered from our breakup. I just have to convince her that I’m not going to lose it and end this again.”

“How do you think you’re going to do that?”

“Time, I guess? Um, did you ever call your publicist back?”

“I didn’t.” You shake your head and take a bite of green curry. “I was under fire about who you were on the radio today, but I played as coy as I could. We don’t have to come out publicly, Britt. I can call Gina and tell her to release a statement asking the press to respect my privacy.”

“They’re like dogs, Santana. I doubt that’ll do anything to stop them. I think...I just have to get used to being in the public eye.”

“I mean, I’d like to take you to events with me, so I’m not going to object to that. But I also don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” “It’s not going to make me uncomfortable. I did all of the uncomfortable stuff yesterday, and I’m sure I’ll still be dealing with the aftermath of my mother, but that’s like, totally typical. She’s had to get an insane amount of news from me in a few months, so she’s extra feisty.”

“What about your students?”

“A few of them came up to me today. The whole thing gives me a little bit of a headache, but I think it’s just because it’s so new. I’m going to get used to it all. You’re worth all of this.”

“Britt.” You lean over and kiss her lips, tasting the sweet sauce on them. “You’re making this too easy on me.”

“Because I know you deal with it all the time, and it’s not exactly fun for you having to plan your life around the paparazzi. But if you want to, you can have Gina release some kind of statement that says you’re in a relationship.”

“This whole thing must be shocking the hell out of my fans. I haven’t been seen with a woman in...forever.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” Brittany laughs. “But I’m glad to have the title.”

“It’s always been you, Britt, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s always been you too Santana, hasn’t it?”

#brittana #brittanas3rdyear

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years

Text

Say no to this

Here's the excerpt from Mick's POVS during the beginning of his and Claire's "relationship." (Claire and the beginning of their relationship can be read in my Fics, Just like Fire and Hot and Bothered. Yes, I shamelessly self promote, I don't care.) Takes place after season 1 of Legends of Tomorrow. Song from Hamilton. There's nothing like summer in the city Someone under boredom meets someone looking pretty There's trouble in the air, You can smell it And Mick's by himself I'll let him tell it Mick was incredible bored. It was one of the few days when the team had a break and everyone had their own way of relaxing, especially after the clean-upon Sara seducing the Queen of France. Normally Mick would have gone out with Leonard or Sara but Leonard was dead.

Despite Rip's favor to let him see Leonard via time machine. He didn't feel like it. He would already know all the heists and what happened. He needed something new.

Sara on the other hand was dealing with the death of her sister and Len. She had gone back to her hometown for the funeral and stuff. So he decided he would go back too, in 2016 of course. I hadn't slept in a week I was weak, I was awake You never seen a bastard orphan More in need of a break Longing for Leonard Missing action It was almost 10:30 at night in Central when he arrived. Mick went back to one of the old safe-houses, half-expecting Lisa to be there, looking over Leonard's belongings like she did after he gave her the news. She took it hard, wailing and crying and locked in Leonard's old room.

The safe house was empty, he figured Lisa was out or something, probably with that skinny, engineering kid that helped the Flash. He still didn't get what she saw in him.

He froze, he smelled the oh-so familiar and intoxicating smell of smoke. He scanned the room when he spotted her. Leaning lazily against the stairs, long, red hair trailing down to her feet and a smirk playing on her black lips as her hands played around with a fireball. That's when Miss Claire Selton walked into my life

“You're back? Uh, Lisa's out with her little engineer toy. She said she'd be back by morning." Claire smiled casually, looking at her nails as the fire flicked between her fingers. Mick had met her a few times before. First when he had broke the news about Leonard. Lisa had apparently gone to the same Earth he had went to with Flash and friends and also met Supergirl and had to fight a CEO, Luthor -something. (He had no idea why a CEO was such a problem for heroes, but he hadn' t been there). Claire had been pulling heists which Lisa helped and then brought her back to Central for more robberies with Shawna and Axel. He hadn't really noticed her then, but then he visited a few times after that.....Claire and he, they ended up sleeping together almost every time.

Looks were defiantly a big part of it, her costume was a tight dark reddish/black leather pants and crop top with window's peak. It emphasized all the right places.

But her powers was an even bigger turn on. She was a pyro-telekinetic, able to create fires and she was fascinated by her powers. She completely understood the magnificence that was the flame revealing the truth behind the covers.

No one in Mick's life really understood that, much less relish in burning things. She was the only one that had not ran away when he suggested his fire gun in the bedroom instead of the small, fragrant candles that his other girls seemed to prefer. In fact she even made it a pretty fun sex toy. She said: I know you are no man of honor I'm so sorry to bother you at home "I'll wait,” he muttered gruffly, settling into the beat up couch he had pulled to the middle of the room years ago. Claire took that as a cue to explain what she was doing.

"Lisa and I had this idea to take over the Smithsonian exhibit for the Egyptian jewelry. But then she got a call from Cissie, what's his name so I'm trying to figure out how the hell we're going to pull it off." But I don't know how to go, and I'm doing this all alone "Plus all the police are being really careful because of the last few times I set fire to the places. So I figure, it would be extra-fun if we were able to pick the pocket from one of them, probably their wallet, just to pay off my bet with Axel." "After all,” she mock-pouted. The police are doin' me wrong Beatin' me, cheatin' me, mistreatin' me... Suddenly the jewels are locked and gone I don't have the means to go on Mick considered, he did come here for action, and who knew better than he at stealing priceless exhibits? So I offered her a favor, I offered to do the deal, she said You're too kind, sir Claire smiled, "Well I'm sure Lisa won't mind if we do it for her." She flopped on the couch seat next to him as her hand sneaked down to squeeze his ass.

Mick remembered the deal of their one night flings. Victory sex only.

It had been his idea. Mick had absolutely no interest into turning whatever this was into a relationship. He didn't need anyone, it only brought sharp pain. Leonard choosing the Legends over him, betraying him and then dying would be prime examples.

He didn't want to get close. It was so worthless to care about people, it made everything too complicated. Even when he tried, he couldn't believe that the fact he cared about the team was enough for him NOT to succumb being Chronus again. That was when he had to draw the line. He would stop caring for people after the Legends. Nothing more, nothing less. He had a reputation.

Though it was not a relationship, friends with benefits didn't fit either. They had to be friends and actually know about each other which he refused to do.

So victory sex. If they get this heist right, they could have sex.

Which didn't seem like a bad way to spend his down time.

Once he got downtown, it went uphill from there. It was actually quite an easy job. Since Central City hadn't seen him for the past couple of months, he made a distraction in the lobby with his heat gun, prompting all of the cops to go stop him while Claire sneaked in to melt the glass and steal whatever she wanted.

As they raced back to the safe house on the motorcycle, Claire complained, “Ugh I really wished I could have gotten the Srgt.'s wallet.”

"Look at my pocket," Mick said gruffly, "Took it when he tried to tackle me.” I gave her the wallet that I had socked away We were a block away she said: “I know how to repay this, sir Then I said, "well, I should head back home,"

She turned red, she led me to the bed "I'll do the work tonight" she said, and turned her body into flames.

Another one of her powers, fire shaped like a woman, the chest and all. Mick grabbed his gun and dropped his pants. ---------------------------------------------------------—————————— 12 rounds later, the room smelt of burnt leather, and sheets as the two started to get redressed. Mick motioned to the door when she stopped him. Let her legs spread and said: Stay? Mick froze.

What!! Stay! That wasn't their deal. It was just drink, burn stuff and have sex. Not in that order or sometimes all at once. There was NO HANGING OUT. No STAYING.

"It isn't even 2 yet. I was gonna go clubbing, do you want to?" Claire asked Hey… Hey…

Mick couldn't believe he was even considering this. It was going against his self-imposed rule not to hang out with her......

But he didn't have anything else to do. He was too pumped up with adrenaline to sleep and he didn't know how much time he had to go stealing again before getting called away by Rip. That's when I began to pray Lord, show me how to Say no to this I don't know how to Say no to this. But my God, she looks so gorgeous And her body's saying, "hell, yes" Nooo, show me how to Say no to this I don't know how to Say no to this In my mind, I'm tryin' to go Go! Go! Go! Claire leaned closer, "There's alcohol...” Then her mouth is on mine, and I don't say… "Fine! only ONE club don't have anything better to do" No! No! Say no to this! No! No! Say no to this! No! No! Say no to this! No! No! Say no to this! "Move faster. This one's my favorite,” Claire dragged Mick's arm to another club. The sixth one he had gone with her this morning. I wish I could say that was the last time I said that last time. It became a pastime Mick settled into a easy chair and nursed his gin. If one thing he regret at the Vanishing Point besides the torture and abuse he received as Chronus, it would be his lost days as a hard drinker. He had know it was bad after losing in a drinking contest with Sara but after his seventh drink of the night, he felt like he was about to fall out of his chair.

Claire on the other hand was dancing on bar's counter. He guessed she was trying to be sexy with the swaying hips and bouncing boobs coming out of her red halter but it reminded him more of a drunk bellydancer

Finally after 2 more minutes, they got kicked out when Claire discreetly used her powers, pretending to be a fire breather and made the light bulbs explode. Mick thought it would be a great time to start a bar fight but when he fell down after standing up, he decided to just let Claire drag him out, chattering excitedly. "That was amazing! I felt like Azula, damn I was half-expecting the fire to turn blue. I wanted it to be blue." "Zulwho?" Mick slurred.

"Fictional character. Look up the Last Airbender., Azula. She is like my role model,” She stumbled under his weight. "Woah, you are not a drinker, big guy?" Claire asked as she finally dumped him on a shady spot by the road and collapsed next to him.

"Not me fault, time travel..” Mick mumbled.

"That sucks.” Claire commented as she readjusted her bun under a white headscarf. She claimed, she would be too recognizable without it. Then her phone beeped, and she checked it.

"Say are you doing anything on Saturday. There's a Pompeii lecture and I need to steal the medium size replica with real volcanic magma and ash,” Claire grinned.

"Stealing magma is not really my thing. Why would you want that?" Mick's shook his head trying to get the fog to lift. "My powers. My name is Volcana, I wanna see if I can manipulate the magma or something. Make something erupt.”

"Why did you even choose that name, if you don't know if you can control volcanos?" He asked. "I didn't choose it. These scientists at CADMUS did. I was their little weapon and experiment project,” Claire growled at the name Cadmus. "What kind of experiments?"

"I won't go into it, but putting 3 shots of heroine in me at the same to see if that improves my ruthlessness in killing and combustion powers. Hint, it doesn't. I had to get my stomach pumped for two hours." Claire rolled her eyes. Mick lay down, staring at the sky. Cadmus sounded like the Vanishing Point, the brainwashing. The years and years of brainwashing.

"How long were you with them?"

"Since I was 13 until two years ago. So 16 years of hell, wondering if I would ever leave and do something worthwhile than be a mindless pawn. If I could actually be a human than a weapon. Now here I am, life is sorta good, but Lisa says I really need to get use to social cues. And go beyond a a 2nd grade level education."

"Second? Wouldn't you be in eighth at 13?"

"The drugs made me forget stuff." Claire answered. "I haven't been in school since I was 14. Juvie then jail." Mick said.

"Juvie? Wait, are the stuff they say about it true? Do they beat you up on your first day? Do they really electrocute you? What did you do?" Claire interrogated eagerly. "I killed my parents," Mick sighed "It had been my fault. I had been playing with a lighter...." He trailed off, thinking.

A minutes into this question I received a message From inner Conscious, Mick Rory, even better, he said Dear Sir, I hope this message finds you in sober health And in a thoughtful enough position to realize What you're doing: down on your luck You see, your spilling your life story to a stranger you Fuuuu— What the hell was he doing? He was telling about his parents to her! No one knew about his parents exempting Leonard and he knew only the bare facts. Nor he didn't tell anyone of his conversation between him and his younger self. It was enough that he cared about the Legends who were all probably going to die just like Leonard did.

He was telling his personal life to a girl he didn't care about. He will not care about. Uh-oh! You will be the wrong sucker a cuckold Do you want to pay the piper for the pants you unbuckled And hey, you can keep seein' the whore girl If the price is right: if yes she'll end up ruining your life Oh god, and if they start sleeping with someone else? If she turned out to betray him and use this information against him. No!

Mick Rory was a lone wolf and he was staying that way. I got up and pinned her to her place "This is not our deal! It was just victory sex, victory sex! You manipulative bitch, you're trying to drug me and bond. No, that was not the plan. I don't give a shit about you. What the hell did you think you're doing?" Mick yelled. Screamed "How could you?!" in her face She said: No, sir! Half dressed, pissed. A hot mess, this is Pathetic, she cried: What the hell, sir! "What are you talking about?" Claire screeched, shoving him off her, “Got YOU drunk? You did that all by yourself. And I don't give a shit about you either. What is wrong with you, I just asked you a question.”

But Mick was on a roll. So was your whole story a setup? I don't know what you're talking about? "You asked me about clubbing. You were the one that wanted to hang out,” Mick protested.

"You could have said no. I don't want to marry you, what sorta of commitment issue freak are you?" Claire stammered. Mick could see her confusion but the haziness of the alchohol inly made his blood pump harder and all the stress piling up from Leonard's death, and the disrespect he had been getting from EVERYONE and kind, friendly emotions made him want to explode.

"Not that! You what be friends. We have stuff in common and I don't want that!" Mick gestured angrily to her.

"I swear if we were by a public road, I would cremate a very special part of your anatomy.." Claire hissed, her hand sparking dangerously. Stop yelling Goddamnit, shut up! If I didn't know any better "And another thing Mr. You're a manipulative bitch. If you didn't want to be friends and know about each other, you wouldn't have kept asking about me?" I am ruined... "Shut up, I don't need anyone."

"If you want to be victory sex and drink fine. And we end up friends whatever! Just think, Rory before I do something you will regret.” Claire's voice calmed to a lower level as she saw him wince from the volume of his own yelling. Please just leave me helpless If that's what you want and you can have me Whatever you want, I am helpless How could I do this? Mick's head pounded with the same thoughts going in a frantic drumming rhythm. I don't want you I don't want you Mick's mind was on overdrive. One part was telling him it was all wrong to start trusting someone else in his life. To actually care about someone else besides himself. Too complicated and too sharing. He didn't need the extra work.

But he also thought about how it would be nice to have sex more often, with someone who didn't mock his love of flame nor his intelligence.

Really where would he meet someone else he liked fire like he did? And every time they were together not once had he heard he say "idiot" to him. If you pay You can stay Tonight Helpless Whoa! How can you Say no to this? "What is it?" Claire's voice seemed to cut through his thoughts like a knife. Lord, show me how to Say no to this I don't know how to Say no to this Cuz the situation's helpless And her body's screaming, "Hell, yes" No, show me how to Say no to this How can I Say no to this? When her body's on mine I do not say… Yes! Say no to this

Be with a girl who actually saw beyond the need for fire, but took the time to listen to his thoughts about it. To relish it. Yes! Say no to this

To be with a girl who went through the pain and nightmares of torture, thinking to be all alone in the world. That no one would ever actually care about her. That every day it would be the same pain pounding into their body like a clockwork. Yes! Say no to this

To be with a girl that saw his effort on heists, saw his odd ideas as good ones. Yes! Say no to this

To be with someone who not only understood that, but as I thought she was truely content with what was happening to her life right now. She was always so energetic and never minced words. He could read her easily. And damn it, if it wasn't a turn on to see her bringing a policeman to his needs. Go! Go! Go! No! Say no to this! No! Say no to this! No! Say no to this! No! Say no to this! "I...I freaked," Mick sat down again, head hanging. "It's hard for me talk about things...Plus I'm drunk." Say no to this… I don't say no to this There is nowhere I can go. "I'll tell you that story another time." Mick finished lamely, his eyes flicked up to see her staring at him with what seemed to be concern. How rare for someone to look at him that way. So? "Can we go to another club?" He asked.

"Sure," Claire looked at him questioningly, "You're fine?"

"Yes, I think I will go with whatever happens," Mick said and he felt a little shiver up his back as he saw her small smile changed quickly to a smirk.

"But we cannot talk about this, I have a reputation." Mick finished, glaring at her.

Claire smiled again, "Of course, I get it..." Nobody needs to know

#say no to this #claire selton #volcana #mick rory #heatwave #dc’s legends of tomorrow #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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