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tomsparkyr · 3 years

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hi! i love your work and was wondering if i can make a request? it would be tom!peter parker and reader where somehow the spell in nwh doesn’t affect the reader and they remember peter, and they try to find peter and once they do, they both talk about everything that happened in the events of the movie? :D

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

summary: when the world forgot peter parker, he felt as if he lost everything good. until he heard your voice again.

CONTAINS ‘NO WAY HOME’ SPOILERS!!

masterlist.

peter parker (tom) x fem!reader

warnings: angst to fluff, happy ending, LITTLE angst, people forgetting peter and all that :((

HEY thanks for the request!!

requested by @fragileauras

don’t steal any of my work, thanks!

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𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 you, along with everyone, would forget the boy who stood by your side since the age of 4, broke your heart. To simply imagine not having him by your side 24/7 for the next decades of your life didn’t seem nor sound right. It just didn’t make sense, your mind was still in denial.

Peter had watched you with sorrow eyes that fateful morning, as the sun rose among everyone’s weakened figures. Peter knew you would deny, you would fight to not forget; but it was what was destined to happen. The world needed to forget Peter Parker.

The way your face reflected all that was grief would stay imprinted in Peter’s mind for the rest of his life, while he would only last a mere couple of minutes left in yours.

He had held your face so delicately that morning, this thumbs had run circles on your cheekbones as tears seeped down the cut skin. Your eyes had taken notice of his beautiful hair you had loved for so many previous years, the same hair you ran your hands through many times, after missions and whatnot.

Your mind had a little space dedicated to him and him only, which would unfortunately be lost within less than a minute now.

Peter pledged his goodbyes to everyone, leaving you last. His words had caught in the back of his throat as he saw you, he really didn’t want to lose you. Anyone but you. You were always there, always. And now you wouldn’t have any recognition that Peter ever existed, let alone was such a big part of your life including his.

Peter couldn’t bare to hurt you anymore. So when he choked up a goodbye to you, he knew it really was goodbye.

When Strange had cast the spell, you watched everyone’s face relax. Their eyebrows sinking in loss of stress and tears as the memory of Peter flew straight out their minds. Your brows furrowed looking at them, you remembered it all. Peter Parker was right here, crying to all of us. So why didn’t it work on you?

Why did you remember?

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𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐗 long days trying to find you, Peter, you are one sneaky son of a bitch you know?

You sat on your bed, shared with Peter many of times, as you searched your laptop profusely. Googling any evidence that Peter was ever here turned out to be tough. Everyone but you forgot, somehow.

‘It’s not even scientifically possible!‘ is what circled your mind for the five of the six days. You tried to convince yourself that your body was just in denial and the memory of Peter is a coping mechanism as the boy’s information was nowhere to be found. It was as if he only lived in your imagination.

Your back tensed at the position it was held in for the past two hours, the hunch of leaning over your laptop while sat cross legged did very little to help the strain. Stretching out all your muscles, you shut your laptop in frustration.

Peter was not here. You had gone to his old apartment days before only to find a new family carrying a newborn in the rooms you and Peter had shared so many memories in before. He couldn’t have gone to Stark Industries, seeing a random teenager would set the already annoyed workers off there. He couldn’t go to Happy, not as anything out of Spiderman that all, the man wouldn’t have seeked any form of comfort within a strange teenager he supposedly just met.

You were stumped. Where could he have gone?

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 knew exactly where he went.

As you climbed slowly up the ladder, you reached on your tiptoes to poke your head above the wall in certainty that he really was there. Your foot landed firmly on the last step of the ladder as you rested your elbows on the roof. There you saw him.

Peter Parker was lying on his back on the rooftop, an old science textbook placed behind his head in a form of a cushion. His legs were over one and other and his arms were relaxed on his stomach, fingers twiddling as his eyes were closed. His gorgeous hair moved slightly with the wind, it had grown out of it’s gel since the last time you saw him; a more natural look made the boy look prettier than before if that was even possible.

A gap was left on the right side of the roof, where you used to lay with him. A large blanket was sitting where your spot was, as if he was waiting for your arrival. “That space for me?” You cleared your throat.

Peter jumped and flung himself forwards, landing in a spidey pose as his head was turned away from you. The voice he heard settled in his mind as he realised who was there. He slowly turned his head towards the sound and stood up from the position. That’s when he saw you.

You looked so beautiful. Your face wasn’t cut from that fateful night, it look fresh and new. Your hair was tucked behind your ears as the wind fought for it to go on its own free will, the strands at the front made you look stunning; like the wind only did you a favour here. Your head was tilted to the side as your eyes sobbed for love, for him to be back where he belongs with you. Tears caught in Peter’s eyes as he watched your smile grow more and more at his reaction of simply seeing you.

Peter rushed his way towards you as you pulled yourself up onto the roof, just in time for him to tackle you into a hug; gripping your waist with such desperation and fear of losing you again. His head was buried in your hair, breathing in your natural scent felt nostalgic to him. One hand found its way to holding the back of your head, bringing your body closer into the embrace and he noticed your body jolted with unreleased sobs making their way out.

Peter reciprocated this emotion and pulled away so he could be face to face with you, foreheads pushed against one and other as tears cascaded down both cheeks. “I thought- I thought I lost you.” He choked out as shaking fingers played with the ends of your hair.

You shook your head, bringing both hands to rest on his cheeks as his mouth twitched with sobs. “You will never lose me, Peter.”

A smile grew on his saddened face, “Even after three versions of me just appeared out of nowhere?” He laughed as he leaned into one side of your hands.

You joined his laughter and rubbed your nose against his cold one. “Even after Electro made my hair go all static for the next seven hours.” You gasped sarcastically as his tears dried only ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that one.” He mumbled, pushing your hair out of your face and locking his lips onto yours, both filled with passion and the determination of never letting go of each other ever again.

Peter was so very thankful. He couldn’t care less if the world didn’t know who Peter Parker was anymore, and that was because he had you. It was like it was destined? Everyone in the world moved on, all except you.

hope this was okay and i loved this request! <3

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#peter parker masterlist #peter parker x you #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker #spiderman nwh #nwh spoilers #spiderman angst #spiderman x reader #spiderman

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rosepetalmark · 3 years

Text

it was good until it wasn’t

↬ pairing: kim doyoung x reader ↬word count: 3k ↬ genre: angst, mentions of fluff ↬warnings: mentions of sex, it’s pretty sad (you may shed a tear or two i’m v sorry) ↬ synopsis: breakups suck, especially when you’re still in-love and don’t understand where you both went wrong.

he makes it look so easy.

ignoring your texts, coming home late, barely saying a word to you when you’re together. you can’t hate him for it though, you’re the exact same.

you wonder why he doesn’t break up with you already. your relationship was basically hopeless at this point and you both know it isn’t going anywhere- it hasn’t been going anywhere for months now.

it pains you seeing him not stare at you lovingly anymore. you grew so fond of the idea of spending hours on the phone talking about the dumbest things, staying up late watching reruns of your favourite shows, even making him do face masks with you when you wanted to do self care days. you knew he loved it of course, but he always played it off as something he detested because seeing you pout over his lack of interest in a sheet mask always made him love you ten times more.

you haven’t felt his touch in two months. it was like you were living with a ghost, the feeling of his presence ever so prominent, but the actual feeling and embracement of him completely diminished. every morning he’d wake you up by kissing both your cheeks, quiet laughter humming from his chest as he admired your sleepy presence in his quest to get you to start your day.

now you wake up to the sound of him sighing as he leaves your shared bed, his empty presence filling the quiet room, causing you to feel lonely.

never in the several years of knowing doyoung did you ever imagine that his presence would become something that no longer brought you happiness.

you’ve both drifted, but you’re still together- too stubborn to admit to yourselves and each other that this relationship has run its course, forming a cohabitation with one another rather than maintaining a loving, healthy relationship.

it’s complicated, you like to believe. trying to puzzle together when everything went wrong. but you can’t because all you remember is that one day you were both madly in love with one another and the next you acted as if you were strangers.

deep down you’re scared. you’ve spent so many years and time and effort in your relationship with doyoung that you don’t truly know what life outside of him is like.

you may not have long talks anymore or stay up late watching movies or even have sex- damn you missed the days where you both would divulge in sex multiple times a week, but gosh did you find solace in his presence.

when he’s not there in bed beside you when you wake up each morning you feel empty, like a piece of your heart has been ripped out of your body and hidden halfway across the world for you to find.

he’s all you’ve touched and laughed and connected with in years and to have that ripped away from you is beyond frightening.

he’s all you know.

you yearn for the days when you were fresh in love and could never keep your hands off each other, wanting to be in each other’s presence 24/7. sadly the days of two twenty years olds having quickies in the backseat of a car and drunkenly singing karaoke at three in the morning on friday nights at the local bar were long gone. you’re not two college kids in love anymore, just two completely different adults who fell out of it.

it hurts reminiscing about the way his hands would find your waist and how his chin dipped into your neck when he found you speaking with your friends at parties; the way he would sing to you when you had trouble falling asleep, bringing you to his piano to play you whatever melody he created earlier in the day just to bring you comfort, even if it meant he was losing sleep in the process.

you especially miss his attempts at making you iced coffee in the morning. it was such a mundane act, but no matter how hard he tried and how closely he followed the instructions you gave him (not as if making iced coffee was hard anyways), he’d always make it too bitter. but you still drank it anyway, because you loved doyoung with every fibre in your being, and anything he did for you made you appreciate and fall in love with him even more. everything he did for you showed how deeply he loved and cared for you.

now you don’t get any of it. no obnoxious flirting when out in public. no beautiful nights falling asleep to his soft, angelic voice, wrapped up warmly in his tender arms. and especially no bitter, watered down iced coffee.

you’re lucky enough if he holds your hand when out in public with friends, not wanting anyone to clue in on the lack of intimacy and love that ceases to exist between the two of you.

you used to be that annoying couple who couldn’t get enough of one another, always finding ways to be in each other’s presence whenever you went out together, wanting to show the world that you were his and he was yours. now you can barely look each other in the eyes for more than five minutes without an unnecessary argument beginning to brew.

you wish you could have that all back. the routine. the peace. the love you both shared. you’re just two adults who can’t even be mature enough to break off a six year relationship because you’re both too comfortable with the thought of one another; too scared to leave what you’ve built as a couple to realize that this once great love affair has turned into something so sad and toxic, pulling you back from what you both deserve in life.

your friends have been telling you to sit down and speak to him about your feelings, his urging you both to call it quits for months now, claiming you’re making your friendship dynamic awkward, and in the end only harming yourselves. but they don’t understand what it’s like to have something so beautiful ripped from your hands without a warning, because that’s what this all felt like. as if someone swooped in and stole your bond with doyoung, when in actuality it was just the two of you growing apart-one thing you never thought would ever occur.

those four dry months eventually turned into a fifth, and that’s when you knew you had to pull the plug. you couldn’t keep living like this- wasting your life and heart and energy on a relationship that ended so long ago. it was draining the life out of you both and it was painfully evident in your faces.

the days of crying over him have long passed, making it much easier to process that you won’t ever be with him again, mentally checking out after the first two months this distance became a regular occurrence. that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt ending a love that once was your everything.

you remember so clearly the day doyoung asked you out. it was a monday after a lecture you both shared, the both of you walking alongside campus, too invested in your conversations with one another to say goodbye. you both knew you had feelings for one another, every interaction between the two of you held an abundance of smiles and rosy red cheeks.

he bit the bullet and asked if you wanted to grab dinner some time, just the two of you and away from your chaotic friend group, wanting it to be an actual date and not a group outing.

that was six years ago, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach the moment he said he wanted to date you still linger when you think back to such heartfelt innocence.

when you finally decided enough was enough and the words eventually left your mouth, he wasn’t even upset. he showed no sign of emotion, a stoic expression stuck on his tender face, only a nod of agreement following your difficult confession.

he knew he didn’t have to say anything and you didn’t expect him to. there was no fighting for something that didn’t exist anymore. doyoung may have been your boyfriend by title, but these last few months he was just doyoung. not your lover. not your best friend. just doyoung.

a stranger you know who’s smile and laugh and kisses you’ll forever have ingrained in your brain, but have not come into pure contact with for an unreasonable amount of time.

and you can’t even hate him for this breakup because he hasn’t done anything wrong. you simply grew apart, and you hate how you drug it out for so long where it got to the point where you can’t even look him into the eyes without feeling some sort of pain and resentment. the only thing you wish you could go back and change was to talk about it, because who knows, the both of you could have either resolved whatever underlying issues you had, or you would’ve been broken up by now- not stranded and confused as to where your life and relationship is going.

you never pictured you’d end up like this, assuming by the time you were in your late twenties you’d be engaged, with a dog, constantly looking at homes online for you and doyoung to one day grow your future family in. you so desperately wanted to be his forever, the one he turned to for everything. the father of your children, the greatest love of your life the entire world had to offer.

that was all in the past now.

the entire “official” breakup didn’t even hit you until doyoung was moving his stuff out of your shared apartment, little pieces of him vanishing as each minute passed.

the picture of your two year anniversary is no longer on display in the living room, the frame facing the table to signal that the once happy couple in that old photograph are no longer together and madly in love.

the pastel flower magnets doyoung loved to collect and place on the fridge ceased to exist, leaving your kitchen slightly less colourful and fun as they were tossed away in one of the many random boxes he got from the hardware store earlier.

even the ugly rustic coffee table you hated but he adored- something that totally clashed with the aesthetic of the apartment but reminded doyoung of his childhood, all removed from your shared space and never to be seen in your presence again. you begged doyoung for a new one years ago but he always managed to convince you it had charm, always flashing you a wide grin in his process to win your heart over. you never thought the day would come where you’d miss seeing it in your living room.

everything was so clean and spacious. everything was gone.

it was weird seeing your once cluttered home look so different. yet despite all the space, every single memory and experience you shared with doyoung was ever present in your mind, overwhelming you all at once as no future memories between the two of you will be made.

it felt like just yesterday you both signed the lease, accidentally spilling red wine on the brand new white rug doyoung bought an hour after you got the keys, knowing you were eyeing it for months online, refusing to buy it until you officially had a place together. you were both so excited to start your lives here. to be young and to evolve and to explore your relationship in a manner more romantic and mature than you had the last few years.

all his instruments and songbooks that were once scattered in the corner of your living room are gone, packed in their cases and in doyoung’s car, awaiting their new home once he takes his remaining items and leaves.

it hurts the most when thinking about the bedroom. you haven’t slept there since he started packing his things four days ago, not wanting to get emotional over half the room and its belongings disappearing with what felt like a snap of the fingers.

but you had to make your way in there now, because all you could hear coming from the thin white wall down the hallway were soft, hiccupped sobs- such emotion you weren’t familiar with in months.

part of you wants to let him be and pretend like you hear nothing just so he can gather his thoughts and belongings and be on his way.

but you can’t. because despite how much you tell yourself that this is for the best and you’re past everything, you’re not. there’s a huge part of you that still cares so deeply for doyoung and you wouldn’t ever wish pain on him.

quietly walking into your bedroom towards your once shared bed, you sit beside him. grabbing his hand, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reminding you of the days you’d go on long walks, him never letting go of you because he never wanted to break physical contact.

“hi.” you whisper, not entirely sure how to spark a conversation with him. you haven’t been this vulnerable with him in what feels like forever, the last time you saw him cry was over two years ago when your relationship was seemingly at its best. he hasn’t been this upset was when he thought he lost taeyong’s dog, but it turned out that it was yuta’s day to watch him while he went to work.

“hey.” he says, his voice raspy and shaky due to the tears, his face red with anxiety.

“so we’re really doing this, huh?” you ask, your voice beginning to shake as well. seeing doyoung cry always breaks your heart, and the fact that he’s doing so after you both ended things makes you want to crawl in a hole and never leave.

this was hitting you too hard. so much harder than you could’ve ever imagined. you thought that because you both just fell apart and seemed unbothered by such a drastic change in your lives and relationship that he’d pack his things and you’d both be on with your lives. but now that you’re both separating from one another for good when all you’ve known was each other for years, it’s soul crushing.

doyoung is here in your once shared bedroom holding your hand and crying with you because you both failed to make your relationship work despite having such strong feelings for one another.

you love this man so much, yet you know there’s nothing you can do to bring you both back to the state you were once in. you’re different people now, and you can’t mold back into the two young, horny, and madly in love college sophomores anymore thinking you’re going to be together forever.

“god i hate this!” he yells in between sobs, his face getting more and more red as the tears stream down his face. and you hate this too, because you didn’t think this whole process would cause each of you to bawl your eyes out because you don’t want to leave a love and comfort you’ve both outgrown.

you wiped his tears with your fingers, caressing his cheeks to reassure him that none of this is his fault. you needed to be strong for him and yourself, because unfortunately this is life and even the shittiest things happen to good people.

falling out of love unfortunately falls into that category.

he places a kiss on your forehead and wraps his arms tightly around your frame as a final goodbye, embracing all of you within these last few moments as a reminder of how much love and respect he has for you.

“so this is it.” he whispers softly, slowly getting up from the bed and untangling himself from his previous hold on you, acting as if his emotional outburst didn’t even happen, composing himself to make this already hard process the slightest bit easier.

matching his actions, you get up as well and follow him out of the bedroom, glancing back at your half empty room and feeling your heart shatter.

no more stealing his sweaters when you’re cold and want to be comfy. no more late nights of talking or making love. no more doyoung.

“this is it.” you whisper back, not having much to say, the tightness in your chest growing further as you continue to relish in such heartbreak together. you were each other’s first serious loves, and not having that constant in your lives will be such a heart wrenching adjustment.

“i love you, doyoung.” you say, needing to remind him that there will always be a part of him in your heart and that you’re sorry things ended this way.

“i know, love. i’ll always love you. i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“i’d like that.” you nod, the emotions filling up your chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe knowing this is all happening now. “be safe getting to your apartment.”

“always.” he winked, tears evident in his eyes as he began to turn his body away from yours and towards the final box beside the front door, turning the knob and leaving for good- gone from the love and home you’ve both invested so much time and warmth into.

you’ve spent so much of your life with this man, planned so much and anticipated such a beautiful future just for it to end and for you both not to know how to fix the broken pieces you left each other in.

maybe someday in the future you and doyoung will get back together and plan that beautiful wedding and have those three beautiful kids in a big house with a pool and a baby french bulldog.

but as for now you are letting go.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #kim doyung #nct #nct 127 #nct angst #kim doyoung scenarios

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ckbookish · 4 years

Text

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim.

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones.

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call.

6 Two-face: The Better Choice

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat?

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself.

8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?”

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true. That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.

13 Dad: Storge

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily. The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way.

“Your dad must have his hands full with you.” Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view. It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world. The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield... Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad. But he wasn’t.

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard. The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway. Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter. He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it. Wolverhampton.

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been. Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.

23 Kidnapped: Chum

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing.

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

#batman bingo 2020 #Master Post #Batman #CK Writes #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #tim drake #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Red Robin #robin #My Writing

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on-maars · 3 years

Text

Find My Way Home (Back To You)

Alright I wrote a post Eddie Begins episode fic and I really hope you’ll like it :)

Read it on AO3

Eddie sighs and turns around for what might be the tenth time in the past two hours.

He can’t sleep. He can’t sleep without being back there again. He can’t sleep without stopping the nightmares. Not about the war. He’s had his fair share of night terrors about the war, but lately the nightmares have taken another direction. He doesn’t dream of being the target of a thousand snipers anymore. He dreams of that moment. He dreams of being back there again, buried in the ground, thirty feet of wet earth above him, trapped, without any way of getting back to his son, without any way of getting back to his family. It’s suffocating, and Eddie often wakes up soaking wet, his hair sticking to his forehead, his sheet drenched in sweat. Drenched in sweat, and tears. His tears.

He can’t sleep and he tried everything. Every method he can think of. Every method his mother used to teach him when he was scared and alone at night, suffering from insomnia. He tried some breathing exercises his therapist showed him the week before, tried taking a walk around the neighborhood to clear his head and take his mind off things, he tried reading a book and even went through some meditations videos on YouTube that Buck recommended to him a while back. But nothing is working. His mind keeps sending him back to that place. To the well.

Eddie turns around again and lets his eyes fall on his alarm clock as it reads 2:49am. Eddie sighs and presses his hands to his face, apprehending the 24 hours shift waiting for him in the early hours of the morning. Not necessarily because of the fatigue. After all it wouldn’t be the first time Eddie gets through an awfully long shift with the 118 with only a few hours of sleep in his system.

No, he’s only apprehending it because he knows, deep down, that he’s so far from being in the right state of mind to face the difficulties of his job. He feels more restless, more fidgety, less focused than usual. And if there is no doubt in Eddie’s mind that the 118 is going to notice his mood swings. And if they notice, then he’s going to need to explain. Explain the extent of how messed-up he is in the head. Explain how the war still terrorized him sometimes at night. Explain how tight his throat is ever since he’s made it out of that well. And that’s a conversation he’s not ready to face.

Eddie looks up at the ceiling and gropes around in the dark until his right hand finds his phone. He knows scrolling mindlessly the news is only going to keep his brain more awake but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He unlocks his phone and frowns when he notices an unseen message from his sister in his inbox. The message is short, but it catches Eddie’s attention.

“Isn’t he your friend Buck?!”

There is a link just underneath it and when Eddie clicks on it, his breath catches in his throat and his heart starts pounding hard against his chest. It’s a video. A video of that day. A video of the rig, collapsing, and burying him under thirty feet of earth in the process. Only the video doesn’t show only that. It also shows his coworkers’ reaction. It also shows Buck.

Buck

Buck, who collapses on the ground and completely falls to pieces. Buck, who screams his name and starts digging the earth with his bare hands. Buck, who bursts into tears and whose face is contorted with fear, rage and pain. Eddie watches him as he continues calling out his name in agony, he watches him as Bobby needs to physically restrain him to stop him from digging, and Eddie swears he can feel his heart cracked open at the sight.

The scene is devastating, heartbreaking, and the last seconds of the video only shows Buck, sitting on the ground, his head down, tears rolling down his face, as the rain continues pouring down on him.

By the time Eddie finishes watching the video, his hands are shaking and the room is spinning. His whole body is tense, buzzing with a nervous energy and Eddie closes his eyes fiercely but he can’t get the images out of his head. How can he? How can he when he had to sit through and watch his best-friend having a complete breakdown in a video with more than a million views? How can he when until then, he was so far up his own ass not to notice that Buck was hurting too? Not to notice that he wasn't the only one who ended up traumatized by this day?

He sits back straight on his bed, and leans his back against the headboard, running both of his hands through his hair a few times, ignoring how his heart pulses in his head, making it hurt.

He takes his phone in his hand and gets up, stepping out of his room and going down the stairs until he reaches the living-room. Here, he lets himself fall on the couch, rubbing his temples with his fingers, his eyes closed. In vain. It’s no use. It’s no use trying to get his breathing back to normal while the only thing he really wants is to see his best-friend with his own two eyes and make sure he’s okay.

“Can you come over?” He sends. It’s short and vague, but Eddie knows Buck keeps his phone in sound mode at all times just in case this kind of emergencies come up.

But is it an emergency? Eddie asks himself as he brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. It’s not. Not really. But Buck’s answer still comes after just a few seconds.

“Be there in 15. You okay? Christopher?”

“We’re okay. Just need to see you.”

Eddie jumps out of the couch and starts pacing back and forth in the living-room, not knowing what to do with himself. He squats down and starts picking up every Lego bricks lying around on the carpet, on the coffee table under the sofa. Christopher was in the middle of building a (more than unstable) house before heading to bed and he seemed so tired from his school day Eddie didn’t have the heart to ask him to tidy. He’s in the middle of retrieving a brick which ended up under the carpet when he hears the distinct sound of someone opening the front door.

He whirls his head around and finds himself face to face with Buck who looks around the living-room in alarm, his eyes wide. His hair is disheveled and his shoes are mismatched and Eddie almost feels bad for waking him up in the middle of the night while they both have a 24 hours shift waiting for them in a few hours. His best-friend’s face softens when his eyes fall on him, and Eddie doesn’t waste any time to close the gap separating them and wrapping his arms around his neck to hold him close.

“Evan Buckley I swear to god you’re going to be the death of me.” He says, not thinking twice before burying his face in the crook of his best-friend’s neck. Buck seems taken aback for a few seconds, but he doesn’t question it and reciprocate the embrace with just as much vigor. “I’m sorry.” Eddie eventually says, grabbing his tee-shirt with his right hand.

“You’re sorry?” Buck repeats, his voiced filled with confusion. “About what?” He adds.

“God I’ve been so far up my own ass these past few days, haven’t I?” Eddie asks, taking a step back and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, following his gaze until he’s sure Buck looks at him in the eye. His best-friend seems reluctant at first, almost as if he already knows where the conversation is going, but then he finally meets his gaze and Eddie’s look is so intense and he’s watching him with so much attention something in his face just breaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, Eds?” Buck asks, but from the way his voice breaks, Eddie knows it’s just a way for him to try and take the conversation elsewhere.

“Buck.” Eddie says, and it’s a warning. We’re having that conversation whether you like it or not.

“Eddie, just- Don’t, alright?” Buck starts. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s all that matters.”

“I saw the video.” Eddie says, taking another step backwards until he sits on a kitchen chair, running his right hand through his hair.

“What video?” Buck says, his voice small, but sighs and looks down when Eddie maintains eye-contact. “Took you long enough.” He only adds, leaning against the fridge. “It was literally everywhere on the news. Big headlines too.” He says, letting out a humorless laugh.

“Buck-”

“But again, I’spose it’s fun to see a firefighter completely losing it after his best-friend has been buried thirty feet underground.” Buck cuts in, his voice hollow. “I guess it ‘entertains’ people just fine”

“Buck-” Eddie starts, but his friend is faster.

“As if I want to relive that moment, you know?” Buck goes on and his voice is louder now, more aggressive. “As if one time wasn’t enough.”

“Buck, I-”

“Eddie, you cut the damn line!” He exclaims and Eddie jumps with surprise at how raw and demanding his tone is. “You cut the damn line!” He repeats and a tear rolls down his left cheek. “And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I can’t even blame you for it! You wanted to save that kid… I mean, how can I blame you for wanting to save that kid, Eddie? I can’t. I would be a fucking hypocrite if I did, man. Cause I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t be mad.” Eddie says, keeping his eyes down, incapable of meeting his best-friend’s gaze. “It doesn’t mean you can’t be angry.” He adds. “Hell, I know I would be.”

“I just- Eddie, did you ever stop for a second to imagine what it was like for me? I was pulling you out Eds. I was pulling you out and then the weight was just- the weight was just gone. You were gone.” He says through gritted teeth and Eddie darts his eyes towards him for just a second, but that’s still enough time for him to see the expression of complete agony and pure heartbreak on his best-friend’s face. Eddie looks away just as fast and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“But that’s not even the worst part, oh no.” Buck goes on and Eddie knows this one is on a roll. He’s determined and he won’t stop until he got everything off his chest. “ Because then this damn rig just collapsed and I- I couldn’t get you out, I- You were… You were buried, Eds. You were buried and I swear to god I would have dug the whole thing with my bare hands if I had to.”

“I know you would’ve.” Eddie only says, staring at Buck, his eyes filled with the tears he’s been trying to hold back for the past fifteen minutes. “I know you would’ve.”

“I didn’t give up on you.” Buck answers, as if he’s trying to justify his actions in a courtroom. “You’ve got to know that, alright?” He repeats. “I didn’t give up on you. Even when people were trying to convince me that there was no way you would have survived that, I didn’t- I didn’t give up on you.”

“Hey, hey, I know.” Eddie instantly reassures him, getting up and closing the gap between them. “I know.” He repeats, cupping Buck’s cheeks with his hands. “You didn’t give up.”

“I didn’t give up.” Buck nods, his lips quivering.

“Buck, do you think- do you think I’m mad at you because you didn’t try hard enough?” Eddie manages to articulate, his fingers playing with the roots of Buck’s hair. “How could you have tried any harder?” Eddie adds, letting out a nervous laugh. “For Christ’s sake Evan, you told me yourself you were ready to dig the whole thing by hands. There’s nothing you could have done. You hear me?”

Buck frantically nods and Eddie sighs, wrapping his right arm around his neck to pull him forward. Buck’s whole body tenses and it’s only when his shoulders start shaking that Eddie realizes his best-friend is full-on sobbing against him, his tears wetting his white tee-shirt. Buck rests his forehead on his shoulder and Eddie simply runs his left hand through his hair while the other traces small patterns on his back, holding him tight. He presses his lips on his hair, closing his eyes fiercely for a few seconds while throwing his head backwards, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.” Buck says against him. “Here I am again, making the whole thing about me while you’re the one who’ve been buried underground.”

“Don’t be stupid Buck, I’m the one who should apologize here. I was so focused on my pain and the nightmares that I-”

“Nightmares?” Buck whirls his head up to meet his eyes. “You have nightmares about the well?” He asks, his eyes full of concern, and Eddie lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah but that’s not the point, Buck.” He says, dismissing his concern with a hand’s gesture. “I should have seen you were hurting. I’m sorry.” He adds. “And yes I have nightmares but Buck you need to know you’re the only reason I got out. You and Christopher? I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Wouldn’t have done it. But I promised myself I’ll always find my way back home. So I did.”

Eddie cradles his chin with his left hand, forcing him to look up.

“That… That was sappy as hell, man.” Buck tries and Eddie snorts, placing his hand on his cheek to make him look away.

“Says the one who was ready to dig thirty feet of wet earth with his bare hands.” He says playfully and then Buck does this thing again where he looks down with a shy smile and Eddie’s heart just melts at the sight.

When Buck lifts his gaze again, their lips are only separated by a few inches of space and Eddie’s head is spinning. He stays there, motionless, not knowing whether he should finally gives in to years of pining and unresolved tension. But then, Buck’s eyes dart towards his lips and all his good sense goes up in smoke. Eddie looks at him for permission and when Buck nods, he places his hand on the back of his neck and presses their lips together. It doesn’t last long. It’s brief, and when Eddie takes a step back, Buck’s lips chase his own a second time and he only smiles and complies happily.

This time, the kiss is more heated and Buck’s hands find their way on the back of Eddie’s neck, biting his lower lip to demand access to his mouth. Eddie smiles against his mouth and runs both of his hands through his hair, bringing him closer. This earns him a small whimper from Buck and Eddie only kisses him harder, pressing his best-friend’s body against the fridge and sliding his hand underneath his tee-shirt.

“God I can’t believe we waited three years to do that.” Buck says Eddie huffs out a laugh against his lips.

“Well I mean you were a bit slow on the uptake.” Eddie teases him.

“Oh fuck off.” Buck taps him on the head playfully. “You know I couldn’t just- I had to be sure.”

“I know.” Eddie says, his voice soft.

“I couldn’t do the first move. I had to wait for… I had to wait for you to do it. Even if I knew that you- because I knew. Of course I knew. But-”

“Hey.” Eddie cuts him off by cupping his cheeks with his hands. “I know.” He repeats. “Alright then Evan. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Lead the way, Edmundo.”

“Not my name.” Eddie says with a smile, taking his hand in his to guide him towards the bedroom.

“Sorry. Eduardo.”

“Still not my name, man."

"Diaz?"

"That's it, you’re sleeping on the damn couch, Buckley.” Eddie warns but the smile on his face betrays him.

“Really? You would make me sleep on the couch? The guy who was ready to dig 30 feet of wet earth with his bare han-”

“Oh my god will you shut up?” Eddie whispers loudly, being careful not to wake up Christopher fast asleep in the adjoining room.

“Make me.” Buck says, a hint of amusement in his voice and Eddie?

Well Eddie wastes no time to crash their lips together another time.

#buddie #buddie fic #9-1-1 #Eddie Begins #Evan Buckley #Eddie diaz #911 #buck x eddie

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kangaroo-sniper-imagine · 4 years

Text

-I went with a generally disapproving family-

The mercs encounter a protective family. THEY USE CHARM, it is ineffective!

Engineer

If your family is judgmental, they’ll have a hell of a time trying to find fault in Dell. I mean, he’s finely educated, has a well paying job (they don’t know WHAT you two do, they just know you could live comfortably), he’s a southern gentleman I mean, if you’re gonna bring ANY merc back home, it be him.

Dell is literally perfect. Even if your dad is like, nitpicky, trying to get a rise from him, Dell is basically the team’s dad, so he’s got patience in spades. Dell is the one in charge of putting Pyro to sleep, Dell fears no man

He brought a cake for god's sake

Scout

Jeremy is nervous at first when you mention that you have a big family, then remembers his family is probably way bigger than yours, and he’s a little less worried. Then he get worried again because Jeremy remembers he isn’t exactly, uhhh, great when it comes to making good impression

He spends most of the time by your side, stock still, sweating nervously. If he gets too nervous, he goes into his default maneuver to make people like him; which is talking about his family. It wins over your mom (cuz lets be real, boys who get along with their moms are less likely to suck)

Your father puts him through the ringer. If Jeremy wasn’t so used to being threatened daily, he probs would’ve fainted or some shit. But nope, he was stuck in that horrific limbo of fight or flight, better known as “freeze.” the poor baby’s gonna need you to stay by his side the whole time

Heavy

Mikhail isn’t normally intimidated, but you are so important to him that the thought of facing your family made him want to volunteer for one of Medic’s experiments.

(for the fun of it) Your father is taller and bigger than Mikhail; and oh fuck is russian homeboy shook/freaked. Misha is pretty stoic when he feels threatened, and he is soooo overwhelmed by your dad’s hardened glare

You and your mother enjoy yourselves as your father and boyfriend stare and glare silently the whole night. When the night is finally over and you and Misha are alone, he tells you your father terrifies him, and you tell him you dad told you that he liked Mikhail

Spy

(for story reasons…) Your father was your last surviving family member and he was hella protective over you. Jacque was completely content with never meeting your father if he could help it, but it was so important to you and he eventually caved.

You know those dad’s that are basically junkyard dogs to everyone except their kids? That's your dad. When you aren’t in the room, he will grill the shit out of Jacque. “What’s with the mask, what’s your income, if you ever hurt my daughter no one will ever find your body” sorta thing

Jacque is not easily scared, but holy fuck is your father one scary mofo when you’re involved. The Frenchman tries to reassure your dad that he wouldn’t ever hurt you, as you are one of the best things that's ever happened to him, your dad still acts rude and mean when you aren’t around. Jacque doesn’t tell you what you dad said, but he now he actively avoids meeting him again

Medic

Ludwig does not shake in the face of danger, he’s met the fricking devil, nothing frightens him. Then he met your mother, and OOOOOOH BOY. Ludwig thought HE was overprotective of you, but good god your mother!

Your mother wasn’t rude per say, but she was passive aggressive. Normally, our favorite mad surgeon would brag about losing his medical license, but now he artfully avoids that topic and instead focused on his accomplishments as a doctor and his achievements back in university. You mom doesn’t give a shit

After the visit Ludwig, for the first time in a long time, feels hella inadequate and struggles grappling with it. Even after explaining to him you mom does that to weed out the weak suitors

Sniper

Oooooooooof. Mick is good at reading people, and is good at clocking those with tough characters who’ll dislike him. For Mick….. No one in your family liked him. He could pick up on it immediately, all of your brothers, your sisters, your parents. The room was very tense

Mick was also very good at faking being nice and knows how to take snide comment after snide comment. He felt hella uncomfortable the whole time, but you loved your family, and your family loved you back, so he withstood it.

Mick gets that it’s your family’s defense mechanism, doesn’t mean he likes it. He’s happy there’s plenty of people to be there to defend and protect you, he just doesn't like that they want to protect you from him

Pyro

Don't bring Pyro to meet your family, that’s like asking for disaster.

Pyro picks up on bad vibes like its nothing and will act hostile if they are treated hostile

Also i can imagine any situation in which you could explain the gas mask

Soldier

Jane is extremely old fashioned and probably encouraged you to allowing him to meet your family. You couldn’t see a fault in his logic; if anything, your strict family might approve of the military-like man

HA! Thank god Jane, in regards to social situations, is a bit slow. He doesn’t get that your dad is subtly trying to threaten him or that your mother is questioning his loyalty. He genuinely thinks that your father wants to show him his new hunting rifle and that your mother questioned his loyalty to America

You were upset by your parent’s rudeness at first, but seeing Jane deflect it all turned it into a comedy show for you. He might not be the best person to bring home, but he has the best results

Demo

Can you say nervous? Tavish loves and respects the hell out of you, and all the other mercs seemed to understand that, but holy hell, your parents can’t seem to get it through their thick skulls.

Tavish is on his absolute best behavior. No drinking, no cigar smoking, no arguing with the sentient sword in his room for the last 24- hours to make sure he was calm and collected before meeting your folks; and yet your dad is still trying to start a fight with him even though you’re still in the room

He suffers through it, I mean Tavish has taken the killing blow for you over and over again on the battlefield so dealing with your folks should be small potatoes. His own mother is pretty rough with him, so your parents set him on edge but they don’t scare him away

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lupin-for-president · 4 years

Text

Scorbus Headcanons

(Please tell me if you would like me to write a short fic off of any of these, because I love them)

Scorpius is insanely affectionate, don’t even try to argue with me on this one, you know it’s true

Even when he and Albus are still “just friends” he is touching him All. The. Time.

The worst part is Albus doesn’t even realize Scorp is doing it at this point because he’s just so used to all of this affection from him

James passes them in the library one day and sees Scorpius with his arms wrapped around his brother’s waist while Albus is looking on the shelves for a book and he’s just like “????”

When James asks Albus about it later he is just like “Oh, I didn’t even notice.”

By the time they start their third year no one in the school is sure whether they’re dating or just friends because they’re with each other 24/7

Albus does weird motherly things for Scorpius like fold his clothes and wipes the crumbs off of his face at dinner

Albus also picks out all of Scorpius’ clothes for when they go to Hogsmeade or other trips and complains the entire time which drives Scorpius mad

“You’d think coming from a family like yours you’d have more class, Scorp. Really, it’s almost shameful.”

“Well I’m sorry that you took more after my own father than I did, Al.”

Even though he has better fashion sense, Albus literally just walks around in their dorm shirtless and in grey sweats which drives Scorpius up the fucking wall

Albus gets jealous as hell any time someone apart from his family talks to Scorpius for more than fifteen minutes at a time and will pull him away without an explanation

“Al, that was rude! She was in the middle of her sentence!”

“I don’t fucking care what she was in the middle of, she was basically undressing you with her eyes and it was bloody disgusting.”

Scorpius just smiles and throws an arm around Albus’ shoulders whispering things like “Jealous, love?” and “You want to do that yourself?”

Albus blushes like crazy any time he gets called out for showing any interest at all in Scorpius and you can’t change my mind

The amount of sass in this relationship is unmatched. I mean, their father’s are Draco I-didn’t-know-you-could-read Malfoy and Harry No-need-to-call-me-sir-Professor Potter, would you expect anything less???

Like when they’re sitting on the couch in the common room

“Hey Scorp, mind running up to the dorm and grabbing my book for me?”

“I wasn’t aware I was your errand boy, Al. Would you like me to fetch you some supper next?”

Or when they’re in the middle of class working on a new Potion

“Al, you think you could lend me an extra hand over here?”

“Sure, but I actually really fancy having two, ya know. And the blood would be a real bugger to get out of my robes.”

Albus doesn’t even know what a chair is anymore because he’s always sitting in Scorpius’ lap, regardless of where they are and who they’re in front of

There is so much unintentional PDA between the two of them it is unreal

The first time Scorpius kisses Albus on the cheek in public it’s a total accident

He was on his way to study but Albus had scored a detention for backtalking a Professor so he had to separate from him for a few hours

Without thinking, he just leans in and places a quick peck to Albus’ cheek

He doesn’t even realize what he’s done until he turns around and comes face to face with a wide eyed Rose

“Scorpius, did you just do what I think you just did?” Rose asks, bewildered.

Oh, both the boys are completely flustered

On any given afternoon Scorpius can be found curled up in one of Albus’ sweaters and his face buried into his chest/neck

Albus just pretends he’s not there or lightly rubs his back or runs his hands through his hair

When Scorpius goes through his “rebellious” phase about mid fourth year, he convinces Albus to pierce his ears at like midnight on a Tuesday

To make Scorpius stop crying, Albus pierces his too

You can only imagine the slightly mortified look on Ginny’s face (and the immensely proud one on Teddy’s) when Albus comes home for Christmas modeling black studs

Albus ends up liking it so much that by the end of the week he has Teddy pierce a second set of holes, as well as give him an industrial in his right ear

Scorpius finds it hot as hell

Albus is bad about leaving marks all over Scorpius at all the wrong times

For instance, the night that he had dinner over at the Malfoy’s for the first time, Scorpius had three dark purple kisses painted on his pale skin from just a few days prior

Draco was glaring at Albus througout the whole meal

You should’ve seen the look McGonagall gave him, he nearly thought he was going to turn to stone

Right before summer break their sixth year, Scorpius goes through a huge “I stan Teddy Lupin and everything he does” phase and decides he wants to dye his hair

Albus refuses to do it (he loves that diamond blonde way too much)

When he walks into his dorm room one day to find Teddy (“How the hell did you even get in here?”) knuckle deep in a bowl of neon blue hair dye, he nearly loses it, but they’re already halfway done so he had to let him finish

When they all leave Hogwarts a week later for summer vacation, Draco calls the Potter-Weasley household

“Potter!”

“What, Malfoy?” Harry nearly groans, blowing out a huff of air.

“Not you, the younger Potter, the one snogging my son. Put him on the phone, I need to ask why Scorpius’ hair is the color of a fruit loop.”

Albus and Draco have a very heated conversation about how they both absolutely cannot believe that Scorpius would do something like this

Scorpius is dying of laughter in the background the entire time

During their last year at Hogwarts, Albus shows up with a set of rings, each a simple silver band, one with a green gem and the other a diamond

Scorpius nearly cries when Albus gives him the green gem one during breakfast, full on kissing him in front of everyone in the Great Hall

“They’re the color of our eyes. Thought it might be nice to have,” Albus shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a blush painting the tips of his ears

They both wear them on the middle finger of their right hand (Albus’ is displayed quite often because of how much he flips Rose the bird)

The day of their graduation from Hogwarts, Scorpius cries

When Albus asks him what’s wrong, he nearly feels his entire heart shatter

“This doesn’t mean we’re over, does it? We’re not over just cause we’re done with school, are we? We’re still going to be together?”

Oh Albus is having none of that

“Of course, Scorp! You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Albus teases, kissing Scorpius over and over until the tears finally stop rolling down his cheeks

After they arrive back on platform 9 3/4, they’re inseparable.

Harry and Draco are losing their bloody minds with how much of the other’s son they’re seeing now

“God, Potter. You’d think he practically lived here.”

“I could say the same for yours, I might start charging him rent.”

One day while both the families are out together at a diner (it was Scorpius’ idea), Ginny makes the comment that if they just got a house of their own then it wouldn’t be a problem

She was joking, of course, but the boys took it 100% seriously

So about a month later they bought a small but nice house not too far from either of their parents

And it was there, in the middle of their newly furnished living room, that Albus proposed to Scorpius with another silver band

But this time, it went on his ring finger.

(These are the headcanons I was talking about hahah @ellavaneck)

#albus severus x scorpius #scorpius malfoy x albus potter #scorbus #scorpius malfoy #albus potter #scorpius x albus #albus x scorpius #harry potter next gen fic #harry potter next generation #scorbus headcanon #scorpius headcanon #albus severus headcanon

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bytheangell · 4 years

Text

Take Me With You

(For my @shadowhunterbingo square: Traveling | Jimon, Rated Teen, referenced alcohol but no archive warnings/other warnings) (Read on AO3) “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Simon insists. “It was one stupid letter.”

“The letter wasn’t stupid,” Jace says, already regretting his appointment to this job. “It was a death threat, by someone who’s sent multiple things to your unlisted apartment.”

“Well, no one knows where I live on the road, which is where I’ll be for the next three months,” Simon points out.

“Oh, yes, the total inability to track you from a list of cities you’re going to and the dates and times you’ll be there. You’re right, no one will ever find you that way,” Jace says, his tone dripping with sarcasm and more than a little condescending. Simon isn’t a no-name, but he isn’t famous-famous either, and Jace hoped that’d make him a little less awful to put up with than Jace’s usual high-profile assignments. So far it’s the opposite - Simon isn’t taking this seriously at all, which is somehow more frustrating than too much importance being put on minor perceived threats.

Simon sighs. “Fine.” It certainly doesn’t sound like he’s fine with it, but Jace isn’t here to argue. He’s here to do a job.

“Great,” Jace says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

---

That ends up being a complete lie. Of course, when Jace first imagined blending into the background of Simon’s tour life he hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Simon drove his own van, which would just be the two of them for extended periods of time.

Jace can tell that he’s putting a damper in the way Simon normally functions during his tours, mostly because he’s quiet while they drive. Then he’ll say something, start to ramble, catch himself rambling, and fall abruptly silent again in a repeating pattern.

“Sorry if I’m cramping your style,” Jace says after one of these repetitions, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background.

“You’re not,” Simon insists.

Jace is dubious. “What would you be doing if you were alone?” Jace asks.

Simon doesn’t even hesitate before answering, “Scream-singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. It’s like, my tried-and-true road trip routine.”

“...so do it. Don’t let me stop you,” Jace says.

“My manager hates it because he’s convinced one of these days I’ll end up losing my voice before a show. It’s probably for the best I’m not,” Simon says before falling silent again.

Jace doesn’t push it, nor does he comment when Simon starts to sing to a song that comes on about half an hour later, his voice growing louder and louder until all the windows are down and he’s shouting lyrics into the cool night air.

Jace has to fight the urge to join him. Normally he doesn’t have an issue staying focused on a job but Simon has this disarming way of making Jace want to relax around him. Somehow what he thought would be his easiest job to date continues to throw surprising complications his way.

Still, he keeps his mouth shut and enjoys Simon’s singing as they continue driving into the night.

---

Watching Simon with his fans is nerve-wracking. There’s no telling who might be a threat, not when everyone seems so down-to-earth, much like Simon himself. There aren’t any obviously obsessive fangirls and normal tells like knowing too many personal details is just the norm, with multiple people casually asking Simon about how his Bubbie Helen is doing or about the cat he left at home with Clary during his tour, or the most recent book he’s been reading and chatting about online. It’s difficult to pick out a potential stalker when everyone knows what Jace would typically consider more personal details than usual about Simon.

Jace watches these pre- and post-show encounters with a feeling more like he’s observing conversations between old friends rather than a musician and his fans, signatures and photo ops aside. Simon knows some of them by name, remembers birthdays mentioned over social media or live chats, and even recalls previous conversations. It’s impressive.

Dressed in plain clothes so he blends in with the crowd, Jace grows increasingly impressed with Simon the more time he spends with him. Plenty of people claim to be humble, but few often are in practice. Not Simon. Simon is everything he told Jace when they first met. He’s the same way with his fans that he is in private with Jace, which is the same way he is with his family and friends - Simon’s just, well, Simon, honestly and earnestly and unapologetically.

It’s refreshing. It’s also just another thing for Jace to push to the back of his mind, because he doesn’t need to like the guy - he just needs to protect him. Simon looks up from the table he’s signing CDs at and shoots Jace a beaming smile, and Jace has to actively force himself not to smile back and simply nod his head in acknowledgment instead.

“It’s an assignment, Herondale. Get your shit together,” Jace mutters to himself from the corner of the room. It’s a reminder he repeats more often over the upcoming weeks than he’s comfortable admitting.

---

“Please,” Jace begs after the first two weeks of shows. “I will pay for a better hotel. Let me pay for a better hotel.”

Simon is shaking his head in response before Jace finishes the request.

“Why?!” Jace glances critically around the room. “Do you want to get murdered in a shady motel? Just because I can keep you alive doesn’t mean we have to actively test it every night when we could have a door that doesn’t look like my 11-year-old brother could kick it in.”

“You have a brother?” Simon asks, ignoring everything else Jace said as he tosses his duffel bag (because Simon doesn’t even have a proper suitcase) onto a bed Jace feels the instinctive need to run a blacklight over.

Jace hesitates to answer because this is a job and he isn’t meant to share personal information about himself with his assignment. It’s strange because normally the people he’s tasked to protect are such self-absorbed assholes they barely spare Jace a second glance, let alone casual conversation.

He’s aware that the pause he takes after what should be a simple question is way too long when Simon frowns, brows pinching together.

“Two brothers, actually. One older, one younger, and a sister,” Jace finally decides to share. It’s all he intends on saying, not wanting to be rude and not answer at all, but when Simon brings up his own sister and keeps talking, keeps asking curious, harmless questions, Jace finds himself answering without thinking.

Simon is easy to talk to - maybe a little too easy to talk to, because the next thing they know it’s 1am and they need to be up and back on the road at 6.

“Get some sleep, Lewis,” Jace says finally, taking a few extra minutes to secure the door before doing one last perimeter sweep. When he gets back he pretends he doesn’t notice Simon, still awake, hastily close his eyes and pretend to sleep the second Jace gets back in the room.

---

After the third week, Jace insists that staying at nicer hotels is a matter of security and finally convinces Simon to pull into the parking lot of a proper hotel. One with room service instead of vending machines, plus a gym and a pool. Jace tells himself it’s a matter of security as well, and not a reaction to Simon complaining about having several nights of terrible sleep and some back and neck pain from the old, cheap mattresses.

Jace certainly doesn’t correct Simon’s assumption that this is covered in the contract when in reality Jace is fronting the extra cost himself. After all, this is as much for his own benefit as it is for Simon’s, right?

That’s what he tells himself as he opens up more around Simon as well, sharing a drink or two when Simon insists (never anything enough to impair his judgment, and only ever when they’re back in a room for the remainder of the night), telling a few more personal stories, and… flirting?

Jace isn’t sure, but occasionally when Simon impulsively runs into an ice cream shop in a new city and gets a cone for each of them, or points out a storefront display with a leather jacket he thinks Jace might like, or leans his shoulder into Jace while laughing at something sarcastic Jace says… yeah, sometimes Jace gets the feeling that Simon might actually like him.

Then Jace just as quickly tells himself that it’s just Simon being nice, because Simon is nice, and because of course Simon’s going to be on good terms with the guy he’s stuck with 24/7 for two months. Jace is working for Simon, and their relationship is strictly professional, however pleasant it may also be.

It’s that hard line Jace knows they won’t cross that allows him to continue to open up more, because Simon’s safe. He’ll never see the guy again when all of this is over.

“You’re a good person, Jace,” Simon says one night after a lengthy conversation.

“...what?” Jace isn’t expecting that.

“You know that, right?” Simon’s tone is just shy of insistent, and certainly not rhetorical.

“Why do you say that?” Jace asks instead of agreeing, because… well, because he doesn’t know that. He tries, but he’s made some shitty decisions in his past, and hurt a lot of people, intentionally or not. And Simon doesn’t even know him, so Jace really doesn’t know where this is coming from.

“Just… the way you talk about yourself sometimes. Like you always have something to prove, or make up for... or like you have to justify everything you say. Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t think very highly of yourself even when you’re acting like God’s gift to mankind,” Simon adds with more accurate insight than Jace is comfortable with.

And now Jace really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What are you, a philosopher now?” Jace mutters, still avoiding any sort of direct commentary on Simon’s way-too-close-to-home observation. “Go to sleep, Simon. I don’t need you too tired to focus on the road tomorrow.”

Simon looks like he’s going to argue but doesn’t in the end, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts in the newly settling silence of the hotel room.

It feels surprisingly pleasant to hear those affirmations from Simon, and Jace considers for the briefest moment what it’d be like to just be friends with Simon outside of their circumstances, to have these discussions and delve deeper into both of their pasts, humoring more of Simon’s personal questions and--

--and everything he can’t let this turn into over the next few weeks. Fuck.

Maybe there’s some harm in opening up after all.

---

They’re a little over halfway through the three-month tour when Jace realizes that perhaps his harmless crush on Simon is stronger than he realized. Jace watches from his usual spot in the corner as Simon signs CDs and sells band t-shirts and poses for photos, which is what he always does. But with every flirtatious laugh and every arm Simon drapes over someone’s shoulder or wraps around someone’s waist, Jace feels the desire to pull Simon away... and it isn’t because he’s in danger. It’s because Jace is jealous.

Jace grows sullen at the realization, arms crossed in front of him as he forces himself to watch Simon with his fans, because this is his job. The more he watches the more he doesn’t even think Simon realizes he’s doing it. Jace knows what active, intentional flirting looks like, but this is just Simon being his natural charming self, and Jace isn’t sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse.

Because it starts to dawn on him with a bit more meaning now that the way Simon’s been with him is the way Simon is with everyone. Jace just gets to experience it more often than everyone else right now. That doesn’t make their conversations special. It doesn’t make Jace anything special to Simon. And hell, maybe it’s just been a while since Jace spent this much time with someone else, too. Maybe he should work on writing off his own motivations as easily as he’s writing off Simon’s because his feelings are far from professional right now.

When the crowd disperses and Jace goes to help Simon wrap up his gear and load it back into the van (something that’s become routine for them, though not strictly in Jace’s list of expected duties) Jace is quieter than usual.

“Everything alright?” Simon asks, catching the shift in mood.

“Yeah. Fine,” Jace says curtly.

Simon doesn’t look like he believes him but doesn’t press the topic as they toss the last of the equipment into the van and head out.

---

The nicer Simon is toward him, the more closed-off Jace gets. He’s quiet during dinners Simon insists on paying for, stops sharing so much about himself when they do talk, and when Simon gives Jace a guitar pick he fashioned into a necklace for him Jace pockets it with a muttered ‘thanks’ without putting it on. He doesn’t have the heart to totally push Simon away, but he can’t keep growing closer to him knowing it’s all going to end in three weeks.

Jace wears the necklace every day but he keeps it tucked underneath his shirts where Simon can’t see.

Simon eventually stops trying to talk to him entirely, and they spend more and more time in uncomfortable silences. Sometimes Simon insists he needs privacy to work on his music and Jace sits at the end of the hallway of their hotel room listening to the faded sounds of Simon’s strumming.

There are three weeks left in Jace’s assignment when he gets the call that the police managed to track the letters to a girl back in New York: she’s in custody and getting a restraining order put against her, and Jace can come back as soon as he arranges transportation.

Jace hangs up the phone feeling surprisingly upset. This is great news for Simon, and he should be happy for him if nothing else, but that means this is the last night he’ll have to spend with Simon.

The last night he’ll get to spend with Simon.

“Hey Simon, good news. I just got a call from Luke and they tracked down your mystery stalker. You’ll get all the details once you’re back home but they’re already putting the restraining order into place, so you’re good to go.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Simon grins automatically, but it falls back into a frown just as quickly. “Does that mean you…?” his words trail off in question.

“I’ll be able to leave in the morning,” Jace confirms.

“Guess you’ll be happy to get out of here,” Simon says, his smile entirely gone.

“I do miss New York,” Jace carefully avoids the answer he knows Simon’s fishing for. The lie he should give, but can’t bring himself to.

Simon looks Jace up and down, his gaze finally resting on Jace’s face for a long couple of seconds, searching for something there before turning away without another word.

---

Jace knows he shouldn’t go to the show, but he does. He hangs in the back, a real drink in hand now that he’s no longer on duty, and listens to Simon sing the songs Jace knows by heart now. Jace knows from experience standing by the side of the stage that there’s no way Simon can make out any faces where Jace currently sits back by the bar. He plans on leaving before the end, before the lights come on and Simon knows he was there.

He’s a few drinks in when he hears Simon break his usual format.

“How does everyone feel about me trying out a new song I’ve been working on?” Simon asks. The crowd claps and cheers, and Jace shifts in his seat to fully face the stage. “This is a song about feeling a connection with someone, and not knowing when things went wrong, only that they did. And wondering if maybe it was all in your head the whole time...”

Jace feels his throat tighten at those words. He doesn’t have to be a genius to piece together the lyrics Simon starts to sing, fitting them to their lives the past few months, the hope of getting to know someone you’re starting to like, the confusion of being shut out, the uncertainty of wondering if they ever felt the same way you did or if they were just humoring you.

Jace knows Simon well enough to know that this isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.

Against his better judgment, Jace stays. He stays until the set is over and the lights come on and Simon looks out around the crowd and makes direct eye contact with him.

Because fuck it. He’s leaving in the morning, and if this is all for nothing then he’ll never see Simon again and it won’t matter. But if he’s right…

Jace hangs back, watching Simon smile and laugh and sign CDs and take photos, acutely aware of every time the musician’s eyes wander over to where Jace lingers by the bar. Outside of the fading buzz from the alcohol it almost feels normal: hanging back after the show, watching Simon and waiting for him to make his way over once the crowd disperses. Hell, even the butterflies in Jace’s stomach aren’t new.

“You’re here,” Simon says when he finally makes his way over. “I didn’t think you’d come, since… I mean…”

“I heard your new song,” Jace forces the words out before he can change his mind. “I’d say I liked it, but that seems like the wrong response from the guy who made you think you did something wrong.”

“Not everything is about you,” Simon argues, but the intent falls flat beneath the nervous tremor the words are spoken with.

“No,” Jace agrees easily. “But that song is.”

Simon hesitates, then sighs. “It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for not liking me, Jace. You were doing your job, that’s-”

“No. I’m sorry I was going to leave without telling you that I like you. I thought I’d leave and you’d never see me again, that it’d be pointless to get attached. I thought you were just… being nice. Because you’re a good person.” The words spill out of Jace before he can overthink them.

“You like me,” Simon repeats incredulously. “That totally makes sense with, you know, the way you completely stopped talking to me.”

Jace can hear the anger in Simon’s voice and winces slightly. Just because it’s entirely deserved doesn’t make it easier to hear.

“I figured it’d be easier to walk away once this was all over if we weren’t as friendly.” It’s still a shitty thing to have done, and Jace wouldn’t blame Simon for holding it against him. But after hearing that song he couldn’t walk away with Simon thinking it was over anything he did wrong. No matter the cost to Jace’s pride, Simon deserves that much. “And… maybe I was a little afraid that if I got much closer I’d want to cross a line I knew I couldn’t.”

“So you felt it too?” Simon’s words and expression are full of so much hope that Jace almost panics again. What if he isn’t half the person Simon thinks he is after getting to know him in this little bubble of theirs from the past few months? What if he messes this up?

...what if he doesn’t?

“I did,” Jace finally admits. “I still do. And I know I probably ruined any chance I had before, but if I haven’t fucked things up too badly, maybe once you’re back in New York we could meet up for coffee?”

Simon smiles, brighter than the house lights that fill the small venue now.

“Or… or you could stay with me for the last few shows? I wasn’t just being nice for the sake of being nice - I like you, Jace. I changed my hotel routine for you! I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I don’t know if you have to go back right away for work, or something, but if you don’t I definitely wouldn’t mind the company. Your company.”

Jace considers it for a few long moments, then nods. It’s fitting, he thinks, to drop the formalities and the professional distance in the same setting he started to fall for Simon in. The same setting in which Simon started to fall for him, despite Jace’s best efforts to dissuade him, only this time with no excuses to hold him back. And if Simon’s willing to give him an actual shot after everything, he’d be a fool not to take it.

“Well, I can’t very well leave you to lug all your equipment around by yourself, can I?” Jace says, smiling. “Let me check back in with the office tomorrow morning but I don’t have anything scheduled. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

There’s a pause then, the air between them filled with an almost electric buzz of anticipation. Simon takes the first step closer, bridging the gap between them. There’s no questioning what Simon’s thinking when his eyes dart down to Jace’s lips and back up to meet his gaze again before speaking.

“Can I-”

Before Simon can finish, Jace’s lips are already on his in response. It’s slow and tentative, with each of them feeling the other out, but it’s nice. It’s really nice. When they pull away after a few moments Simon can’t keep the smile off his face. “That was even better than I imagined.”

Jace quirks an eyebrow, smirking fully now. “You imagined us kissing?”

“Shut up and help me load the van.”

The familiar banter and Simon’s easy smile are such an immediate comfort for Jace that he can’t help the light laugh he gives in response. As Simon looks back at Jace it’s with an expression so soft and full of kindness that Jace knows now isn’t the same look he reserves for everyone else.

Jace knows it’s a look reserved only for him this time - and with any luck, for many more times to come.

#jimon #jace herondale #simon lewis #shadowhunters #tsc #hmdiscord #ShadowhunterBingo #a birthday gift for cor! because no one loves Jimon quite like her <3 #I hope you like it!#long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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stressedspidergirlsfandomblog · 4 years

Text

So like mild book spoilers I guess but the legend is all that the Witcher will come back from (Avalon) the land of apple trees if he's ever needed.

So imagine, modern day is happening. Let's say the Continent was Europe. Wherever you want. Imagine that Dandelion is reincarnated. Ciri can hop time and place, so she could just show up. And in the books Yen is with Geralt already.

So imagine Dandelion showing them around (Ciri has already visited) and they do things like treat Geralt to all sorts of foods and experiences and it's just mind blowing.

Yennefer laughing when they try ice cream for the first time. Geralt being shocked to see people of all genders showing PDA. But not like at a party, people just smooching on a street corner.

Finding out with super senses that sour candy is truly horrible - to Ciri's delight and endless laughter.

Fried food.

Modern plumbing.

Electricity and libraries that anyone can access. Doctors who treat everyone. (Well. It's a magical scenario so we can pretend right?)

Like they can't even be mad they were pulled out of the Summerlands for this because so much stuff is neat.

Geralt losing his mind at an action film fight scene not being realistic. Driving Dandelion up the wall with his articulate and complete explanation of why that would literally never happen.

Holding hands in public. Lil cheek kisses and things. Excitement to try new foods. Being the history/philosophy nerd he is, spending hours at the library reading and catching up.

Of course, hunting monsters.

Zoos. Geralt talks about how he's heard of zebras but never seen one,(book canon) so imagine Dandelion taking him to the zoo and he just loses his mind. The petting area cracks him up because it's lame farm animals. And he's like no thanks.

The little ocean petting area is neat bc most of his ocean experiences include monsters. And while the octopus watching them in it's tank is freaky AF the little pettable sharks are pretty cool.

Just imagine them all having a nice day together, and living in a cozy flat or small home that has enough space. And Ciri pranking Geralt a lot with him basically going "that sounds wrong but I don't know enough about it to dispute it."

Imagine them all going to a monster movie or watching a show like Buffy and Geralt thinking it's a comedy because that's not how monsters work at all.

Or a horror film and he's just disgusted by all the fake blood and mistaken details and cannot stop complaining: If she had just gone right. Or picked up the knife. that blood splatter is ridiculous. People like this shit?

And modern Dandelion of course goes by Jaskier or Julian depending on how well he knows people. He plays his lute sometimes, his guitar others, his keyboard others. He's working on a doctorate at uni where he student teaches and loves it. He also routinely has small gigs with some friends all around town. In summer he travels more and plays in other areas.

Yennefer still dresses like Yennefer but in a modern vibe.

Geralt (book) still wears all black but he is very attached to soft shirts and jeans with plenty of give for range of motion. He likes hoodies, too, thinking of plenty of miserable winters spent freezing his ass off. He still wears his gloves a lot, and is weird about strangers touching him. He's still Geralt but he's very excited about nature documentaries and gets livid about history ones talking about aliens building things he saw built. Or people desecrating graves.

"you want monsters? Curses? This is how you unleash curses Dandelion!"

"We know, Geralt, we know." *Patpat*

*angry/indignant spluttering*

He deeply enjoys modern medicine when he gets sick for the first time. Other than the taste which leaves him spitting and wondering if Ciri is fucking with him again. She isn't, but she did so film it for the views. She adapts fine to modern life, having shown up before. She still goes back to her own timeline and place here and there but overall stays with her family.

Geralt's other favorite invention might be the washing machine and dryer. Since he keeps getting his clothes dirty hunting down monsters "just couldn't leave the graves alone they said. Might have artifacts they said. Fucking idiots" he no longer has to rinse them in streams and put them on wet, he can come home, strip, dump them into the washer on the setting that rinses extra, and then take a shower. Come back, put them in the dryer and have them warm and in his hands again in less than an hour.

Yennefer doesn't wear a lot of clothes that can go in the machine but she appreciates how pleased Geralt is about it all. And if she's being honest on chilly nights she puts their blankets in the dryer before bed so it'll be warmer.

Dandelion feels more at home with them around. He's happier. His students notice his hulking boyfriend coming to visit and bringing his daughter. She's super hot but has a really bad scar on one side of her face that twists her mouth a little so she keeps her hair over it. Any time Geralt or Dandelion see someone staring at her they mean mug the shit out of them.

The students are deeply confused when they catch their student teacher making out with his boyfriend but later see said boyfriend come in with a dark haired woman he holds hands with and kisses a lot. Speculation runs rampant and so do rumors.

It upsets the status quo even more when Yen comes alone once and they hug and touch and kiss some, and a few students see it. A few smart ones figure it out and some hate her and some hate Geralt because they can't figure out who's cheating on who.

End of year some brave soul asks which one he's dating and he's like ??? Both??? (Even if Geralt is usually the buffer between them bc he gets far less annoyed about the little things when people think aliens built Kaer Morhen. Fucking stupid! - so he doesn't much care whose coffee cup got left out. It's not his, it's too bitter. And there's pills with just as much stimulant so why drink something that tastes so bad?)

Also please imagine them trying to explain to Geralt why he can't wear athletic wear 24/7. Like no you cannot wear sweat pants at all times. No you can't wear skin tight underarmour I don't care about your range of movement people are staring at you. You wear this to work out in. no, you cannot wear tight pants made for running out and about especially without a jock strap c'mon man.

Please wear jeans and a normal t-shirt.

Also can I just say: therapists now exist.

#gerlion #yenneralt #yenralt #geraskefer #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon

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my-fanfic-library · 5 years

Note

Hello lovely!! Would you mind doing headcanons for Professor!Claes x reader? Maybe he teaches history or something like that and you both have a nice lil affair going on after a while. I saw your tags on that one gif set and now that's all I can think about 👀

This is gonna be the only ask I answer today but holy shit I haven’t stopped thinking about this in like 24 hours

K so

Claes is most definitely a history lecturer

I don’t know why but I imagine his entire class to be similar to Indiana Jones’

Just a bunch of girls looking at him like the heart eyes emoji

Anywho, Claes is like the coolest lecturer in the world

He’s really laid back and he likes to take the piss out of people

He also handles a lot of seminar groups as well

Which is how you meet

He saw you in the first lecture and was kinda like “wow cute” but obviously nothing could happen

But when you come to his seminar group

And start bombarding him with question after question and disproving the content he had taught you so far,

L o v e

And obviously you are totally in love with him too

This tall, handsome man teaching your favourite subject, with the loveliest accent in the world

You stay after the seminar to talk to him

And he’s blown away by how much you actually know

“I’m looking forward to teaching you, Miss [Last], I think we’re going to get into a few heated moments if you keep attempting to disprove my work.”

You thought he meant arguments

He did not

You always make sure to ask a question if he invites the class to, because it makes things less awkward

And you always have a question or two at the end of the lecture

He can’t believe he’s got this golden student

And he uses you as an example all the time

“Why can’t you guys be as enthusiastic as [First]?”

Stuff like that

It kinda becomes obvious to both yourself and everyone else that Professor Bang has quite a soft spot for you

Some girls, despite being in their early 20s give you nasty looks

You respond by sitting next to Claes in your seminar the next day

And doing no work and getting into no trouble for it

Instead you talk about Denmark

Because you’re curious about his home country

It is this seminar

During the middle of your first year

That Claes just falls head over heels for you

But it’s

F O R B I D D E N

Which makes it all the sweeter

Later that year, about two weeks before the exam, you show up at his office just as he’s about to leave

“What’s the matter?”

Immediately you just burst into tears and he has no clue what to do

So he does what he thinks best

He pulls you into him and you just stand there sobbing into him for like a solid five minutes unable to make a coherent sentence in your sudden outburst

When you’re calming down, he brings you into his office and sits you down and is all “ok so what the fuck is going on?”

You explain that you’re just too overwhelmed with everything and that you don’t feel ready for the exam

So he offers one to one tutoring up until the exam (so for two weeks, you’d visit him after class and you’d sit for like an hour and go through everything you didn’t get)

Turns out you knew a lot more than what you thought

The more time that Claes spends with you, the more he wants.

So. Much. Tension.

Because you want it, and so does he, but you’re both oblivious and thinking about how wrong it is

So nothing happens except for a few gazes, a few lingering touches

He’s actually pretty gutted the day of the exam when he realises you won’t be coming back for some secret time with him

He spends his entire summer thinking about you

Wondering if you’ll make it into his class

When he finds out you are, booyyyyy is so happy

He doesn’t know why but on the first day of classes, he finds himself dressing up a bit. Styling his hair, throwing on his glasses, a soft scarf, leaving the first two buttons of his shirt undone

He doesn’t even know if he’ll see you today but fuck

And he does

Your complexion is glowing after so many months in the sun and the heat

Your hair grew out a bit

You look angelic

He finds himself unable to concentrate and keeps fumbling over his words for the whole lecture

Because you decided to sit at the front and

He keeps looking at you

And your eyes never leave him

Because he looks so good?

You couldn’t remember when he looked so fucking delicious

After the lecture, he asks you to stay and wait for a moment and the room clears out

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this but

“Did you have a good summer?”

“Yeah, I guess. We went to Majorca for four weeks and-“

“I missed you.”

“Oh, that’s... Professor Bang-“

“It’s Claes.”

You literally have 0 clue how to answer that

Your mind is spinning

He missed you?

He wants you to call him by his first name?

Your heart is doing leaps and bounds by this point

He’s looking at you differently, licking his lips

And then they’re on yours

It’s hungry - it’s different

Your hands are in his hair, on his neck, you’re leaping into his arms, wrapping your legs around him and he’s driving you into the desk

The next day, you keep looking at that spot, where someone’s notebook is

You’re smirking, trying not to laugh because that poor person is writing right on the spot where you fucked your professor last night

Claes keeps looking at you and you know by his eyes that he wants you to stay after class

It ends and everyone leaves and the second the door shuts, you’re in his arms again

It’s a frenzy

Clothes off, and this time he’s got you arched over the desk, hands gripping into the chair behind it, ramming into you from behind.

And that is how it started

School nights, weekends, you’d find each other one way or another and you couldn’t get your hands off of each other

Post-sex cuddles

Where you just talk

He usually runs his hands through your hair, with the fondest smile on his face

It starts to get hard when other guys start to get interested in you

Because you can’t exactly tell anyone that you’re with someone - you’d get thrown out and Claes would lose his job

So, you have to play

You have to flirt back

Claes loses it

The sex gets rougher

The hickeys grow darker and bigger

One time, he got so frustrated that he sat you on the podium after a lecture and ate you out

He finds himself realising that he doesn’t just want to fuck you - he’s actually fallen in love with you

And you’re fairly sure that you’re in love with him

That summer, he whisks you off to Denmark

Best trip of your life???

He loves teaching you all the history of his home country, taking you everywhere he possibly can

Car sex

Sex on the beach

And even in a hidden corner of a museum

It’s like the honeymoon phase doesn’t end

And then the worst thing happens

One of your classmates is in Copenhagen for their own little trip

They see you with Claes in a cafe, kissing his cheek, holding his hand

They immediately report it (literally out of spite because who tf wouldn’t want to date Claes, come on, and they were high key jealous)

And when uni starts up again, a huge inquiry is undergoing

Both you and Claes are pretty much interrogated - they check your phones, they see if you have each other on social media, they check your emails, trying to find a n y t h i n g

And you agree afterwards that this can’t go on

It’s too risky to visit him outside of the university

And so it all has to stop

You’re a wreck

Because being with Claes was the happiest you had been in so long

You start dating someone new

And Claes almost quits

Your final year drags

Because you have to sit there

Looking at him

Being so close to him

But feeling the eyes of the other lecturer sent to sit in and watch and make sure no funny business was happening

One night, you go out and get just a little tipsy and find yourself at his home, throwing rocks at his bedroom window

He comes out and tells you to leave as much as it pains him to do so

You tell him you feel like dropping out, of you can’t have him then nothing matters

And he brings you inside

You don’t get any sleep, he fucks you over and over until your body is numb and your brain is nothing but a swirling mess of him

He ignores you after that

You find yourself transferred out of his classes and instead, you’re placed into professor Wells’ classes

You’re livid with him

How could he move you out of his classes after everything you’ve been through together?

You purposefully have him find you in public spaces with your new partner, a little closer than what would be accepted

He’s going stir crazy. He can’t stop thinking about the last night you spent together and how badly he needs to be with you again even if it costs him a job

Your graduation is suddenly upon you and it’s so bittersweet

You have finally gotten what you worked so hard for, but you will most likely never see Claes again now

Wrong

As you’re making your way off vampire for the last time, clutching your diploma, laughing with your friends, a voice calls your name

You turn, and he’s pushing past people to get to you

He reaches you and he has this dumb smile on his face, and then he says the stupidest yet most romantic thing

“Technically you’re not my student”

And he kisses you

In front of all of your friends, family, all of your former classmates, other teachers, everyone

He doesn’t even care

His hands are holding your face, pulling you close and you have to go on your tiptoes, in your damn heels, just to be able to wrap your arms around his neck

He promptly gets fired

But he doesn’t care because he’s waking up the next morning with you sleeping beside him and he feels like he’s won at life

#i think i went overboard with this one???#Authors AU Hour #hi i like drama #lmao #claes bang #claes bang x reader #claes bang x you #claes bang fanfiction

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pro-bee · 4 years

Text

the road less traveled

Note: I cooked this up in the last 24 hours to try to work through some writer’s block on my post-reunion WIP. So this is a bit of a stream of consciousness mess, but if I don’t post this now, I’m gonna chicken out and all my other ideas are going to go PFFT. Also, this is inspired by all the discourse you guys have been floating around lately so it’s your fault.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Nada. Generally season 17. Possibly AU depending on how you look at things. (Also assumes Summer of Secret Sex happened don’t start with me)

Relationships: Implied Tiva. Vague mentions of Bishop/Torres. General team bonding.

Words: 1700

Summary: Sometimes a case hits a little too close to home. Sometimes it makes people want to do something about it.

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

“How could they have known that they each had feelings for each other for so long and not done anything about it?! That had to have been torture!”

Bishop has been on a rant since their team got to their table at their favorite watering hole, decompressing after yet another wild case that has prodded at more than a few wounds between them. It was a story of star-crossed lovers, who held back on their feelings for one another for fear of ruining their friendship (and losing their jobs), until one made a tragic mistake and the other paid for it. One of those times where they get no satisfaction out of getting their suspect, because of the chaos left in its wake.

“Don’t ask me. I have been in love with the same man since I was 23 and I still haven’t fully figured it out.”

Ziva’s unexpected candor (and unexpected help in the investigation) catches the younger agent off-guard; she wasn’t counting on things taking such a personal turn. Bishop gives her a sad smile, though the answer clearly isn’t the one she necessarily wants to hear at the moment. Torres shifts nervously in his seat across the table from her, unclear on where this conversation is headed, on edge the way he is whenever he’s around his predecessor.

The admission gives McGee pause, but maybe this isn’t the time to press. “It’s funny, looking at us all now, with families of our own, I can’t imagine having to wait that long to finally be with the person you love. I mean, waiting for years just to act on your attraction…”

“Oh, we definitely acted on it,” she offers in typical Ziva bluntness. “We just failed to follow through on any of it.”

McGee nearly chokes on his drink at the revelation. The wheels start to spin in his head, his eyebrows creased in confusion, as he pieces it together at lightning speed.

“You guys were sleeping together?!”

“I mean, not the whole time,” her hand waves around on its own, as if to punctuate the sentence, “But… some of the times, yes.”

“Like when?!”

“Now look who is butting in! I would expect that from Tony, but you?” She tsks at him, with mock sternness, until she notices the desperation in his eyes as his world seems to have turned upside down. “Okay, fine… Like… Like, when Gibbs retired, for instance.”

(“Gibbs retired?” “When did this happen?” their newer counterparts interject in unison, but their curiosity goes unanswered in the firestorm happening around them.)

“Back then?! That was… Ziva that almost fifteen years ago! You guys have been together for fifteen years?!”

“No! That is my whole point! We were not together together. We were just… what do you say? Letting out air?”

“Blowing off steam?”

“Yes! That!” Her own drink nearly flies off the table.

“Wait, that means— How did you keep it a secret for so long?!”

“I knew!” Palmer offers helpfully.

“I am fairly certain everyone knew, eventually.”

“No way! Gibbs didn’t.”

“Gibbs definitely knew,” she snorts at the memory of being on the receiving end of his beady stare one morning when she and her partner were just a hair more heated in their bickering than usual, even for them.

“And you lived to tell the tale?!” Surely Boss would have banished them to desk duty, or worse yet, Inventory, if he found out they were hot bunking.

“I believe it was a case of don’t ask, don’t tell. Besides, it’s not like it affected our work.”

“True, you two were just as unprofessional as always.”

She flings her discarded crumpled straw wrapper at him.

His mind still reels, though.

“How— how did I not know that my best friends were hooking up behind my back?!”

“McGee!” she lilts, stretching his name out like a song in the way only she does, “You cannot be serious! You wrote a whole book about us! Several, in fact!”

“For the last time, Tommy and Lisa were not about you and Tony! Those books were works of fiction!”

“Oh come on McGee,” pipes in Torres, who had until now tried his best to find any escape from this forced socialization. “Even I knew that! And I’ve never even read your books.”

“Or a book, period,” his partner mutters into her glass.

“How do you even know about—?”

“Bishop,” he shrugs.

“Ellie!”

“What?! It’s not like it’s a secret, Tim.”

“It’s personal! And again, Tommy and Lisa are fictional.”

Bishop and Torres roll their eyes in unison.

“Well, then, you must have psychic powers in addition to your keen observational skills as an agent,” she teases, with only a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She can’t believe they’re really hashing out their scars in the open like this, but it is a brave new world.

McGee finally shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, and even she can’t help the grin stretching across her face. Old friends, indeed.

She takes a breath and grounds herself back to reality, reminded again of the point she was trying to make in the first place. “What I am trying to say is that it is so easy to get caught up in your own fears when it comes to matters of the heart. You get so scared that you are not enough, that you are going to upset whatever it is between you, and that when you inevitably mess it all up, and you will, that you are going to ruin the one good thing you have. So you lie to yourself that you do not have it and that it does not mean anything.”

“Are we talking about you or the petty officer now?”

“Both,” she answers with a hint of a wistful smile. McGee returns with his own expression of sympathy, fully aware of all those twists and turns that have led to where his friends are now.

The group sits in companionable silence for a spell, the weight of the week’s case lifting, only to be replaced with familiar exhaustion.

Ziva feels a buzz coming from her pocket, reminding her that, yes, these matters do come to a close somehow.

- Having fun on a school night?

- Going down memory lane with the team.

- The good ones, I hope?

- They are now. :-) Just about done, heading home soon.

- Can’t wait. Kiddo’s asleep. ;-) Love you.

McGee across the table notices the way her eyes crinkle as she glances at her screen. Once again, he is grateful for these small mercies they’ve been granted. How this story eventually got the happy ending it deserved.

“Well, this has been fun, but it is getting late and I should get home.” She pushes herself off the seat and grabs her coat, untangling her curls from the collar as she twists her arms through the sleeves. “I will see you all soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m beat too,” Torres chimes in, “I’ll walk you out.”

The gang exchange goodnights and talk to you laters, with only the faintest of intrigue from Bishop as her partner, who is not known for his chivalrous nature, follows Ziva out the door.

Standing face to face now, at their full height, Ziva narrows her own eyes at the man, seeing right through him and daring him to come out with it, already.

“Ziva, what you said in there… Is that why you keep pushing me about Bishop?”

She stares at her feet for a second and breaks into a genuine grin now.

“Ah, he finally catches on.”

He breathes in, swallowing his nerves with every gulp of air reaching his lungs. She supposes it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“Look, Agent Torres, if there is anything I have learned throughout all of this, it is that time is the most precious resource we have. I know that it sounds like a cliché, believe me, but it is the truth. When I think about all the time Tony and I wasted over the years… It was not worth it.”

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out, right?”

“Yes, it has,” she presses her lips together in a regretful smile. “But it very nearly did not. We missed out on so much, I missed out on so much, and it was all because I let fear get the best of me. I liked to tell myself that I was not scared of anything, when really, I was scared of everything.”

Torres absorbs the confession with appropriate gravity.

“Nick, do not let fear rule you. I promise you, whatever happens, taking that chance is worth the risk. I wish I had had the courage much sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”

He glances through the blinds in the window at the object of this discussion, only for Ellie to catch his eye at that moment. They each avert their gaze on opposite sides of the pane, feeling decidedly like the suspects they’ve just interrogated, without fully understanding why.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You are a smart man. You will figure it out. You bested me, did you not?” It’s his turn to laugh, and she answers in turn. Maybe she has gotten through to him, after all.

She reaches out to gently pat his elbow. “Take care, Agent Torres.”

With that, she takes her leave and heads down the street towards her car, the heels of her boots clicking down the sidewalk with every step, leaving Nick to reflect on her words of wisdom. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed. With one last look into the bar, he turns in the opposite direction in search of his own vehicle, more confused than ever. Yet somehow he knows that the former agent is right.

What he doesn’t realize as he turns his back is that Bishop takes one last look at him, Ziva’s words ringing in her ears as well. That maybe blazing the road not travelled is not as scary as it may seem.

- Bishop, you’ve got a big mouth. See you tomorrow.

She grins at her phone in spite of herself. Maybe that’s a thought for another day.

#my fanfiction #ziva david #can i tag this as tiva fanfiction?#i mean not really cause they aren't technically there #but i mean everything i write is tiva lmao #i don't even know what this is but i blame all of you #also i don't know anything about torres and bishop #so i just made assumptions #🤷‍♀️

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madibyrd · 4 years

Photo

TASK #001: THE LAST NORMAL DAY • broken promises

Flight 441 disappeared on October 16th, Friday, but Madi hasn’t heard about it until the following day, well into Saturday. She got home around 6:30am after finishing a 24 hours shift, remembered to send her sister a message that she wouldn’t be able to make it later to their house to lunch, apologizing for it profoundly, and then knocked out and slept a good twelve hours because she was exhausted. It was a long, hard shift, one of the roughest she’s had in months, constant calls through both the day and night with barely a moment to rest, and she needed to refuel herself.

She woke up to an empty house - Talia was off on some conference being awesome -, and a whole bunch of angry messages from her sister along with several missed calls. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with Liz, but she also knew the more she pushed off the call, the angrier her sister would get, so she let out a long breathe, headed to the kitchen to make herself a coffee and called her sister.

“You promised, Madison, you promised you’d come over for lunch and try out Jake’s soup, he was so excited for you to try it.” No hello, no greeting, and Liz even called her Madison. She really was pissed. She turned on the coffee maker to do its magic and then moved to the living room to turn on the news.

“I promised I would try, Liz, that is what I promised. If my shift went okay and I could get some sleep. I didn’t get any, I literally just woke up.”

“You could have set an alarm.”

“And be a useless sack of potatoes when I go over? You know how I am when I don’t get a proper amount of sleep. It was a really hard shift, Liz, I swear, there were several pretty brutal accidents that we were called to, one of them had a whole family... anyway, aside from those, there were two fires as well and two freaking prank calls that lead to nowhere just us in gear going to the furthest of our district when we could have used that time at least to rest. And this was just the night of the shift, don’t even get me started on the rest of the 24 hours. if I could have, I would have made it over there.”

There was a long pause from the other end of the phone.

“No sleep at all?”

“None until I got home,” Madi promised.

A sigh. “Okay, maybe I forgive you, but you’ll still have to make amends with Jake. Starting with trying out his soup. And groveling a little.”

“Give him the phone and I’ll start, but that kid loves me way too much to need that much groveling.” Which really only made it worse, but she even told Liz not to promise anything to her nephew, so if she said anything more than a really weak maybe, it was on her, as far as Madi was concerned. Not that it would stop her from apologizing to Jake, but still.

“He’s out in the garden playing with...” Liz jumped into a long explanation about what Madi’s nephew was doing, but Madi was not listening to any of it, because when she looked up at the tv, all she saw was the flashing headline - “Tragic plane crash - plane still nowhere found”. She quickly turned the volume on and tried to listen, but with Liz in her ears, it wasn’t the easiest of moments. “Liz, sorry to cut you off, but... what is this plane thing they are talking about on the news?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear before? A plane full of people was heading to LA from... not really sure where, some European city, and then it just vanished. Nobody knows what happened or what happened to them, but they didn’t arrive in LA. Everyone’s freaking out.”

“Yeah, I can imagine...”

Madi got her coffee and chatted a little bit longer with her sister, but she wasn’t really there in the head, she kept losing focus to watching the news and trying to figure out what more there is to know about this accident. She didn’t know anyone on the flight, she knew that - Talia would only be flying back home the next day and nobody else she knew or were close to were planning flying anywhere anytime soon - but still, it wouldn’t leave her mind. To the point where after a couple of hours (which included trying to distract herself and talking to her nephew, promising him that she would try his soup soon), she reached for her phone to text her coworker about the flight, that turned into a phone call that turned into the two of them googling if there were any need for volunteers to go and help with the search.

They found a phone number, they called it, and in less than an hour they were already set to fly to LA, from where the boat they would be on would leave. Their boss wasn’t happy about the development, but he also understood the sentiment, and it wasn’t the first time one of his firefighters went off to volunteer somewhere else. They would make it it work.

The harder conversation for Madi was her family - her parents already didn’t like that her profession included running into burning buildings and risking her own life. They’ve accepted it at this point with grumbles and occasional suggestions to other jobs (her mom’s pitches really were ridiculous, “I’ve heard tv reporters got hundreds of thousands of dollars yearly. Madi, my dear, you love talking, don’t you think that would be a fine job for you?”), but they didn’t like the idea of Madi putting herself in other type of danger, even though Madi insisted she wouldn’t actually be in danger. She would be on a boat, she wouldn’t do the actual dive work, she’d just help out whenever she could (technically she didn’t know what her job would be, but if she said that, her parents would imagine her dangling feets above the water on a hook without any safety, and nobody wanted that). They ended the call on “let’s talk about this more tomorrow” and Madi told them she’d call them from LA. They were not happy about it at all.

Her sister was... both more and less understanding. She was mostly annoyed she’d have to tell a 9 years old her auntie would have to disappear for a while and no, he wouldn’t be able to come over or play with her. And then turned on the worried sister mode and made Madi promise that she would be careful and not do anything stupid like jump into the water to save somebody. Madi did promise. Her best friend simply made her promise to bring her some souvenire and told her that she admired her for wanting to do this and then they spent the rest of the call talking about the guy she was seeing and how she got to a whole new level on one of the video games she was playing at the time that Madi didn’t understand but liked listening to her friend talk about it.

The last conversaion, and weirdly the one that she was both the most anxious and not at all about was Talia. She didn’t call her, she just sent a text - neither of them were really the calling type, and they very rarely actually talked, usually just texted.

[Madi]: So, I’m not going to be home for a while... [Talia]: What have you done? [Madi]: I might have volunteered on one of the rescue teams for that flight that disappeared, did you see that? Or were you too wrapped up in your historical facts? [Talia]: Madiiiiii [Madi]: Yes, that’s my name, though I usually use a lot less i’s :P [Talia]: Your desire to act like a hero can be quite annoying sometimes, you know [Talia]: I was looking forward to a chill night on the couch tomorrow, watching some dumb movie [Talia]: But I guess you’ve already decided, right? [Madi]: Yeah, I fly out to LA tomorrow. We’re just missing each other [Talia]: Somebody is gonna write a book about you and they are going to interview me and I will tell them about that time you got home at 3am and spent an entire hour singing itsy bitsy spider on the foot of my bed, crying about how much spiders are misunderstood and mistrusted even though they are the cutest things on the planet [Madi]: HEY! [Talia]: I know, I know, it’s bees [Talia]: And speaking of them, I won’t have to deal with them, right? [Madi]: Nope, I’m gonna check on them before I leave, they can take care of themselves while I’m gone, you don’t have to go anywhere near them [Talia]: You’re amazing [Madi]: Now tell me about your super historical, super nerdy presentation, did it go okay?

They chatted for a little while longer, Madi happily hearing about Talia’s presentation, being so proud of her. She might have not been there to see it, but she was sure Talia rocked it. And they could celebrate when they would be both back in Boston.

It was evening by the time she was done with everything, and she ate some leftovers from the fridge, watched a sitcom episode on Netflix, and then went to bed early. She wasn’t in the mood for anything else, she was excited to help in something so huge and curious what she would have to do, what kind of job she would be trusted upon. The next day she flew to LA with her partner and spent the remaining of her days on the boat, searching and searching for the disappeared plane without any kind of luck before the fateful accident happened and she’d end up on Meridium.

What she didn’t realize on this Saturday night is that these interactions would become the last she had with them. She talked to Talia and her sister during the trip, and she exchanged a couple of LA memes with her best friend, but there was no end, no goodbye, no finality to any of it. Promises, however, of her return that much more. And all of them would be broken the moment she washed ashore on the sandy beach of Meridium.

#normal #stranded task 1 #task #task 1: the last day #this is mostly just a ramble of a day #i just had some fun with her family and her connections from the real world #and it was really fun to write lol #also click on the pics to see them better #the lock looks super weird already idk why and without clicking the texts are kinda hard to see #also the times are supposed to be in pm #but i just realized i fucked those up now that i posted them #and i can't exactly go back and fix them #sooooooo they will stay lol #ft. talia #ft. liz

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theoneandonlyameliajones · 4 years

Text

Out of Sync (Part 2 of 2)

Summary:

Deku and Ochako have been married for the past 8 years and have two wonderful kids. Too bad marriage isn't easy. Ever since Deku lost his quirk two years ago, he's been in a slump. He's now a stay at home dad while Ochacko is a very popular pro-hero. The downside? Her agency works her so hard that she's barely home. Basically, Deku and Ochako realize it takes more than love to make a relationship and family work.

Uravity finally lost the battle with her supervisor. If she wanted to succeed then she had to comply with her agency's goals. She found the whole situation a little funny, this was never the life she imagined for herself. She always wanted to become a great hero and make enough money to support her family, which she could now do. She never expected the fame though, it was a little surreal. The feeling was intoxicating at first, but now she just felt hungover. The world was watching her though, so she didn’t have much of a choice but to comply with her agency’s requests.

“You okay?” she was so stuck in her head that she didn’t even notice Shinsou come into her office.

“Yeah,” she shook her head back into the moment. “I’m just a little tired, today was...chaotic.”

“Isn’t every day chaotic for the famous Uravity?” he joked, but there was truth in his words. Work felt like such a chore lately for Ochako.

“You’re probably right,” she forced a laugh. She wondered how other heroes were able to deal with the stress so gracefully. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” nodded Shinsou. He juggled an apple between his hands and sat on the empty chair in front of her.

“How do you keep a work-life balance? I mean you have a kid and marriage too.” Ochako knew that Shinsou and Kaminari adopted a 5-year old this past year and neither seemed to struggle too much with the balance, at least not as much as she did.

“Well it isn’t easy, but we take shifts and make sure we can spend time with her. The hardest thing is probably spending time with each other though. Date night once a week is essential. It’s also important to keep intimate if you know what I mean.” Shinsou said as he took a cheeky bite of his apple.

“Lucky you,” Ochako buried her face in her hands. When was the last time she and Deku had sex? She couldn’t even remember and it’s not like they had gone on many dates recently either. She wished she had the time, but right now she could barely spend any time with her kids let alone be intimate with her husband.

“To be fair, they don’t slave drive me. I’m not the agency star, so I get off the hook pretty easily. A 40-hour workweek, most of which is nighttime patrols, affords me way more free time than you get. I even get two days off a week,” explained Shinsou.

“I don’t know what to do about it,” huffed Ochako. At this point what could she do? They wanted her to work even more hours now. If she didn’t then there was no way she could make Japan’s top 10 in the next hero ranking. “They need me here.”

“They don’t need you, they want you. You're their rising star.” Shinsou gave her a sympathetic look. “Do you even like being popular?” Uravity knew the answer to that question, she just didn’t want to admit it.

“Honestly no, but I’m in too deep now. How would Japan feel if Uravity suddenly stopped being a great hero so she could stay home with her family? What can I do?”

“You could always quit and join another agency. It’s not like Japan would lose Uravity, they’d just see her a little less. Also if we’re being honest, half your time is taken up with those damn publicity events. Maybe if you join another agency you can focus on the hero work.” suggested Shinsou. “Anyway, I got to head home, but I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” she waved him goodbye but she was still stuck on his previous comment. She couldn’t just quit and join another agency. Could she?

It was 3 p.m now and Deku had finally gotten the kids to take a nap. This was one of the rare moments of the day where he got time to himself. He opened up his dresser and dug out the different police academy pamphlets he kept on hand. He wanted to talk to Ochako about this, he really did, but for some reason, the thought terrified him. He had lost a part of himself the day he lost One for All and maybe he could never get it back. Still, he had to try. He was looking through some of the pamphlets when he felt his phone buzz.

Shouto: Hey, I’m in the neighborhood can I come over?

Deku didn’t know how to feel about Shouto coming over. On one hand, he could use a friend to talk to. On the other, he was still upset about what Toshi said earlier. He supposed his feelings for the former were stronger so he sent his friend a text.

Izuku: Yeah sure, the kids are sleeping though so we’ll have to keep quiet. If they find out you’re here they’ll never let you leave.

Izuku heard a knock on the door only a few minutes later. His friend was still in his hero costume and Izuku assumed he just got back from work.

“Busy day at work?” he asked the taller boy who let out an exasperated sigh.

“Work? Nah that’s been the easy part. It’s wedding planning that’s killing me. Momo is keeping me so busy right now. I might be hiding out here.” said Shouto with a stupid smile.

“Well, I’ve been trapped in this house for so long, I don't even know how the outside world looks anymore. You might as well join me,” said Izuku.

“When’s the last time you’ve been out?” asked Shouto.

“Does the grocery store or children’s playground count?” sighed Izuku. He never had time to go out. He always had to take care of the house and the kids. Shouto always suggested that he get a babysitter, but he felt bad about it. His only job right now was taking care of the kids. He at least needed to do that properly.

“You know I never understood why you got married at 19. You already have two kids at the age of 27,” commented Shouto. Ochako and he decided that they didn’t want to wait to get married and start a family. He loved her so much and back then they were all over each other. He still loved her, more than anything, but it was different now.

“What can I say? I liked it so I put a ring on it.” Shouto cringed at Izuku’s comment.

“Never mind, maybe I’ll just go and hide at Bakugou’s place,” joked Shouto which caused Izuku to throw a pillow at him.

“Shut up,” chuckled Izuku. “Anyway I can’t believe Yaoyorozu and you took this long to get married. You’ve been dancing around each other since high school.”

“Well, we were at different agencies for a while and it took a while for us to reconnect. The timing was good though. We’re both ready to get married now, although wedding planning is giving me a huge headache. Why can’t we just elope already.” the bi-colored boy collapsed on the couch. “I swear if I have to taste another piece of cake then I’m moving to Mexico.”

“You wouldn’t survive a day in Mexico.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.”

They soon settled into a comfortable silence. Shouto was his closest friend from UA and they made it a point to talk to each other often. Before the incident, they would go out almost every weekend. They even worked at the same agency. Things might have been different now, but he knew Shouto would always be there for them. Still, he didn’t forget what Toshi told him earlier.

“Hey Shouto?” the taller boy turned to look at his friend. “Did you tell Toshi not to talk to me about quirks because I’d feel bad?” The silence wasn’t so comfortable now.

“I just didn’t want you to worry about it. I remember how devastated you were after the incident. I figured if Toshi kept talking about quirks then you’d feel worse. You’ve come so far, Ochako and I just didn’t want that to change.” explained Shouto. Izuku knew what he was trying to do. Ochako was doing the same thing. She’d never talk about hero work in detail, mention who she saw at publicity events, or talk about quirk training with him.

“I know what you’re both trying to do, but quite honestly it makes me feel worse. I hate that those closest to me are walking on eggshells around me. The fact that Toshi was doing it just hurt. I’m not ‘Deku’ anymore, but I feel more useless than ever.” He hated feeling like this, but he did. Why couldn’t he just move on? He hated himself for it, for being someone others had to take care of.

“I’m sorry. I know things haven’t been the same.” Shouto paused. Izuku knew what question was coming next. “Did you sign up yet? Did you talk to her at least?”

He was talking about the police academy. Honestly, Izuku didn’t even want to tell Shouto about it, but his friend had connections at the local police station. Izuku went over once to ask about the job requirements and Shouto heard about it.

“I know I keep saying this, but you should talk to her. It’s been two years, and none of us want to see you like this. I know you love your kids, but I can tell you’re miserable being trapped here 24/7.” Shouto came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Izuku knew he was right, he had to talk to Ochako about this.

“Shou-chan?” his sleepy toddler emerged from her bedroom. She must have woken up because of the noise. He wanted to get back out there, he did, but could he just leave them?

It was 5:30 now and Uravity just finished up another rescue mission. There had been a cave-in at a local mine and they needed her zero-gravity quirk. Another half an hour and she’d be able to leave work and go home. That was if she wasn’t called in in the next thirty minutes for another save. She desperately wanted to make it to dinner with the kids today, it was Sunday after all. She sat at the desk in her office and looked at the unread messages on her phone.

Deku: Shouto came over. Looks like Hikari likes him.

Below that was a picture of her friend carrying her daughter on his shoulder. Hikari looked so bright and happy that she couldn’t help but smile. She looked beautiful like that. Below that was another photo of Hikari smearing paint on Deku's face with her hands. She must have been finger painting. She lived for these pictures and was hoping she could get home fast enough to greet her friend and join in on the fun.

Izuku glanced over at the clock. It was 7:30 now and Ochako still wasn’t home. He wasn’t surprised though, he wasn’t even angry anymore. Shouto left an hour ago and the kids and he just finished dinner. They knew better than to expect their mom at dinner when she was busy with hero work, but it still hurt to have an empty seat at the table. He missed sitting and laughing together as a family. He missed looking over and seeing Ochako stuff her mouth with food and Toshi asking her a million questions about work.

It was 9:00 now and Ochako had just finished another rescue mission. Looks like Japan doesn't want her at home with their kids. She took the train home, ready for more hollow words from her husband. He would insist that her absence was okay and would tell her he understood, but she knew better. He wasn’t okay with it, but she couldn’t figure out if he was angry or apathetic. She hoped it was the former because that would mean he still cared. Maybe he even missed her.

Deku heard the door open at 10:15, which was late even for Ochako. The kids were both asleep now and had to go the entire day without seeing their mother. It wasn’t like Izuku could spend too much time with her either. She was probably tired and had every right to be. He was so proud of her for being such a great hero and he was probably a bigger Uravity fan than even Toshi. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with his wife though. He wanted to hold Ochako in his arms, not Uravity. He wasn’t too mad today though. He desperately did not want to talk to her about the police academy. Telling her would mean he would have to go through with it. He wanted to, but maybe he was too messed up now? That and the kids, he didn’t want to leave them, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be trapped with them.

“They’re asleep aren’t they?” sighed Ochako. She missed them again. How many more nights would she miss with them? How fast would they grow under her nose? “I’m sorry, I thought I could come home earlier, but there was a last-minute rescue mission. It seems Japan can’t give me a break.”

“It’s fine, you know I understand. You’re a busy hero, I get it.” he gave her an empty smile and got out some food for her to eat.

“No you don’t get it,” said Ochako. She was done with this little dance they had memorized. This wasn’t the life she wanted. She used to love hero work. She used to love coming home and spending the day with a kid in her lap. She loved it when Deku came in after her and kissed her on the cheek. She loved laying down in her husband’s lap while they watched T.V on the couch. She didn’t get to do any of that anymore. Life just felt like an endless loop of disappointment.

“What do you mean?” he hadn’t seen Ochako frustrated in a long time.

“I work all day and come home so late that I can’t even see my kids. My daughter doesn’t call me Mama, My son sees me as only a hero and my husband…”

“Your husband?”

“My husband hasn’t acted like the man I love in a long time.” Ochako winced as she watched Izuku’s face fall. Maybe she had gone too far.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m just dead weight then." Izuku retorted.

"That's not what I mean." Ochako sighed.

"Then what do you mean. You always walk on eggshells around me Ochako. I feel like a wounded animal around you."

"I'm trying to be considerate. You know you're no better, I feel like such a robot around you!"

"Robot huh?" Izuku calmed down a little. He realized he had been treating Ochako a little like that recently.

"Yeah a robot. " huffed Ochako. "I mean, I don't blame you. That's how I've been acting recently. I'm just a machine that works and sleeps at this point."

"I didn't realize you felt that way. At least you get to go out and be your own person,” said Izuku. “I feel so trapped here, both physically and mentally, but I need to keep it together because I know you already go through it at work.”

“I never asked you to keep it together. I want you to talk to me, I want you to trust me again. I am here for you whenever you need me. Lately, it feels like you hate me. You don’t even look me in the eyes when I get home.”

“I don’t hate you. Do you know how much I miss you?” He turned to face Ochako. “Do you know how much it hurts me to not have you here? I don't say anything because I know I can’t add another thing onto your plate late like.” Deku pulled her in for an embrace, resting his chin on her brown hair. He should have held her like this sooner.

It felt warm in his embrace and for the first time in a long time, she could breathe freely. He was different now, he had changed from the incident, but in the last 8 years, she had changed too. She still loved him, she never would stop loving him. “Don’t let go,” she whispered into his chest.

Izuku realized just how much he lost himself these last two years. They had both changed so much and maybe it was time for another change. “I’m sorry for being so useless,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself, don’t snuff all the light out. I want to see your bright eyes again. You're not useless, you never were. You do so much for our family and I want to see you do something for yourself again.”

“Ochako?” his breath hitched. “I-I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You can, I know you can. Please, just try for me. Don’t be afraid of what’s out there.” She broke away from his embrace and cradled his face, still wearing her gloves from work. That way he wouldn’t float up in the air. Even without her using her quirk, Deku felt pretty weightless right now.

“I-I was thinking of maybe joining the police force. I wanted to enroll in the police academy, but I’ve kind of been avoiding talking to you about it. What if I fail in that too? I don’t know if I can handle so many broken dreams.” he was crying now. He didn’t allow himself to cry in front of the kids, but he was crying now.

“Hey, I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to retire from hero work at such a young age, but don’t let that moment define your life. If you’re ready to move on, I’m here to support you.” Ochako smiled at him. He knew she was right.

“It’s not like I haven’t been quirkless before, but it feels different now. I had a taste and then suddenly everything was gone. I’m grateful I got to be a hero for as long as I did, but sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if All Might gave One for All to someone else.”

“Don’t talk like that Izuku. You inspired so many people during your time at UA and as a hero. One of those people being me, and besides, if you never got One for All we might not have met. Then Toshi and Hikari would never have been born. What I’m trying to say is don’t live in the past and look towards the future.”

“I suppose if my lifetime achievement was inspiring the great Uravity then my life wasn’t so bad.” he smiled as he worked to regain some composure.

“About that..” Ochako frowned at the comment. “What if I didn’t want to be so great anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love hero work and everything, but maybe being a top ten hero isn’t for me. I’d rather have a few more hours with the kids than be so popular.”

“Are you sure about that Ochako?” frowned Izuku. “I mean is that not your dream?”

“My dream was never to become a famous hero. I just wanted to make enough money to support my parents, and I’ve made plenty to do that. It’s just I want to support my family in a way that’s not purely financial. I want to be here to see our kids grow up and I want to spend more time with you too. I’m ready to be Ochako again.”

“Well, whatever you want to do, I’ll support you too.” Izuku kissed his wife but was interrupted by the footsteps of his sleepy son.

“Mama?” Toshi said, rubbing his eyes awake.

“Toshi, why don’t you head back to your room, I’ll tuck you in,” said Izuku.

“Please can I do it?” Ochako asked. Izuku gestured for her to go ahead. Tonight was good for them, their shoulders had been freed of the loads they'd been carrying. A change was on the horizon and they were both ready for it.

Ochako woke up to her husband drawing circles on her back which was unusual considering it as 5 a.m on a Monday.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to him.

“I’m tired of waking up to an empty bed,�� he said to her.

“Well, let’s hope that’s not the case forever.” She kissed him on the cheek and got ready for work.

It was noon now and Izuku had been struggling to dial the number on the pamphlet in front of him all day. He already talked to Ochako about it, but it was still hard. Somehow he managed to suck it up and dial the number.

“Hello my name is Izuku Midoriya and I was looking to enroll in your police academy. That is if there are any spots available” He was doing this, he was really doing this.

"Yeah we can offer you a spot, but you'd need to pass the physical test first. How does Friday sound?" the voice on the other end of the phone said to him.

“Okay, yeah Friday sounds wonderful. Thank you for your help.” He did it, well he almost did. He would have to go in to take a physical test first, but it felt good to finally be moving on with his life. He got out his phone to text Ochako.

Deku: I did it! I called them. I still have to go in for a physical this Friday though.

Ochako smiled at her phone, she was proud of him. Now it was her turn, she needed to confront her supervisor.

Ochako: That’s great news, hopefully, I’ll have some soon too.

Uravity braced herself for what was coming next. She took a deep breath and opened the door to her supervisor's office. This was going to be difficult. When she walked in the older woman was focused on the paperwork in front of her, paying no attention to the panicked look on Ochako’s face.

“Hello, Uravity? What is our agency’s star looking for?” her supervisor asked, eyes still focused on the paperwork.

“I’m actually looking to resign,” Ochako said while twiddling her thumbs. Her supervisor was an older woman in her sixties, but she still scared the living daylights out of Ochako.

“What do you mean?” her supervisor looked up at her and for a moment Uravity thought about running away and pretending nothing happened.

“Listen, Ma’am, I appreciate all this agency’s done for me, but I can’t keep working this hard. I love being a hero, I do, but I also have a family and have no time to spend with them. I know this will mean I won’t rank high, but I just don’t care too much for that anymore.” Ochako explained.

“So you’re quitting hero-work?” the older woman pursed her lips together in disappointment.

“No, of course not,” Ochako waved her hands in refusal. “I was planning on joining a smaller agency and working fewer hours. That way I can be a hero and still have time to spend with my kids.”

“I see. Well, we can’t afford to lose you.” sighed her supervisor. “I can give you 8 hour days and 1 day off a week.” Ochako couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She normally worked 12+ hour days so the extra time would be a huge help. Nevertheless, she still wanted to test out her luck.

“Two days off per week,” she added.

Her supervisor pondered the suggestion. “I suppose that can be done. Nice having you Uravity.” Ochako walked away feeling lighter than air. She pulled out her phone to text Deku.

Ochako: Good news, I’m still at the same agency, but they cut my work hours and I have two days off per week.

Deku: Really? That’s great :)

It was 6:30 now and Izuku was busy making dinner when he heard the door open. He had a sneaking suspicion Ochako would be coming home early today, but he didn’t tell the kids about it.

“Mama? Mama, you’re home early!” cheered Toshi as he went to hug his mother at the door.

“Hey, honey. Mama’s going to be home a lot more now.” she smiled at him.

“Uravity!!” she heard her daughter say while pointing at her. They still had to work on that, and the extra time at home would definitely help.

“Nice to have you home Ochako.” Deku smiled at her and she swore his eyes were a little brighter than before. He was slowly, but surely getting his spark back.

“Nice to be home,” she smiled back at her husband.

For the first time in a long time, the Midoriya family enjoyed dinner together. Nothing was completely fixed, but that was okay. Change was around the corner, and they were both ready for it. Ochako and Izuku signed up for a lifetime when they married each other, no matter the struggles it might bring. They were ready to juice every last moment from it. When dinner was done, the couple retreated to the couch together as their kids played in their room.

“I love you,” Izuku whispered as he kissed his wife on the forehead. He was excited to work again. He was going to miss the kids, but he needed to do this for himself. At least he knew he could count on Ochako to be there for him when he needed her.

“I love you too,” Ochako whispered back as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Her heart swelled with joy from being back home with her family again. She grabbed her husband’s hand and laced their fingers together, never wanting to let go.

#izuocha #izuku midoriya #izuocha fic #mha izuku #uraraka ochako #izuku x ochako #deku #uravity #pro-hero uravity #marriage is hard #izuocha married #izuocha family #izuocha kids #pro-hero life #deku loses one for all #stay at home dad #working mom #quirkless deku #deku loses his quirk

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (36/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Whaaaat? Two chapters in two days? What kind of alternate universe are we living in?? 😉 This is totally to make up for the last few chapters taking forever even though they’re literally just sitting on my computer!

Thanks to @imagnifika for her awesome art, @resident-of-storybrooke for reading these words and so many other words of mine (it’s a lot), and to @wellhellotragic who prompted me with the idea that inspired this whole thing all the way back in June!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 |

-/-

Killian fucking hates Boston.

It’s a great city full of good food, and in another lifetime, he’d mostly likely enjoy living here. Right now, the air is crisp with the scent of fall, and trees are in the middle of losing their leaves, the ones remaining a myriad of oranges and reds that remind Killian of sitting in a park in Cincinnati with his mother raking up leaves and then jumping into the piles before cleaning them up for the city. He had to have been four or five then, but that’s one of the first memories that he has. Looking out the window of his hotel room to a park that looks almost identical reminds him of that.

He should be happy, more than happy really, but when you’re trying to get to the World Series next week and are currently tied 2-2 in the AL Championship Series against the Red Sox on the way to getting there, happiness isn’t exactly the most common feeling.

And they’re playing in Boston tonight, and despite the fact that they won last night, beating both the team and the deafening roar of the crowd, Killian is not entirely convinced that they’re going to win again tonight. They could still come back from it by winning the next two games at home, but he’d really rather win here and then win the sixth game at home when he’s pitching and not have to deal with the nastiness of going to a seventh and deciding game.

Who in the hell wants to play sports for a living? It’s too damn stressful.

Losing won’t kill him, not at all. The fact that he’s having the season he’s having, especially with all of the ups and downs and lay-offs, is incredible and a full-credit to his team. But he got the taste of being the last team standing last year, and he wants it back.

Some players never get their hands on the trophy, and Killian is greedy enough to want it twice both for himself, his teammates, and his family.

And Emma. He wants it for Emma.

So, Killian really hates Boston and the fact that they keep putting them in close situations like this. Close games are often the best ones, the ones that have everyone on the edge of their seat, but Killian would kill for an easy night.

“The city isn’t going to implode just because you’re staring out at it with evil in your eyes.”

“One can hope though.”

“That’s entirely sadistic.”

He huffs and turns from the window to look at where Emma is sitting in bed (they’ve stopped bothering to get different hotel rooms now) with her knees pulled up so that she can rest her laptop there. He woke up this morning to her typing away. Apparently, she didn’t finish her work last night, so she had to wake up early this morning to send in a report before the deadline. Walsh’s firing has ended up having Emma needing to write more on top of her regular work, and even though she says she doesn’t mind – “I like writing,” she keeps saying – he knows that it’s kind of a kick in the teeth for her to have to do some of Walsh’s work.

The man is never fully going to go away, obviously. He and Brennan are like a bug that won’t die no matter how much you squash it.

“Are you almost finished with your report, love?”

“Yep,” she says. “I’m finished with it and have moved onto doing my prep work for today’s game as well as a little bit of online shopping because there are these boots that I really want but can’t decide if I’m going to buy.”

“That’s the hardest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Says the man who spends hours trying to decide which identical blue button-down shirt he wants to buy to ‘update’ his wardrobe.”

Killian scoffs and walks forward to flop down on the bed next to her, shaking the mattress with his movement, until he’s flipping over on his back and spreading out so that he takes up most of the space. Emma always hates when he does that.

“My clothes may not be as varied as yours, my darling, but it does take effort to look as good as I do on a regular basis.”

He turns his head to the side to look at her, a smile on his face, and she simply rakes her eyes up and down his body, very obviously perusing him. “You are currently wearing a pair of sweatpants that have a hole in the ass and a hoodie that I’m pretty sure has a permanent stain from some kind of baking accident. Your fashion sense is amazing.”

“You are literally in a pair of pajama pants with Snoopy’s face on them.”

“You wear the same two uniforms all the time.”

“Sometimes we wear the black ones.”

Emma hums. “Those are my favorite. I’ll stop making fun of you for things if you can convince the owners to let you guys wear the all black uniforms more often.”

“You were particularly fond of those on Players’ Weekend.”

“I’m a fan of a man in all black.”

Killian shifts on the mattress, propping himself up on the pillows until he’s mostly resting against the headboard. He can see Emma’s computer screen now, half of it covered with statistics and the other covered with Nordstrom’s website and a pair of boots. If there’s one thing Emma will splurge on, it’s boots.

“Buy the boots, Swan. Live a little bit.”

Emma arches a brow. “Am I made of money?”

“No,” he sighs, leaning over to kiss her shoulder. “That would be very convenient if you were. I’d never work again.”

“If you’re living off of my salary, you’re screwed because I’m definitely going to buy these super expensive boots. I think they would look really cute with the black suede skirt.”

“Ah, yes, I know the one,” he says sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, half-heartedly reaching over to slap his shoulder. “You do! I wore it when we went to dinner last week, and your eyes practically fell out of your head.”

Killian tries to think of what Emma wore last week, his mind blanking on everything at the moment, but then he’s brought back to a memory of the two of them going to eat at Palma on Cornelia Street last week. She’d looked gorgeous that night, her legs going on for miles aided by the heels, and they’d been late for their reservation because the street one block over was Jones Street and Emma insisted that he take a picture underneath the sign for her to send to Liam and Elsa.

He had not been amused, but in his defense, he really wanted to eat.

“Hmm, I think I do recall that one now that I think about it. You should definitely get those boots to wear with that.”

“I didn’t need your permission, but thank you for the approval. Do we need to be getting ready to go have breakfast with everyone?”

“I’m pretty sure breakfast is over down in the lobby.”

“No,” Emma sighs, clicking a few buttons on her laptop until he sees that she did indeed buy the boots. “We’re meeting everyone for breakfast at the café at the end of the block at ten.”

Killian groans and throws his arm over his eyes like the dramatic ass that he is. “That means I have to get dressed.”

“Well, I would prefer it that way. Your pants show off what you’ve got going on in both the front and the back, and I think you might get arrested for public indecency. That’d put a damper in the whole trying to get to the World Series thing.”

“Would you bail me out?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and closes her laptop. “Eh, maybe. I might not have the money with the boots I just bought.”

-/-

They win that night.

It’s close, far closer than Killian would like watching from the sidelines, and he chews more gum than he thinks he’s ever chewed during a game. Rum would be preferable, but that’s not exactly the best solution when he’s got two nights until he’s got to pitch in the game that could bring them to the World Series.

Al really has far too much confidence in Killian for putting him in position in the line-up.

-/-

Killian fucking loves New York.

Sure, it’s hot and crowded and sometimes smells absolutely horrendous, but he loves it. He’s lived here for seven years, had his family live here for more than that, and he can’t imagine having to ever live anywhere else.

This is his home.

For awhile, he didn’t have one, not really. Everything changed when his mom died, the house feeling far emptier than any lived-in house should feel, and it only continued to empty as the years went on and Brennan became more and more of a distant figure. And as much as Killian loved Vanderbilt, that was simply a temporary home.

Manhattan? This is home.

One day he may like to move a little outside of the city to a place with a big yard and less traffic, but right now, everything he loves is here.

Everyone.

“Uncle Killian,” Lucy whispers, tugging on the hem of his shirt, “is it time to eat dinner yet?”

“Not quite yet, Luce. We can go ask Anna about it, though, yeah?”

He bends down and picks Lucy up, resting her on his hip while she wraps her arms around his neck so that she doesn’t fall. He’s picked her up thousands of times, had her little head nestled onto his shoulder twice that many times, but there’s something peaceful about it now as they stand in one of the sitting rooms at Liam’s house looking out onto the street in front of them as cars occasionally pass by and the leaves keep falling from the few trees that line the street.

They got in from Boston this morning, immediately went to practice, and then most everyone came to Liam and Elsa’s house for dinner as some kind of pre-game Friday night dinner to get everyone’s minds off of things.

There are more people in this townhome than it has seen in years, and he doesn’t think anyone is complaining.

Killian is a little bit, if only because his mind is very much focused on tomorrow and not screwing up to let everyone he loves down, and that’s why he’d walked away from the crowd in the kitchen and living room and wandered upstairs to the sitting room that no one ever wanders into.

Except for Lucy apparently.

Kids seem to foil all kinds of plans, and Lucy is not going to be having a fun day tomorrow since she’s most definitely up far past her bedtime.

He is officially an old man.

“What are we eating?”

“I think it’s lasagna. You know, like big spaghetti all moved together.”

“I know what lasagogona is.”

Wow, that was a butchering of the word lasagna if he’s ever heard it.

“You certainly don’t know how to pronounce it.”

Lucy scoffs, like she has never been so offended in her very short life, but she doesn’t say anything else as he walks down the staircase with the wood boards groaning beneath him. Immediately, he’s bombarded by people. Will, Belle, and Elsa are sitting on the ground with diagrams of seating charts spread out between them. Killian would have at least twenty-five questions about why they’re doing seating chart arrangements for the wedding tonight, but he already knows that it’s because they’re using Elsa to help figure out where to sit some of the more difficult people.

(He assumes he and Emma don’t count as those difficult people, but it really depends on how Will feels about him that day.)

Robin, Kris, Liam, Roland, and Addison are sitting on the couch in the living watching what Killian knows is Trolls because he’s been forced to watch it exactly seventeen times, and Eric and Ariel are standing in the kitchen with Anna cooking.

And, well, apparently Emma too.

“Are we sure we trust the blonde to cook for us?” Killian teases, putting Lucy down on the barstool. “Because I’ve had her cooking before, and I’m not sure we should allow her to feed so many people at once.”

“I’m blonde,” Lucy interjects.

“Yes, yes you are. Can you cook, little love?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me.”

“Funny,” Emma huffs, her eyes pointedly staring him down, “your uncle doesn’t seem to think I can cook either even though I’m only tossing the salad and am perfectly capable of that.”

“SoSo, we’re just going to forget the entire cucumber you dropped on the ground earlier?” Anna asks as she lays rolls out on a pan.

“What about the nearly slicing your finger open?” Ariel adds.

“What happens in the kitchen is supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

“Technically,” Eric sighs, “it hasn’t left the kitchen.”

“You guys are fu – fun,” Emma stops herself and changes the word, her eyes blowing wide when she remembers Lucy is in the room. “Luce, sweetie, do you want me to get you some carrots so you can take them in the other room to watch the movie with Addy and Roland?”

“Yes please.”

Emma turns around and opens the fridge, quickly grabbing a bag of sliced carrots, and hands them over to him for him to hand to Lucy. She takes them, mumbles a “thank you,” and then is sprinting to the adjoining living room to watch the movie.

“So you’re just bribing children now, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “but with carrots so it’s healthy. Babe, can you check my phone and see where everyone else is? Ruby said they would be here by now, but I haven’t heard anything from them. Or David and Mary Margaret. I guess they’re all in traffic or something, but it’s radio silence on their end.”

Killian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from giving anything away, hoping that his tan keeps his cheeks from flaming red. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse on the table.”

He nods his head and turns around, thankful that it’s a little bit out of sight of Emma, before he’s shuffling through her small purse to find her phone hidden behind every small object known to men. There is a string of texts from Ruby about Graham taking forever to get home and her almost leaving without him, and Killian sincerely hopes that Ruby didn’t actually leave without Graham. That would go against the plan.

Mary Margaret and David, though, are legitimately stuck in Friday night traffic, so at least he doesn’t have to lie about that.

“They’re on their way, love,” he tells Emma, putting her phone back in her purse and walking back to the island so that he can prop his forearms against the cool countertop. “Anna, you realize a few of us have to play a game tomorrow, right? I don’t think we can eat all of this.”

She waves a wooden spoon in the air, little bits of sauce splattering on the ground. “It’s called portion control. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Killian has. I haven’t,” Eric laughs. “Though, I’m more of a seafood man myself.”

“There’s only so much seafood that you can eat, though, before you become a fish.”

“You only say that because you don’t like it as much as I do.”

Ariel pats her husband’s chest. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God,” Will groans out, and everyone in the kitchen turns to look at him laying out on the floor. “This is impossible. Why do people get married?”

“I think you mean why do people have weddings,” Belle corrects him.

“I’m kind of questioning both at this point.”

Belle flicks a little name card at Will, and Elsa immediately snatches it back and puts it at the little diagrammed table where it’s supposed to be sitting.

“Why have a seating chart in the first place?” Emma asks. “Why not just let people sit where they want to sit?”

“My mother,” Belle sighs, this discussion obviously a frequent one, “is very traditional and specific about how things should be. She grew up in high society, cotillions and things like that, and even though Will and I mostly want this to be one big party, she has opinions. This is a compromise to make her back off until there’s something else she sets her sights on.”

“Huh,” Emma huffs. “Well, as long as I don’t have to sit next to Killian the entire time, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Shit,” Elsa mumbles under her breath even though the words echo throughout the room. “We don’t have cards for Emma and Killian.”

Laughter rumbles through Killian’s stomach as he walks back over to Emma to place his hand on the small of her back over her sweater before taking the strawberries and putting them on the cutting board to slice up. “Swan, it looks like you won’t have to sit with me because we’re apparently been uninvited from the wedding.”

“Damn. I guess we’ll just have to be wedding crashers.”

“I was thinking we could stay home and not wear uncomfortable clothes but still eat incredible food. We could probably dance a little too.”

“He means the horizontal tango, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what you mean, Will,” Ariel sighs with a shake of her head but laughter on her lips. “But there are people here related to Killian who probably aren’t too inclined to hear about his sex life.”

“I’m not particularly inclined to hear about Emma’s,” David says, and Killian whips his head around to see he, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking thoughthrough the open garage door. “Or Killian’s. Though I hope they’re one and the same.”

“Okay,” Emma hums, dragging out the word, “we need a change in conversation, something like everyone greeting my brother and nixing this conversation entirely.”

“I mean, I’m kind of curious, but Leo is right here.”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps, and Killian misses what has to be an absolutely priceless look on her face in favor of putting his knife down and walking over to Leo so that they can do their secret handshake that seems to change every time they see each other.

“I like you hat, bud,” Killian compliments. He tugs on the bill, and Leo blushes underneath it. “I think there are some other guys here tonight who would sign it for you if you want.”

Leo’s brows furrow together and the smile on his face completely goes away. Shit. What did Killian do wrong?

“Maybe another hat. I don’t want this one to get messed up.”

“Why not?”

“You signed this one,” he whispers, even if it’s not quiet at all, “and you’re my favorite player.”

“I thought it was your favorite because I gave it to you, kid,” Emma protests as she steps around him and leans down to wrap Leo up in a hug, squeezing him too tightly out of some kind of silent protest.

“I only asked for it because Killian is my favorite player.”

“You’re my favorite nephew.”

Leo rolls his eyes, and while he and Emma may not be related, Killian knows that he got that from her. “I’m your only nephew.”

“Which makes me your favorite.” She kisses his cheek, which makes Leo’s cheeks turn as red as the strawberries. “All the other kids are in that room right over there if you want to go hang out with them until dinner is ready.”

Leo runs off, and David and Mary Margaret take his place by stepping in and greeting everyone with a wave or a hug. It’s so many people, all of them from different social circles, and yet it’s amazing how well they’ve all managed to blend together. Killian knows that he started off with more people than Emma simply by the nature of his job, that most of the people in this house would technically be considered “his,” but he likes to think that they’re Emma’s too.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to see a message from Graham just as Emma sits down and picks up a glass of wine.

Graham Humbert: We just pulled up outside. Can you send Emma out? Say something about needing help with the dessert. I think Ruby would like to tell her before she tells everyone inside.

Killian: Yeah, I’ll send her out. Congrats, mate! I’m happy for the two of you!

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Ruby and Graham just got here. Do you want to go out and see if they need any help?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

Of course she’s going to be stubborn about.

“I’m finishing this salad,” he lies, even though he really should finish the salad since he took it over from Emma. Will lets out another curse having to do with the seating chart, and there’s a reassurance from Mary Margaret that it will all be okay. “Just go help them. They have the dessert. You love dessert.”

Emma’s brows bunch together and her lips snarl, but she puts the glass of wine that she’s drinking down and stands from the barstool she’s sitting on to go walk out of the garage door and down the stairs. She’s going to be pissed at him for the entire walk out there, but he knows that it won’t be long. And curious as Killian is, he leaves the kitchen to walk over to the bay window so that he can look down at the street where Ruby and Graham are getting out of Graham’s squad car with boxes of pies in their hands. Emma quickly appears, her hands moving as she talks, and then Ruby puts her set of boxes on the hood of the car.

And while Killian can’t hear any screaming or squealing – Emma isn’t really the type – he knows that some kind of inhuman noise just came out of her before she launched herself forward to hug Ruby, squeezing so tightly that he imagined Ruby can’t breathe. And then Graham nearly drops all of the pies when Emma hugs him too. Killian chuckles to himself, a smile stretching across his lips, and then David comes up behind him.

“What’s all that about?”

“You’ll find out in a minute, I’m sure.”

“Secrets don’t make friends.”

“Yeah, yeah they do,” Killian laughs, smiling at David. “And I love how casually you’re referring to me as your friend. It really touches a man’s heart, Dave.”

“Watch it, or I’ll take it back.”

By the time Killian looks back out the window, Graham is gone, leaving Emma and Ruby out to talk. Killian is sure that they’ll be out there for awhile, probably far later than they intend to, and he knows he’ll have to go with them when the food gets here. The door opens then to Graham walking inside with the boxes. Ariel immediately rushes to help him, mostly likely because she likes to talk his ear off about all of the cases he can talk about (she’s very into True Crimes oddly enough), but Killian walks over to save him, grabbing Graham’s hand in greeting before pulling him into a hug and patting his back.

“Congratulations, mate.”

“Thank you,” Graham beams, his smile infectious. “I still can’t believe it.” “What can’t you believe?” Ariel asks as she swipes a finger through the whipped cream on a pie only for Eric to slap her hand away.

Killian looks over at Graham, silently asking if he wants to say something, and he nods, that smile still on his face. “I’ve asked Ruby to marry me today, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations!”

“You did what now?”

“How could you not tell me this?”

“This is so exciting!”

“Whatever you do, don’t do a fucking seating chart for the reception.”

It’s this big, loud chorus of voices and conversations, and it pulls in everyone from the living room too so that it gets so loud that Killian is sure the neighbors can hear. Killian isn’t even entirely sure which legs belong to who for how much movement there is, hugs being exchanged between people who didn’t even get engaged tonight, and it all starts to calm down a bit only for Ruby and Emma walk in the door.

Obviously, things never calm down again.

Ruby and Graham don’t even get to spend much time with this group of people, especially Graham since his schedule never seems to match up with any of theirs, so it’s nice to see the overwhelming joy that’s there for the two of them.

“Congratulations, lass,” he sighs into Ruby’s ear when she finally makes her way to him at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Were you surprised?”

“Yes,” she sighs, her laughter moving through him. “I can’t believe you knew about it.”

Killian rubs his hand up and down her back. “I had to make sure Emma was out of the apartment when it happened because Graham just knew that she would somehow find a way to show up if left to her own devices.”

“I think I could kiss you for doing that.”

“I don’t think that’s very becoming of a newly engaged woman.”

Ruby pulls back and winks at him before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “You know that I don’t like following the rules.”

“What is this I hear about you knowing about this before it happened?” Emma questions as she saunters up to him, a soft smile on her face and the slightest bit of mascara smudged under her eyes. “I thought we had an agreement about lying to each other, twenty-nine.”

Killian hums and wraps his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him while her arms lazily hang over his neck. “Yeah, well, I was under strict instructions that you weren’t to know because Graham didn’t want you to tell Ruby.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Her lip quirks to the side before she presses up on her toes and gently guides her mouth over his. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I like that Ruby was the one who got to tell me.”

“Me too, love.”

“All of our friends have to stop getting married. This is getting expensive.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have blown all your money on those damn boots.”

Emma slaps the back of his head even as she kisses him, and he wonders exactly where along the way did he do something right to get to have this be his life.

“Okay,” Anna yells over all of the noise, and Killian looks to see her standing on a barstool as if she needs any help commanding attention, “I know everyone is super excited right now, but let’s all be super excited over dinner. It’s time to eat.”

“Thank goodness,” Lucy breathes out. “I thought I was going to perish.”

“Where’d she learn that word?” Emma wonders as everyone starts laughing.

“I don’t even know.”

The conversation and laughter never diesdie down, not when there’s that many people around, and Killian’s stomach hurts from it all, his face a little too. His nerves about the game tomorrow and all that’s on the line haven’t disappeared, but they’re not at the forefront of his mind either. He has other things to focus on even if his mind is getting a little dizzy at the thought of keeping track of it all, but it becomes easier as the night passes, the light outside fading away into darkness, and as children move off to go to sleep, Addy and Lucy to their rooms and Leo and Roland stretched out in a guest room until their parents are ready to go home, everyone else settles into the living room with a replay of last night’s game in Boston on so that they can all watch some more footage in preparation.

He’s sitting on the floor in between Emma’s legs, and her hands are lulling him to sleep from the way that she keeps playing with his hair.

It’s like magic, her touch, and he’s utterly under her spell.

“I’m freaking the hell out about tomorrow,” Will whispers quietly as they watch him stumble over a catch in yesterday’s game.

“Me too,” Robin adds in. “Honestly, the only thing that’s keeping me calm, especially since I’m not playing, is knowing that not only did we make it to the Series last year, we won the whole damn thing.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Killian starts as he leans her head further into Emma’s lap so that she can scratch his scalp. Damn, that might be the best feeling in the world. “No one gives a fuck about what happened last year. That trophy on our shelf from last year? It’s old news. All anyone cares about is what’s happening this year. All we should care about is what’s happening this year. Everyone always complains about those guys who can only seem to live in the glory days when the glory days are long since gone, and we’re not going to be those men. We’re not resting on our laurels. We’re going to win tomorrow, and then we’re going to win the next four games to win the whole damn thing.”

“What if we don’t?” Will questions, and for once, Killian can tell that Will is legitimately nervous.

“We’re going to, Scarlet. I won’t take another option.”

“Look at my little brother being all motivating,” Liam teases.

Killian does raise his hand and his middle finger at that. “Younger, you ass.”

“You’ll always be my little brother. I’ll stop calling you that when you’ve got three World Series championships to your name, yeah?”

“Oi, I know that I’m good, but I don’t know if I can rely on these guys to not only win this year’s but also another one after that?” Emma slaps the back of his head, and he leans back to look up at her. “I’m obviously kidding, my love.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a great way to motivate the guys for tomorrow when you had a pretty good speech going there.”

Robin coughs, something exaggerated and totally on purpose. “Killian saves his best speeches for right before a the game starts. Probably because he doesn’t have his brother and his girlfriend distracting him by making fun of him. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m all for taking that piss out of Killian.”

“Someone hand me a pillow,” Killian demands, looking around. “I want to knock the smirk off of Rob’s face.”

“That’s an impossible task,” Ariel starts, a bright, happy smile on her face. “Let’s go back to loving each other and watching game footage. I don’t know about you guys, but I want that trophy back. I get a bonus from both Eric and Killian’s contract for it.”

“I always knew that I liked you,” Ruby adds in, and everyone starts laughing, the long day and late night probably getting to everyone a little bit. “Do you share the bonus with your husband since he earned it? I’m asking the important questions here as someone who is about to get married?”

“Rubes.” Emma curls her fingers in his hair and shakes her head. “Are you about to be one of those people who works in that you’re engaged all the time?”

“For the next two weeks, you bet your ass I am. It would normally only be a week, but since I think all we’re about to talk about now is baseball, I’m asking for two.”

“I would expect nothing less than you.”

Everyone leaves eventually with sleepy smiles on their faces and leftovers in hand, and as nervous as Killian still is, he finds yet again that it’s not at all like last year when he was going through this all. He’s got Emma curled up next to him in bed and a happy life outside of work, and at the end of the day, his life won’t be over if they lose.

He simply doesn’t like losing.

-/-

Killian’s arm feels fine.

Good. Great even. It’s the best it’s felt in months, even if he’s still a little timid with how much he’s using it and the fear of it screwing up again since there is such a risk for that, but he feels good standing out here under the heat of the sun with thousands of people milling in the stands and thousands more sitting at home watching on their television just wondering if today is going to be the day that the Yankees officially cement their spot in the World Series with the Dodgers already waiting there.

It could be a repeat of last year, just like everyone thought it would be, and Killian damn well intends to make those thoughts come true. They’re not resting on the laurelsrelying on what happened of last year. They’re doing it for themselves once more like it’s all brand new and they don’t know the high of being at the top of the world.

Sweat trickles down Killian’s forehead past his cap, and he reaches up to remove his hat for a second while he wipes the sweat away with his forehead. It’s not hot out today, only around sixty degrees, but Killian’s skin is on fire with the rapid beating of his heart that hasn’t calmed down since this morning.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Strike, he’s out.

Travis is out, the top of the fourth inning is over, Killian has thrown some damn good pitches in tight situations to keep the Sox from scoring, and the Yankees are up 4-0.

There’s still a long game to go, though.

Not for Killian, though. He’s out for the day. He knew going in that Al wouldn’t keep him in for longer than this. Honestly, he’s surprised that he allowed it for this long, but this is all so they’ll stay in the correct pitching order if they make it to the Series.

When.

Not if.

Killian wants to stay in the dugout and watch from out here, but he knows that he has to go inside and get massaged and do his cool-down exercises. He can watch from one of the televisions with everyone else who’s inside and make his way back out toward the end of the game.

It’s like all at once these games are five minutes and then suddenlysuddenly, they’re five hours.

But the time does pass as Killian goes through his routines to make sure that he’s healthy and that his arm is healthy, and by the time that he’s back out in the dugout changed into a pair of clean joggers and a pullover, his hat from earlier long gone, it’s the top of the ninth with two outs, only one man on base, and the score highly in their favor.

If they blow a 9-2 lead, they deserve to have to play it all out in a deciding game tomorrow.

“Come on, Lance,” Killian shouts out, banging his hands against the railing. “Just one more throw. One more strike, and you’re done.”

“He’s going to mess up if you keep yelling at him like that,” Al spits out as he chews on the gum he’s always chewing.

“No, no he’s not. He’s got this. We’ve got this.”

“You have far more optimism than any sideline coach should have.”

Killian turns his head to look at Al, a smile stretching across his lips. “It’s a damn good thing I’m not a coach then.”

And then there’s the sound of Lance’s ball hitting Will’s glove, the yell of the word “strike,” and the roar of the New York crowd as the game finishes.

They’re going to the World Series.

Killian’s heart pounds in his chest, emotion welling up in his throat, and all of the sounds become muted. Every single one of them except for his heart and the blood running through his veins. People yell and shout and scream, but he can’t hear any of it as he rushes out into the field to join his teammates where they’re jumping up and down, arms wrapped around each other as they become a mesh of one instead of twenty different men, those who played today and those who didn’t.

Someone pats his back, and the noises come back, cheers of celebration and curses and familiar voices of the people who he spends his life with.

They’re not resting on their laurels of last year, he thinks to himself once more. They’re achieving new things.

“Jones,” Lance calls out as the pile disperses and everyone starts moving around the field, “your girlfriend wants an interview with us.”

Killian arches a brow, spinning on his heel to try to find Emma, and he sees her standing with a microphone in her hand and Jeff standing with the camera behind her. She’s wearing the damn boots, the ones she just ordered, and if there wasn’t already a smile on his face, that would cause his lips to reach his ears.

He has no idea why Emma wants to interview him when there were five innings played without him, when Lance and Eric and Will are the guys who deserve the attention and the praise, but he knows that a lot of the time Emma isn’t in charge of who she interviews. That’s left up to the people behind the scenes.

Killian wants to kiss Emma and the smile on her face, wants to wrap her up in a hug, but he holds back, stepping up to her with Lance next to him as Frank Sinatra begins to play over the speakers. He’d think that he’d get tired of this song, but it never gets old.

“Congratulations,” Emma starts, her hand reaching up to adjust her earpiece. “That was just an incredible game. How does it feel to be going to the World Series for the second year in a row?”

She holds the microphone out to Lance. “No, no. Let Jones answer first. He usually takes the words right out of my mouth.”

“You sure?”

He nods his head, and Emma moves the microphone over to him. “Well, what do you say twenty-nine? How does it feel?”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I can’t curse, can I?”

“Only if you want to pay a fine.”

“Right then,” he laughs, smiling down at Emma and completely ignoring the camera. “It feels good. Better than good. This season has obviously had its ups and downs, especially for me, and I’m happy that I didn’t let this team down when they deserve so much. I’m – ”

Killian stops talking when all of the sudden Emma starts darting in the other direction, and by the time that he realizes what’s going on, the cool feel of Gatorade is being poured down on top of him so that chill bumps rise on his arms and his clothes cling to his skin. Killian sees Lance first and sees him shaking out the sticky liquid from his uniform, and then he sees Will and Eric running away with the orange container where the Gatorade once was. But then he sees Emma a few feet away absolutely laughing her ass off, and even if it goes against their agreement about how they’re going to act when working, he can’t stop himself from running toward her and immediately wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him as her hands push at his chest and laughter passes through her lips.

“You’re covered in Gatorade,” she laughs, still pushing at him even if he knows it’s not a true effort. “It’s sticky.” “And you ran way and let it happen.”

“Which was obviously useless considering I’m going to be covered in it now.”

“Exactly the point,” he chuckles while Emma stops squirming against him and casually wraps her arms around his neck, obviously having accepted that she’s going to be covered in Gatorade too. “We’re going to the World Series, Swan.”

“I know.” And then she kisses him.

-/-

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