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xjoonchildx · 5 years

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter one: ICN --> LAX

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, highly improbable condom placement, unrealistic use of available sex space, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

*************************

One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed (I still) Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM? 25, I still don’t know how to live well So, today as well, we just go -- Airplane, Pt. 2 BTS

**************************

Jungkook Jeon is basically your Carmen Sandiego.

You stare down at the photocopy of the state of California driver’s license in your hand, into the face of the brash little fucker you’ve been chasing across the globe for the better part of a year.

He looks barely old enough to drive.

Of course, this picture was taken years ago when he was a sophomore at Stanford. Back before he dropped out of school despite being in the top of his class. Back before he broke the law by taking six million dollars of someone else’s money, then broke his parents’ hearts by disappearing without a trace.

You should already have him in custody — and If he were like any of the other greedy assholes you usually chase, he would be. But instead, Jungkook Jeon has managed to deflect and dodge and avoid you at every turn for months.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

One time, you’d been so certain about cornering him in Argentina that you’d boarded a plane with a pair of thick-necked US Marshals and flown south. You’d had to head back to the States empty-handed and sunburnt and pissed.

The real kicker was when you’d gotten home and opened a one-line email – encrypted to hell and back – with a picture of your FBI Academy graduation headshot attached.

you’re so hot i almost want to get caught. almost.

That had hurt.

So you’d had to lick your wounds, bide your time and wait for a man who apparently didn’t make mistakes to make a mistake. And for a while, he didn’t.

Until he did.

**************************************

Agent Kim Namjoon is definitely not the pencil pusher you imagined him to be during your many phone calls and other interactions.

No, the man who meets you and your team at Incheon International Airport is what the kids these days call a snack. He is tall and broad and wears a pair of dark thick-rimmed glasses that should make him look like a giant nerd but somehow don’t.

Very, very cute.

“Welcome to Korea,” he says with an easy smile. You smile back, then clear your throat and remind yourself you’re not here to flirt with your contact with Korea’s National Intelligence Service.

Seriously.

Agent Kim’s English is immaculate – this you already knew since you’ve exchanged more than a few calls in recent weeks. He’s got his own team ready for briefing at his headquarters. After a quick drive, you’re all in one room going over the plan.

His guys have tracked Jeon to a high-end restaurant in Seoul where he’s been working for a few months. They already have a rough sketch of the area. You’re going to block off every exit, cover every angle, and make sure there’s no way he’s getting out of that restaurant without coming through one of you.

This should go off without a hitch – but then you remember Argentina and frown.

“He’s there. My guys are ready to go,” Agent Kim says, after taking a quick call on his cell phone.

It’s decided, then.

You load into black vans and take off for the west end of the city. Agent Kim drives and you have the chance to look out the window at the streets. It’s a beautiful place, you think. Agent Kim seems to read your mind.

“You should come back sometime,” he says. “When you’re not here on business.”

Sigh. You’re going to have to flirt with this man, aren’t you?

“I would like that. Maybe you could show me around some time,” you reply.

His eyes stay on the road – his hands locked at 10 and 2 – but you see the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. You smile to yourself and look back out the window.

Minutes later you’re parked outside an industrial-looking brick building. Gleaming glass-and-stone condos and perfectly manicured greenscaping confirm you are in a high-dollar neighborhood. It’s a Saturday night in a ritzy part of Seoul and you’re probably about to ruin someone’s date night.

Or maybe rescue it, depending on the date.

You stare out at the restaurant and imagine Jungkook Jeon inside, going about his life without realizing you’re here to throw a wrench into all his plans. You get a little thrill when you imagine the look on his face when he realizes the gig is up. Victory is so close you can taste it.

Agent Kim gets a call from his point man, everyone is in place.

Showtime.

******************************

“Is that consommé? It looks like consommé. What do you think, Agent Kim?”

Jungkook Jeon looks shaken for a moment when you step in front of the table where’s he’s just laid out a picture-perfect pair of starters. His guests, a nicely-dressed older couple, also look shaken as they glance nervously between you, Agent Kim, and their now permanently off-duty server.

He straightens to his full height.

The youthful roundness of the face you’ve stared at so long in that driver’s license picture is gone. You have no idea what this guy’s been eating for the past few years, but in place of that baby-faced kid is a man, tall and broad and muscular. Tattoos you can’t make out run across his hands, up his arms, and disappear into the white dress shirt he has rolled to the elbows. His hair is on the long side, pulled back, giving you an unobstructed view of what can only be described as a perfect face. Serious, literal perfection.

Good grief.

Somehow the little shit recovers from his shock in an instant. He smirks, despite his clear disadvantage.

“I gotta say, you look even better in person.”

Oh yeah? So do you.

You ignore his opening line.

“It’s time to come home, Mr. Jeon. Pay the piper and all that.”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes and your hand itches with the desire to punch him in his stupid fucking perfect face.

“Teamed up with some Korean suits, huh?” He gives Agent Kim the once-over and apparently finds him lacking.

“Mr. Jeon,” you feign a scandalized tone. “Just how do you think I was raised? It would be downright rude to barge into a sovereign country without an invitation. Besides, Agent Kim here has been an absolute pleasure.”

You could hear a pin drop inside this restaurant right now. Every knife and fork and glass has come to rest on the fine white linen on these tables. The guests are frozen in place, taking in the strange scene.

Dinner and a show tonight, guys.

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. You’d half expected him to just walk up, accept his cuffs and get this show on the road. But no, apparently he’s in a talking mood.

“Tell me how you found me.”

You sigh. You’re not a pair of girlfriends catching up over coffee. You open your mouth to say just that, but Agent Kim speaks up.

“We had a source come through with some very specific information on you.”

“Oh, I think Agent Kim is being far too kind,” you counter. “What he means to say is that your Korean sucks. You see, Mr. Jeon, you may look like them,” you gesture at the restaurant full of guests, “but you sound like us. Let’s just say you stick out like a sore thumb here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at the jab.

“I hated Korean school, you know.”

“It shows.”

He laughs.

Agent Kim clears his throat as if to remind you both that you’re not alone.

“Well this isn’t a social call, and I’m sure all these fine people would love to get back to their meals. So why don’t we finish this chat on the way back to the United States, Mr. Jeon?” you say, getting back to the task at hand.

Agent Kim signals his guys and they swoop in to put him in cuffs. He doesn’t resist, just holds out his hands and shoots you his most flirtatious smile.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Agent.”

On your way out the door, you glance over at the consommé and hope it’s supposed to be served cold.

**********************************

“What is a man who stole six million dollars doing waiting tables at a restaurant?” you muse out loud.

Jungkook Jeon is in the backseat of Agent Kim’s black SUV, looking out the window.

“I had to have some kind of story, right? Besides, I kind of liked it.”

“You didn’t get to spend the money,” you say.

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s much easier to fantasize about blowing millions of dollars than it is to actually do it.”

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Jeon. What a shame.”

He leans forward in the backseat, hands cuffed in front of him.

“You know what would really be a shame, Agent? If I don’t get the chance to fuck you before you lock me up.”

A muscle twitches in Agent Kim’s jaw.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, glaring into the rearview mirror. You immediately decide you like him a little stern. It’s pretty hot.

“Mr. Jeon, you and your dick will be free to do whatever you’d both like in about twenty years. That’s how this whole grand larceny and evasion thing works,” you say, ignoring the sensation that spreads across the back of your neck at his crass words.

He whistles.

“I’m really going to waste my best-looking years in prison.”

No kidding.

“Oh, don’t be too disappointed,” you say sweetly. “I hear there are a few advantages to having such a pretty face behind bars.”

You hear the clink of his cuffs and look into your rearview just in time to see him give you the finger.

*********************************

The government can be so cheap sometimes.

You’d have loved to pull right up to the tarmac at Incheon International, walk right onto a chartered plane like the Feds do in the movies. But alas, private flights are definitely not in the budget.

Instead, you have to settle for regular seats on a Korean Air flight. You’d been in touch with the airline ahead of time and they’d offered you and your team privacy in the back rows of the plane – complete with a curtain separator. You really couldn’t blame them for not wanting passengers to be greeted by a handcuffed man and his gun-toting babysitters.

Smart move all around.

Seating arrangements are decided, you and Jungkook on one side of the aisle, your two Marshals on the other. They’re both smart men, highly-skilled and boring as hell. You’d already had to suffer through their small talk on the fourteen-hour long flight here, and you’d be damned if you had to do it again on the way back.

“Are you going to let me have a drink?” Jungkook asks, as soon as you’re settled into your seats.

“Of course,” you reply, scrolling through a few emails on your phone. “What’s your favorite kind of juice?”

He snorts.

“It’s gonna be a long flight unless you play nice,” he warns.

“Mr. Jeon,” you sigh. “Shut up.”

He shakes his handcuffs.

“You could at least take these off,” he grumbles. “Not like I can walk off of a moving plane.”

“Nope,” you reply, affecting your best bored tone. You grab a magazine out of the seatback and pretend to leaf through it.

“So you want me to sit here – no phone, no headphones, no nothing – for fourteen hours?”

“Better to practice that ‘bored out of your mind’ routine sooner rather than later. I’m sure it’s gonna come in handy.”

You don’t look his way, but you can feel the glare he’s fixed on you and you have to fight the urge to smile.

******************************

The flight attendant who rolls a giant drink cart into your quiet section of this plane looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, huge eyes and the whitest smile you have ever seen.

Jungkook straightens in his seat immediately. He’s been pouting for the last hour but now he sees this dazzling young woman and his game face is back on.

“Hello,” he says, flashing her a smile.

Then he stops — seems to remember his audience — and resumes the exchange in Korean. You stare at him as he makes eyes at the flight attendant, working her with the confidence of a man who is not wearing handcuffs right now.

She blushes deeply at something he says before turning back to her cart to pour a Jack and Coke.

“Are you serious, Jeon?”

He smiles.

“You don’t hate me, right? Like, obviously I’ve pissed you off, but you don’t hate me. Because only a person who hated me would stop me from having a drink on my way to federal prison.”

You open your mouth to protest, but instead decide that he’s right. He’s a thief – not a killer for pete’s sake.

A super-hot, ridiculously charming, complete asshole of a thief who is definitely not getting under your skin by flirting with the flight attendant right now.

The porcelain doll turns back and hands him his cocktail and Jungkook winks at her. This man just accepted his drink with his hands in fucking handcuffs and this woman is blushing at him like he just asked for her number in a nightclub.

“Are you done?” you hiss.

“With what?” he asks innocently, cuffs clinking as he lifts the drink to his mouth.

“Eye-fucking the flight attendant.”

He feigns shock. “Are you – are you…jealous?”

You scoff and turn your attention back to your magazine.

He leans close.

“Don’t be jealous,” he says, blowing whiskey-scented breath into your ear. “I wanted you first. I’m only flirting with her because you’re really mean to me.”

He leans back and takes another sip of his drink.

There is something about this mischievous boy-man with the chiseled body and the smart mouth. He certainly has a charm. You’re certain he’s been able to use that charm to get out of more than a few sticky situations over the years.

“I wasn’t kidding you know,” he says. “About wanting to fuck you.”

He shakes the ice in his glass to show off that he’s already drained it and gives you another one of those self-assured smiles that’s really starting to piss you off. You drop your gaze back to your magazine.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you state simply, pretending to have a deep interest in some blurb about face masks.

“No? Are you sure about that?”

“You are mind-bogglingly arrogant for a man who is headed to prison for the next two decades,” you reply dryly.

“Probably headed to prison,” he corrects. “Innocent until proven guilty, due process and all that. Unless things have changed? I realize it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

You snort.

“Okay fine, you’re right. I’m headed to prison for the next twenty years which is why it’s imperative that you fuck me now. Immediately. Anything else would be,” he gives a dramatic shake of his head, “Inhumane.”

This time you can’t help but laugh and one of the Marshals across the aisle gives you a disapproving look, like he’s been forced to chaperone a pair of giggling teenagers.

You clear your throat and look back down at your magazine, force the smile off your face.

“Argentina,” you say. “How did you get out of there before I got to you?”.

The flight attendant returns with another drink and another smile for him.

“You want something, I want something,” he says, taking a long sip. “Maybe we could work something out?”

“I’m not going to fuck you for information, Jeon. All of that will soon come out in the wash,” you sigh.

“Then fuck me for charity. For good will. Fuck me because it’s the least you can do since you’re blowing up my entire life right now.”

You roll your eyes.

“You blew up your life, you idiot. You’re the one who intercepted a wire transfer and stole six million bucks. You’ve already been fucked. You fucked yourself.”

He smiles wistfully for a moment.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

*******************************

You stop him at three drinks.

His eyes have taken on a soft quality and his entire energy is a bit more relaxed with some booze in his system. It’s hard, it’s really hard to ignore how hot this man is without even trying.

But when he tries? Then it’s damned near impossible.

You check your watch. You still have seven hours to go on this flight.

“Luck,” he says, suddenly.

“Excuse me?” you say, looking up from your magazine.

“You wanted to know how I got out of Argentina in time. I was gonna make up some fancy story about how I’d figured out you were on to me and beat the clock to get away but the truth is, I was just lucky. I’d already been there too long and I was getting restless. I was ready to go.”

Hmm. So the booze has made him talkative.

“Your landlord said we’d missed you by one day,” you counter.

“Yup,” he laughs, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving the thrill of the chase. “I used to have a lot of luck, actually. Before I ran into you.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fair enough,” you say and the two of you share a laugh. You open a bag of pretzels and offer him one. He begrudgingly accepts.

“Why did you take the money?”

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because I wanted to know if I could. I didn’t think I was gonna pull it off, but again, it was my luck. Once I figured out how to do it, I just did.”

“How remarkably stupid,” you breathe, a smile on your face. He smiles, too.

“Yeah, well. I said I was lucky, not smart.”

“Oh, but you are smart, Mr. Jeon, and don’t think you’ve convinced me otherwise. Your transcript from Stanford tells a very interesting story. What did your parents say when you dropped out at the top of your class and went to work at a gas station?”

The sarcastic back-and-forth screeches to a halt. For the first time, you see darkness pass over his face.

“Don’t ask me about my parents,” he says curtly. “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know, but that shit is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and this time you mean it.

He shifts to his side, away from you, and looks out the window.

You sit quiet, thinking for a minute – but after a while you both fall asleep.

********************************************

You wake to Jungkook nudging you.

“Get up,” he says urgently. “I have to piss.”

You groan, trying to clear the fog from your brain and glance at your watch. Still four more hours to go on this flight.

“Like now,” he says, bouncing one leg to ward off the sensation.

You get up, stretch out, and wait for him to stand but then realize he’s waiting for you to help him since it’s an awkward fit in the seats with his handcuffs. Instead of making a snarky comment, you just offer your hand and a slight smile.

Very unlike you.

“Thanks,” he says, straightening out, stretching his legs. One of the Marshals raises an eyebrow at you.

“He has to use the bathroom,” you say, stilling the man with a raised hand when he makes to stand. “It’s alright, I need to stretch, too. I’ll walk him down there.”

The Marshal looks skeptically from Jungkook to you and back.

“It’s fine, Agent,” you say, a little annoyed. “It’s not like he can go anywhere, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook says, still bouncing that leg.

The Marshal gives you a look that makes clear he doesn’t approve, but he’s not going to stop you.

You walk behind Jungkook as he makes his way past the curtain, down the aisle and towards the bathroom. It’s a half-empty flight, and you’re glad for it when you see people staring at his handcuffs. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on his behalf when you hear them whispering in Korean. At least you don’t know what they’re saying.

The firm set of Jungkook’s mouth makes you think he wishes that were the case for him, too.

“Just uh, give me a minute,” he says, when you reach the bathroom.

It turns out to be a lot longer than a minute.

You’re half tempted to bang on the door and demand to know why he’s taking so long. Maybe the Marshal was right to be suspicious of Jungkook. Maybe he figured out a way off this plane through the toilet.

You’re bouncing your own leg impatiently when he finally reappears.

“What took you so long?” you ask, annoyed.

“You ever try to take your pants and underwear off while handcuffed?” he asks. “You know what — never mind, don’t answer that. You’ll start giving me ideas.”

Ah. He’s back, then.

Part of you is a little relieved to hear his smart-ass mouth again. You feel a hell of a lot less guilty around this version of him.

“Listen, I did a little recon and it’s a tight fit, but there’s definitely enough room for us to fuck,” he says, face comically serious. “And we’re running out of time for you to pull the trigger, so what’s it going to be?”

“Ugh. You’re foul,” you say, pulling a face.

“But you kind of like it,” he shoots back.

He’s right, though. You kind of do.

***********************

Clearly you’ve lost your mind.

Pheromones have short-circuited all the portions of your brain that control logic, reason, and risk. That’s the only plausible explanation for why you are slumped into your seat right now, legs pressed together tight, imagining fucking Jungkook Jeon in an airplane bathroom.

Sympathy and curiosity and more than a little horniness are making for a strange mix. You reason to yourself — as if you are actually entertaining this madness — that he’s not a convicted felon, just an accused one. There’s gotta be a loophole in the FBI handbook somewhere.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, leaning close — a smile playing over his lips.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” he whispers in a scandalized tone. “I mean with these on, I’m not going to be able to do my best work, obviously, but I’ve done more with less. Unless you want to take them off,” he says, rolling his wrists in the handcuffs.

“I already told you, I’m not taking those off,” you say sharply.

“Alright, alright. Keep it kinky. I can roll with that.”

”Shut up, Jeon.”

He gestures across his mouth like he’s zipping it shut and throwing away the key and you fight the urge to laugh.

“If I decided to fuck you, and I’m not saying I would,” you hiss, “I would have to stuff a sock into that smart mouth of yours just to not have to hear it.”

He laughs and his face looks so young and relaxed it takes your breath away a little.

“Make it your underwear and we have a deal,” he winks.

You pick up another magazine and get back to actively trying to ignore him and that annoying pulse between your legs.

*************************

Two hours left to Los Angeles.

You glance over at your guard dogs, who’ve both knocked out after a snack. One has a newspaper draped fully over his face, grandpa style.

You should have ordered a drink. You should have ordered six. That way, if you’re ever called to the carpet about the decision you’re about to make, you can blame it on alcohol-induced psychosis. Because the Marshals are asleep and you feel bad for Jungkook Jeon and he’s so hot you can barely think straight at this point. You take a deep breath and make a decision.

Fuck it.

You stand quietly, motioning to Jungkook with a finger over your lips. For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion but that look passes almost as quickly as it came. Then his entire face breaks out into a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” you whisper back, through gritted teeth.

You hold out your hand to help him to stand and when he grips it, he rubs his the pad of his thumb across your wrist. You try to ignore the sizzle of arousal he manages to drum up with that brief touch.

Quietly, you both walk past the curtain, past sleeping passengers and back to the clean but cramped bathroom where you are about to do the dumbest shit you have ever done.

You glance around at the passengers nearby and notice only one older man, eyes wide on the two of you. You shoot an excuse-me-sir-this-is-official-government-business look at him before following Jungkook into the tiny space.

You lock the door and turn to face him.

“Glad you finally came around,” he says, immediately backing you into the door. His mouth goes right for your neck and he pushes his entire body into yours in this tiny space. He is large and warm and he smells way better than he should after working a restaurant shift, being arrested, and then being jammed into a plane seat for hours.

His lips work up the column of your throat and his hands, still secured in front of him, push uselessly into the front of your lightweight wool dress. Shame, really, that you couldn’t take him out of these. You’d love to feel those hands right about now.

“I wasn’t kidding about keeping your mouth shut,” you manage to say, breathless at the feel of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The vibration of his laughter tickles the shell of your ear.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he says. “I just need to get my face under this dress.”

Your brain stutters for a moment, hung up on the mental image. He drops to his knees in front of you, lifts his hands to try and push up the front of the almost-too-tight garment but his handcuffs make it impossible. You graciously help him out, hiking the hem up your thighs. You’re about to work your underwear down, but he’s impatient, burying his face directly into the wet satin and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans, nosing the aching nub between your thighs. You’re glad he can’t see the way your mouth drops open when he licks out at the damp material, teasing you with the barest hint of friction.

“Help me out here,” he moans, and you do just that, sliding your panties down as best you can with the amount of space you’ve got.

At this angle, you can only get them down to your knees, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his entire face into you, lips and teeth and tongue driving into you, working you with a fervor that makes your knees start to wobble. You grab a handful of his hair to steady yourself but it’s no use. Absently, you realize the tremors running up and down your body are rattling the door.

“Nice to know that mouth is good for more than just trash talk,” you tease on deep exhale. He laughs.

“Maybe some day you’ll get the chance to enjoy the full-service experience.”

“Probably not, Jeon,” you moan. “This is just a one-time favor, got it?”

All the blood in your brain has taken a dive into parts lower south and you marvel at how quickly your impending orgasm is coming on. But then, you’ve basically had about ten hours of foreplay up to this point, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

That damned door keeps rattling and you just know the little old man on the other side is probably staring it down. You’re not sure what it says about you that you think that’s kind of hilarious.

Your body jolts when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit and sucks so hard you see stars. “You’re the one about to come on my face in an airplane bathroom,” he groans, licking obscenely between words. “So who’s doling out favors right now?”

Well, that does it.

The second he brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, you fall apart, gripping his hair so hard you’re certain it has to hurt. You pour all your energy into not screaming as your orgasm steamrolls you, and whatever energy you have left goes into trying to stay upright. Jungkook stays face-first in your heat, lapping up your release until the last tremors shake you and that goddamned door.

“Shit,” your voice is shaky, chest heaving when you finally make a sound.

“You are very, very fucking hot,” Jungkook says, breathless from where he sits on the floor. “Way too hot to be a Fed.”

You laugh.

“Well you are definitely too hot to be a criminal, but here we are, huh?”

Your eyes slide down to his glinting handcuffs, but they aren’t what’s catching your attention. Instead, your gaze heads right to the giant bulge straining against the front of his jeans. Turnabout is fair play, and you’re suddenly very eager to return the favor.

You help him stand and immediately seal your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his lips. Your fingers fumble past his restraints, underneath to where you can feel the button of his jeans and you undo it as fast as you can. He stops kissing you long enough to groan into your mouth when your hands slip into his boxers and your fingers wrap around his cock. He is hot and thick and hard in your hand. You squeeze around him, enjoying the way his hips jerk in response.

“Don’t tease,” he whines. “I’m gonna have to fantasize about this blowjob for the next twenty years.”

“I’d better make it memorable then,” you say, sinking down to your knees in the cramped space. You shove his jeans off his hips and look up at him as you gently push his boxers down and over his straining cock. His body is rock hard, lean muscle and defined lines running from his shapely legs up to his cuffed wrists and underneath that white shirt you’d love to peel off but can’t.

His head falls back the second your lips touch his swollen head. You tease it for a moment with a few quick licks, but decide this is really not the time to be dragging this out. The strangled “fuck” he whispers when you take him down fully is the sweetest and dirtiest thing you’ve heard in a while.

You manage to catch his gaze for a moment as you maintain a steady rhythm on his cock with your hands. His eyes are glassy with drinks and arousal, and you nearly have to slip a hand between your legs when his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips.

He lifts and drops his handcuffs a couple of times before growling his frustration at not being able to put his fingers in your hair. You feel a faint throb of sympathy for him for a moment before reminding yourself that you literally have your mouth around his cock so frankly, things could be a lot worse for him than they are right now.

“You gotta stop,” he says, after a few minutes of the slow, wet torture. You release him with a soft pop and a confused expression.

“It’s your last blowjob for twenty years, Jeon. You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I have to fuck you. Please let me fuck you. It’s all I can think about,” he whines.

“You can’t,” you say firmly. “No condoms.”

He blows out a heavy breath like he’s thinking for a moment and there you are, on your knees in this tiny bathroom, confused as to what your next step should be.

“Look around,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Look – people fuck in airplane bathrooms all the time, right? It’s a thing. Maybe someone out there pulled some hero shit and is looking out for the next person.”

“This bathroom,” you say skeptically, “is the size of a goddamned shoebox, Jeon. You think we’re going to magically scrounge up a condom?”

“Just look,” he implores through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning over to pop the cabinet under the sink open. You put one searching hand inside and pull out three sanitary pads that look like they were packaged in the 1970s.

He groans, frustrated.

“Hang on,” you say, jamming your hand back inside. Your fingertips brush up against something smooth and you fish it out, eyes wide with utter disbelief.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

You hold the condom packet up for him to inspect.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, cock jerking at the sight of it, like it knows he’s just hit the jackpot.

He laughs so hard for a moment you fear this entire encounter has gone entirely off track.

“My luck is back,” he declares triumphantly, finally. “Now, please hurry up and get on my dick.”

You’re shaking your head in disbelief the entire time you’re ripping the packet open, rolling it down Jungkook’s impossibly still-hard cock. He’s breathing hard, body tense with anticipation when you slide your heels off to take your underwear off completely.

“The heels,” he groans, watching as you slip your panties over your ankles. “Can you — you know…keep ‘em on?”

“Ugh, you are such a pervert,” you scold, slipping your feet back into the shoes and leaning back to line him up with your entrance. He surges forward and you moan at the stretch as he fills you entirely in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, already rolling his hips frantically against you. “Shit, that’s incredible.”

And truthfully, it is. The ledge of the sink is biting into your ass with every thrust and you’re having to do most of the work given his handcuff situation but you really don’t even care because he still feels amazing like this.

He mouths uselessly at the wool covering your breasts because there’s no way to get to them. You nearly admonish him because he’ll leave crude wet spots on the fine material, but you decide against it.

“Oh, I bet you have amazing tits,” he groans, hips maintaining a steady rhythm. “Giving me something to look forward to for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jeon. And there won’t be a this time if you don’t hurry up already,” you shoot back.

He laughs, a little breathless from exertion. “I’m close, I promise. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You squeeze tighter around him, push harder back against him, angle your hips a bit more to ensure he’s going to the hilt with every thrust. The guttural sound he makes in response sends a shiver up your back.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a moment, mouth covering yours as his hips begin to stutter at the first ebbs of his release. Your ass is numb from the sink ledge at this point, legs tired from supporting your weight and his.

“So come then,” you tease, biting gently on the sensitive skin at his pulse point. He groans from deep inside his chest as he lets go – hips jerking as he pumps himself through it.

“Shit,” he groans, leaning on you with his full weight.

“You are crushing me Jeon,” you complain, pushing at his chest with both hands. He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balance is a little off at the moment.”

You open your mouth to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, but there is something about the way he is looking at you right now that stops you short.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the tiny glimpse into whatever that was.

“Well, as much as I’d love to ruminate on how good this was,” you say, shifting your dress back down and making a beeline for your underwear, “We’ve been in here an insane amount of time already. There’s probably a line outside the door.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little too quiet for your liking.

So you put yourself back together and help put him back together, too.

And strangely, when you open the door to leave there is no line. But that little old man is still watching, a look of astonishment on his face as you both walk past.

***********************************

“Listen, are you sitting down right now?”

You frown at the phone display in your office because any conversation that starts with an opening line like that is headed south.

“Uh…yeah. Why?”

“Hang on, I’m coming to your office.”

Seconds later, Agent Novak bursts through the door.

“So you haven’t seen it,” he says, rushing up to your desk.

“Seen what, Novak? Spit it out,” you say, frustrated already.

“Check your email,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks fit to burst with some kind of excitement and your chest already feels a little tight at whatever it is he’s dying to show you.

You click into your email to find an urgent bulletin that you’d missed because you were working on a stack of papers on your desk, not your computer. The subject line makes your heart hammer.

URGENT MEMO: Fugitive Search, Jungkook Jeon

ATTACHED VIDEO FILE

“The guy just walked out of a federal courthouse like he was on an afternoon stroll. Had on a suit and everything,” Novak says, a note of awe in his voice. “Check out the video.”

Your mouth is already hanging open before you even click on the attached CCTV footage. A camera inside the courthouse shows Jungkook Jeon walk out of a bathroom in the front lobby, dressed like an attorney, not a defendant. His long hair is cut into a more professional style, his suit covers his tattoos and he looks entirely in place.

Novak is right – he walks so casually past the guards and other visitors that no one even thinks to stop him.

“Word is, court was on a lunch break and it looks like he had everything ready to go. Walked into a waiting Uber and vanished like smoke.”

You haven’t said a word since Novak walked in with this bombshell.

You just watch the CCTV footage over and over again in a loop, willing your brain to accept what your eyes can see clear as day.

This motherfucker.

Guess his luck really is back.

***************************

#jungkooksmut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x read #btssmut #bts fanfic #bts fic

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keanan1501 · 3 years

Text

Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

#dream smp au #dream smp #dsmp au #tubbo #fundy #dreamxd #swap au

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woah-were-halfway-there · 4 years

Note

Can you write a little fluffy piece of you and Auston in present time with being separated because of covid and all

Here you are my dear! It turned out longer than anticipated but oh welllll

Word count: 1.7k

Quarantine sucks, to put it simply. Places are closed, events have been cancelled, everyone is expected to stay home unless it’s essential to leave, and to make it all worse, you and Auston are spending it in different countries.

A week after the NHL announced the suspension of the remainder of the season, Auston flew back to Scottsdale. Seeing as this was before things got too intense, you still had to work and insisted that he go without you. Your office had plans to shut down by the end of that week as a precaution for the pandemic. After that, you knew you would be off for at least two weeks, so the plan was for you to fly to Scottsdale to be with your boyfriend then; but that never happened.

The severity of the situation got real bad real fast, and you were no longer able to travel. Therefore, you ended up having to stay in Toronto alone.

Auston remembers getting the text saying you had cancelled your flight as if it just happened yesterday. He had just woken up, that three-hour time difference between the two cities not helping the situation at all, and was quick in calling you to ask why.

“Aus, you should see the news,” you explained to him. “It’s a whole mess out there, and it only seems to be getting worse. Places are closing down, people are buying ridiculous amounts of toilet paper, and the government is advising that people don’t travel. Trudeau is closing the border, babe. I want to be there with you; I really do. I miss you so much already, but I don’t think I should leave Toronto just yet. Surely, this won’t take too long to blow over, and I’ll be there sooner than we both know it.”

Clearly, that was a bold assumption for you to make because over two weeks have gone by, and the two of you are still separated.

Auston still cannot get over the fact that you got stuck, and alone of all things. He hasn’t stopped beating himself up over it either. In Toronto, you don’t have a roommate to hang out with, seeing as it’s just you and Auston that live in your unit, and that alone only has made him feel so much worse about everything.

With social distancing, you can’t just go over to Mitch and Steph’s like you usually would either. Although it’s gotten to the point where the two have invited you to just stay with them until this all blows over, you keep saying no out of fear that you may have come in contact with the virus and could pass it on to them. That just wouldn’t be fair.

So, all that you really can do now is suck it up and try to make the most out of your isolation, even though it’s really hard sometimes. And god, do you miss your people. Without there being much to do other than the odd thing for work; all you’ve done is clean the condo, get groceries when you need them, watch a lot of Netflix, talk with Steph all while trolling Mitch in the comments on his Twitch streams, and of course, FaceTime you boyfriend as much as possible.

Regardless of how hard you’ve tried, you just haven’t been able to develop a routine you feel motivated enough to stick to. It’s a depressing time. So, the fact that you’re flopped on your bed, staring at the ceiling, with a half-empty bottle of wine resting next to you on the bedside table, and Champagne Supernova blaring from your Bluetooth speaker late on a Friday night; really shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. You’re in quarantine; you’re allowed to mope.

Completely and utterly bored with your current situation, you roll over onto your side to grab your phone and wine from the table. Ignoring the empty wine glass that was there too, you settle on taking a swig right from the bottle and smiling sadly at the adorable picture of you and Auston that’s set as your lock screen. The image was from last summer when the two of you were on vacation with his family and just makes you feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside, even though it makes you long for how easy times were before all of this.

Great, another wave of depression.

Shaking your head clear of the intruding thoughts that decided to creep into your mind, you unlock your phone and start scrolling through social media… again. After opening Twitter and quickly getting bored with the content on there, you move to Instagram to see what the people and celebrities you follow are up too on there, only to be met by a picture posted by your boyfriend as soon as the app loads.

“No, why!?” You groan and flop onto your back again dramatically. You’re lucky the bottle of wine you’re holding is almost gone, or else it probably would have spilt everywhere with your dramatics, which you’re aware of, but really couldn’t care less about. After a moment of just laying there in silence, you eventually sit back up to take another sip of wine before setting it on the table and unlocking your phone, so you can really take in this new picture.

Everything about the picture feels like a direct attack. Not only is the scenery stunning with the beautiful Arizona sunset in the background, the image also consists of Auston looking fine as hell, shirtless, wearing one of the many snapbacks he owns to keep his hair out of his face, all while supposedly ‘discovering portrait mode.’ Honestly, how dare he?

You just can’t seem to look away. It’s such a good picture and man does it make you miss him even more. Without giving it a second thought, you close out of the app and open FaceTime, suddenly overcome by an intense feeling of neediness.

Luckily for you, it doesn’t take long for him to answer the call.

“Hey, babe,” he greets before taking a sip of water and plopping down onto his couch. He’s still shirtless, wearing the same snapback, and the sun is still clearly setting out the large windows behind him, which makes it clear that this is a very new picture you just experienced, and you’re unsure if that makes you feel better or worse. “What’s up?”

“I miss you,” you pout and let out a sigh. “So much. And then you had to go and post that on Instagram, which was just rude on your part in complete honesty.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles and shakes his head while you roll your eyes at him. “I miss you too. How was your day?”

“Kind of not great,” you tell him honestly. “I’ve been feeling pretty down.”

“Ah, so that’s why I can hear Oasis playing.”

“They’re on my sad girl hours playlist, alright? What do you want from me?”

“I know they are,” he laughs again, but it isn’t long until his expression grows serious. “And nothing, other than for you to talk to me about what’s bugging you. What’s going on?”

Damn, he knows you well and is so good at easing into these types of conversations.

“It’s just,” you start and take a deep breath in hopes the tears you already feel pricking your eyes don’t decide to overflow. “I miss you, and our friends, and how life was before all of this. I know it’s only been two weeks, but Aus, I feel so alone. And don’t you dare try to blame yourself for that, ok? You’ve done so much for me already even though you’re so far away and honestly, just talking with you helps a lot. It reminds me that I’m not alone. That there’s a lot of people out there who love and care about me, it just sucks so bad being stuck here and it’s messing with my mental health quite a bit.”

“I know, babe, I know,” he soothes and lets out a sigh. “I want nothing more than to be with you right now. Whether that be here or there, I wouldn’t care. I just miss you so much, and I’m so sorry you’re feeling the way that you do. I know that me telling you all of this may not mean much seeing as I’m in a different freaking country, but I mean it. I love you and am always here to talk if you want to.”

Now you’re crying.

“I love you a whole lot.”

“Oh, no, please don’t cry, I-,” he apologizes, but you just shake your head.

“No, it’s ok,” you tell him and use the sleeve of his Maple Leafs sweater you’re wearing to wipe away the tears that broke free. “It feels good to let it all out, you know? Thank you for making me feel comfortable enough to do that.”

“Of course, anytime,” he assures you softly. “I’m always here. And I hope you know that as soon as we’re out of this, you’re not leaving my side. If you thought you could get sick of me before, just wait until we’re back in the same place together.”

“I could never get sick of you, Aus,” you chuckle and shake your head at how dramatic he’s being.

“If quarantine has made me realize anything, it’s never to take the time I get with you for granted ever again,” he explains, making your heart swell with affection. “I mean it.”

“I know,” you reply and smile at him. “The feeling’s mutual. I can’t wait to see you in person again.”

“Me neither. Going to hold on to you a little tighter, that’s for sure.”

He goes on to ask about the positives of your day, and you spend the next little bit telling him all you’ve accomplished in your free time and asking him about his day. After a while of chatting with your boyfriend, you eventually crawl into bed while remaining on the call, and attempt to watch an episode of Ozark together.

You end up falling asleep while on FaceTime, and Auston can’t help but smile at the peaceful image of you sleeping on his phone screen. Knowing he should probably start getting ready for bed soon too, Auston quietly reminds you that he loves you and hangs up before sending you a sweet text to wake up to and forcing himself to think about how all of this will be over soon and he’ll be back with you in no time.

#nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #auston matthews #nhl imagine #auston matthews fanfiction #nhl writing #auston matthews imagine #hockey imagines #nhl headcanon #auston matthews imagines #hockey fanfiction #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #toronto maple leafs imagine #1-s

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER TWO: FOR THE FIRST TIME

SUMMARY: Lynn meets the attractive English teacher, Mr. Tom Hiddleston. WORD COUNT: 3.1k NOTE: it’s 3:00 am but I don’t have a sleep schedule. Enjoy! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

INSIDE IS HAVOC.

For some idiotic reason, most students somehow forget what classes they signed up for three months ago or lost their schedules (I still wonder how that happens) and thus, the front office is a mess of students asking for theirs, the lines bleeding out into the hall. Given this, getting around to head to the commons will be a mission in and of itself. I'm not hating on all of them. As a freshman I was in the same place, my shaky hands and nervously stuttering voice mirroring the kids that smell brand new. Hopefully, to avoid this debacle again, they'll write the classes down. I guarantee the already exhausted looking receptionists would agree.

I almost want to tell the small, thin girl who wrings her hands 'good luck' but I guarantee she'd faint by the time I open my mouth. Instead, Ellie and I keep walking past the crowd. Poor souls.

It takes a minute or so to reach the commons, the booming echoes of chatting teenagers on their first day back is a sound like no other. The voices create a paved path any newcomer could easily follow. It dawns on me now that this will be the last time I'll hear this sound. I solemnly smile.

"I'm telling you, Dunmer is the better race."

"Only an idiot would spew such ignorant bullshit! Everyone knows Khajiit are the superior race!"

"Says the guy who could pass as a furry."

My eyebrows raise once the familiar voices are heard. Of course, they sit alone and look as normal as ever. My heart dips into my stomach when one of the two glances up and bashfully raises a hand to wave. In his awkward state, his hand barely moves.

Ellie is the first to speak. "What are you guys fighting about now?"

The boy with the long black hair speaks first. "Dumbass over here thinks Dark Elves are the best characters in Skyrim." Gabriel Ahoka is one of the oldest friends I have and if there's anything I've learned from him, it's that he's right the majority of the time. Oh, and he has beautiful hair.

"Because I'm right!" I take a seat next to the self-proclaimed judge. His name is River Adams, and I think I've been in love with him since he told me I reminded him of Hermione Granger back in the fourth grade. I smile in his direction then tuck some hair behind my ear. A nervous twitch that doesn't get past Ellie's ever watchful eyes. I refuse to acknowledge her small smirk. Instead, we both join in on the two dorks' conversation.

Ellie rolls her big brown eyes at them. "I don't see what the fuss is about. You guys take your games too seriously."

Both River and Gabriel audibly gasp at her comment.

"Fine," Gabriel huffs looking in my direction. "What about you, Lynn-ykinz?"

I don't visibly react to his nickname. It's something I've been called for years now. Though I'd like to agree with River, it's something I can't do. "Dunmers—"

"Ha!"

"— are for pussies."

"Ha!" This laugh comes from the boy sitting across from me. Beside me, River makes a small "oh" and lowers his raised fists, his hooray coming to a short and final end. I chuckle at his reaction as I pass Gabriel a solid high five.

"What are your guys' schedules?" River asks a tiny bit of gloom and annoyance coating his words.

Fortunately, most of us are in similar classes and only have to be here for a little over half the day. Due to all of us sticking to the scheduling plan, we all were able to get almost all our required course and electives done. Instead of having seven classes in one day, we all have five. By the time lunch rolls around, we're free the rest of the afternoon, meaning much longer DND matches with the nerds and more gossip and jam times with the only other female in our group.

"So meet up at the library for lunch?" I confirm once more as the morning bell rings, signally to all the student and staff that the first day is about to begin. The three people around me reply in agreement, and we head out. For the first hour of the day as well as the last, we're in different places. I'm not sure where the others are going, but I begin my journey to the library, one of my all-time favorite places.

I walk through the doors and slide over the counter, careful not to be seen but not careful enough. I plop in my seat at the front desk as someone walks up behind me.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to go through the gate. It's literally five feet away, Lynn!" I send a humored smile to the woman walking behind me, a rather large stack of books in her arms.

I stand up and begin taking ones off the top. "Five feet of unnecessary effort, in my opinion."

"And playing parkour in the library is?" Mrs. Gibbons says, deadpanning.

"To each their own."

She sighs but then laughs. "How was your summer, kid?"

"Pretty decent." I now have half the stack in my arms, and I follow behind her. "My mom and I went to Arizona for a few days and then Seattle for a week. We didn't have much time, but we drove through somewhere in Canada on the way back just because."

Mrs. Gibbons sets the books down on a cart where there are a couple of rows on the bottom already filled. Taking her lead, I lower my stack to the opposite side and begin placing them side by side. I presume these are outdated and to be sold or given away. "What's in Arizona and Seattle?"

A smile hits my face immediately. "There's a college in Flagstaff with a great writing program. I went on a day trip around the campus. And Seattle is just someplace we wanted to visit."

"That's so good to hear, hon! Are you considering?"

I lean back against the counter right behind me as my mentor continues to shelve books. "It's a little far."

Turning to face me, Mrs. Gibbons send me a confused stare. "I thought you wanted to get away from this god-forsaken state?"

She's right. All I've wanted since my father left was to get out of Missouri (or Misery, if anyone's asking). My mom and I left Maine a long time ago go escape unimaginable horrors, but I wasn't expecting those nightmares to follow me here. The move was negligent in getting us away from memories a selfish prick poisoned and to start new somewhere far away, where no one knows me as the girl with a deadbeat dad. In this small town, everyone knows everything. I'd like to escape, to be a complete stranger to everyone.

But Arizona is a couple of thousand miles away from the place I grew up in, my home. I feel incredibly guilty about considering a college so far away from the woman who has taken care of me on her own since I entered elementary school, who has taught me that voicing my opinion and being honest is valued more than timidity and who told me that no man should ever keep a thumb on me. The other influencers in my life are also staying around here. Ellie has been accepted in a very pretentious private school for the Fine Arts a couple of cities over while River and Gabe are thinking about community college before making the jump into university. While solitude and adventures are what I crave, everyone who keeps my sanity in control is here.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "I do, but... I'm just not sure what I really want. Like, I would kill to get out of here, but what if everywhere is worse?"

"Trust me; there's nowhere worse than southwest Missouri, hon."

Again, she has a point.

I hum in response. There a brief moment of silence as we shelve old, dusty books. "So how was your summer?"

Mrs. Gibbons smile kindly, fawning over memories I doubt. "Richie took two weeks off, and we went Fiji. It was so beautiful. The water is clear, the people are wonderful, and the food– oh my God, the food." I secretly have a small thing for Richard Gibbons, or, as his wife calls him, Richie. This "thing" isn't a crush or infatuation by any means, but when he walks into the library on random occasions, he has a natural gift to swoon anyone he encounters. I've unfortunately fallen victim to his charisma a few times. He's an image of the wealthy 1930's businessman with modern values and beliefs weaved in his fine suits. Mr. Gibbons might be my mother's age, or possibly older, but I have to say, Mrs. Gibbons is quite the lucky woman.

I chuckle at her. "I'm sometimes surprised you haven't filed for early retirement."

"Richie makes quite the cash, but how and I supposed to entertain myself when he's gone ten hours a day and then for weeks on end?" Mrs. Gibbons pauses and looks around her library, then back to me. The growing crows feet wrinkle into a smile. "And besides, I can't leave my favorite kids behind, now can I?"

"I guess you can't," I reply.

Ten minutes later, I'm back at my desk. Well, technically mine, Mrs. Gibbons, and the other kid who helps out during school hours. I've never met them, so I'm not sure who exactly they are. Anyway, the "desk" is a long bar that has a foot-high wall that stretches all the way down to the ends, creating a divider between my computer and a student or faculty member. The top of this divider is flat, forming a plane in which books or arms can be set on. Most of the time, books scatter the top, but since it's the first day, the library is not only spotlessly clean but deadly empty.

That is until someone catches my attention. Sitting at the far side of the desk, I'm able to see who is coming a mile before he steps through the open library doors. This time was no different.

With long, lean legs and a towering height walks in none other than Mr. Tom Hiddleston.

Easily being the hottest teacher of all time, I feel a blush beginning to creep up my cheeks just at the mere sight of him. Apart from his 6'2 figure, he sports tame yet still curly reddish-brown hair, divine enough for the gods, if he isn't one already. Mr. Hiddleston's cheekbones and jawline remind me of razors, which I would feel honored to be cut by. However, his eyes are a color I can't pick out. Because I've never been in close proximity, my guess, from my distance, is green, or maybe blue. The ambiguity makes him all the more interesting. I wonder if he has some long-distance vibe because as soon as I look up to see him, Mrs. Gibbons is right out front— and missing her cardigan. I raise my brows at her from the swivel chair, but her eyes are focused down and away from me. Elbowing her slightly, I nod once, doing a run over of her exposed arms and a little cleavage. Jokingly, she swats my arms and blushes scarlet. I begin to laugh, somehow holding most in when Mr. Hiddleston walks in.

"Hello, Ruby," he smiles softly. As if he wasn't attractive enough, the man has a damn British accent. It's almost as if he's trying to stick out among the hicks. "It's good to see you. How was your summer, darling?"

If her fingers weren't wrapped around the edge of the desk, I guarantee she would have fallen over. Honestly, I would have done the same. "Absolutely marvelous! Fiji is a beautiful place. I imagine you would like it there."

I make the snarky note that she left her husband out of the conversation. Thinking about it, I try to glance over at her left hand to check if anything is missing.

Zoning out the best I could, I file through the library's emails and begin writing down books teachers are requesting. Like usual, the freshmen English teachers ask for The Great Gatsby, and the sophomore teachers need 1984. Due to being taught-in-class books, I scoot back in my chair to make a beeline to the back room and take the note with me, the sticky top staying attached to my fingertips.

"Oh, Lynn?" I hear Mrs. Gibbons call out.

I just entered the back room, so I comically poked my head out. "You called?"

I seem to humor both parties, a smile etched on their face. "Could you get the copies of Of Mice and Men?" My vision glances over to the teacher behind the desk for a short moment. His tall frame leans on the counter, arms crossed on the platform, apparently indicating familiarity and comfort in the room. I catch his stare. I realize now his eyes are in fact blue.

Nodding, I duck back into the room, setting my sticky note to the side. During the time I have to gather the fifteen or so books, I allow my reddening cheeks to cool off by taking long breaths. "Don't be weird, Lynn," I whisper to myself, extending my arms out towards the collection of novels. "He's just a hot teacher. Calm yourself."

Finishing the stack, I wrap my arms around the tower, huffing as I do. I carefully whisk myself towards the open door, making a mental note to go back to my list.

Mrs. Gibbons and Mr. Hiddleston chat among themselves not too far from where I left. Now sitting in her swivel chair, typing away feverishly on her computer, and keeping a conversation going, the librarian doesn't notice my return, though the man across does. He nods in my direction. The simplest gesture is somehow insanely attractive. Mrs. Gibbons looks over her shoulder, sending me a smirk. "Oh, there you are! Thought I lost you."

I fake a small laugh. "I'm surprised I didn't; it's quite the mess back there," I tease, waddling over to the counter. "Where would you like 'em, boss?" I'm not sure who I would refer to, glancing once at Mr. Hiddleston, to Mrs. Gibbons, then back to the stack in my arms.

"Would you mind escorting me to my classroom? I tend to be clumsy at times." With a warm smile, Mr. Hiddleston glances down to Mrs. Gibbons, awaiting her approval.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I would love or hate to go. On the one hand, I get to spend time with Mr. Hiddleston, every horny teenager's dream. On the other, I'm alone with Mr. Hiddleston, someone I've never had a conversation with let alone a 'hello' until minutes ago. Knowing my luck, I will somehow embarrass myself in front of him. It wouldn't be the end of the world since I don't have any of his classes nor do I have classes near his, but God I would feel like a fool for the rest of my life.

But, hey, he's something pretty to look at.

"Yeah, I don't mind. Is that okay, Mrs. Gibbons? I promise I won't bail on you," I say.

The librarian nods her head, fixing her glasses. "Of course, go right ahead! There isn't much to do now anyway. Just make sure you're back before the bell rings."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I won't keep her long," Mr. Hiddleston reassures.

I wouldn't be opposed if you did, I think to myself. The comment makes me blush, even going to my ears. Some reasons how I could be kept late quickly flash by and I find myself wishing I had not taken Mr. Hiddleston's offer. With my skin still burning, I make my way around the front desk as he follows me on the other side. The gate is shut, and due to my arms being preoccupied, I realized I might have to swing it using my hip, nothing too abnormal. I helped out Mrs. Gibbons last year and would do the same thing when my arms were full. However, Mr. Hiddleston was not accustomed to my way of opening the gate. Just as I go to butt it, Mr. Hiddleston reaches out. In an awkward exchange, Mr. Hiddleston's hand, which was aiming to wrap around the gate, collides on my hip instead.

It's nothing terribly exciting but enough to get a gasp and a jealous exchange from Ellie, and damn right I'll take that.

He pauses barely a second before quickly retracting his arm to his side. A blush of the same shade of scarlet cover our cheeks, an awkward laugh bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," I shyly push out.

Shaking his head, now making sure his hand is on the gate, Mr. Hiddleston bashfully looks down and opens up the exit for me. "Don't be, love. It was my fault."

"If you want to be the culprit, be my guest," I reply sassily. I don't want to see if my comment amused him or caused a cringe, so I don't look up. Instead, I look around for something to make our trip easier. "Did you want me to get a cart instead of carrying them up? It's up to you."

Shrugging, Mr. Hiddleston begins taking books from the stack, leaving me with less than half. "I don't mind walking if you don't mind. I missed my morning jog, so I'm trying to compromise the best I can."

I nod and kindly smile, even though my insides and my weak muscles are upset I took on the mission. "Walking it is then. Lead the way!"

Mr. Hiddleston turns on his heel, passing a smile to Mrs. Gibbons. "Thank you for letting me steal your little helper."

"Just return her the way she's leaving," Mrs. Gibbons retorts.

"We'll see," he replies, sending me a smirk and a wink. If the man wanted to turn my knees into jelly, he already succeeded from the first introduction. Now he's just teasing my flustered heart. "Just this way, love," Mr. Hiddleston tells me. I'm too afraid to speak, so I nod, smile, and follow beside him up the staircase.

#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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alias-b · 4 years

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sins of my youth. 020

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks for clicking in to read. Billy and Evie continue to explore their new relationship together. Max's fourteenth birthday party marks a change for the teens, reminding them that danger isn't too far off. TW: Neil being Neil. Mentions of abuse. Something close to an almost assault/abduction off screen near the end. Light mentions of Pica & fatphobia. Sexual themes

***My tag list is wide open, just shoot me a msg to join it! Chat with me about the chapter if you have the time! Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter 20: Rose Tint My World

“Hold still, I’ll poke your eye again.”

“I can’t breathe, you’re killing me.” Came a sniffled whine.

“Such a baby. You asked.”

“I said I was curious after you put the gunk on my nails!”

“That gunk was a great color on you. You whine just like your big brother.” Carol had Max’s face clamped in her grip as she applied mascara. “Don’t blink, you'll smear it.”

“Evie, she’s killing me,” Max lamented aloud. “This is not worth it.” Evie just laughed, setting a bowl of pretzels aside. Carol flicked a mirror up to let Max see her handiwork. “Whoa...It’s not terrible.” She gruffed in a mumble, tilting her head to see each angle. "Kinda like Madonna."

“I’ll take it.” Carol stole some M&Ms from another dish as they shared a spot on Heather’s fuzzy carpet. A movie rolled on in the corner TV.

Max about howled when Heather came in from the bathroom, face covered in green.

“Monster!”

“It’s a face-mask!” Heather planted her hands on her hips, prompting more laughter. “You’ll be more into them once your body really changes.”

“Girls are way scarier than boys.” Max poked at her blushed cheek which had Carol smacking her hand away. Evie was draped across the bottom of the bed in her robe and nightie, half-watching the TV. “Can you do a zombie make-up?”

Carol gave a snort.

“I can do anything. kid.”

“Eves, you want another piece of pizza?” Heather crossed with the box.

“I’m so full.” Evie shook her head.

“You had like one piece.”

“I ate a big lunch. And lots of pretzels.” Evie snatched the pretzel bowl again for good measure. Truthfully, her appetite had been up and down lately. Mostly down. What with the pangs in her stomach that always passed and… “You sound like my mother.”

“She was...extra peppy at the salon today. My mom and I got our monthly trim.”

“Probably some guy she’s seeing, it’ll pass and another will come. Men are like Kleenex to her. Soft, strong, and disposable.” Evie shrugged to pluck up a magazine.

“Hey,” Max began as Carol fussed over her, “so I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but my mom keeps insisting. My birthday party is coming. She and Neil saved so I could have it just at the roller rink and...they said I could invite whoever I wanted. But, I can’t ask the guys to come. So I figured I’d ask El. She’s really cool. But, maybe if you guys wanted to come? You can bring boys and pretend you’re not even at my party if it’s not your thing. I just-”

“Max, we’d love to come.” Heather piped up first. “Evie and I rule the rink too.”

“I look very cute in skates,” Carol agreed with a twitching smirk. “I'm in. I’ll bring Tommy, he sucks and he’ll fall down a bunch. We'll pretend we ran into each other so your stepdad can get the stick out of his ass.”

“Billy has to go too cause Neil says it’s a family event.” Max turned to Evie. “I think he’d be happier with you there.”

“I think Billy and I both are fine being there for you. I had my fourteenth at the rink too. It’ll be fun.” Evie beamed, legs up to sway idly. “Plus we haven’t met the Chief’s kid. She’s home-schooled, right?”

“Yeah, she might be joining us in school next year.” Max stayed still for Carol’s brush. “Depends. She was uh...adopted under weird circumstances. You’ll like her. I taught her how to do that felting thing because of you and she made this funny one of her dad.”

“I’ll bet Hopper loved that.” Evie winked.

“He’s kind of a babe in like a scruffy, rugged way,” Carol remarked. "Strong mountain man type."

“Ew. He’s so old.” Max reeled back to laugh.

“I’m just saying! I like a man in uniform. He rocks the khaki.”

“The moms in town do eat him up.” Heather shrugged, joining Evie on the bed with a handful of candy. “We all have our strange crushes. I like high cheek-bones. Guys with a little Bowie. Evie? You got one?”

“Gia Carangi even if she isn’t modeling any more, I love her face.” Evie was flicking pages without looking. Howls from the TV went ignored through the chatter.

“I called that. Fenny being into ladies. Try Iman.” Carol winked which earned her a look as if she hadn’t planted a kiss on Evie in a fit of rage.

“People say Billy’s pretty like a girl.” Max had added which got the other girls giggling.

“I like this one, we’re so keeping her.” Carol got up to root for a bag of chips, popping them open. “Like the zombie face better?”

“I still look too pretty.” Max appeared more goth than zombie.

“You are pretty. Deal with it. We redheads stick together.” Carol stole Evie’s magazine. “Let us know when the party is, we’ll be there.”

Max looked at the three older girls squished together on Heather’s bed. Chattering and supporting. Happy to have her around.

A bright smile touched her face for the first time since Neil Hargrove walked into her home.

** ** **

Most days, all it felt like was floating. Floating through her house. Through Hawkins. Up and down streets. Through school. A stunning illusion she pulled like wool over her dark eyes.

A woman in rippling silks walking endless halls toward a great, cherry red door at the end, but the door gets farther away and she's thrilled to continue on even still. Feather wings glittering to unfold from her back because heaven's light is beyond the door. Crystalline eyes with their hold. Waiting for her. The sky awaits her with caressing clouds. Opulent gold sun rays and twinkling stars when the world lies down.

Evie knew she was too big for her wings most days. Too heavy to leave the Earth.

Knew in her beating heart of hearts that was the first thing people think when they see her. This magnificent soul with drive and neon and talent reduced to a single shrewd glance. And they don't think twice until she's something vaguely sexual. Something marketable you can package and process and sell to the last drop.

Easier to stomach something uncomely if you can slide into it ruthlessly to rut. They always come like animals, wailing as a banshee would to get off better than they ever will in their small lives. They eat it up. Cover it in sweat and regret and blame.

These things that hang as little weights on her heartstrings swinging back and forth. They make her not want to attempt extending those wings to fly. Fear of heads shaking in judgement. Fear of looking uglier. More foolish for even trying. Poor thing.

All because of one glance that couldn't be bothered to see worth in another human life. Sometimes Evie wanted to be skinny not because of beauty, but because she'd get a privilege pass to exist in this world.

They think she shouldn't dress the way she does. She's probably lazy and self loathing because of added pounds. She has no real aspirations or means to achieve them. Those eyes that watch her eat. That shift away before they decide on another seat because the one open next to her just isn't right. They glare because of the extra room she might take up. Even sharing a few cordial words with fat girls seemed to be a task.

Evie always notices and does the polite thing pretending she doesn't. She knows what her body looks like, no need to point out the obvious.

Strange, how these snap judgements, these eyes that don't look twice; can villainize a body utterly. A body. Flesh, bone, and muscle. We're all made in heaven's image. All destined for paths we seek to control. Superiority should have been an illusion. But no, too much or too little, your worth dips low. Fetishes and internalized hatred for things that were shaped and colored differently. Blame.

But, some days, when the wind soars just right...just strong enough...Evie can spread and illuminate. See the births and deaths of a million stars. Drop the little weights to feel the winds between her fingers. In her curls. In her wings. Feel her feet leave the floor for just a few fleeting seconds.

The fleeting seconds of soaring always seem so worth it against a world of unsightly aches. Against snap judgements she can toss back to live in a flower petal haze.

Evie tried hard to live in those moments when they flashed into her. Spotlights. Butterflies delicately landing on her flesh to open and close their stained glass wings for kisses. Evie felt crushed utterly in the most decadent way.

Billy's soft lips on her neck to get lost in the pulse. Deft fingers that would push up her clothing as he moved in her. Eyes that wanted to see her. All of her. The prayers he could whisper against heating skin.

A lot could be said about him. But, Billy was always happy to see her and that alone was air spinning into gold. His eyes would light up. Lips twitching. She could hear the single beat that his heart skipped. Even if they didn't speak, they felt this awareness for each other in the vicinity. Truly magic.

Those eyes. That love of a face. Always staring pointedly to read her up and down. Always plucking the weights from her heart by listening. Always unafraid to touch her. Evie hoped she returned that. She really did.

Fleeting seconds began to linger between them. Seeping slow and saccharine as fresh pouring honey.

Sneaking away on walks while he let her hold his hand. Flirtation against school lockers that ended in several 'just one more' kisses. Double dates to the movies with Tommy and Carol. Sitting separately to make out.

Driving up near Lover’s Lake to kiss in a parked Camaro while the sun laid itself down to sleep. Fumbling playfully to undress and explore. Watching the construction of a coming mall with Slurpees from the gas station. Tongues and lips colored all artificial cherry and strawberry.

Evie would stretch her wings completely. Let Billy admire them until the world was all satin rose-tinted. She could forget her urges and worries and insecurities. All together. This was fine.

She was fine. More then fine.

He so liked to admire her wings. Pleasure crushed in as she moaned. Let his fingers explore contours and notches untouched before. Billy would take those prayers on his lips and drape them over her body. Spell them between fleshy thighs. Pulling more fleeting seconds for himself too.

They could roll around under sheets and not worry about anything else. Have conversations that always felt silly and wonderful and weighted because they both mattered to someone so ardently. That alone was an ocean both could sink into.

Something beautiful to behold. The real vision behind the great red door. Your soul mattering.

Evie was in a bubble with Billy Hargrove. A stupid, dopey look on her face when Mona settled dinner down one evening. Steam rising from a huge pot.

“Going out later?” Evie began to create sound or she'd be lost. "You colored your hair brown again."

“Needed another change. Ah, I'm going out just with Karen and Claudia. Dessert and wine night. I asked Susan but that poor thing keeps standing me up. Did you finish Max’s gift for her party?” Mona scooped up huge portions in a bowl that Evie would only be prodding at.

“Yeah, it’s set. Turned out perfect. She’s not much for jewelry but I think a personalized tie dye shirt will be fun. Might look cool while skateboarding. I also have that goody bag of sweets for her to fill up on we made.” Evie reminded herself to pick up her spoon. Took a few bites.

“You’re not scarfing it down like usual, you love my crawfish soup.”

“It’s delicious, I just had a big lunch.” A lie. Evie pressed herself to eat quicker, tearing a piece of fresh bread to chew. Thing was, she wanted to eat. She wanted to eat so badly despite the sickness welling inside her. The heavy ache made it a task. Mona eyed her daughter there. “My stomach's in knots a lot, just school stuff.”

“Well, you are a senior.” Mona pushed her own soup around. “I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Just the salon and I met-”

“I get it.” Evie’s lips spread in a flash, not wanting her mother to finish that sentence. “I’m with friends a lot and I keep busy with my music and the cat. I even wrote a new song.”

“That’s two this week, you. Strumming along blissfully.” Mona gushed. “Whatever has you all creative and dewy, chase it.” Silverware clicked around and Evie stared at her dish. A broader smile crossed.

"I will."

“What’s it called?”

“Ocean Eyes.”

Evie could be pretty transparent in the early stages of a relationship.

These short weeks in with Billy. Lyrics flooded free. Sometimes he liked to watch her write and strum when they hung out. Trips to the lounge where she worked other nights got him a full show, but not of her original stuff. Songs marched forth.

“Ocean Eyes.”

“Cupid and Psyche.”

“Honey Stardust.”

“Neon-Tinted Hearts.”

Rock. Pop. Lush and obscene with her glowing heartstrings. She wrote them for Fredrick too when they got together.

“Doll Joints.”

“Lollipop Lolita.”

“Prince Charming.”

After dinner, Evie stole a notebook filled with her every sinful lyrical confession of her time with Fredrick Bowers. Burnt it in an empty pot out back until Billy wandered out the back steps of his place. Asking her if she was trying to set the neighborhood on fire.

“How can I help?” He’d snarked while the sky went all pretty peach fuzz. Evie just laughed and never explained what she’d burnt or why it felt this cathartic to watch the smoke rise toward a falling sun. She figured maybe this was the day she'd stop eating foreign and sharp objects. She could do it. She was happier. Lighter. It had to stop.

It had to. She couldn't think about this haze shattering, it hurt too deep.

Billy used the flame to light his cigarette comically and kissed her before inhaling the smoke.

“Can we take a drive? Or walk if you’re low on gas?”

“Let’s walk, I got some cash doing my odd jobs for the damn neighbors, but I need it to last a bit longer with Max’s birthday. Got her this new board she was too chickenshit to beg our parents for.”

“Aren’t you a darling big brother?” Evie crossed her arms to follow him when the flame dwindled low. They went around the house to the front, started down the street. “Iris has some hours for me that next Saturday night.”

“You going to tell your mom about the secret job thing?” Billy inhaled and let smoke billow up into the afternoon light. They walked along Cherry Lane. Not touching. Counting steps while their shadows cast and the streetlights came up. A brisk night loomed, spring begging to creep through the month of March.

“I figured I could this summer. Around graduation. Just say I got something bigger since I’m eighteen and Iris can get me steadier hours. Gigs day or night. Maybe I’ll get to host a couple more drag shows. I miss those damn girls, the funniest performers know. I'll just let my mom down easy about the receptionist thing, hopefully she’s fine with it. Make it sound like I took initiative cause I'm a big girl.”

“And your grand singer plans?” He liked to ask about her and hang upon the syllables.

“Still up in the air. I’m taking the year off to work and write. Try for a talent agent or manager. I can record maybe...try to get airtime. There’s this contest thing, they do it every year and the winners always do well. But, I’m honestly too afraid to ask my mom about it just yet. I’m saving though here and there.” Evie beamed. “You? Summer and on.”

She was clearly asking if he was sticking around for summer.

“Odd lawn, house, and car jobs are getting me by. This whole street is a mess and the moms in town like to watch me work."

"Yikes."

"It means better pay and tips. I’m taking Heather up on her lifeguard offer this summer. I'll save up, Dad's already going to be asking for rent when I graduate."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Don’t wanna bank on that mall they’re opening with all the other little shits trying to get jobs first.” Billy leaned back to let the cooler air kiss his face, sighing before he tossed his smoke out.

Evie came to the end of the street near the forest, swayed around a streetlamp like she was in an old Hollywood flick. Dreaming long and endless. Sometimes she worried so often that she wasn't living. Just dreaming it all away. Maybe a center line was possible.

Maybe she'd be able to soar over it all.

Billy waited for her to swing back around it before he pressed into her for a slow, lingering kiss. Even better, maybe they both were sharing a dream. Making it of something stronger.

“So, how am I doing?” He joked lighter. Evie gripped the lamp to stay level, head tilting. “Two weeks in, almost three. This whole situation.”

“Situation.” Evie mused, slyly hiding half her face behind the lamp to hum. The shadowy starlet of a femme fatale she loved to watch on television with her mother. Glinting. Dangerous. "This whole situation?" She lingered to sigh it even slower.

"You and me." He'd sounded out, drawing nearer. "Us..." Evangeline, always the playful nymph, flitted off playfully. Spinning the other way to walk along so Billy came to her side easily.

“I think you’re doing fine." She tapped her chin. "What about me? Evaluate my performance.”

“Ah. In a sea of slithery tadpoles, you’re a goddamn firecracker.” He’d laughed and Evie followed, covering her lips with one hand.

“I don’t know how any of that correlates or makes sense, but I’ll take it.”

“Neither do I. Just made it up to see you do that. The scrunchy thing you do when you’re too happy or upset with me.” Billy’s nose crinkled as he grinned there. Evie came up to peck his freckles.

“You’re a total sap, Hargrove.” Evie continued, hands clasped behind her back before she inhaled the air. “Let’s hit that mini mart nearby. I’m craving a Dr. Pepper. Buy you a soda. It’s my turn.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re just being too nice again,” Billy remarked, feet shifting slower as they crossed the street. “I can’t take you fancy places.”

“I don’t need to go to fancy places, I just like hanging out with you wherever.” Evie turned her head to see him. “We’re both poor, we make due. Summer will be better. We can just work and...figure this out. I like it right now though, so don’t worry because I know how you shiver in those boots.”

She pondered it.

“Do you like it?” Evie offered quieter, earning Billy’s eyes searching her expression. Lip twitching, he tossed his arm around her. Brought Evie taut into his frame with an easier grin so they could keep walking toward the whirling, illuminated sign in the distance.

“Yeah, I like it.” He decided. “I like you plenty. What's not to like, Evangeline?” His free hand gestured out and Evie beamed to point at that darling face. Her Eros. Encouraging her wings to unfold without pressure.

"Wow, you're getting better and better at that." A beat. "Making me blush without rolling my eyes."

"Please, Angel, your knees quiver every time I hit you with this smile. You might as well toss off the panties for me." For good measure, he flashed it and Evie hid from his absolute burning charm. Cheeks felt that fire bloom and billow.

A car hurried past them. Sweeping budding flowers and loose leaves about. Delicate, they danced. Trees wobbled back and forth to the wind picking up. Evie stayed looking away to smile that time. Knew this wind would carry her easily.

"Did you have a best friend back in California?" She moved her arm around his back as they went.

"I don't know. Guess I had a few in orbit."

"Am I your best friend here?" She piped back up and Billy slowed to glance, chuckling.

"I thought you and I were avoiding labels."

"It's different." Came the protest.

"No, it isn't." He paused. "Heather's your best friend."

"Yeah, but I figured I could have more than one. Perfectly carved places for each." Evie shifted in front of him, hands smoothing up Billy's shoulders to clasp fingers round his neck. Blue eyes glittered to search.

"You trying to push some admission outta me, Fenny?"

Lashes batted with all the innocence they could hold.

"Just admit it, Hargrove," she pulled him down for a lip lock, pecking his jaw and cheeks until he broke to laugh and hold her at bay. One brow lifted. "It'll be our dirty little secret."

"Fine. Only cause you twisted my arm about it and it gets you hot. You are my very," he palmed her bottom to make her gasp in one motion, "very best friend. Happy?" Billy stole a kiss when she was still dumbfounded, molding their frames together.

"Maybe I am." Evie sighed, sounding too raw and honest about it. She came out to see his eyes there. Tried to read them. Billy blinked to say something else.

“So, you're already thinking about graduation and summer, huh? Moving quick.”

“I’m optimistic is all. It’s a rare thing with me so I'm just enjoying it. I’m not used to happy and good.” Evie got cheeky to hide anything else, winking over her shoulder before she went inside the tiny store.

Fluorescent lights washed out too many colorful packages. They picked cold cans of soda and bright yellow packs of Jujyfruit candies to curb a sweet craving. Billy gripped the paper bag in one fist and Evie snatched his free hand when they got outside.

“C’mon!” She picked up the pace. “Let’s catch the bus to the other side of town.”

“Billy Hargrove doesn’t take the bus. It’s all full.” He’d complained, still rushing after her to the stop.

“Try something new.” Evie was giggling, tugging at him to get on.

With the bus full of residents leaving work, they took some standing room with a group up front. Fingers curled into the handles above, swaying closer together due to the rocking and crowding. A hard turn sent Evie into Billy’s chest, her hand sprang out over his shoulder to catch the bar just above his head.

“Trying to jump my bones in public, little Miss Fenny?” He feigned a look of awe, brows lifting playfully. His free arm slipped around the small of Evie’s back, bracing her there into his marble frame. “You know how much easier it is if you just ask, Angel?”

Evie wanted to scoff. Wanted to scrunch that annoyed look she was known for. Wanted to send him to the floor and kiss him for miles and miles. But, she just stood there in the dim, flickering bus lights. Watched his expression relax. Not really breathing until she reminded herself.

Billy seemed to remember as well. At the back and forth shifting of the vehicle, they squished together. Forcing looks away to see the path again. Billy pushed his thigh further between her legs. Both of them idly rubbing together now. Evie felt the heat crawl up her cheeks, lungs tremoring. Billy’s fist holding the bag shifting a little lower on her back, firm and scalding hot.

She peered up at his jawline. Looked away. Felt Billy’s eyes wander back after before he flickered elsewhere. Denim pushed against denim. Billy hitched this breath as if he might whimper. Swallowed it down. Hips swaying back and forth and back again. A thumb pushed deftly into her back. Evie shifting in, lips parting. Trembling as Billy turned his head to see her centimeters from him.

“This is our stop.” She’d said in his ear. Leaning flush into him to pull the cord down. Billy inhaled the amber. Brushed his nose into her own while she came back out.

“Don’t wanna stop.” His freckles looked especially glowy outlined in a rare blush. The bus skidded and Evie veered back with some amusement. Brown eyes casting Billy up and down before she skipped off in a hurry, leaving him to chase her because he’d always chase her. Bag still wrinkled around Billy’s fist, he caught up with her. Under the streetlamps surrounded by dancing moths.

“We near Lover’s Lake?”

“Yeah, the park nearby. Figured some loitering would do us good.” Evie stepped across the grass and sand. Listened to the dark structures creak. “C’mon. I love the swings.”

She plopped back into one, legs kicking some before Billy joined her. He cracked one can of soda to offer it, feet shifting over the sand to sway closer together. Chains creaking.

They clicked drinks and guzzled fizz before Evie snagged the candy out. Stealing a few chewy pieces. The bright box got passed back and forth during a comfortable silence. Billy watched Evie as she observed the moon there.

“Do you know any constellations?” She’d asked quieter, forcing him out of the daze. Curls caught the illumination with stars dotting her dark eyes.

“Not really.” He took the candy back as she swallowed a piece.

“You see that crooked line? Those four little guys, they call that...Salem’s Lot. And...” Evie touched her lips, pointing again. “Those two bright boys there. Called Shawshank. Oh, and that one-”

“These are Stephen King references.” He pushed her.

“No, I’m very smart and they’re real-life constellations. Listen and learn, Billy boy.”

“So, are you gonna call that grouping, The Shining or The Overlook?” He pointed to a cluster and Evie snickered.

“Obviously that’s Carrietta White’s Constellation. Duh. Cause it looks like a rain of blood.” Evie snorted and Billy joined her, heads pressing together as they giggled like school children.

“You know she wears a crushed red velvet dress in the book? Not pink as seen in the movie.” Billy stretched out, finishing his soda.

“You know she’s fat in the book, too?” Evie winked at him, eyed the trash, and tried to toss her can at it. Missing badly, it smacked the rim and fell in the sand with a clatter. “Damn it!” Billy laughed at her louder.

“Don’t try for a career on the court, Evie.” He watched her pout as she plucked it up to throw it away properly. “Now, watch the master work.” He aimed as she sat down. One deft hand reeled back and launched it only to have Evie’s palm smack it easily the other direction. Almost falling out of her seat cackling, she got the candy pushed into her arm before he gawked and went to get it.

“Oh,” she kept up without air, “I thought you were the master? You should have seen your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, dunking it in the can with an echoing clank. For some cheery consolation, she offered the rest of the box to him. Tiny candy pieces fell into his palm before he pushed them all into his mouth at once, eyes lifting to the sky again. Billy made a face and turned to go to push her swing. “Gimme another constellation.”

“Hmm.” Evie held the chains, began to swing properly at his coaxing. Felt like they were in a secret garden together. Water rippling against the air distantly. Cold chill not bothering either of them. “Those two stars. The little one and the big guy. See?”

Billy gripped the chains, keeping her swing up against him to follow the gaze

“That’s Neverland. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.” She snickered again as Billy pushed her forward. “Bet I can beat you there. I’ll jump from the swing.”

“You’re on.” Billy stole the seat next to her, both of them pumping higher. Curls fluttering. Laughing. Happy because they were together and that mattered.

“I’m going to overthrow Pan and Hook. Become the most fantastic Lost Girl with a siren song to command the island and you’ll write your stories.”

“Think so?” Billy pushed himself higher. Actually thought he might fly with Evie there.

“Yes! You’ll tell the greatest stories ever heard through the land and they’ll echo back down here to be loved too.” She proclaimed that. Not having heard Billy’s stories, but believing what was in his heart.

Time slowed. Wild laughter crackled toward the sky. Utter sparks as they jumped together and collided to roll around the sand. Evie was still alight with joy under him, hair splayed everywhere as Billy snapped up to check her over, hovering. Evie’s giggling tapered off against the night air. She stared up at him. Framed in twinkling stars. He said something she didn’t catch.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Evie sounded out slower, lost in the endless crystalline blue. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean, what?”

“What you said when we were lying in bed together. You said I was the best thing about this place. People never say things like that. Not to girls like me. I believed it when you said it though and it was easy too.” Evie skimmed her fingers over his jacket. Watched Billy’s eyes flicker to recall that moment and the clouds he floated upon like lily-pads in a pond.

Billy swept down. Planted a hot kiss that was all lips. Swelled her mouth when he pulled out. He left Evie fluttered and came to her ear.

“That was a yes.” He pushed up, eyes too sly. “By the way.” Evie took a hand when he offered one and got pulled to her feet, bodies stumbling together. They tried to brush the sand off fabric.

“Do you think about that night? The dance, I mean. Not...the sex. Well, I guess it’s okay to think about the sex actually.” She blushed there when Billy’s lip quirked. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Before all that went down with Brock. It was-”

“Not terrible.” He finished.

“Not at all. The first part of the night, sometimes I wish we could go back and-”

“Rewrite it.” Billy looked around, giving Evie a tug. He pulled her up on the metal roundabout, painted red and blue that was chipping away. “Hold on.” Another smile had curled as he braced to get it spinning.

“Billy!” Evie jerked to hold tight to the bars. Hair flying up. Curls coiled out. Fire billowing gracefully. “What are you doing!”

“Turning back the clock,” he charged and jumped on with her, wobbling to hold something, "to redo it.” Evie grabbed for his coat. Fisting the fabric when they locked eyes. Wind rushed in a thrill with memories tumbling together and apart.

Her wings sprang forth.

Billy made Evie the still point to his turning world. For just a moment. Knew, if anything, that meeting her was something truly important. An unseen force that would twist his heart forever.

Spinning round and round. He recalled the metallic confetti dancing and the way the music pulsed. The carousel began to slow, both teens holding the bars and each other to say level.

Slower, Evie pecked a kiss upon his lips to mirror the first. Unable to come out far, Billy was already closing the distance for the second. Trying to pay her back with a thousand sweet kisses.

Cheers rang and fireworks burst. She remembered it all too. How dizzy and still the world seemed to be. How it hushed for her too sweetly. Billy’s hands on her face, cradling delicately to angle the second kiss a little deeper. They felt the metal clink to stillness under them and inched back out.

“I want to go home with you,” Evie said the words she wished she had that night. Huge dark eyes glittering. She found his lips again. Not worried about air or what the future held for them. Lost on a rosy haze and perfectly fine for these stolen fleeting seconds. “Can we go?” Billy searched her, thumb sweeping a circle into her jaw. He smiled fully.

“Only if we can take the bus again.”

** ** ** **

“Happy Birthday!” Evie gushed, offering a gift to a small pile. Max had her arms around her before she’d gotten a chance to turn. One hand shifted to the shorter girl’s back. Music whirled with a campy light show, made the horribly patterned carpets glow. “Carol and Heather are on their way in. Tommy’s around but he won’t hang near the table.”

“Neil’s going to be late. Work stuff.” This explained why Max’s smile was so bright. Evie nudged her chin, head cocking. “You brought your own skates.”

“I know it’s dorky, but they’re my babies.” Evie gestured to the red skates swung over one shoulder. “Evie Fenny doesn’t rent her skates.”

“That’s El, come meet her,” Max pulled Evie off after she got one wave at Susan behind the table setting up. “Billy’s grabbing stuff from the car. He drove us.”

El Hopper was a tiny thing. Almost like a little bird compared to Hopper’s hulking frame behind her. She peered around and seemed at instant ease upon seeing Max.

“El, this is my neighbor, Evie," Max introduced them, "she’s cool.”

El made this gesture like she had a needle and poked at her hand.

“Yes!” Max got it, tugging Evie’s arm. “She taught me the felting thing.”

“Hope the sharp objects weren’t a bother in your house, Chief Hopper.” Evie perked up at Jim with a sheepish expression. “I should have asked you, I know it might seem a little dangerous.”

He actually laughed at that. If only she knew the danger these kids had gotten into prior.

“Believe me, crafts are a welcomed change.”

“El, nice to meet you. I’m Evie. Max talks about you all the time.” Evie held out her hand and the young girl looked shocked. “Good things.”

A slower smile crossed. She took Evie’s hand to shake it. Awkward about her navigation but trying to take everything in. Clearly never been to a party like this one. Kids of various ages circled the floor on skates. Laughing. Holding hands.

“Max...talks about you too. I like your hair.” El mirrored. Peered to Hopper with a pleased expression he matched. She offered Max a wrapped gift. Evie grinned and touched her curls, pulled up into two high, rounded buns.

“C’mon, let me show you the table they’re setting up.” Max took El’s wrist to usher her off.

“Are you...staying to skate?” Evie turned to the Chief.

“El’s, ah, not used to crowds. She came from some unfortunate circumstances. I’d like to stay close. First party. Maybe I’m hovering.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. Not in uniform. Evie beamed a little.

“She’s young, you’re worried. It’s sweet, actually. You’re just being a good dad.” The smile seemed to dither in her eyes. Even when Jack was married to Mona, he wasn't always around. Work and trips kept him busy, but he stayed to close to Evie the moment he arrived home with his little gifts and endless stories. “Don’t come running over if she falls, we got her.”

“Yeah, uh, if you could keep an eye on El when you see her around. That would mean a lot to me. I know you babysat the Henderson kid. El doesn’t need a babysitter, she’s just… This is new for her.” Jim gestured. Digging for a smoke he couldn’t have in the immediate area.

“Heather, Carol, and I will keep an eye out.”

“Carol?” He chuckled. “Perkins?”

“Oh, yeah, we made up. Funny thing.”

“Almost as funny as you hanging out with the Hargrove boy through winter.” He quirked his brow.

“What can I say, Chief...” Evie shrugged. “I’m...branching out.”

As if on cue, Billy paced in a side door. Bag clutched under one arm. He caught Evie’s glance instantly. Both of them locked in and back out on cue. Blue eyes shifted up and down because she was wearing his denim jacket over a little lacy, floral top tucked into her jeans.

Neil would arrive and they had an act to keep up. Ignoring each other.

“I’ll sit far." Jim offered. "Pretend I’m not here.”

She about cackled, lost in thought still.

“I’ll just pretend you’re my real dad,” Evie winced at herself, saw him pause with some subtle awe, “oof, I’m not sure where that came from. Ouch. Okay. Walking away now. Sorry, Chief.”

“Evie.” He eased a gentle hand toward her. “What I said. If there’s...anything going on. You can talk to me. On or off the record.”

“Yeap. Right. I’m okay. I’m...I’m gonna...skate. Yeah. Sorry. Oh, my…” Evie whirled to hurry off, cringing all the way to the table. “I think I just had a mental break.”

“What?” Heather had chuckled.

“Nothing. Time to skate?” Came Evie’s begging. Agreement followed.

Hopper made himself scarce with a cigarette and plate of cheese fries in the corner. Billy plopped himself into a chair behind the decorated table, looking disinterested. Not catching Evie’s eyes while she sat with the girls to put her skates on. Just watched Susan set out plates for pizza and cake.

Evie went out with Heather first for a lap, both of them giggling and pulling little stunts to show off for Tommy who was on the ground as Carol pulled at him. Max jumped over his leg, cackling before she tried to get El to come out with them.

“Kinda reminds me of us. They’re too cute.” Heather quipped, whirling to skate backward. They joined the younger girls, hoping to get El relaxed and away from the wall she seemed to cling to. Every turn, Evie shot Billy a look. Got his lips quirking before he ruefully was peering away.

“Do you want to skate, Billy?” Susan had asked after a beat, weary of the music already. Bit of a glittery disco mess. That same dreamy rose haze in the air.

“About as much as I want to give my old man a sponge bath, Susan.” Billy frowned for effect and dropped it when she actually laughed at him. It was an easier thing for them to talk without Neil’s shadow.

“Well, the offer is open if you want to.” Susan thought to tell him Evie looked beautiful today when she caught him staring at her for the third time but decided not to be obvious. Not yet.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m being inappropriate and I’m going to send your only daughter down with me.” He recited easily.

“I was your age once, Billy, I know how to laugh still.” Susan seemed surprised at the revelation herself. Slowly, she took a seat next to him. Not leaving another chair as a buffer like she usually did. “It might not be so bad. Her following you, you know, after this. When she’s older. She still looks up to you.”

It became clear what Susan was asking him. Max would resent her one day down the line. For the choices she made. The things she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. Maybe Billy and Max didn’t always get along, but he’d be a safer place for her than whatever was leftover in that house. Susan would always be under Neil Hargrove, but she could ensure her daughter would not be. One day.

Billy leaned forward on his elbows, palms rubbing. He felt for his ring and remembered it was hidden under Evie’s dipping sweetheart neckline. He didn’t say anything, but met Susan’s eyes.

“Evie’s been a good friend to her.” Susan crossed her legs and sat back to watch the girls laugh. Slowly easing into the conversation. El wobbled, holding hands with Max and Evie to gain some speed. Heather was trying to help Carol steady poor Tommy. “Don’t you think so?”

“I haven’t noticed.” Billy turned his head aside.

“She’s very pretty. Kind. That’s all I’m saying. She and her mother, they’re nice neighbors to have on Cherry.”

“Jesus, Susan, why don’t you date them both?” Billy shot up to go to the snack counter. Susan ghosted this smile after him, hands clasping. “Cheese fries. Jalapenos...Extra jalapenos.” He got his plate and turned to see Chief Hopper’s cigarette glow red. “You got any more of those? My pack is out and they don't have a machine in this joint.”

Jim just eyed him.

“I’m legal.” Billy puffed before a stick flicked across the table. “Camels. Unfiltered. Disgusting. Are you a flannel hobo of some kind with those?”

The Chief gawked at him.

“Don’t you smoke Reds? Baby’s first cigarette.”

Billy matched him. Offended.

“I’m smoking with the big boys, Hop. You should try it.”

“You in a place to complain, kid?” Jim reached to take it back before Billy swiped, lighting up to puff.

“No, sir.” His lighter snapped shut. “You unable to cut the cord or is dressing like a lumberjack to hang out at a 70s roller disco a hobby?”

“Haven’t seen you down at the station in a while. Few months, in fact. Turning over a new leaf this year?” Jim remarked instead, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Aw. You miss me or something? Your boys finally get tired of chasing me down? Or trying to.” Billy gave this comedic pout, head turning to eye Evie again. Graceful swan that she was out there. His jacket hanging off her shoulders, exposing that neck. Little wisps of curls swayed about from her space buns decorated with matching glittery star barrettes, loose hair framing her face. Brown eyes flicked up and he snatched his gaze away. “Guess I found something else to get into that isn’t trouble. You guys bore me down there, I like to be amused.”

“The real crime-stopper, boredom. Color me impressed and shocked.” Jim seemed to like that, eyes rolling. Billy puffed and swept a piece of tobacco from his mouth. “I guess whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” He watched Billy crunch on some salty jalapenos, plucking five gooey fries at once to swallow them down. Almost starved.

“I intend to.” Billy flicked his greasy fingers to his brow. “Chief.”

“William.”

Billy mumbled as he went off, finishing the smoke to flick it out a back door. Eyes shifting to watch the girls plus poor Tommy. El was already better than him.

“Man, I’m dying out here. Help me. I’ll tag you in.” Tommy scrambled up the sidewall and clung, out of breath. Freckles all dewy.

“You wanted to be a good boyfriend,” Billy cackled for good measure, "that'll teach you."

“Feed me a fry,” Tommy begged over the barrier.

“Fuck out of here, they’re mine. My dad will show soon so you can disappear to a corner and get your own damn fries.” To make it a point, Billy stood there and fed himself.

Behind Tommy, Max skidded and fell with Evie barely catching her. Both girls had gone down in a fit of giggling.

“We’re fine, go on!” Max waved to Heather and El ahead of them. Carol came to steal Tommy back as Billy craned to see his step-sister.

“You alright?” Evie was picking her up when Max’s shirt slipped closer to her pale shoulder, flashing a burst of purple there the size of a softball. “Oh, my god.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

“That’s-!” Max cut herself off and fixed her shirt. Spring was creeping and all she donned was long-sleeved and frumpy. Dressing almost like Susan. “I fell, you know, on my board.” Evie tried to give her the dignity of a look that said she believed it. Must have cracked. “Evie, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Please.”

Dressing like Susan. Sounding like Billy.

“Max, my house is-”

“I know, but don’t… Don’t say anything. Not to Billy or my mom, ah… Neil’s here.” Max put her head down and skated around Evie to go away.

There was something particularly helpless about watching a young girl flee obediently to her monster. Evie wondered if this was what she looked like to Billy headed to Fredrick's place.

Small. Scared. Lost.

Neil Hargrove started with words. Lots of horrible words that whittled Max down to a hard pit. Then pushing. Then some grabbing. Then shoving. Into walls mostly.

The hit didn’t bruise Max. It was more of a swipe to make her go to her room for talking back. Whatever that meant to Neil. But, he was drunk and he caught her jaw with an open palm. That stayed red for the day until she snuck a pack of frozen peas, not wanting Susan or Billy to know.

But, the swipe sent her into the dining room table. Left the violet petals bursting under her skin. Evie lost the urge to skate and came out. Saw Billy’s eyes again and paused to help Heather usher El out for food.

“You’re a natural.” Evie complimented which earned a full smile. El opened her mouth to speak before Billy appeared in front of them.

“They’re making us sing.” He cocked his head, peering at El. “You’re the one with the funny name, aren’t you?”

“Jane. But,” she seemed to have trouble staring at him for more than three extended seconds and pointed to her chest, “El.” Red crept across her cheeks. Billy towered over her, cocking a wider grin to play up the fact that she was all blushy for a pretty older boy.

“El?” He raised one brow. “What’s the L stand for?”

“Ignore him.” Heather pulled the younger girl around Billy as he chuckled, pausing to see Evie. Her colorless expression.

“You okay?” He said it hard with a furrowed brow.

“Fine.” She tried to make it sound cold but it came out near silent. Head turned down as she flitted around him to join the party.

Neil, stiff and stoic, pressing his lips like he was at the damn DMV. Susan plastered a broader grin to dote on him after his long day, lingering close to his side as they set out pizza and readied the cake.

It was all so routine. Like getting your shots.

Pizza. Sing. Candles. Wish. Cake. Gifts. Thank you.

Billy and Evie took the farthest seats from each other. Played a game of glance and ignore that they’d made up on the spot. They both were either losing or winning.

“Strange,” Neil remarked as he pulled Max aside for another slice. “You and the high school girls.”

“Oh, I invited El too, she’s my age. I didn’t want to leave Evie out and the girls...they’re nice to me.”

“They don’t dress like nice girls.”

Heather and Carol both donned perfectly normal tees and jeans. Nothing would suffice for Neil Hargrove. Max shifted her cake around. No longer hungry for it.

“Maybe we’ll talk about the type of girl you should hang around at a later time. The Fenny girl is nice enough, even if her shirt is a little too...low. Dresses kinda tight. Bit of an odd one. She’s different. Her friends, well...I’m just not sure, Maxine.”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at her birthday cake like it was infested with worms. Carefully forced a bite and set it aside.

Max hung around. Smiled and thanked everyone after each birthday present. Even hugged Neil only cause he opened his arms at her. She said bye to El then Heather. Carol seemed to be turning in as well so Tommy went out back to get the car.

As the party went on and dwindled, Evie caught Billy’s eyes gesturing to the rental counter. He slipped around the corner into the many shelves and Evie turned back to see Max and Susan at the table. Neil seated in a chair not helping them clean up, eyes elsewhere. Casually, she skated around and got her arm snatched. A gasp snuffed against a pair of lips. Kisses hidden away from the world.

“Paid the kid a few coins and a threat to leave for ten minutes."

Music vibrated the shelves. Evie put her arms around Billy.

“I still have skates on.”

“Even better. I might have a thing for girls in red skates.” Billy was all hands, holding Evie steady. Pulling one leg around his hip. Pushing denim into denim. Hot friction might have done her in any other day.

“We are not hooking up with all the smelly rental skates.” Evie laughed into his lips, still pecking back and peering over her shoulder. She paused to see his eyes. Wanted to blurt what she’d seen on Max’s body. Even to Billy now, it felt wrong. So, she said something else.

“Hey, we should…keep an eye on your sister, you know. It’s her birthday. She’s...She needs her big brother.”

Billy huffed into her neck.

“Fine, fine, but you’ll regret not taking the adventure on here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Evie shifted. “My feet hurt and we can make-out in my bed later.” She kissed his neck. “I’ll do that thing you like if you promise you went easy on the product down there.”

“Only dotted the gold crown. Scout’s honor.” Billy winked and she rolled her eyes. He peered out first. “Give it a second then follow.”

“Wait.” Evie thumbed her red lipstick from his mouth. “Now, shoo.” Billy licked his lips and snuck out. She waited a moment. Let the happy butterflies land in her stomach then followed. Pausing, her skates came off for more comfortable tennis shoes.

“Evangeline, do you need a ride home with us later?” Neil had asked.

“No, thank you, I was getting a ride with Carol now.” She smiled and looked for red hair to say her goodbyes. “Where’d Max go?” Evie collected her coat and Susan paused to peer around.

“She was here a second ago. Neil?” Hands dropped a stack of plates into the trash.

“Probably went to the bathroom.” He shrugged, squinting at all the moving lights that were making his head pound. “Billy, go find your sister.”

Billy seemed to notice the look on Evie’s face and feel the same chill before he hurried off without fighting. Susan looked through the sea of kids and teens meandering as Evie passed her to check the ajar side door.

"Max!" The one flickering light at the exit made her skin crawl. A cry echoed distantly followed by a dull crash in the dark. Like a bag of trash hitting the dumpster.

Evie dropped her skates to follow the hollowed-out sound. Exhaust swept up her nose and tires gave a harsh wail, horns sounding while a faraway car disappeared around a row of trees to get to the main street with the rest.

“Max!” Evie charged out. Heart painfully thudding within her ribs.

“Evie?” Carol heard her and footsteps echoed around the building.

“Max!” Evie was near tears now. A shift in some fallen trash bags made her pause when two sneakers appeared around the side of the dumpster. This odd scratching sound left her lips. Evie threw herself over the tiny body there, turned Max’s limp frame over.

Her shirt collar was ripped open where someone grabbed her. Or tried to. Dragging then dropping her when she put up a fight. Bleeding scrapes and dirt scuffed all over her pale freckled skin from the rough tumble. Carol got to them first and pulled off her sweater to cover Max’s torso while Evie gathered her up.

“Help!” Carol called because Evie couldn’t. More bodies arrived. Tommy. Susan. Billy. Neil.

“Neil, she won’t wake up.” Susan pulled her daughter out of Evie’s arms, shaking her. Moans filtered out, but nothing else. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I saw...a car. It was too dark. I just found her here on the ground. Someone tried to...” Evie wheezed out and never finished, gesturing aimlessly.

“Susan, give Maxine to Billy. She needs a hospital.” Neil swept down as Billy urged his sister’s tiny body away. This hard. flamed expression on his face as if he wasn't really here.

Max looked broken. Not real. A doll left under the bed for too long without love or cherished stories to comfort it. Evie felt the knees of her jeans soak through from the wet pavement. Too many words hit the air and Evie’s eyes dropped to where that harsh car had gone to.

Evangeline wondered what kind of monster would grab up a little girl and throw her out into the trash.

And why the world bore so many of that same design.

~~~~~

Mad Max :( Her story line is gonna start to push toward the front here and there with Evie's in pieces. Thanks again for following the fic, I really appreciate it! Please please leave some words if you enjoy the fic. XOXO Taglist open

TAGLIST:: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x plus size oc #stranger things fanfiction #angel fenny #Billy x angel #somy #writing #mine

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kalypsichor · 5 years

Text

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part five

chapter summary: It’s time for some apologies (aPAULogies!). You and Paul have a chat about student debt, Parliament, and showers. John tries to convince everyone that he won’t break the telly (again), Ringo tries to convince everyone that he’s NOT an old man, and you just wish George would drop that goddamn towel.

warnings: george is almost naked but not naked enough (sigh)

masterlist and parts one | two | three | four

these chapters are just getting longer, huh. also, queen makes a more... definitive appearance.

Paul’s chosen the corner booth. It’s the spot that you all usually cram into, obnoxious and loud and always on the verge of being kicked out. Sitting there all by himself with nothing but a cup of coffee, he looks very small and lonely and you feel a pang of guilt.

He glances up when you sit down next to him. “Back for round two?” Paul says, and despite this he still scoots over to give you more room.

“No.” Sighing, you resist your fight-or-flight instinct. You’ve always hated confrontation. “I just wanted to apologize. I probably overreacted today and I shouldn’t have, um… ”

“Ripped me a new one?”

You laugh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ve just been so stressed about midterms and all that--which isn’t an excuse for being an asshole, I know. It’s been such a long day, with Ringo having to go to the hospital and John almost killing us in your car and George, uh… actually, George hasn’t done anything. But… forgive me?” You try your best puppy eyes, although that’s more of Paul’s forte.

He pretends to think about it, but he’s already got that smile on his face. It’s soft and accentuates the roundness of his cheeks and you can see what John fell in love with.

“Of course I do. I could never stay angry at you for too long.” You let out a sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. “And I’m sorry, as well. I hope some of your papers were salvageable? I’ll pay for your textbooks, really--”

“With the thousands of pounds of student debt you’ve got? No way.” You nudge Paul teasingly. “No, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, if I don’t have most of that stuff memorized by now I’ll be fucked for midterms.”

“It’s the damn Tories, I tell you!” A businessman at the table over shoots him a dirty look and you have to muffle your snort behind your hands. “Anyway, we’re not here to talk politics. How’s George?” At the last bit, Paul leans in, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Just great, still want to snog him senseless. Nothing new. “Why don’t you ask George yourself, you live with him. He’s still pretty pissed about having to take cold showers in the morning.”

“Please, no more. I’ve gotten yelled at about it enough already.” He throws his hands up in mock surrender and you’re reminded uncannily of John. They really are two sides of the same coin… “Morning’s the only time I can shower, anyway. It’s not fun waking up early, you know, but I do have to get the studio time. I’ve got, like, a million art pieces to turn in next week. It’s killing me.”

Though he says this with a rueful grin, you can see there’s bags under his eyes. With all the drama going on, you hadn’t stopped to think about what Paul must be going through. You internally scold yourself not to be so wrapped in your own concerns next time.

“I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, well. The woes of an art major. But when I asked about George, I wasn’t talking about our little row.”

You ignore that. “Showering every day is bad for your skin, y’know.”

“First off, that’s my phrase. Secondly, you’re changing the subject.”

“You’re the one changing the subject!” Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush. “Look, can’t you try and compromise with him? Like, taking turns or something. You can have the first shower every other day and ditto for George!” You smack the table excitedly. “Damn, I’m a genius.”

Paul laughs and downs the rest of his coffee. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to him about it.” Standing, he stretches and tosses the cup into the trash. “You think the flat is safe enough to go back?”

You mirror his actions, donning your fleece jacket. “Probably. I’ll protect you, though, don’t worry.”

“My hero!” He swoons and loops his arm through yours as you step out of the cafe. The rest of the walk back, he doesn’t mention George again and you think he’s forgotten all about it. That is, until you reach the apartment. Paul unlocks the door and gestures for you to go first. When you brush by him, he leans down to your ear and says it so casually you don’t even register the meaning at first.

“I’ll get the truth out of you one of these days, y’know.”

Paul winks and though he doesn’t say exactly what the ‘truth’ is, you think you have a pretty good idea what he’s talking about.

***

The next day, you’re sat at the kitchen table over a bowl of cereal and some salvaged papers, not unlike yesterday morning. John is once again swiping through his phone. Ringo’s there, too, having scrutinized the entire kitchen floor this time before sitting down.

“TikTok is a load of shit,” John announces, throwing his cell down.

“Yet that doesn’t stop you from being on it for hours on end.”

“It’s addicting! All that… hitting the woah and- and grenade stuff.”

“You mean renegade.”

You both shoot a surprised look at Ringo, who pouts. “What? I can be hip too.”

“Okay, the fact that you said ‘hip’ kinda contradicts that.”

Ringo sticks his tongue out at you and you snicker. John clears his throat, steering the conversation back to him. Attention whore.

“Aaaanyway. As I was saying. Our phones are all the government’s rubbish way of brainwashing us. And that’s why I propose… drum roll, please.”

Ringo obliges. You note that he keeps a rather good tempo.

“Game Night Part Two!”

He’s met with silence.

“Uh, let me think about it-- no.”

“What? Why not!”

You tap your finger to your chin. “Did you already forget getting piss-drunk and missing your American Lit quiz the next day? Or spilling Fanta all over my /nice/ white tee? Or doing that?” John’s gaze follows your gesture to the tv in the living room with a great crack down the middle.

“And you’re a sore loser,” Ringo adds. John frowns and throws a cornflake at him.

“George was definitely cheating-”

“Abupbupbup! I’m not done.” You point at his sour expression. “Don’t you remember the noise complaint we got from our neighbor?”

John actually pauses at this. “You mean Paul’s classmate? The one that does graphic design? Not that you’d know it from the way he dresses like a fashion major.”

“His name is Freddie.” Ringo supplies helpfully. Ringo was always good at names.

“Yeah, he actually knocked on our door and everything. That was embarrassing, John.”

A scoff makes its way through John’s pursed lips. “He’s got no right telling us to keep the noise down when his bloody flat houses an entire fucking band. I can hear them going at it until two am sometimes and I don’t call the police on them.”

“They’re quite good.” As if to accentuate his point, Ringo taps a familiar rhythm with his spoon. Must be from one of their latest songs.

John inhales and you can tell that this’ll turn into a scuffle if you don’t steer the conversation away soon.

“Anyway! We don’t want another repeat of last month’s shenanigans. I’d like to be able to keep watching Netflix on a functioning telly, thank you very much. You’re outnumbered, Johnny.”

“Well, actually.”

You both swivel to look at Ringo: you in horror and John with glee. The oldest boy is usually the tie breaker, the swing-state if you want to be American about it. If he throws his weight behind John, it’ll be over.

“I think it would be a good idea. For morale, you know. We’ve been at each other’s throats all of yesterday, and havin’ another Game Night might get everyone on good terms again.” Damn you, Ringo, you think, damn you and your altruism. John, in every sense of the saying, looks exactly like the cat that’s got the canary. He swings to you with the stupidly smug look on his face.

“The match goes to Lennon! Take that,” he gloats, and you fight the urge to strangle him across the table.

“When you fail Professor Ono’s midterms because you’re too hungover to tell Walt Whitman from Langston Hughes, don’t go crawling to me,” you hiss.

John makes to retort but he’s cut short by the sound of footsteps running down the hall. Your brain barely has time to conjure up the weird feeling of deja vu before George skids into the kitchen.

He’s wearing nothing but a towel. Again. But this time, he’s smiling, and the brilliance of it cuts through your sleep-addled brain and curls up somewhere below your rib cage.

“I just took a shower!”

“Good for you, mate,” John snarks, staring ruefully at the phone in the center of the table--did he change his phone case or something? It looks different, somehow. You can see his fingers twitching toward it.

George ignores him. “I just took a warm shower. A real shower with warm water.”

Yes, you can see that from the bit of steam still rising from his shoulders and his hair, which is now curling slightly in the colder temperature. There’s a droplet of water making its way from George’s very naked chest down to his very fit stomach--how he has abs, you have no idea, since the boy inhales food like Kirby--and you look away sharply before your gaze can wander any further.

“A warm water shower,” he repeats.

Ringo nods. “Ah, yes. The poison. The poison for Kuzco. The poison chosen specifically to kill Kuzco.” He pauses, looking you in the eye rather seriously, and you say the next bit together.

“Kuzco’s poison.”

The two of you double over, giggling like schoolgirls. George, however, looks confused.

“What are they on about?”

“Some American film.” John finally gives in and snatches up the phone laying on the table. Something flashes across his face. You know that look, and nothing good ever follows it. “Smile, Georgie.”

There’s the click of a photo being taken.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Nothing.” John pushes his chair from the table and stands up rather abruptly. The look on his face is growing into something… wicked. “Nothing at all. I will be in Paul and I’s room. Doing nothing.” He surveys you all once more with that good-for-nothing grin, cradles the phone to his chest, and then sprints down the hall past an even more confused George. The door closes and locks with a decisive click.

The three of you look at each other questioningly. Ringo grunts something unintelligible and shovels more cornflakes into his mouth. George shrugs and turns to head back to the bathroom.

He’s already halfway down the hall before he freezes.

“Wait a minute. Was that my phone?”

#beatles fanfic #george harrison x reader #ringo starr x reader #paul mccartney x reader #john lennon x reader #the beatles x reader #mclennon #five's a crowd #kalwrites #crack

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adsosfraser · 3 years

Text

The Stone’s Toll Chapter Two

Read on AO3

“Mrs. Randall, ye have a visitor.” Claire stared at the nurse, curiosity plain on her face.

She left and softly closed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire heard the click of the lock again and strained her neck towards the noise.

Graham smiled sheepishly as he shuffled into her room. He held a small bouquet of heather, thistles, and gorse wrapped in twine.

“Hello miss, tis lovely tae see ye again. I picked these just this afternoon on my way here. I was lucky they were all so close together.” The boy searched the room and put the flowers in the empty vase on the table to her right. “I don’t know if ye remember, but I found you up at the standing stones. Well my mam always said to watch out for the faerie hill but I was a wee bit curious ye ken. I’m glad I took a wander over because… sorry miss my mam always tells me how I go blethering on about nonsense and such so that’s just to say I hope you are feeling better miss..?”

“Claire Fr.. err Randall.” Claire couldn’t help the smile at the young man's youth and almost naïveté, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the ordeals of the past months.

She reached out her hand for him to shake.

“It was very kind of you to come visit Graham. Thank you.” He blushed at her compliment.

“Well I brought some cards because I ken how boring it is to be locked up in one of these rooms. And the radio is a pounding nuisance sometimes as well. Last year I stumbled on one of the fence posts I was putting up when I was helping down at auld Hamish’s. The nail went straight through the leg and I ended up here a day. Mam was absolutely furious at me, boxed my ears till they rang for weeks. My mam’s a nurse here so it’s no trouble at all that I’m here right now visiting. I guess I get special insider privileges. I come here after school to do my schoolwork and she says I’m no bother. That’s what I was just doing before I decided to pop in here Miss.”

Claire welcomed the ramblings of Graham. It was a nice distraction to the morbid thoughts that lay festering below.

“Well I appreciate the company. My… husband just left to prepare things for our short stay here. I’m sorry I’m rubbish at most card games, but I’ll go my hand at it.”

The two chatted companionably and he even managed to pry out a laugh or two from her. Claire pushed down feelings of familiarity of Fergus and the boy before her. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than the boy she had just left behind hours ago, with the same long-lashed dark eyes and dark hair. Tears sprung at the thought of her son and she turned out of view to wipe them away.

“Do you have any fours?” Graham interrupted her thoughts.

“Ach! It feels like I’m being cheated here.” Claire flashed a smile and pushed forward the two cards on the table between them.

“Hello darling. It seems you’ve made a new friend.”

Claire stiffened at her husband's entrance into the small hospital room. Graham flicked his gaze between the two of them, sensing the tension. He awkwardly picked up the game in front of them and shoved the cards into his pocket.

“Yes. This is Graham Munro, the one who helped me to the hospital.”

“Thank you for bringing my wife safely back into my custody Graham. I’m sure she has lots to tell me, and would appreciate time to rest.”

Graham cleared his throat. “Well Miss Claire, I wish ye a speedy recovery. Twas a pleasure to meet ye.”

“You as well Graham. Thank you for the flowers.”

The boy reached out to squeeze Claire’s hand and smiled warmly. He turned on his heel and raced out to the corridor.

Moments later, Frank shoved the table to the side and knelt by his wife’s side. He reached out to hold the hands that rested on her lap. Claire flinched at his touch once again and Frank furrowed his brow. Frank felt a squeeze in his hand and smiled up at her. She put on a strained smile as she stared down at him. He finally noticed the silver that encircled her right ring finger and made to take it off. She pulled her hand violently from his grasp and guarded the jewellry to her chest. He pushed off the reaction to the shock the doctor had described. He just needed to be patient.

“Darling, everything is prepared at the manse for our arrival. You’ll rest here tonight, recover, heal, and then I’ll bring you over in the morning. I left your suitcase there and I’m sure you’ll have enough to get you through our stay.” He walked over to a chair near the window while he spoke and placed her stays in his hands.

“Alright.” Her gaze was transfixed on her fingers in her lap.

“This is… remarkable Claire, where on earth did you find these?”

“Hmph.” Claire offered as a reply, almost mimicking the Scottish noise her husband always made.

“Right I’m to leave with Reverend Wakefield to visit over some archives again. You’ll be in good hands here for now.”

A nurse wheeled in a cart and instructed Claire to rest. She gathered the sterile bandages from the metal tray and pulled back the cover of Claire’s hospital gown to display the burns flicking across the cream skin of her stomach. She winced as the nurse applied the salve against her sore skin so she took pity on her poor patient. The nurse pushed a syringe into her IV line and Claire’s limbs instantly relaxed. Her head filled with cotton and she wasn’t able to hold it up herself, until she let go of the tension within herself and slumped down on the stiff mattress.

It was cold and she was only in her shift, a white shawl draped across her shoulders. Piles of men dotted the ground and a bunny twitched its nose at her before sprinting away. There, underneath the corpse of his enemy, lay her husband. His body was covered in blood and crusted with dirt and deep scratches marked his body: the result of war.

“Are you alive?” She stretched her hand out towards his cheek.

Her hand cupped his stumbled jaw and his skin blazed against hers. The fever shook his body and sapped his energy. What little he had left was spent twisting his neck in her direction. A light dusting of snow covered the bloody grass of the moor. All too soon, she was pulled away and the sight of him faded from her grasp.

***

The hours passed and the logs burned to small sticks, Frank replacing them every so often with new wood. He turned towards the table that held a half-empty glass, plying himself more and more with alcohol as the glass drowned in the weight of the drink. Claire worked tirelessly the precious few days where her husband hadn’t yet pressed her for an explanation, flipping through all available resources to find any trace of Jamie. Mrs. Graham had been a wonder in helping Claire but her attitude regardless would not have changed anything. The search was futile and failed to bring what she wanted. She couldn’t look for the family that was alive that she had left behind. The sacrifice and promise she made meant nothing with the outcome that soon became her every thought. She abandoned them all for a thought of a future, not even a live, breathing one.

She spoke of her time with Jamie, reluctantly giving only the necessary pieces of her life, an outline that she would be able to view events from outside. She stepped out of her life and watched herself ramble on, an outsider and onlooker to a tragic event. That wasn’t her, those things couldn’t have happened to her. Claire finished her final thoughts in a daze, looking anywhere but Frank.

“Give me-excuse me please Claire I need some time to think this over.”

Claire poured another glass for herself and slammed the burning liquid back along with a large pill from the hospital.

Frank returned a few hours later, having thought in great depth. Claire’s thoughts were muddled. She couldn’t remember how many glasses she had.

“Claire I can accept that you’ve had this… relationship with this man. I will never understand your feelings for him, but I can accept that you had this experience, and that leaving him broke your heart.”

“I don’t think you understand. I was with a man for two years, and I loved him deeply as his wife.”

“A point you’ve made several times and which I’ve said I understand. Now let me tell you this. I love you Claire, unconditionally, nothing you could do could stop my loving you.”

“Darling I’ve been offered a position at Harvard. I was thinking we could move to Boston together. Start over. Leave all...this behind.”

She didn’t care. He was dead. She might as well have been too. Frank could do as he bloody well pleased. Her mind focused on the patterns of the carpet below her, forcing out any other thoughts. Her finger swirled in spirals in one spot on her thigh, mimicking what she saw.

“Alright. ”

That was the first time Claire had looked into his eyes since her disappearance. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in an attempt towards a smile to his wife. She couldn’t find the malice she desperately searched for. She needed the anger, the sharp coldness. It was too much. Frank kneeled at Claire’s feet and he reached to pull her down into his embrace. He brought her down to his chest. She stiffened.

“Claire, you've made me so happy. I know we’ll be happy. Together.”

“T-together? You mean for me to come along?”

“Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Claire only nodded in response. She knew she’d never be happy with Frank anymore, or anyone for that matter. She didn’t intend to live long, but what option did she have to resist a husband? Frank kissed her curls and pulled her head to his shoulder. He sniffled and pulled back, placing both hands gently on her face.

“But we must put the past behind us. You must promise me. No more searching for him. Let him go.”

“Yes. That’s what he made me promise.” She was reminded of another promise she had broken and another pang stabbed her already distressed heart.

#jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #frank randall #craigh na dun #fergus fraser #canon divergence #outlander fanfic

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onthepageoftears · 5 years

Text

Kill Your Darlings — Ch. 1 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: So this is the start to my first ever series (yeah im not nervous posting this at all). I’ll be posting one chapter each Friday! This is more of a prologue, but definitely worth the read for the background! Overall, I have to warn you, this story is a very slow burn. I haven’t finished writing it yet, but I know some ~things~ take a while to happen, so stick around!

Anyway, your comments and feedback are more than appreciated, so don’t be afraid to leave me some messages :)

Also, if you’re @ on the taglist is italicized, it means it wouldn’t let me tag you, so you might have to change your settings :)

Summary: Y/N, a skilled assassin, gets their newly assigned target.

Warnings: language, mentions of death/killing/murder, mentions of abuse and r*pe, alcohol consumption

Words: 1,996

Support me?

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Taverns were one of your least favorite places to meet. The stench of the unfortunate man’s breath wafted through the air, on top of the lingering odor of cheap alcohol. Men staggered around with their mouths wide open, yelling obscenities — women pulled down their dresses just enough to gain attention, glaring at anyone who passed. Everyone was way too loud, as if the sound of their slurred words were more valued over anyone else’s.

Your hood hung low over your head, just high enough to leave space for you to see. Your eyes immediately scanned the tavern — it was smaller than the usual ones you met at, but just as packed. The stuffiness of the room practically smacked you in the face as soon as you walked in, almost making you scrunch your nose. The smell was way worse than you remembered.

You kept your face stiff as your eyes stopped at a table near the back. Without a second thought, you made your way past the piles of people and towards the familiar head of hair you would recognize in a mass of a hundred people.

“I see you still have an impeccable taste for meeting places.” Your voice caused him to look up just as you sat across from him, removing the hood that covered most of your face.

“You know I do.” Rauf smiled proudly despite your obvious sarcasm. He gestured to the full cup of ale that was already in front of you. “A drink?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s just like old times.” Rauf was right. The length of the walls, wood of the tables, even the stench of the ale in your cup. It reminded you of the many nights you and Rauf would retreat to the taverns after training. A hard day’s work requires a hard day’s ale. It was what he said when he treated you to your first, and definitely not last, drink. You were pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to get drunk — which, you wouldn’t blame him for. Your line of work was never easy, not even for a veteran like him.

You picked up the drink with a sigh. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t I just want to have a drink with my favorite niece?”

“Only niece. And not by blood.” You reminded him every time, but it didn’t stop him from saying it.

Rauf was a family friend, always had been. You called him uncle, even when you were old enough to understand he had no relation to your family’s bloodline. Growing up, he was a common visitor at your parents’ home, frequently coming for a chat over some dinner. He would ruffle your hair on his way out, send you a wink every time. You always loved his visits, because it was the only time your parents stopped fighting; in those times, you felt like you had a normal, happy, family. Now, Rauf was the only one of your family that you had left.

You shook the memory from your mind and put the cup down. “You have a new target?”

Rauf was busy watching a woman drunkenly dance to the poor excuse of music, but he responded nonetheless. “When do I not?” He turned back to his own cup and chugged it down. After he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you. “People are shitty, Y/N, always have been.”

“My point exactly.” You tapped the table beneath you, trying to keep your patience. Sometimes, it was hard for you to imagine Rauf running an assassin’s guild. He was responsible, sure, but in front of you, he acted like any other man in the tavern. In this case, that meant being almost unable to tear his eyes from beautiful women. There was always a charm about him, though, like the charisma of a well-respected bard — without the annoying craving for attention. He was messy looking, but in a good way, and his smile was infectious. At a single glance, you wouldn’t think he has killed people.

You took another sip of your ale, though it didn’t taste like much of anything.

Rauf turned his gaze back to you, a playful smile on his lips. “Maybe you should learn to dance. Perform, act. You used to always put on plays for me as a youngster.”

“I’m acting right now.” You faked a smile when he quirked his brow. “Like I don’t want to kill you.”

Rauf leaned back, his smile growing wider. “We both know you don’t kill innocent men.”

“You call yourself innocent?”

“Point taken.” He signaled the server to bring another round, eyes almost immediately trailing back to the dancing woman.

It was your job to assassinate those deserving, but you really felt like bending the rules right now. Rauf could be distracted, but tonight he was especially so. You clenched your jaw, urging your own patience to hold out a little longer.

It was understandable why Rauf would want some time off from talking about the job. As Rauf mentioned the last time you spoke, business was, to put it lightly, booming. He had been giving out more assignments than usual — our work finally paid off, he told you. It was quite exciting, to be honest. After years of working alongside Rauf and his trusted team, you all hoped the guild would reach a wider range of people in need.

After all, your guild was different than most; rather than be paid to kill anyone, Rauf made sure there was an unjust act committed by the targeted party. Abuse, rape, murder, any of the likes. You were vigilantes, in a way — though even the most well-known assassins of your guild wouldn’t call themselves that. You all knew you were killing — it just helped you sleep at night to know the ones who were being killed weren’t…undeserving of the death.

The rise in work was great, but also taxing on Rauf. Even just looking at him now, you could see the weight he was holding on his back. His eyes were more tired, overworked. Of course, he would never admit to it, and neither would you. Complaining leads to laziness. It was one of his many scoldings throughout your training.

So, Rauf needing a break from his work made sense. It just made you antsy knowing there were more people out there committing heinous acts — more people you needed to terminate.

The server returned with two new cups of alcohol. As Rauf continued to watch the woman dance her troubles away, you tapped your finger on the table, shifted in your seat, fought yourself from rolling your eyes, and finally cleared your throat. You spent enough time waiting around. “Rauf.”

“Hm?” He only slightly turned to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before answering, “The target.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Finally, his attention was brought back to the task at hand. You straightened your back, readying yourself for your next assignment.

Rauf’s eyes searched your own. Finally, he spoke.“He’s a loud mouth—“

You rolled your eyes. “My favorite.”

“I wasn’t finished.” He took a big gulp from his cup and set it back on the table. “A bard.”

“Even better.” You followed his actions and chugged the rest of your drink, putting it back without so much of a blink. “What’d he do?”

Rauf’s mouth twitched. The sarcasm was spilling from his expression before he even spoke. “You’re gonna love this.”

“I bet.” You had to hold yourself back from leaning forward in anticipation.

Rauf pursed his lips. Then, he let out a quick breath. “Raped. A bunch of women.”

You quirked a brow. “A bunch?”

“Twelve. So far.”

You shook your head. “Not ‘so far’. Just twelve. There won’t be anymore.”

“Not after you’re done with him.”

“Damn right.” You settled back in your seat, anger already filling your veins. If not for your years of training with Rauf, the anger you felt would overwhelm you, cause you to be irrational and slam your fist into whoever’s face was closest. But now, you learned to contain that anger and use it on your targets. And boy, did you use it.

A thought entered your mind, but you bit your tongue for a few seconds. As Rauf lifted his cup once more, you tried to sound casual. “Who put down the money?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know that’s anonymous.”

“Of course,” You shrugged. “But if it was one of the victims, I hope you gave them a reasonable price.”

Rauf studied you for a moment. “It wasn’t a victim. It was a… family friend of the victim.” You narrowed your eyes at him until he groaned. “Yes, I gave them a discount.”

“Good.” You leaned back with satisfaction. Now that that was out of the way, you needed to figure out the details of the target. “This target got a name?”

Rauf tapped the edge of his cup with a finger. “Julian Alfred Pankratz. Goes by Jaskier. Not quite famous, but well-known enough.”

Your eyes glazed over with near boredom. “I haven’t heard of him.”

“You haven’t heard of anyone. Well, I suppose that’s partially my fault.”

You ignored his comment. He often tried to guilt himself for not teaching you more about things other than training, fighting, killing. No matter how many times you told him you didn’t mind, he brought it up anyway. Besides, you didn’t think you wanted to know of this bard, especially after what he’s done.

“Where is the target located?”

“He was in Oxenfurt two weeks ago, at the time of the most recent…incident. Payer said he’s now in Novigrad.”

“Not far.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two, allowing the noise of the tavern to fill in the gap. You noticed Rauf eye the same woman who had been dancing practically all night. This time, you allowed your eyes to make their way to her as well. She was so carefree, seemingly impossible to tire. There was so much life in her, but you wondered what she went home to. An empty house or a full one? An abusive husband or a loving partner? A loved child or one she wished she never had? These people, they each had their own lives that lead to either pain, anger, or devastation. Each and every person would have their own life, their own struggles, their own sins. Some of them wouldn’t even realize it, or care.

You shifted your attention back to the nearly full cup in front of you. You picked it up and swirled the liquid around before bringing it to your lips. Before every assignment, you felt the same nerves as you did now. It was a mix of eagerness and hesitation. In this case, you wanted to get the son of a bitch bard, no matter what it took. But an assassination in a city like Novigrad, for a somewhat popular bard? It would be tough, that was for sure.

Rauf must have noticed your clouded eyes, as he nodded his head towards you. “You think you can handle this?”

Despite the underlying nerves, your lips curved upward and you quirked a challenging brow towards him. Within a second Rauf nodded with a similar smile, silently understanding the uselessness of his question. Of course you could handle it. It would be tough, yeah, but the job was always tough. You were trained by the best, after all.

Rauf lifted his cup and spoke with the rim to his lips, “Meet me at the Novigrad guild when you’re done. You have the usual time to finish it.”

You took one last sip of your drink, then stood from the chair as you lifted your hood over your head, “See you soon, Uncle Rauf.”

After a single nod from him, you left the tavern and descended into the darkness, ready to eliminate your next target.

———————————————————————————————————

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#the witcher imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier #jaskier series #the witcher series #the witcher #reader insert #reader imagine #kyd #kill your darlings series #writing #my writing #fic #the witcher fic #joey batey

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keig-hoe-takami · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4

Masterlist

The three friends gaped at the crowd around the UA campus, it was only the third day of school and already news reporters were circling the school gates.

‘Excuse me! You three there!’ a reported yelled as the students were noticed by the group ‘What’s it like being All Might’s pupils?’ Voices converged into one as more reporters hounded them for comments.

‘Come on guys, here.’ Kirishima put his arms around the two girls to the side of him, dragging them forcefully through the crowd, ‘He’s a great teacher, we’re really learning a lot from him!’ He shouted in the hopes of calming the crowd down, he succeeded partially, allowing the three to finally rush through the gates.

‘Oh my god that was crazy!’ Ichirou gasped, ‘I didn’t realise people would be so interested in All Might being a teacher!’

‘I mean, I guess it is pretty cool since he’s the number one hero,’ Kirishima said, looking back at the still restless crowd,

‘I hope they don’t use those pictures, you messed up my damn hair Kiri!’ Mina cried out as she tried to flatten the now frizzy mess,

‘Sorry Mina, I didn’t mean to- just wanted to protect you that’s all.’ Kirishima apologised,

‘Spoken like a true hero.’ Ichirou said, ‘I’m sure they wont use the pictures though, they’ll probably want some more candid photos.’ Mina smiled at her, slightly reassured.

‘Lets get on with home room notices…’ Mr Aizawa said calmly, ‘I’m sorry to have to spring this on you all, but we need to pick a class president.’

A ripple of excitement rolled over the class, finally they were going to be doing something school like!!

‘I wanna be class president!’ Kirishima cried out,

‘I love leader positions- Ill do it!’ Mina challenged

‘I wanna do it too!’ The girl in front of Ichirou said, almost everyone had raised their hands, Ichirou included, excited for the opportunity to prove themselves at UA.

‘BE QUIET!!’ A loud, commanding voice caused everyone to turn to the back of the room, Tenya Iida began to speak, ‘This is a task laden with responsibility where you must carry and pull everyone else’s weight! Just because you’d like to do it doesn’t mean you can!’ The tall boy had a point but he seemed to be taking the entire thing way to seriously, ‘It is a holy office that requires the great esteem and trust of those around you…! The only truly worthy leader will emerge from a democratic choice reflecting the will of the people! It must be settled with a vote!

‘But everyone will just vote for themselves!’ Kirishima shouted back,

‘Which is why the person who does earn multiple votes will be the truly appropriate person for the job, no?!’ Iida explained, Ichirou understood exactly what he meant, and placed a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder in warning.

In the end, almost everybody voted for themselves, and Ichirou wasn’t innocent. It was true that she didn’t really know anyone well enough yet to assume that they would be a good leader, though she was pleased that Momo had won vice-president, but she had also wanted to see if she could have won.

Midoriya stood at the class next to the taller girl, nervously shaking as he excepted his place as class president, ‘So then its president Midoriya and vice-president Yaoyorozu.’ Aizawa confirmed, stepping out of his sleeping bag.

The lunch rush cafeteria was just as amazing as usual; Ichirou and Mina took their seats with the boys at an empty table.

‘I’ve been talking to Asui quite a lot, she’s the frog girl who sits behind me,’ Mina explained to Ichirou, ‘I think she’s really nice, told me to call her Tsu- so I guess that means we’re friends!’,

‘That’s great, you’ll have to introduce me,’ Ichirou smiled at her friend as the two tucked into their noodles, ‘Sometimes Jirou turns round to chat to me, she so cool- her dad was in a band or something like that.’

‘She sounds awesome, there’s so many cool people in our class! I don’t even have a backstory.’ Mina sulked,

‘What do you mean you don’t have a backstory, you weirdo.’ Ichirou questioned,

‘Well, Kiri dyed his hair, and you don’t have a dad-‘ Mina started,

‘Hey, those jokes are only funny if I do them.’ Ichirou jokingly narrowed her eyes at the girl,

‘Whatever,’ Mina stuck her tongue out at her,

‘Besides, you saved those girls from that villain, that’s backstory.’ Ichirou motioned with her fork,

‘Don’t remind me of that! It’s so scary to think of!’ Mina covered her eyes, shaking her head,

‘Sorry Pinky, but you were so brave!’ Ichirou nudged the girl next to her,

‘Move up.’ Ichirou looked up at the recognisably gruff voice above her, her eyes met with Bakugou’s stern face. The girl smiled, sliding along the bench to allow the boy to sit next to her.

‘Baku-bro!’ Kirishima said, ‘Didn’t expect you to actually come sit with us!’

‘Don’t make a big deal of it shitty-hair.’ Bakugou replied, sending a glare in Kirishima’s direction, the boy put his hands up in surrender, Denki and Sero’s eyes widened,

‘Hey we got the same meal!’ Ichirou exclaimed as she saw Bakugou begin eating his noodles, ‘Mina got it too.’ She added, becoming nervous as Bakugou didn’t reply,

‘They’re pretty good.’ The boy mumbled as he finished his dish quickly, holy shit he eats fast- Ichirou thought to herself, turning to Mina who was wiggling her eyebrows suggestively back at Ichirou who faked puking to save face.

Suddenly, a loud blaring noise rang out through the cafeteria, ‘SECURITY LEVEL 3 HAS BEEN BREACHED. STUDENTS, PLEASE PROMPTLY EVACUATE.’

‘Evacuate!’ Denki exclaimed as the group left their seats, joining the crowd of teenagers trying to get to the school safety points,

‘It means someone’s infiltrated the school grounds!’ A voice shouted over the crowd, whipping the students into an even bigger frenzy. Ichirou was jostled into a wall by her upperclassmen as they raced to the door, finding it difficult to see her friends thanks to the tall 3rd years,

‘Mina! Kiri, where are you?’ She cried out, becoming stressed at the chaos of the situation as she was pushed into the wall again, face first this time. She had no clue what was going on. Her ears were ringing with the crescendo of voices and her tail was hidden between her legs in fear. Overwhelmed, she turned again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mina’s pink hair, instead she was met by another wall.

‘Watch yourself, runt.’ Ichirou looked up to see Bakugou standing above her, ‘listen, this is those damn reporters, alright? Don’t go running around like a damn idiot.’

‘O-okay.’ Ichirou mumbled, dangerously aware of how close the two were, she was practically trapped by his strong chest,

‘The hells up with your damn ears?’ The boy questioned abruptly, noticing the way they twitched, moving independently in all directions,

‘Um, its just loud.’ Ichirou answered, her tail wiggling from side to side as she felt her entire body heat up,

‘Huh.’ Bakugou grunted, before promptly flattening the girls ears with his hands, dulling the sound and pulling her even closer to him. Ichirou’s eyes went wide at the sudden intrusion, the sensitivity of her ears causing the speed of her tail to increase rapidly, thrashing from side to side as she gripped the boys forearm.

Ichirou wasn’t sure how much time passed in this position, but she was soon taken out of her trance as Bakugou lifted his hands from her ears.

‘Its over.’ He stated, the somewhat dazed girl lifted her head from where she had burrowed into his front, she looked around noticing Iida being helped down from a doorway? How he’d got there she didn’t know- ‘He jumped.’ Bakugou stated as he took a step back from the girl, Ichirou nodded in acknowledgement as her arm dropped back to her side. Bakugou nodded back before sticking his hands in his pockets and turning to walk away.

‘For the foundational skill of heroics we’ll study today,’ Aizawa started as his class calmed down, ‘It was decided you’ll be supervised by a three-man team comprising of me, All Might and somebody else.’ Decided? Ichirou thought to herself, what were they going to be doing that needed three teachers?

‘Be the hero everyone need, whether it’s a flood or any other disaster’ The teacher dramatically revealed the activity, ‘It’s the trail of rescue!!’ Ichirou’s face broke into a smile, thanks to her wolf traits, rescue was surely going to be a strong point of hers.

‘Trail of rescue… sounds a bit difficult this time round…’ Kaminari pondered,

‘Cmon, dumbass, that’s what a hero’s whole job is!! I’m chomping at the bit!!’ Kiri replied, almost jumping out of his chair in his excitement,

‘As I was saying,’ Aizawa continued, staring down the two boys, ‘This time, it’s entirely up to each of you whether or not you wear your costume. Some of your costumes probably aren’t adapted to the task at hand, after all. The training area is fairly far away, so we’ll get there by bus. That’s all.’

‘I cant believe we’re going on a school trip!’ Mina swung Ichirou and hers hands as the two girls walked to the bus,

‘Same! I wonder who the somebody else Sensei was talking about is.’ Ichirou nodded in agreement as they came to a stop,

‘In order to get everybody seated smoothly on the bus, file into two lines according to your numbers.’ Iida, the classes new president, shouted to the waiting students,

‘Damn it, we cant sit next to each other! Why’d Iida do that.’ Mina sulked,

‘I think he’s pretty good, besides we’re close to each other so don’t worry.’ The other girl reassured as they parted to find their space in line. Ichirou was one of the last on the bus, but she soon realised poor Iida’s system had failed, no one was sat in their right places,

‘Rou!! I saved you a seat!’ Mina called from one of the benches at the front of the bus and Ichirou soon found herself sat between her and Kaminari,

‘So it ended up being this kind of bus anyway!’ Iida said defeatedly as he sat next to Mina,

‘Yeah there was no poi-‘ the girl began,

‘I think you did really well organising it Iida!’ Ichirou interrupted, sending a glare to her friend,

‘Thank you, Sato.’ Iida replied, turning to the girl,

‘Oh, call me Ichirou, we already have a Sato in this class.’ She said smiling and giving the boy a thumbs up,

‘Alright, Sa- Ichirou.’ Iida nodded his appreciation before turning to talk to Midoriya, Ichirou turned to her friends, who seemed to be in the middle of a conversation,

‘I’m kinda jealous of that kind of simple enhancer type quirk, though! There a lot you can do with one, and flashily too!’ Kirishima complimented Midoriya, ‘My hardening power isn’t bad for punch-ups, but I hate that its just not that flashy.’

‘Well , I think its an awesome quirk! Definitely a quirk that’ll be great use to a pro!’ Ichirou smiled at Midoriya’s reassurance, she was beginning to really like the strange boy.

‘Besides, Kiri, you know heroics has a lot about it that’s more like a popularity contest too, right?? You’re so nice I’m sure you’ll do great!’ Ichirou chimed in,

‘Yeah, like everyone’s gonna love Ichirou bc she’s like a teddy bear!’ Mina patted the girls head, rubbing at her ears as Ichirou leaned into the touch,

‘If we’re talking the double whammy of flashy and strong, you can’t not mention Todoroki and Bakugou!’ Kirishima added, deflecting attention,

‘Bakugou’s always fuming, so he wont be very popular.’ Asui mentioned, offhandedly, clearly not realising what she was saying,

‘The hell did you say! I’ll be popular, too!!’ The boy exploded from behind them, gripping the rails in front of him.

‘It’s only been a brief while since our socialisation has commenced and yet already we have been made apodictically cognisant of your personality, redolent as it is of a turd getting steamed in a sewer.’ Kaminari pressed the boy to further anger, Ichirou smacked his arm as she stifled a laugh,

‘Huh?! What the hell kinda vocabulary is that?! Ill fucking kill you!!’ Bakugou was practically bending the railing in anger, face scrunched up in a terrifying, but almost cute, fit of rage,

‘Damn Bakugou, you are one fouled mouthed dude.’ Kaminari continued, despite the fear in his eyes, and Ichirou had half a mind to smack a hand over the boys mouth.

‘We’re almost there. Settle down already…’ Aizawa ordered, before Bakugou jumped the railing and attacked Kaminari,

Bakugou kept his eyes trained on the poor boy, eyebrows drawn in a scowl. Ichirou looked at him subconsciously, wondering how in the world the boy could get so angry, that is, until his eyes flickered onto hers. She raised an eyebrow, snapping out of her thoughts quickly, but the boy didn’t reply, instead deciding to turn away as he so often did when their eyes met.

Ichirou’s eyes lit up as she finally saw the wide expanse of simulations the class would be training with, she shared a look with Mina whose own eyes were wide- the place looked like an amusement park!

‘Is this USJ or something?!’ Ichirou heard behind her, she had heard of the place before when researching UA as a school,

‘This is a practical training area I created to simulate all kinds of accidents and disasters,’ A voice came from the right, causing the student to turn and meet the 3rd teacher they’d be working with- the space hero 13! ‘It’s name is… the Ultimate Space for Jams!!’ they finished as the class burst in excitement,

‘I cant believe its 13!!’ Mina grabbed Ichirou’s hand and gripped tightly, gasping at the thought of meeting another pro hero,

‘I know! And they’re going to be teaching us!’ Ichirou added, just as excited as her friend to be learning from such an amazing hero.

‘Before we begin, just a thing,,, or two,’ 13 started again as the chatter died down, ‘I’m certain you’re all already quite aware, my quirk is called ‘black hole’ no matter what material may get sucked into its vortex, I’m afraid it will turn into dust.’

‘That’s a quirk perfect for removing wreckage and saving people injured by disasters!’ Midoriya shouted out excitedly,

‘Yes… it is, however, a power that could also be easily used to kill people. And in that way, it’s no different from the quirks of everyone here.’ At those words, Ichirou felt herself tremble, remembering how long it took for her to get used to her claws, how she would wake up scratched and bloody from restless nights, how she cut her friends, teachers, her own mother. ‘Naturally, in this society of super humans, quirks are strictly regulated, and the requirements for their lawful use enforced. Now, this lesson will serve as a fresh start! Lets get to studying about how to wield our quirks for the sake of human life! That is all! You have my gratitude for listening so intently and patiently!’ 13 finished their speech with a bow and was met with a round of applause from the students, all empowered by the words.

‘All right, first things first…’ Aizawa began, seeming to be disturbed by something in the centre court, Ichirou couldn’t see very well, but there seemed to be a swirling black mass- by the looks of things it wasn’t part of the training course. ‘Huddle together and don’t move!’ He shouted back as figures began to emerge from the darkness, ‘13! Protect the students!’

‘Is this like that training pattern at the entrance exam? Kiri said as Ichirou backed into him,

‘I really don’t think so- sensei looks nervous.’ Ichirou turned to the boy, speaking quietly as to not alarm the others.

‘Don’t move!’ Aizawa shouted back to the huddled children as he fixed his goggles, ‘Those are villains!!’ Ichirou’s suspicions had been right, she stepped back in realisation that these were the people the pro hero’s battled- and they were coming for her class.

‘Rou, can you hear what’s going on?’ Kirishima asked as he wrapped a protective arm around the girl who nodded in return, training her focus on the centre of the chaos.

‘According to the teachers curriculum we procured yesterday, Mr All Might was supposed to be here…’ Ichirou’s ears twitched at the unexpected voice coming from inside the black hole,

‘They wanted All Might,’ She relayed, ‘and I’m fairly certain that the black mass is actually a person.’ Kirishima and some of those around her seemed almost relieved that they weren’t the target,

‘You can’t tell me All Might… the symbol of peace… isn’t here…’ a dry rasping voice consumed Ichirou’s sensitive ears, it was a voice she was certain would haunt her forever, ‘I wonder if he’ll show up if we kill the kids?’

Ichirou tensed- they needed to get out.

a/n : its getting spicy y’all ft. Bakugou’s tiddies :)

taglist : @jazzylove

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #mha #bakugou x oc #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #boku no hero academia #mha bakugou #my hero academia

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years

Text

Battle

Prompt. I took some liberties with the prompt again. Not exactly as requested but I do deliver the Warrior whump. I took a little bit of initiative with Warrior’s backstory, so I hope you all don’t mind. I haven’t actually finished the game yet, so if I get some things wrong then oh well. If it seems this story cuts off a little quickly it’s because it’s 6.3k words and I really didn’t want it to enter multi-chapter territory.

Summary: Stories of war are only ever told by the survivors, though the survivors are not always the brave and strong. They are just the lucky.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, slight PTSD, minor and vaguely described flashbacks to trauma, angst.

-o-o-o-o-

"So then Tetra said: I bet you can't beat me at the obstacle course," Wind says, walking along besides Hyrule who seems to be content humming along to whatever the youngest is spewing on about. "I, of course, take her up on her challenge but little did we know a pirate ship of monsters were sneaking up behind us."

Warrior smiles at the story, and how Wind practically shows what's happening with his dramatic arm waving and voices. He's glad that at least one member of their party is willing to chat up a storm about their adventures. Sky would also sometimes tell stories, but none are as creatively told and you can always tell he's holding back about one or two details that make the story almost fall flat. Wind though? The kid's been through some crazy stuff, stuff that he's one hundred percent ready and raring to regail to anyone who's listening.

Or in Hyrule's case, just pretending to listen. Wind has been going on for what's probably two hours, so Warrior can understand Hyrule closing up into his own head and drifting off in his own head. To keep Wind happy, you really only need to say "yeah?", "Wow," and "hmm," periodically. Sometimes, if Wind's looking down and starting to suspect you're not listening, all you must do is say "gee, Wind, that's crazy!" and the kid will smile like the sun and plow on about how it was crazy, almost as crazy as that one time I etcetera etcetera.

Warrior doesn't mind the chatter right now though, not even Legend seems to be annoyed. It's been a long and very uneventful day and periodically tuning in to the stories being told helps pass the time, especially since sometimes Wild or Four or one of the others will share a rare experience of their own. Even Time will sometimes get a wistful smile on his face and say something that either enchants the entire group or has them hushing with somberness.

It's relaxing. It almost makes Warrior feel normal, like these people around him aren't all incarnations of the same spirit. Like none of them have seen war, and death, and betrayal.

Days like this has Warrior feeling like he's his own person, like he's spent his entire life wondering a friendly forest with a group of boys who have each lived their own lives with hardships and happiness.

Of course, days like this do have to end.

Warrior can tell the moment something is off about the clearing they've just walked into by the way Wild's shoulders stiffen ever so slightly and how Time's single eye narrows ever so slightly. Legend places his hand on his sword, eyebrows together, when he notices the actions of two most paranoid members of the group. Twilight is staring so intently around the clearing that Warrior can almost imagine his nose sniffing and ears twitching like a wild animal.

Hyrule and Wind don't seem to notice the odd atmosphere of the rest of the group. Sky gives the rest of them a shaky nod and runs forward to place his hand on Hyrule's shoulder, startling the boy out of whatever thoughts he was in instead of paying attention to their surroundings nor the child besides him.

Wind cuts off in the middle of his story about how he and Tetra were racing when monsters sailed up to them in a makeshift pirate ship that was in reality a couple of bokoblins who figured out the delicate art of grabbing a couple logs and winding vine around them a couple of times. Warrior is almost curious to hear the rest of the story, because Wind's stories never end on an anticlimactic like that, but silence falls over the nine heroes as each try to figure out what's wrong.

Because, just like Wind and his stories never being anticlimactic, Wild and Time's hunches are never wrong.

The clearing is wide and as close to flat as a clearing can get. Green grass and wildflowers dot the space, a bush of red berries pop up here and there. It looks relatively innocent, not a single place for an ambush to hide less they were in the tree line. In the center of the clearing though, is what Wild has his eyes trained on. A small cluster of seemingly innocent minerals that are colored black as night and shine like glass in the light of the high noon sun sit there. It almost reminds Warrior of those gem deposits back in Wild's era. But they're not in Wild's era.

They're in Time's.

"What are we looking for," Legend asks, breaking the heavy silence, though not recklessly. His voice is barely above a growl.

Time looks down at Wild, his lips turned downwards in a frown, but Wild ignores them and, without warning, steps into the clearing, resulting in the entire group sucking in a nervous breath.

Wild gives the group a look that screams stay there before he stalks further into the clearing, his steps are light and silent. A dim light flashes as he brings out his slate and taps the screen a few times so the sword on his back is suddenly replaced by a giant hammer of some kind that looks like it was made to break mountains. Wild transfers the weapon to his hands and Warrior is almost shocked his skinny teenager arms can hold the weapon up. He's sure that one swing of that beast can definitely dent Time's armor. One practiced swing can probably do more than dent Time's armor.

Warrior feels a little bad thinking about how badly a weapon can harm Time, but his armor is freakishly strong.

Wild stalks through the grass, reminding Warrior almost of a doe; a creature of grace roaming the fields, but ready to retreat at a moment's notice. He can see the way Wild's shoulders tense and relax with every step he takes towards the center of the clearing.

Twilight shifts besides Warrior, his hand gripping the sword on his back, white knuckled, as Hyrule makes some sort of whine at the back of his throat, eyes wide and darting between every tree like he's expecting an army to burst through the greenery and cut down their chef.

But they stand still, they stay behind because they all know that Wild works best in silence, works best when there's no interruptions to distract him when he's searching for something. Too many times has Wild sent someone back to camp, angry because of being thrown off from his normal patterns of hunting and gathering. Wild is a very social creature, quiet as his voice may be, but when interacting with his name sake, he'd much rather prefer some silence.

Finally, Wild creeps up towards the obsidian, glass like material in the center of the clearing. They're formed like giant balls, buried halfway in the earth and each a different size from the others. Wild stalks up towards the biggest boulder and ever so slowly places his hand on it, which must be smooth as a polished river stone.

Nothing happens. Four releases a breath, though Twilight tenses more, and Warrior is almost afraid he'll snap like a bow string.

Wild tilts his head, curiosity rolling off him in waves, and then full on smacks the stone like he's expecting something to happen.

Nothing happens.

Warrior smiles a bit when Wild's small "huh…" reaches his ears.

They watch as Wild jumps upward, wrapping his hands and arms around the smooth onyx stone and using his limbs to climb to the top like a monkey. He jumps a few times on the stone. Shrugs, and jumps back down. Almost all tension is gone from his body.

He jogs back to the group and Warrior notices Twilight release a breath of relief so powerful it could probably power the sails of Wind's ship.

"Nothing," Wild says, sighing as if he sorta hoped something would happen.

"Are you sure?" Time asks.

Wild turns and glares at the black stones. Yup. He definitely sorta hoped something would happen. That's Wild for you. "If what I thought was there, it would have come up by now."

"It would have come up by now," Twilight repeats dryly and a smile spreads on Sky's lips; he, like the rest of the group, probably already knowing what will happen next.

Wild has the audacity to look confused and Warrior can't hold back his snicker as Twilight snacks the back of Wild's head.

"//Are you kidding me, cub?!"

As the inevitable scolding begins, Legend speaks up. "So, what now, old man?"

Time looks towards Legend, hums, and glances back at the clearing, a troubled look gleaming in his eye.

"We can just go around," Hyrule suggests but Warrior instantly knows that won't work before Time even turns it down. The trees are thick here, they've only come this far because of the trails paved by rabbits and other creatures of the forest. If they tried to go off trail, they're more likely to get stuck or lost than they are to reach the other side of the clearing.

"We'll go through," Time finally says, though worry makes his features noticeably sharper.

"Are you sure?" Twilight asks through a grunt. He has Wild in a headlock, as if he's about to give a noogie, and Wild's squirming.

Time nods. "Stick together, men. We'll go around the border, don't walk straight through. Keep your eyes on the trees."

And with that, Twilight releases Wild from his headlock and the group moves forward as one, shoulder to shoulder. The moment Warrior steps into the clearing, he can feel the tension in the air become static… electrical. He'd be almost afraid lightning would strike yet there's no clouds in the sky to provide for one.

All goes well until they get halfway through.

The ground suddenly lurches beneath them, like a carpet being yanked from below. Warrior just manages to catch himself but Legend, who was mid-step, fell backwards roughly onto his ass. Wind surges forward and grasps onto Sky's sailcloth to steady himself while Four just manages to grasp onto a tree. The rest spread their feet to steady themselves, but the earth gives a final lurch and something explodes upwards besides them.

"Well shit," Wild mumbles.

Warrior spins around and, if he were a man of lesser position and training, his jaw might have dropped open in shock. However, he wasn't a man of lesser, he was a man who instantly grabbed for his sword and shield, holding them out in front of him within seconds.

He’s seen big monsters before. In his first battle he’s ran into a fire breathing King Dodongo. Though, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve ran into goliaths, they’ll always make you feel small.

The creature is black as night, jagged like a rupee. With every movement it takes, sun glitters off it's smooth, crystal like structures like a mirror. It's arms are literally boulders, as wide as a horse and as long as a tree. It seems to flex its arms, testing them out, as it stomps on the ground, it's thankfully stubby legs forming. Yet, even with the small, stunted legs the force of every step it takes the ground shakes from the sheer mass of its main body, which must be the size of a small house.

"Talos!" Wild yells, and then chaos begins.

The creature roars, if that can be called roaring. It's more like a wail of a blustery wind, deep and low that it could almost be mistaken as a powerful voice, yet the creature does not have any visible mouth.

And Warrior is pretty sure it's completely made of that obsidian rock. No lungs to scream with.

They rush to the side as the Talos throws one arm back as if preparing to throw a ball, and in a way it did. The bottom, heavy chunk of it's arm flies off its joint and launches towards the heroes like a meteor. Thankfully, they were all out of the way by the time it reached them, but the trees behind them stood no chance.

Warrior spared a glance at the wreckage of that one blow and his mouth goes slightly drier. It seems there's a new pathway in the forest, though this one is wide and angry like a scar in the earth and not paved by fluffy rabbits and scavenging dear.

He can't help but think back to Time's armor and how it might as well be cotton.

"Good thing this beast only has two arms," Warrior says, a nervous quiver in his voice that he just manages to cover.

Wild gives him an unimpressed look as the Talos smashes it's nubbed arm into the ground, creating another quake in the ground below them, and pulls its arm back up to reveal more ammo.

Warrior shrugs. "I could only have hoped," he says and Wild rolls his eyes.

"Weak spots?" Legend suddenly calls out, his fire rod clutched in his hands. Warrior highly doubts that fire could be this creature’s weakness, but Warrior knows just as well that fire rods pack a punch greater than most weapons. The sword in Warrior's hands right now all of a sudden feels very brittle and flimsy.

"Crystal on its back!" Wild shouts over the rumbling earth as the Talos takes another step. "Blunt force weapons work best! If you don't have one, stay out of the way!"

And then he runs forward, club swinging.

One might call Wild a bit blunt himself, but he's always like this when it comes to his monsters. He knows how to deal with them, he has a system. A system that must be followed.

And when the situation is switched, when they're fighting someone else's boss monsters, he stays silent and listens and does as he's told.

Wild may not remember much, but Warrior knows enough to recognize the traits of a good soldier.

Warrior is a good soldier himself.

Warrior drops his sword and pulls out his own fire rod and charges forward, Legend on his heels. Time chases after, his enormous, unbreakable sword held more likes bat than a blade, and Warrior can't help but to think back to the battles he's fought in. The ground rumbled back them too, but instead of being caused by a giant rock monster it was from the pounding of soldiers feet and the enemy armies standing against them.

This is Warrior's element. The chaos, the shaking, the yelling. He's always been better at fighting when fighting was the only thing to do.

Wild's already on top of the creature, having climbed up after the Talos had tried to sit on him. He's swinging his heavy club so hard that his entire body follows the motion, yet instead of throwing him off balance he rolls with it, making each blore more powerful than the last. There's a spike of pure black stone sticking out from the monsters back, just as Wild has said, red crystals glittering and pushing through the solid material like beauty marks.

As a heavy swing from Wild's club knocks off a chunk of gem, Warrior thinks it's more like a pimple than a beauty mark.

The Talos has enough and makes a sudden and violent shift to the side, knocking Wild off like he's no more of a threat than a particularly stubborn flea. Warrior swings his fire rod, a burst of fire cascading out like a shooting star and exploding along the monsters back with such a great force the ground quakes with the stumbles that follow. Legend doesn't give the creature to recover before he too is blasting fire, stopping only when a metal hook shoots out from Time's hook shot, dragging him upwards and forward at a stomach churning speed.

Time uses that speed to smash the top chunk of it's weak spot, rolling harshly yet gracefully on the ground as the Talos howls like a tornado, throwing a boulder arm out in pure rage. It disconnects and hurdles through the air, just managing to miss Legend. The wind following boulders force is enough to make Warrior step back and brace himself. Legend is knocked over, his hat flying off.

Thankfully, the boulder runs into the forest again with a mighty crash. Warrior doesn't waste time looking at the damage. Damage is supposed to be suffered and mourned in the aftermath. Right now, the fallen trees, the scarred land, the animals caught in the crossfire do not matter.

The wounded and fallen soldiers do not matter. Don't look. Ignore the wetness on the grass that isn't water. Ignore the bodies. Ignore the fallen weapons. Ignore it all. There's a monster in front of you and it's your job to take it down, and if you fall then you don't matter either. You don't matter. You're a pawn. A soldier. Someone to be replaced over and over and over again until the enemy is overwhelmed. The only thing special about you is that glowing triangle pattern on the back of your hand.

But that can easily be replaced too.

An arrow whizzes overhead. Warrior recognizes the make of it. Simple, long, thin, feathery, and sharp, a bomb tied around it with thin twine. Twilight's arrow, a weapon that packs quite a punch. Evidence of that is yet another chunk that is blasted from the weak crystal. The impurity.

"You almost have it!" Sky yells from behind.

"Just another hit!" Wild agrees.

"Give me an opening!" Legend screams.

It's white noise. Like the crickets at night. Familiar. It shouldn't be familiar.

It's after Legend delivers a final blow that Warrior is reminded that the survivors of war do not survive because they're skilled.

It's because they're lucky.

He's seen cowards, half trained souls, live through many of battles. He's seen the best fall within the first minutes of war.

The Talos gives a hollow howl, something so bone chilling and angry that it sends a wave of shivers over the clearing, and with it the Talos swings an arm one final time.

A final time that was heading straight towards Legend.

He barely even had time to blink. Hardly time to react. Yet he does. Legends luck doesn't have to run out today.

Warrior will spend his instead.

His body lurches forward before he even realizes it, palms open, arms pushing forward. He can feel Legend tense beneath his fingers, but Warrior shoved him, doesn't let him stand his ground.

Everything goes white and he hears more than feels the snapping. The world stretches and morphs like a child playing with pond scum. One second he's standing, watching their opponent fall and the next the sky is all he can see. All he knows. His chest jolts without his permission, muscles contracting and tensing, his brain going on autopilot to try and get him to breathe.

He's not breathing.

He can't breathe.

And with that realization, the pain settles in like an unwanted friend.

The only time he remembers being in comparable pain was back at his era's castle, when the wars first began. Before he and Impa set out across the land to find out why the monsters all banded together suddenly to fight. To find Zelda. Even though she was there the entire time. He met a man near the end of that battle, or well, a dragon.

Link, at that time, was still wet behind the ears. He was just a mere soldier who may have been at the top of his class but was in no way prepared to come out of a fight with a man... a monster like Volga unscathed.

They say the first arrow always hurts the most. It's the same with third degree burns.

Link was just lucky that he was still aware of his body by the time he finally managed to chase Volga off. His skin was screaming, charred. A spot on his side was aching with a fierce intensity that had him gasping. He was just able to grasp at some red potions and heal the worst of it, but he will never forget the black, scabbing skin on his hands where his sword had grown so hot it melted the skin of his hands.

He still has scars.

But now? Now he can't even find his hands. His head's ringing and it feels as if his blood was replaced with acid. This time, he tries to work with his body to suck in air, but something as sharp as a knife stops him, choking him. Something gurgles in his mouth and it's amazing how strong the taste of iron is when everything else is fading into the pool of agony he's floating in.

Something cuts through the ringing. A voice. Very close but very… far. He tries to blink, tries to look towards the shadows kneeling before him one by one but his body doesn't seem to want to listen.

"Shit---- still alive-"

"Quick---- potion--"

“--not--- breathing---!”

"--- fairy----"

"Stay--- us, Warrior----"

His eyes slide closed and even though he cannot suck in air, his body shudders with a sudden fit of coughs. The voices above him get more frantic, more scared. But he's hardly aware enough to react to it. The black creeps in from the corners of his vision before his eyelids close against his will.

The blackness spreads, swallowing everything. Even the pain.

-o-o-o-o-

"-omplete and utter asshole."

Warrior grunts with discomfort as awareness comes to him. His entire being feels sore, tight, like it's not quite his. He recognizes the feeling, he's felt it many times. The thing about red potions and their healing abilities is that they work best on bumps and bruises. Shattered bones, torn muscles, shredded skin, missing limbs, it doesn't quite make everything perfect again. Sure, with enough strong doses, it can regrow limbs, it can stitch together skin, it can recreate a functioning body.

But, those bits you lost are never yours again. What you're given is something new. Something created by magic and science mixed together in a small vial of crimson pigmented liquid that tastes of ass and smells even worse.

Yes, yes Warrior is familiar of the feeling of new skin, new bones, as he's sure the entirety of his group are too.

Just, he's never felt it all over his body quite like this before. He can feel it to his core, to his very skull.

That doesn't bode well.

He blinks, wincing at light assaulting his irises, though he easily gets used to it. The evening sun is not that bright.

He's laid on the ground, his body wrapped tightly in a mess of blankets and fur pelts, so much so that he can hardly move. Not that he wants to move. There's no pain, but his limbs feel heavy and a pressure building up behind his eyelids is already trying to lull him back to sleep.

But there's a body besides him, and it's mumbling to itself.

He lets his heavy eyes slide over to where Legend is crouched next to his nest. He's sitting so his knees are to his chin, a single arm wrapped around his shins and the other wrapped tightly in white bandages and secured to his chest. Legend isn't looking at Warrior, his face turned towards the campfire, though there is evidence of pain in his expression. The tightness in the brow, the downturn of lips, jaw popping where teeth are grinding. He looks about ready to throw a fit, if a fit wouldn't cause him pain towards where Warrior suspects is his arm.

"Fucking- could have died. I'll kill him-" Legend cuts himself with a hiss when his arm jostled and he glares at the campfire where the back of Wild faces them. The smell of something bitter sweet fills the air. "Wild better hurry up with that hearty soup or I swear-" his eyes flicker to Warrior and he freezes, mouth opening slightly, "-you're awake!"

"He's awake?!"

Deciding the jig is up, Warrior slowly raises him out of his cocoon of blankets; just in time for Wind to launch himself into Warrior's lap, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Warrior grunts at the force of the hug but still curls slightly into the awkwardly positioned embrace, his arms wrapping around Wind’s head.

A hand falls on his shoulder and it's Time looking down at him with an unreadable expression. The rest all gather around a varying distances and expressions that makes something in Warrior's chest and stomach jump. Wild has set what he was boiling off from the fire and onto the ground, letting it steam as he too gathered.

"Okay…" Warrior says slowly, "what happened?"

"He doesn't remember," Legend hisses, standing up from his crouched position, anger sharpening his already sharp features. The other hero winces when his arm his jostled by his own movements, and flinches violently when Sky tries to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Of fucking course-"

And then the group is left watching Legend storm out of camp, shoulders hunched, dust puffing upwards from each forceful stomp he takes.

Twilight, ever the worried mother hen, goes to chase after him, but Hyrule grabs Twilight's sleeve, shaking his head before he leaves the group. No one argues Hyrule's decision to comfort Legend. The two have a strange connection the others are still trying to understand. Trying to figure out.

Awkward silence fills the group. Even Wind notices it, shuffling backwards off from Warrior and sitting on his legs and knees, worrying his bottom lip. The others are all glancing back and forth between each other, as if they're trying to decide who's gonna talk first.

Finally, Four rolls his eyes. "What do you remember?"

Thank Hylia for the hero of the Four Sword. Ever brash and straight to the point. "I- uh…"

What does he last remember? Walking, for the most part. A vague memory of walking. But the group is always doing that. They're always walking. Always traveling. Always moving somewhere for the sake of going somewhere. If he tells him the last thing he remembers is traveling through a forest with Wind's endless chatter in his ear, no one will be able to discern if that was an hour ago, or a week ago.

That's an all-the-time sort of thing to say.

His eyebrows bring themselves together as he tries to think. What were they doing? What was Wind talking about? Where were they heading? Who's era were they in?

What hurt him so bad he can feel the after effects of a red potion in every fiber of his being?

And then, it hits him. It knocks the breath out of his gut, almost like how he wasn't quick enough to catch a goat ramming at his stomach when Twilight was trying to teach them how to wrangle them a few weeks back.

"Shit."

"There it is," Sky says helpfully, though his face is sad and worried.

"I messed up," Warrior says, flopping backwards and bringing a hand over his eyes.

He really messed up.

He doesn't regret it. He really, really doesn't regret it. It's a miracle he survived but a voice at the back of his head tells him that Legend might not have, judging by the bandages on his arm he was scraped even though Warrior did his best to push him out of the way. He can't help but think about those white bandages, how they would look all over Legend's body. Limbs broken and twisted and bones crushed like grains in a grinder.

Bodies so still, joints jutting out in wrong directions, bits of faces missing, blood staining clothes, smeared across armor, swords left in hearts, contents of stomachs on the forest floor-

No, no he doesn't regret it at all.

But he supposes he can understand Legends… reaction too.

Like he mentioned, Hyrule and Legend have a strange connection that no one can really understand. One they don't really talk about and when asked about it they both give Time a sad look and brush it off.

But they talk to each other a lot. Whether it's about whatever Time has to do about their bond, or if it's about something different they know more about each other than Twilight probably knows about Wild.

Which is saying something.

But, Warrior has had opportunities to gain some very hard earned trust from Legend. Opportunities found on quiet nights after long days. Opportunities spoken with soft, reverent voices after nightmares or particularly taxing battles.

If there's one thing Warrior knows for sure about Legend, it's that Legend has lost a lot of people. He doesn't know the names, or the why, or the who, or the stories, just that Legend used to know people. Used to love people. But they left him, or he left them, and it's left him with slight issues with abandonment.

Dying for Legend would almost be like bragging to Time about having two eyes, or complaining to Wild about having a new scar, or killing a bird in front of Sky, or tearing up one of Wind's sister's notes, or telling Hyrule he's not good enough, or yelling at Four for not being trusting enough, or telling Warrior that surviving war isn't all that bad-

You just… don't do it.

Legend would rather die than let anyone die for him. And Warrior knows this.

But at the same time, Warrior would rather do the same. And it was Warrior at the time who had a chance to do something about it.

Damn, he's gonna have to work twice as hard to earn back Legend's trust.

"How come his arm's still injured?" Warrior asks, his voice cracking against his will.

Wild bites his lip and heads back to the stew, setting it back over the fire and stirring it and Time sighs. "We used all of our available supplies on… you. It was a miracle you were even alive to…"

"Legend insisted he could handle a shattered arm," Four continues, folding his arms across his chest. Sky nods in agreement and Wind scoffs.

"Wild's making a soup or something for him," Wind says.

Wild snorts over the soup. "Hearty radish stew… I found a few of them a little into the forest. They help quicken healing, but they taste wretched. I don't have the ingredients to help with the taste, but all of us can use some."

It's then that Warrior realizes that they're still in the clearing where the Talos fight commenced, judging by the cracked remains of obsidian rock surrounding them. Legend took off towards one of the pathways carved by the giant, heavy projectiles (Warrior tries not to make a joke about relating to those shattered remains of the trees, he'll probably joke about it tomorrow but at the moment the joke tastes about as good as Hyrule's meat stew) and is probably sulking on a toppled over trunk, Hyrule sitting next trying to decide how to comfort the reclusive hero.

Hyrule was always the more affectionate and physical of the two, but he's the more hesitant.

"I'm going to talk to him," Warrior announces, standing up before anyone could stop him. Time makes an upfronted grunt but only moves towards Warrior when he stumbles a bit, the blood rushing from his head and blackening his vision for a few dizzy seconds. "I'm fine-" he says finally when he notices Time's hand still on his shoulder. "Stood up too fast."

"You sure?" Sky asks.

"Yeah. Fine as rain."

It takes a second for Warrior's legs to feel enough like his own for him to take confident steps. He almost trips while stepping over the first overturned branch and Wild almost jumps over the campfire to come to his rescue, but he steadies himself and flashes a confident grin towards the group, waving his hand like the incident was as bothersome as a keese.

As he walks down, he tries to ignore the carnage of the forest, the overturned trees and the shattered wood. Or, well, he tries to focus on it to ignore what it reminds him of. Of bombs erupting, of monsters towering higher than houses, of bursts of magic so powerful chunks of the land is destroyed and gone forever, of crawling through the remains to find wounded and dead from both sides who met their fate from the uncontrollable force that is destruction-

He finally catches sight of Legend sitting on a log. A giant, still rock as dark as the dimming sky above them sits a few passes further. Hyrule has situated himself next to Legend and his hand is placed on his shoulder, fingers loose and arm awkwardly jolting outwards like he's afraid Legend will lash out. Legend won't lash out, Warrior can tell by the way he's curled forward, good arm leaning on his thigh, resting his chin and mouth into the palm of his hand.

Hyrule is the first and only one to turn back at Warrior's appearance. His eyes widen slightly and he let's go of Legend's shoulder like he's been burned. Legend doesn't react, just leans forward a little more like he's trying to let Warrior know that he’s ignoring him.

"I got this," Warrior says, and Hyrule studies him for a second like he doesn't quite believe it. Warrior doesn't quite believe it himself, but eventually Hyrule nods, says a quick goodbye, and retreats back towards the clearing.

Legends back is still towards Warrior and it takes a few heartbeats for Warrior to work up the courage to approach. He releases a breath be hadn't known he was holding when he finally sits down next to Legend and Legend doesn't scream at him to get lost. He's at an arm's distance and Legend is slightly leaning away despite how the arm he's using to cradle his chin should make it so he leans towards Warrior. It hurts to see Legend purposely trying to distance himself, though Warrior supposes he slightly deserves it.

"I remembered what happened. I'm sorry," Warrior says and Legend doesn't react besides his eyes narrowing slightly. Warrior continues. "I know I scared you. I'm sorry for that. I'm not sorry for doing it though. I'd do it again."

"You shouldn't," Legend replies softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Not for me."

Warrior studies the other hero for a few seconds before he sighs. Legend is as closed off as the first time Warrior caught him after a nightmare. He's not going to get anything out of him besides tense, vague answers.

Back at square one.

"I've lost people too," Warrior says, faces flashing behind his eyelids. Smiles without names. Names without smiles. "And I can't help but feel it's my fault. Cia… she was obsessed with-" with us, our spirit, our lives spanning across time and space "-with… me. Who… I am. She was willing to revive Ganondorf to get to me. She succeed in reviving Ganondorf to get to me. All that… anger and war… all that death and destruction… I can't help but feel like I'm to blame for all of that. The people who were hurt. The people who fell."

World's colliding. Enemies from another time. Friends from another time. Warrior has never told Time about his interactions with his younger self. He's never told Legend that he's met Ravio before. Doesn't tell Sky about Ghirahim. Twilight about Midna. Wind about Medli. Doesn't say how close he became with some of them. How Warrior felt like he was losing bits and pieces of himself to watch them go. To watch Lana go. To watch them all go. Fight. All because of him.

"I've lost too many to just stand aside and let my best friend die," Warrior says, his voice breaking.

Legend's gaze slides over to him, and Warrior feels a surge of hope when he sees the wet glistening in the depths of his eyes. "I watched you die," Legend says, his voice so very quiet, "you… you weren't breathing. Four had a fairy… b-but-"

Warrior remains still as Legend angrily wipes under his eye.

"You're full of shit," Legend says through a deep, gasping breath. "Don't ever fucking do that again."

Both fall silent and Warrior can't bring himself to do much more than smile sadly. Warrior can't promise something like that. Legend knows Warrior can't promise anything like that.

They pass the next hour sitting next to each other, the stars slowly showing their faces like shy fireflies. The moon glides overhead and the crickets begin to sing around them.

The silence doesn't break, both lost in their own heads or wondering what the other is thinking about. It remains that way until their names are called. Warrior gives Legend a small smile and Legend returns one hesitantly before they both stand, Legends moves slowly as to not harm his already injured arm.

They walk up, a companionable silence between them and Warrior can breathe knowing he hasn't shattered the trust between him and Legend. It's still there, it just retreated a little. It will take awhile to work back up to where it was, and he doesn't want to think about what will happen if something like this were to happen again.

It won’t happen again if Warrior can help it. Though he won’t stop it if worse comes to worse.

Instead, he sits next to Legend near the campfire with a bowl of steaming, red liquid in his hands. Twilight is gone, though Wolfie is here and curled up next to Warrior and Legends feet, whining miserably as Wild sets a steaming bowl of soup next to him.

Warrior can understand when he takes a sip of the liquid.

Wretched, is a bit of an understatement.

It seems not all of Wild's concoctions are delicious beyond compare.

Not even Hyrule complements the food that night. Even Time winces every time he brings the spoon to his lips, but the chatter Wind starts up again is light and the food is warm. A bit of color returns to Legend’s face.

Everything will be alright.

#linked universe #hero of warriors #hero of legend #hero of hyrule #hero of the wind #hero of the wild #hero of the sky #hero of the four sword #hero of time #hero of twilight #jin writes #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt request

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marshmallowprotection · 5 years

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What would the choi twins do if their mc dissociated a lot? Example, I'm just reading through stuff on here, no triggers, and suddenly started dissociating really intensely! (Used to it, so no worries, I'm not distressed by dissociation itself, just the occasional lost time lol) Like they just don't have big reactions to stuff most of the time, but sometimes they can't focus on anything at all. On rare occasions you can see the moment it hits, because they'll move their head and blink a bunch.

I'll add the warning here: If you suffer from Dissociation or can't read about the topic, look away now.

Well, you've come to a place where somebody totally understands and gets how you feel lately. I've had very intense derealization for a couple of years now, while it isn't the same as blatant out of body dissociation, it's in the same family. It can feel very scary and upsetting when you don't know why or how it happens. Here's hoping you keep your head up and get through it when it happens!

If you ever want something more specific, don't hesitate to ask again!

Saeran

We're going with our handy dandy Another Story!Saeran here, who utterly understands what it feels like to be fractioned and disconnected from himself. So, when Ray realizes what's up in his research, he feels a kinship to you. He also feels dreadful that you have to struggle with any condition. But, he understands that it's not always something that you can control.

You get it.

You feel what he feels. Your heart is with his own. You just understand the feeling of your body going numb or your hand looking so unlike what you believe it to be.

That's perhaps why it was so easy for you to deal with him and see the pain in his eyes. It was your empathy, your shared pain that let you see him how he truly is. He never had the words for his problems but you give it a face and a reality to him. He's not some oddity, no, your existence is a reminder that the outside world while cruel, has so many who have suffered needlessly.

Ray is gentle.

He coaxes you when he sees that something is amiss. His voice may sound panicked at first, but once it clicks that it's happening, he changes his tune and he ensures that he has some consent to touch you. Stimulation can really help and God, he's always wanted to wrap his arms around you in a hug. He's wrapped up in both that feeling and the thought that he's able to help you.

You may be out of sorts, but underneath the moonlight in the garden, he's happy that he can be with you.

He whispers gently nothing to you until you come back down from your high. It's a small gesture but it's one that he's always craved when he feels like no part of his body is his own.

When you thank him, his cheeks turn blush and he looks away.

Saeran doesn't use that knowledge to exploit you, when he emerges. He's cruel and mean but he is never so bad that he makes you feel so numb to your body. He could have, but, he felt sickened by the thought of using such a cheap tactic.

If you did have a fit, he might momentarily show his weakness and without realizing it, comfort you. It never lasts long but it's a sign to you that he's not lost. There's still a boy that cares underneath all of that misery and pain he's endured.

His voice will drop in volume and he won't appear as harsh. It's a little detail but you'll figure that out well beyond the time that he's left you alone.

He won't touch you but he will change considerably.

After the two of you escape from the Mint Eye, life starts to find a new normal for the both of you but that doesn't mean that your illnesses just disappear into thin air or anything.

He still struggles with his identity for some time as Ray and Saeran bounce in and out of control as they slowly merge together, and it leaves him with plenty of hours of time where he feels lost or like he just missed an entire event.

You have the same issue but you're more quiet when it happens and he has to look for your physical cues to know that he needs to help. You've got a system that you've sorted out together to make things work.

You're there for him and He's there for you.

That's the most important thing when coming into or out of a fit. That you have somebody who can ground you or bring you back down to Earth when your consciousness isn't quite where it needs to be.

For him, it helps to be holding your hand.

It might not be the same for you but he's willing to do whatever you want for him to try.

Saeran doesn't worry much about it in regards to himself. He's used to living his life this way but he does make a point of trying to learn more and find new ways to help you get by. It happens often but he wants to ensure your comfort at all times.

Often times, if you don't respond, he'll cover your shoulders in a blanket and take a spot next to you, humming, talking, doing little things to help ease your mind off of the situation. He knows that it might not click at first but anything is better than silence.

He's probably the best person to help you in general. However, sometimes it's not always the most ideal because he can't control if he had his own hits at the same time that you do. He'll feel bad time and time again because he wants to be better for you but you'll reassure him that it's alright.

You feel much better knowing that you have somebody like him in your life. That's for sure.

Saeyoung

If you've been treated before then he has information about your condition, and being the techy boy he is, he respects if you don't share that with him right off the bat. He does look into it to make sure that he has a good understanding of what the warning signs are and what exactly he needs to do in the situation.

He's had a lot of experience with anxiety and panic attacks but none such to the point where he's been overwhelmed to the brink of dissociation but he sort of understands it.

Saeyoung gets why the pain would try to shut down and remove oneself from the situation, but his heart aches for you because for so many people, dissociation comes from trauma. It's a safety net for a lot of people and for others it's something that is there so strongly at times it can feel hard to cope with.

It is probably more nerve wracking for him than it is you. If you've lived a painful life like he has, it hurts him to imagine it all.

The idea that somebody as sweet and as kind as you could have been through awful means makes the world seem like a farce. The thought of you petrified as a young person makes his skin crawl. He was like that once. He came out alive but so many did not leave unscathed.

You chatting with him helps him cope with his own issues, and he doesn't know this until way after the fact, but there was a time when you were chatting on the phone that you stopped messaging him mid conversation but he assumed nothing was a miss since you were laying on the couch.

You spaced out and lost time for a little bit. It was nothing out of the normal for you and you moved on your day after that. Saeyoung's first real experience with this came later when he stayed with you at the apartment to fix what had been broken.

Seven didn't realize that by pushing you away from him and trying to keep a distance would make things much more different on your mental health. He caused what he was trying to avoid, but you don't blame him given all the weight he was dealing with.

He had become accustomed to you trying to reach out to him but as it turns out, that afternoon you had gone silent. That made him cautious. He glanced over his shoulder to you but you didn't seem all that out of the sorts. You weren't doing anything but staring at the wall in front of you.

It took a moment but he realized what was going on rather quickly. His instinct is to rush to your side but he knows that it can be worse at times to do that. Shaking or jostling people is not a great idea. Rather, he silently climbs onto his feet and heads over to your side of the room. He takes a seat next to you and the first thing that comes to mind is:

“Y/N. It's pretty insufferable in the corner so I'm going to sit here with you for a little bit.”

Saeyoung realizes that you may quite be there at the moment but he does press his hand to yours and squeeze. Your hand twitches back against his and it's a good sign. He sticks close to you until he's sure that you're feeling much better and alert.

From that point, he makes sure that he understands exactly what you need and what will work best. He doesn't want to do something that will make it worse. He wants to know that he can provide what you need, be it comfort or grounding when you feel the symptoms coming on. Be it verbal or tactile, he makes sure that he has an idea of what you need.

He often pulls you into his embrace or lets you borrow his hoodie for a sense of comfort. It's those little things that allow you keep your mind off of the edge when you still have some awarness, and when you don't, it's nice to come back to his scent or his smile.

He looks for your cues. Sometimes you can give him a head's up but he likes to know your body well. He develops a mixture of verbal and nonverbal talk with you for the future.

He'll often talk to you and keep talking to you throughout the process about this and that so you don't have to worry about slipping too far into the numbness. Saeyoung is persistent and his help with you in the long run helps him understand what to do with Saeran in the future.

He loves you and you're glad that you have somebody so understanding and caring in your life.

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

Mom’s Trip

The trade deadline is stressing me out. That’s it. That’s the reason for this. i have no idea how long it is or why it is or, really, what it is except using Rangers-provided content as fic inspiration. Special shoutout to @shireness-says and @eleveneitherway for both being like, “yes, make it Regina” when I was talking about this. Also, guys, please acknowledge that I turned the six on Mrs. Skjei’s jersey to a zero.

Or: Ryan Strome’s mom told Artemi Panarin to get her kid the puck and my brain was like THAT’S A BLUE LINE THING. And then Mika’s mom wanted to hug her kid and my brain was like, SERIOUSLY, BLUE LINE.

----

“Dad! Dad! Mom! Ma—c’mon are you actually here and just ignoring me?”

Emma glanced up from the computer in front of her, a paper-covered desk and plans for an event she was only marginally interested in. She heard the footsteps coming down the hall — more like a brisk jog, really, and that couldn’t have been good for his right thigh.

He’d blocked a shot the night before.

“Hey,” Matt said, almost out of breath when he skidded to a stop in the open doorway to Emma’s office. “Did you not hear me?”

“People across the entire island of Manhattan heard you.”

“Oh, wow. Scathing from the get, huh?”

“How’s your leg?”

Matt shrugged, a quiet noise in the back of his throat that only made Emma’s eyebrows pinch. “Ah, don’t do that, it’s—I’m fine…I mean, we won, right?”

“Sometimes it genuinely concerns me how much you are like your father.”

“Scathing to insulting in four seconds flat.”

“Were you not yelling for him too?” Emma asked, and she was ninety-six percent positive Matt hadn’t knocked. Not like he had to. In this house. The one he grew up in. With enough empty rooms now that Emma could have an office.

Matt let his head loll to the side — a far too knowing expression that Emma did not appreciate at all. She was the mom. She was the adult.

She was—

Her computer dinged.

“Whatcha watching?”

“What did you say?” Emma countered. “Don’t do that? Don’t do that.”

“We’re going in circles here,” Matt muttered, crossing his feet at the ankles. Like he was trying to hit a BINGO card of all the things that made Emma feel vaguely maternal-type emotions. Her computer wouldn’t stop playing the video.

Or she wouldn’t stop playing the video.

Whatever, semantics.

“How many times have you watched it?” Matt pressed. He took a step into the room, arms crossed now and one eyebrow arched impossibly high. “Just—you know, like ballpark it for me.”

“What are you doing here, Mattie?”

“That’s not an answer. Also, this is my house.”

“You do not live here, Matthew David.”

He stopped walking. And the other eyebrow joined the first. Maybe Emma would just slide out of her chair and lay on the floor.

That would hurt her back, probably.

Getting old was stupid.

Being jealous of Regina was stupid.

“Ballpark,” Matt repeated.

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” Emma said again, slower that time like it would make her sound more responsible. Or, at least less insane. She felt a little insane.

She’d watched the video so many times already.

Elsa had sent her ten text messages about it.

Ruby had written a small novel.

Mostly exclamation points.

Matt’s lips twitched, rocking back on his heels with wide eyes and genetically enhanced eyebrows. He didn’t get anything from her eyebrows.

“Yuh huh,” he drawled. “I’m going to guess somewhere in the twenty range, but that’s only because I can still hear it on auto-play and—“

“—The Flyers website is not as good as ours,” Emma interrupted. “It just keeps looping. So my viewing numbers are probably all skewed.”

“You know you can hit pause, right?”

“In theory.”

Matt laughed, crossing the rest of the space and perching on the edge of Emma’s desk. The video started again.

And, really, most of her reaction to the stupid thing was based almost entirely on surprise.

Because it wasn’t the first time Regina had gone on the mom’s trip with the Flyers.

Emma had gone with the Rangers — decked in head to toe blue and Matt’s jersey and Regina didn’t look great in orange, but no one really looked great in orange.

It was a thing.

A hockey tradition, even.

Except now the tradition included viral videos, apparently, pinned to the top of every Philadelphia Flyers social media page — Regina standing in the middle of the visitor’s locker room in Columbus with Mills-Locksley emblazoned across her back and the Flyers lineup in her hand.

She called out every name, all enthusiasm and a smile on her face as soon as she glanced Roland’s direction.

And when she turned towards the Flyers’ starting center.

Demanding he get Roland the puck.

Emma’s eyes flickered back towards her computer. The best part of the whole video might have been Roland’s noticeably pink cheeks.

Or, the way his head dropped to his gloves.

That was Ariel’s favorite part.

So half a dozen text messages Emma hadn’t answered yet proclaimed.

“I didn’t know Gina had it in her, honestly, Matt said. “The sweet is—“

“—Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Please don’t. I need my endorsements.”

Emma wasn’t sure what noise she made at that, but she resolutely refused to take responsibility for it, reaching out to rest a hand on her kid’s leg. He grinned.

“You might have some competition for those endorsements,” Emma said. “I bet in between scoring demands and—“

“—Rol did score. The group chat was very quick to point that out while he was whining about getting interviewed because of his mom.”

“What a rough life you children lead.”

“It does get a little aggressive, though,” Matt continued, “Get him the puck! Get him the puck! She’s got a lot of thoughts about Rol’s scoring potential, don’t you think?”

“Eh. She’s got reason to be confident. Legacy and all that.”

“You honestly think she’s working endorsement deals for Flyers guys?” Matt asked. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Any moment without trying to make connections is a moment wasted as far as Regina Mills-Locklsey is concerned.”

“Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that! Then she won’t have time to be annoyed by all the gifs I keep sending Rol.”

Emma clicked her tongue. “Stop teasing him.”

“I’m not teasing, I’m mercilessly making fun. Get him the puck! Get him the puck!”

“Got to shoot to score.”

“Top-tier cliche.”

“Mmhm. That’s definitely my MO.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed, mouth twisting slightly when his hand landed on Emma’s. “Why do you keep watching it?”

“Rubes has watched it more than me.”

“That’s because she wants to analyze the hits and the long-term reach of one thirty second video clip. Is Dad even home right now?”

“No,” Emma shook her head. “Did he tell you to come here?”

“Yuh huh. Why would you think that is? Exactly.”

She couldn’t keep clicking her tongue. She was going to sprain it.

Matt practically beamed.

“Maybe I’ll challenge him to a shoot-off or something,” he mumbled. “Interfering like this. Got to put the old man back in his place.”

“You’re really throwing out insults, aren’t you?”

“He planned this.”

“What did he tell you to get you here?”

“That he had film I needed to watch. Which is just—I’m sure he’s very pleased with his lie and ploy and—“

“—Good word,” Emma grumbled.

“I also think it’s nice you think it’s nice that Gina demanded one of Rol’s teammate set him up. And, I uh—“ Matt shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at the end of his mouth. “You don’t need to go all retweet to get me to come over here, you know. Or tell me shoot. On the mom’s trip or otherwise.”

“Good to know. And your dad and I are going to talk about not-so-subtle plans later. Taking advantage of my mom-type feelings and—“

There were more footsteps.

Emma rolled her eyes, Matt’s laugh bouncing off the walls of her office and making it difficult to hear Regina’s voice coming out of the shitty computer speakers.

Killian tossed his feet at the ankles when he leaned against the open doorway.

“Hey, Matt,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Matt groaned. “You’re not funny.”

“No other people on the ice during our shootout?”

“Do you not remember how shootouts work?”

“Grounded,” Emma said at the same time Killian did. Matt’s head fell to his shoulder.

“I was already reminded I don’t live here,” he argued. “And Dad should probably get in trouble before me, anyway. Lack of tact or a good plan or—“

“—I told you I had video you needed to watch,” Killian interrupted. “Where was the lie in that?”

“You think you’re very smart, don’t you?”

“Let your mom read the lineup on the next trip.”

“Is that my call?”

“Make it your call.”

“Please don’t mention that to Ruby,” Emma grumbled. “It will consume her every thought if she even starts thinking about the impressions.”

“Good word,” Matt echoed.

She flicked his side.

His eyebrows jumped.

And Killian looked very proud of himself.

“Something to think about, at least,” he said, across the office in a few, quicks steps and Emma tilted her head up on instinct so he could press his lips to hers.

Matt sighed. “Awesome, awesome, awesome. Is there food here?”

“You and your brother have got to learn how to feed yourself,” Emma muttered, but she was already standing up and Matt was already jogging back down the hallway and there was far too much food in the kitchen.

And she never did get around to telling Killian where he could stick his plans or his interference, clicking off the Flyers’ website eventually because there was a trip to get ready for three weeks later.

They didn’t reach viral status — a fact Ruby would probably never let Emma live down — because she didn’t actually read the starters, but she did—

“Matt,” another mom grinned after finishing the lineup. “Your mom wants to give you a hug.”

He laughed.

The locker room laughed.

Emma…kind of ran.

The arms that wrapped around her were a little tighter than she expected, but that only made the space around her heart clench a little bit, her chin hooking over Matt’s shoulder pads when he kissed her on the cheek.

“Try and score, huh?” she asked.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He did. Twice.

Which Emma made sure to mention in the slightly more adult, if even less mature group chat. Several times. Possibly a dozen times.

That night.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #blue line one shots #KILLIAN JONES HAS GOT PLANS #this mom's trip was just...a mess of emotions for me #guys i am seriously not coping well with this trade deadline AT ALL

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