#yes this is about the trade that just happened three minutes ago

[crossbackpoke-check]

do u ever speak too soon & immediately regret it.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Graduating Law Student Transformed Into A Skinboi

It’s the culmination of several months hard work; yet I can chalk up another successful transformation. 

As you look at him now, you don’t need me to tell you there’s no way back to the life he once imagined. I have taken away everything he used to be and I have remade him into what will be more appropriate life for him to lead. 

You can see the total adulation, respect and appreciation for what I have turned him into. He knows he’s a skinhead now, no questions, no dissent, no complaints, no regrets - just a proud skinhead.

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

Let me tell you just a little about who I am. I’m a gay skinhead in my late forties, living in a nondescript English town in the Midlands. I’ve been one since my early teens. As a young teen in the Eighties I’d hang out with skins in their late teens/early twenties who used to incentivise me to encourage my classmates to become new members of ‘their skinhead gang’. With any money they’d get from work, whether that was stacking shelves, apprenticeships, or learning a trade, they’d buy stuff like ciggies, lager and cider, on occasions, even tickets to the footy and offer these things around as ‘rewards’ to new lads.

And it worked. Word got around that you could do cool things when you became ‘one of us’. We looked out for one another, and if any of the members got into ‘trouble’ we’d be right there with them. There were what could be described of as ‘terms and conditions’ for members to comply with: DMs (black or oxblood) had to be worn in and out of school, 10 hole, preferably and with coloured laces. Outside it was boots plus black or red Harrington (Crombies were also allowed) over a Fred Perry top along with tight, shortened jeans and heads shaved as short as they could get away with. ‘Start ‘em young and keep them for life’ was our mantra.

Enough of the past, so back to the present.

I had been planning my next project. I had three potential ‘candidates’ to choose from; two would be left to carry on blissfully unaware how close they came to being transformed. One ‘fortunate’ lad would be taken by me and given a completely new life.

Some weeks ago I was in a coffee shop when one of potential lads I’d been tracking entered looking rather flustered. It was a perfect opportunity to take a good look at him. “Around twenty, height five ten, maybe five eleven, footballer’s build, dressed in a sharp looking suit - must care about his appearance - hmmm that bodes well for his future life”. The great thing about making coffees to order is that I was able to more fully assess this candidate - and I liked what I had seen. Eventually he got what he came for - four coffees in one of those egg box-like cardboard trays - and left. I decided this lad would probably be my preferred choice.

To confirm this I followed him discreetly all the way to the five floor building, which happened to be the offices of a law firm. He was way too young looking to be a qualified lawyer, so I concluded he was possibly still in law school, combining his studies with some ‘on-the-job’ work. If I step in, I could save him from a life of tediousness: of clock watching, pen pushing, keyboard strokes and general stress. I’d give him a simpler life as a skinhead. He would be waving goodbye to the potential of a five bedroom house, Mercedes and Rolex, but he’d have a proper job. He’d have proper mates and would live a modest life. A skinhead life. Yes, I decided there and then - this lad was the one.

For the next few weeks I tracked all his moves. Where he went, who (if anyone) he met with, what modes of transport he used and most importantly the hours he put in studying and working.

Two days a week he was not in law school. On those days he would leave his digs around 7:40am, walk to the end of the road and wait for the number 17 bus, which would turn up about ten to eight. Traffic depending, the journey to the main bus station took 25 minutes. He would walk from there to the office, some days stopping at McDonalds to get breakfast, sometimes not. Regardless, he would always get to the office for 8:30.

The end of the day was different and seemed less structured. The lad must have been focussed on his future career because I would see an exodus from the building around 5:30pm, but he was never part of that ‘first wave’ in fact he never emerged before 6 and sometimes it was almost 7 before he’d walk out of the main entrance. When he did leave, like most of his generation, he’s be focussed on his phone, distracted from what was going on around him. At that time of the evening the area was pretty much deserted. As this lad was going to be my next project I needed to see what he did after work. So, like a shadow I followed his movements at night.

I discovered that he didn’t have that many friends. A couple of random nights he’d go to the Pure Gym which was just on the edge of the town centre. sometimes he’d be accompanied but mostly he went there on his own. At the weekend he didn’t seem to do much. Occasionally I’d note him board the bus into town, returning several hours later with one or two shopping bags from places like JD Sports, Hollister or Flannels. I didn’t see him go into a pub or bar, nor did I see him smoke but that would all change when I’d finished with his transformation.

I had all the knowledge about his movements but the next question on my mind was how to capture the lad and how to get him back here without causing too much commotion. I started mulling things over, a thought jumped into my head. My mate Mal has a 1997 Ford Transit van that he says I can use whenever I need to. Perhaps I could use the van as a distraction. I finished putting my plan together and decided on next Tuesday (one of the days he always attended the office) would be the day when the lad would become my boi.

I’d need to get him a few bits to wear. From previous projects I had become pretty good a sizing a lad. I wouldn’t know his shoe size but I’d take a guess. Back home I fired up my laptop to see how quickly I could get stuff. I logged into eBay first and found most of what I needed. I selected the ‘buy now’ option to make sure it could be delivered in time for my new guest to ‘arrive’.

So I had his clobber on order - Tuesday couldn’t come around soon enough.

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

Tuesday night came along and I’d parked Mal’s van on the same street as the law firm about twenty or thirty yards along from the entrance so any security cameras or nosy security guards couldn’t see what was going to conspire.

I checked the time, 5:15pm. Good I was pretty confident I’d be ready for when he emerged from the building after all his colleagues had left.

It got to 5:30 - suddenly there was an exodus of dozens and dozens people. I watched out for him looking in my wing mirrors. Good, as predicted the lad wasn’t one of them. When the rush had died down I needed to time my next move carefully. It was 6:15 and no one had emerged from the building for over a quarter of an hour. I made my move. I pulled the lever, which opened the bonnet on Mal’s van. My pretext for getting into conversation with the lad would be that I was having trouble with the engine and I needed to stand in front of the van whilst someone turned the key. That was something anyone could do.

Sure enough just before half past, the lad emerged with a ruck sack on his back. I’d been standing by the wall looking like I was waiting for a breakdown service to attend to me, but I wasn’t.

I called out to the lad, who as I had seen countless times was looking down at his phone, "Oi mate - I’m 'avin a bit of trouble, can you help?”

The lad looked up, “Erm me, you need a hand?"” he queried

“I’d appreciate it, my van’s playing up and I can’t get hold of the breakdown service. If you could spare me two minutes, I might be able to get it going.”

He looked around and then said “Sure, but I’m not sure I can do any good. I don’t know anything about van mechanics.”

He must have been surprised to see the way I was dressed - DM's. bleached jeans, olive green bomber jacket and beanie hat covering my shaved head.

He cautiously walked towards me, everything was going to plan.

“Don’t worry lad, I’ll take care of the engine. All I need you to do is jump behind the wheel and turn the key but not before I tell you to, okay?”

The lad simply nodded and climbed into the van.

I spent a few moments checking the engine, an engine that in truth was working perfectly. I had pulled the distributor wire, so I knew nothing would happen when the key was turned. Timing was of the essence, because you really can drain the battery if you continuously try to start a van disabled in this fashion.

I spoke to the lad, “nothing appears out of place - go on and turn the key. The engine kind of turned over, but stalled and died. “Shit”.

I kept the charade going for several minutes. Spending a minute or two between each key-turn pretending to fiddle with the engine and then telling the lad to turn the key, knowing it wouldn’t start.

With a frustrated look on my face I came round to the driver’s door and said, “I think I’m going try call the breakdown service again and hope they can get to me tonight” He just kind of nodded at me as I rubbed my hands briskly. “Before I do there’s one more thing I’m going to try that I need your help with,” and before he could reply I continued to speak, “It’s a bit parky this evening. D'you fancy a drink? I got a flask of coffee in the back.”

There was a risk that he would decline the offer, but I’d got him invested in my problem so he simply nodded.

“C'mon then"

The lad jumped out of the drivers seat and followed me round to the back of the van. I got the flask out and poured me some coffee onto two plastic cups. I lifted the cup to my mouth and held it there as I watched the naive lad take a sip  "That's it mate - drink it all down"

“It’s really nice,” he told me, so I poured some out another cup. He took a few gulps more, then the cup fell out of his hand.

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

The lad knew nothing more until he came around later tied to a chair. At first he didn’t know what had happened only that he had a blinding headache. As he became more conscious he could see there was someone sitting across the room from him. He became lucid enough to realise it was me, the same skinhead with the broken down van that asked him for help. The same skinhead with a lit cigarette in my mouth. The lad then realised all his clothes with the exception of his underwear had been removed. He was also fully aware of the ropes that were restraining him. He started to struggle and started to hurl verbal abuse at me. I was mildly surprised; I thought a trainee lawyer might have had a better grasp of English.

I said nothing, I stood up walked over to the lad and stuffed a dirty football sock in his mouth. “That’ll stop you making too much noise. It’s late, I’m going to bed. You’re my ‘guest’ for as long as I want to keep you, g'night”

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

The next morning, the lad was woken by cold water being thrown in has face.

I left the room and came back with a pair of clippers. The lad’s eyes widened, I could see him begin to panic. A muffled "no" came from his sock-filled mouth. The cold teeth of the clippers slid across the middle of his head from forehead to crown, the first clump of hair slipped onto the floor. The lad started to struggle so I said “if you struggle you will get cut now that’s fine with me but you might not like it”. My grip changing aggressively as I worked around his head moving front to back, and all around the sides. I rubbed all over his head, happy with my work I turned the clippers off. The lad now had a zero crop. I walked into the bathroom and returned with a bowl and shaving kit.

I put down a bowl of warm water, can of shaving foam and an old fashioned razor. Again, he started to struggle against his bonds. He was saying something but I just ignored and started wetting his stubble, after-which I worked the shaving foam into his stubbly scalp. Then, more for effect than anything else, I picked up a cut-throat razor. Once again I explained that if the lad didn’t keep still he might lose a lot of blood before he was finished. This time the lad was motionless. I have to say for the duration of his head shave, he really didn’t move a muscle.

The last stroke of the razor was the longest and the best. I wrapped his head in a towel to remove the last bit of foam. Then drizzled some balm and messaged it into my freshly shaved scalp. I took the bowl and stuff back into the bathroom. Happy with my work I sat down on a chair across the room from him. “Now, let explain what is happening to you.  First, I’m only going to release you if you accept these rules. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless I tell you to. You will do what I say without question. From now on until I tell you otherwise you call me Boss. Do you accept these rules boi?” He just nodded - I’m pretty sure he’d agree to anything just to get the stale sock out of his mouth. I carried on setting out the rules, “I’m warning you now, disobey me and you will again be restrained on that chair and you will also get a severe punishment is that clear?”

Forlorn looking he nodded again.

“Now listen to me. Your old life is over. You have been chosen by me to become a skinhead. I will turn you into a proud skinhead, eventually you will be inked and then pierced to my specification but in the meantime you are going wear skin gear.” Today you begin a new life with me. Now, the first thing I need is your signature on a few pieces of paper…you know just to make everything legal”. I handed the lad a pen but he didn’t take it straight away, “now I’ve told you there is an easy way with you accepting the new life I’m offering you or we can do it the hard way. It doesn’t bother me - now sign the documents or you’re going to take one hell of a beating.” Reluctantly the lad took the pen I was holding and signed his name on the papers and handed them back to me. [The signed papers would give notice on his rented flat, would inform his lecturers that he was quitting law school and he was resigning from his placement at the law firm].

I wheeled a mirror into the room so he could see his denuded head. “You look like a man now and I bet you feel better don’t you?” Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded back. I reinforced my previous statement of intent, “so you’re my new project boi and when the time comes to leave me you will leave as a skinhead. A booted, inked and pierced skinhead, living by the skin code.” I finished my monologue and left the room to go make myself a drink and so that he could mull over what I’d just told him.

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

I came back into the room about half an hour later. “It’s time to begin boi.” Pointing over at five pairs of black boots with different coloured laces I told him the first lesson will be how to look after your boots.

In my hand I had some black polish, what he realised was the work shirt he’d been wearing and a shoe brush. I dropped them by his feet and said “ok boi get over here and start shining the boots”. Understanding the previous warning I’d given him, there was no way out of this. He stood up from the chair walked over to where the boots were lined up. He timidly asked me “which ones Boss?” I was pleased he called me Boss without any prompting, ”all of them,” I responded. “Start with the ones in the middle, the ones with the white laces boi.”

He picked up the boots I’d instructed him. He opened the tin and dipped the rag into the black polish. He spent the next few hours shining all five pairs of boots. Every time he looked up to say he was finished, i would shake my head and give him a slap.

Now I know a thing about retraining lads, especially lads from good homes who tend to have a natural obedience because of their upbringing. I carefully balance the use of ‘fear of pain’ and ‘reward’. So long as the boi lives in fear of me and the pain I could inflict upon him, I can focus him on being rewarded for complying with my orders.

I looked at him, totally focussed on the boots. I thought about what might have been for the boi if I hadn’t decided to take him under my wing, I’m pretty sure that in his head he had his life mapped out ahead of him - someday becoming a partner in a law firm earning three-maybe four hundred thousand a year, marrying and having two or three kids. I step in and disrupt that to give him a new purpose, a more worthwhile purpose and a the opportunity to work in a proper job. Perhaps as a labourer, a refuse collector, joiner’s apprentice - who knows? What I do know is that he never, ever thought of being a skinhead; but soon he won’t be able to imagine life as anything else.

In all it took four hours of polishing the five pairs of boots before I said, “that’s enough for a first effort. You have one more pair to do later, they’re the ones you’ll be wearing!” I could see him shudder. “Now let’s get you dressed proper.”

I handed him a black Fred Perry shirt with yellow trim. “Put it on boi.”

He took it without questioning me, “yes, Boss.” He slipped the black polo over his body, I’d guessed the right size because it fitted perfectly. Next I told him that skinheads didn’t wear ‘poncy’ underwear, they go commando or wear a jock. “You are going to wear a jock and in time you’ll find out why.” I grinned, he had no idea about that devious part of my plan. I passed it to him and he looked at it - clearly he’d never worn one to play sport. “Take yer pants off, throw ‘em over there and put that on.” I remember he turned a shade of crimson. “Look boi, you ain’t got anything different to me, just get to it.” He saw me ball my fist, so he dithered no more and put the jock on.

You’ll wear that day after day untilI tell you to take it off. Next I told him to get the white football socks and put them on. Now for your bleachers. They’re gonna feel tight but that’s the way they are meant to be. This was the part I was looking forward - seeing the boi in tight bleachers, which I’d had cut so they barely went over the knee. And him seeing himself shaved and wearing skin gear for the first time.

I watch him stand up to pull them on. They were very tight and left nothing to the imagination. He told he felt they were too tight and felt weirdly short. I told him it’s how they are supposed to be. He was about to sit down when I told him to stay standing. I walked over to him and attached a pair of yellow braces to the waist of his bleachers at the back, over his shoulders and clipped them to the front.

“Nice - you’re looking the part boi,. but there’s something missing...”

“Are you going to make me wear a pair of those boots?”

“Haven’t you forgotten a word boi?” I clenched my fist again.

“Sorry....I mean BoSS, are you going to make me wear boots BoSS?”

“No, you have to earn  the right to wear your boots, boi”

Pointing over to the wall, I instructed him to look at himself in the mirror. I told him he was well into his journey to becoming a skinhead.

I was surprised to see a bulge growing in his bleachers. “Interesting”, I thought. I felt that things were progressing at the right pace. I turned and left the room, leaving the lad to his thoughts.

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

Breaking down a lad and rebuilding him as a boi in the desired image isn’t easy. If he was going to be a skinhead, he would have to behave like a skinhead and to believe there was no other way. To do this I ordered him to shave his head with foam and a razor every single morning. He would have to wait for me to inspect his work, only when I was satisfied would I allow him to get dressed. He would spend his day looking like a skin: wearing bleachers, Fred Perry, braces and football socks.

He still wasn’t allowed to wear boots. My goal was for him to learn the importance of boots to a skinhead: a highly visible sign that the wearer doesn’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks of them, they look menacing, and says ‘don’t mess with me’ because if you do, you’ll be the loser. I wanted him to beg me to wear the boots I’d got him, and I knew it would only be a matter of time until he was begging for permission to be booted. Until then on the occasions when we needed to go out, I made him out on some old workie overalls and on his feet he’d wear a pair of cheap and nasty black canvas plimsoles (remember the ones you might have worn in school?). 

I didn’t know what his orientation was. In doing my research I’d not seen any evidence of girlfriend, or a boyfriend for that matter. I guessed that he might be so focussed on career, that he had suppressed any sexual urges or thought he’d wait ‘till the right person came along; then marry and have kids. Well, I had other plans. I wanted a boi to have ‘fun’ with and when I decided the time would come to let him leave he’d have absolutely no interest in women and he’d be looking for a skinhead partner or follow in my footsteps, finding ‘a lost sheep’ to convert into a proud gay skinhead, swelling the skinhead ranks.

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

I returned to the room, “ok boi get over here.” He walked over towards me. “It’s time for you next lesson boi, you’re going to learn the art of bootlicking; you’re going to worship my boots. Boots are going to be the focus of your world and you don’t stop till I say. Get to it and I want to feel your tongue pressing hard.” Every so often I’d say “stop” and the boi would think he had done, but it was just to allow me to get a drink or go to the loo. I’d return and tell the lad to continue. I wanted him to get used to the position, being subservient (for the time being) and fully compliant with my instructions. Growing to love the taste of the leather, eventually becoming addicted to it. “Good boi”, I’d say every so often.

After a couple of hours of kneeling at my boots I told him, “that’s enough for a first effort now start on the other one”. The boi’s shoulders dropped but he did not say a word just started on the my other boot. After two more hours of bootlicking I allowed the lad to take a break. I got him some food but I made him eat it sitting on the floor by my boots.

The routine created for my new skinboi was expedited day after day. I would wake him at 6am in order for him to shave his head. I’d check the shave was to my satisfaction. Then he’d dress: black Fred Perry shirt, white football socks, bleachers, white braces. Then it would be down to work polishing all the boots in the morning, worshiping my boots in the afternoon and sometimes going outside with me dressed in full skin-gear and him in workie overalls and plimsoles. The monotony and repetition was wiping away his old life, soon all he would know is being a skinhead.

I also introduced him to the ‘joys’ that only a man can give another man. "Boi, Get over here, and get down on your knees." I watched my boi nervously get down on his knees. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward so his face was in my crotch. I held him there so he can revel in the joys of his Boss’ scent. After a few minutes I told him to unbutton my bleachers. He was reluctant at first, but I was insistent. He knew I could meter a severe punishment, so using his fingers in he starts undoing the buttons, one by one. He looked up into his eyes knowing what was about to ensue. He opened his mouth to speak, but I said, "Ssh.. boi.. this is a necessary part of your training." He takes hold of my waistline and pulls down my bleachers, forcing my jock down too. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as my tumescent manhood strikes him on the chin. My balls are big and hang low. All he can do is stare. I’m pretty lucky, at least 8 inches long, and thick enough that his hand will be able to wrap around it, but only just.

With my hand still on the back of my head, I say to him “open up boi.” He hesitates, but seeing the expression on my face, he complies. I know he’s scared about what is going to happen. He was probably thinking about that ‘normal’ life of wife, kids and career. But looking at him, I can see there is some level of arousal. I now enter his now willing mouth. The underside of my manhood rubs against the top of his tongue as he lets it rest in his mouth for a few seconds. I pull his head forward so I can force myself deeper into his throat. It's half way in before he gags on its length. Laughing, I pull out, "Pretty big eh? Don't worry. We'll work on that.” I put it back in his mouth and he begins sucking again. It isn't long before I notice how turned on he is by all of this. Something must have clicked in his mind. Perhaps he wasn’t sure of his sexuality. Perhaps he was naturally submissive and was finally responding to the changes I was making to him. I’ll never really know. He is now sucking with vigour; even trying his hardest to take me in his throat and make his Boss happy.

"What a good boi. You like sucking your Boss’ dick don't you?"

He nodded. I could tell from looking into his eyes he was happy he was making his Boss happy. I smiled, “you’re going to be getting as lot of practice from now on boi. In fact when you finally leave, you’ll have no interest in women anymore - that’s if you had any in the first place. A skinhead like you is going to be into real blokes, who love aggro, sp[it, piss and hard sex. Now get up.”

I stand him up, turn him around, and walk him over to the sofa. “Strip,” I order. He hesitates for a moment, but seeing the expression on my face, he obediently takes off his Fred Perry, drops his bleachers, and pulls down his jock. What i assume to be his untouched hole is fully now exposed to me. I lean him into the sofa, putting his knees up on the cushions and face into the backrest. As I stand behind him I’m pretty sure he can feel something rubbing on his bum cheeks. I’m pretty sure he knows what it is. My hands are exploring his arse, rubbing and massaging all over. 

Then I do something he wouldn’t be expecting. I lean forward and bury my face in his arse. I’m ravishing his hole with my tongue, and I know he will have never had a feeling like this before. He’s now moaning into the cushions as my tongue explores my hole. Satisfied with my work I pull back. I hear a squeak of disappointment, but it doesn't last long. The next noise that emanates from the lad is a ‘yelp’ in response to me sliding a finger into his wet boi hole. His bum clenches as I slide my finger in and out.

“How does that feel boi?”

Breathlessly he responds, “it feels amazing. Don’t stop. Please.”

I reach around him and start jerking him off my, using the precum leaking out of the head I keep a steady pace in order to distract him from what I’m about to do. I insert another finger into his hole, then a third. I know he could have never dreamed about the pleasure he’s experiencing at this point. I kept this up for ten, twenty, maybe thirty minutes - I can’t remember. When I gauged that he was almost at the point of no return I asked him a question. 

"Are you ready for me to finally mark you as mine, boi? 

At this point I knew he didn’t want this ‘world of pleasure’ I was giving him to end, so he vigorously nodded .

“Do you want to screw your tight little virgin boi hole? Speak."

"Please. Yes. I need your cock. Please take my boi hole," he whimpers.

I rub the head of my cock against his hole. His hands reach behind him and with both hands he pulls his cheeks apart giving me full access. Slowly, I push forwards applying pressure on his hole. Then, the pop. I’m in.

He yelps, “ow, ow, it hurts, no! He tries to rise up. But then I place a hand on his back, forcing him down.

"Shh.. boi..give it time, The pain will go - you'll learn to love it"

I keep the head of my hard pole in his hole for a few seconds without moving it to get him accustomed to it. Very slowly I start to move back and forth. I’m very steadily stretching his hole more and more. But then I notice a change in the noises he’s making.

I spoke up, “see boi, that initial pain begins to get replaced. Replaced by this, full feeling and eventually that makes way for an unbelievable pleasure. A pleasure only a man can give you.” I rock back and forth, putting more of my cock into his tight arse, When I pull back he’s started to push back; he’s moaning each time more is pushed inside him, until finally I feel my sack up against his arse.

"You like that boi? All of your Boss is in your arse. And my what a tight one you have boi."

"Ohh.... It's so good," in his state of ecstasy is all he can summon up.

I begin pumping back and forth, pulling out to the point to where the tip of the head is all that is left in his arse and then pressing all the way back in. 

"Tell me you like it boi. Tell your skinhead Boss what you want me to do. Tell me now boi!"

"Boss yes!.. You feel so good inside me. Please don't stop. Please. Please fill me with your pure skinhead seed"

I pick up the pace to the point where I’m pounding his arse. I continue to penetrate him over and over again. I’m hoping to reach that special place every male has. I tell him to turn around because I want him to be looking at me when I deposit my seed. I start again, pumping in and out, over and over. His eyes roll back into his head as I go all the way down. I can tell he’s experiencing a new feeling. Soon he’ll be at the point of no return. The point where man sex is all he desires.

"You feel that boi? I’m massaging your prostate"

"Oh my god Boss. That feels so good. Please don't stop."

I’m thrusting into his arse, back and forth, slowly at first then picking up the pace. He grabs his cock and starts jerking it. 

"Yes!” he says, “please keep going. don’t stop!"

I keep pumping away, when I hear him say, “I’m going to cum.” I pull his hands away. “You have to ask permission to cum boi.” I say sternly.

“Please may I cum, please Boss?” he begs.

“I’ll let you cum when you tell me what you are boi.”

“What, what do you mean?” he queries.

“Tell me what you are boi, tell me you’re a skinhead! Tell me you’re going to live your life as a proud, gay skinhead. You’ll spread the word and convert others to the skinhead life.”

“Yes, I will,” he responds, eagerly.

“Not good enough boi, tell me what I have turned you into, now!”

Breathing heavily as I continue to plough in and out of his arse he responds, “oh, okay. I’m a skinhead, a gay skinhead. I proud, gay skinhead. I’ve been shown how to live as a skinhead, how to dress in skin gear, how to polish and lace my boots correctly. How to shave my head. How to live my life... from... now on as a skinhead.”

“Yes boi, you are a skinhead. For now you’re my skin boi. There are some final changes I have to make to ensure there’s no return to your old life. Now cum for me.” 

Streams of cum land on his chest. I feel his are clinches around my cock as I keeps pumping away, reaching the point of no return. Marking him, filling him with my essence. I look deeply into his eyes and can see complete bliss.

I slow down, then pull out. Our lips meet and lock together. 

To reinforce his new gay skinhead life, we repeat these sessions, day after day. Me on top and him on the bottom. Because I want him to convert others to the skinhead life, I need to allow him to top. So in some sessions we switch and he gets to experience what it’s like to penetrate another man. We always shag in skinhead gear and our sessions get more exciting as he gives himself to this new life I’ve created for him.

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

A couple of weeks later, I woke up to find my boi had got out of my bed early and was already in the bathroom. I opened the door to find him shaving his head. I smiled at him and he smiled back: success!

I waited for him to come downstairs wondering how he would be dressed. Sure enough he walked into the room, with the exception of a pair of boots he was dressed in his skinhead gear.

I looked up, “hello boi, what are you?” was all I asked him.

“I am a skinhead Boss, living by the skinhead code” he replied

“Good boi.”

Quickly, I made a call to a friend to book a four-hour appointment.

I came back into the room, "boi, get the black boots with the white laces, and put them on. Lace them as I’ve shown you. 

“Yes Boss”, he replied excitedly.

We’re going into town to make some final changes to the way you look. We are going to make sure everyone knows what you are. Tell me again, what are you boi?”

As he laced his boots he repeated his mantra. “I’m a skinhead, BoSS.”

“Yes boi, and after today there is going to be no way back. Now, get a move on and finish lacing those boots because we have an appointment booked.

I watch closely as he ladder laces his new black boots. I’m admiring the skin boi I’ve created. In the next hour he will begin the final part of his transformation. He will stay with me for some time so that I can fully reinforce his skinhead training. When I decide he’s the finished article, I will  tell him to go find himself a partner, perhaps a normal lad he can transform into his own skinboi perhaps someone who is already leading a skinhead life. 

As I look at my skinboi standing in the doorway, I start thinking about what my next project will be...

[laurenairay]

comes back to me, burning red - F. Andersen

Summary: Kendra Lee and Freddie Andersen lost touch after he was traded from Anaheim – will a surprise encounter bring back their friendship? And maybe more?

I’m jumping in as a pinch hitter for @misshoneyimhome for @callsign-denmark’s Luck of the Puck fic exchange! I haven’t written about Freddie in a little while so it was fun getting back to him – and thanks for answering all my questions! Such a lovely twist of fate after receiving my own fic from her today.

Flashback sections are in italics.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: discussion of Freddie’s injuries, light angst, friends to lovers, cheesy flirting

Title from: Red by Taylor Swift

~

“Good morning Kendra Lee!”

Kendra grimaced, shutting the door to her yoga studio behind her, her long blonde hair swinging as she turned.

“Full name, first thing in the morning? What did I do?”

Her colleague and friend, Mimi, just snickered, shaking her head.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Mimi said, smiling.

“Still ominous,” Kendra mused, swiping her staff card to log her as present in the building, “What’s going on?”

“Okay so you know how you moving over to Raleigh with me a month ago was to give you opportunities to do more yoga rehabilitation work?”

“Yes…?”

It was true, as vague as her friend was being. Having worked across yoga studios California for nearly 11 years, Kendra had jumped at the chance of diving more into rehabilitation work within yoga. Being made co-owner with Mimi and her sister Celeste was just the cherry on top.

“I was staying late last night to finish up the stock check and I got a call – specifically for you to do yoga rehab for an athlete needing conditioning to make his way back to playing. I know it’s right up your street, kind of exactly what you want to do more of, so I said yes.”

“You said yes already?” Kendra asked, surprised.

“I know, I know, but this is a huge opportunity. I said yes, with the caveat that I would double check timings with you this morning and let them know your availability for today,” Mimi explained.

“For today?” Kendra gasped.

“Yes, I know, but the guy organising it all for the athlete was insistent – the athlete chose you, off a list of yoga instructors based on feedback from other clients you had, and that’s huge,” Mimi said, wincing in apology.

Kendra took the time to think over her friend’s words, throwing her long blonde waves up in a twisted bun, her typical work hairstyle.

“You’re right. That is huge. Surprising, but huge. I guess, uh, just see what I’ve got this afternoon? I know I’ve got a couple of classes this morning already,” Kendra eventually said, “including…damn it, one that start in 15 minutes.”

Pregnancy Yoga, affectionately known as Moms who Move. Not women to mess around.

“Alright, you go get set up and I’ll call them back. Thanks, Kendra. And sorry for it being so last minute,” Mimi smiled.

“Hey, it happens. Let’s stay positive with it!” Kendra grinned.

As sudden as the work was, it really was where her heart lay, so this could only be a good thing right? Everything she’d been working towards?

“That’s the spirit I love! Get it girl!”

Kendra just laughed her way into Studio Two, her usual room, ready to make sure her class was set up in time.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Kendra was pleasantly tired. All three classes had run smoothly so far today and there had been no major hiccups (or incidents) with any of her students. Even the Grooving Grandmas class (the adorable name her group of 12 senior ladies gave themselves) had behaved today, which only left her in a great mood.

So great, she lost track of time, until Mimi poked her head into the room.

“Hey, Kendra, your 2pm is here.”

“Oh damn, the athlete?”

“Yeah that’s the one. I’m just finishing up his intake forms if you want to join us,” Mimi said with a smile.

Kendra smiled back, nodding as she followed her friend out to the front desk. If she was being honest with herself, she would’ve liked a bit more preparation time, or even a name to start with. Hell, even the sport the athlete played in would’ve been useful, so she could start thinking of a program for them. Hopefully the athlete would understand the last minute nature of the set up. Hopefully.

But standing there in the lobby was the last person she expected to see. Just as tall and gorgeous and imposing as she’d last seen him in Anaheim, before he left over 7 years ago. He was her athlete?

“Freddie?”

“It’s been a long time, Kendra,” he murmured, smiling.

“You two know each other?” Mimi said, confused.

~

“How are your teaching hours coming along? You can’t have many left now before the next level, right?”

Kendra smiled up at her boss brightly. After her initial 200 hours training, she knew that teaching yoga was going to be her life’s work, even though she was only 21. Having worked insanely hard over the past two years, she was nearly ready to lead classes all by herself rather than as an assistant, and wasn’t that a heady thought? “No, not many left at all. As of yesterday I actually have 990 hours logged.”

“So you’re nearly ERYT 200?” her boss, James, grinned.

The third level of yoga instructor, after two years and 1000 hours of teaching.

“Just 10 hours left!” Kendra said brightly.

“That’s kind of perfect, if I’m being honest. We’ve been contacted by the Anaheim Ducks to run a conditioning class for a portion of the team. There are 20 players who’ve signed up, and the idea is that those who find it useful will sign up for more classes.”

“20 ice hockey players. My God. Will they take it seriously?”

She’d seen plenty of jocks in her 21 years and she knew exactly how much they goofed around when they didn’t care about things.

“Oh yeah, this is mandatory for these players and I’ll be evaluating them to send it back to their trainers. It’s serious – and it’s a big opportunity for the studio too.”

“Yeah definitely. And it’ll be good to see a different type of client for a change,” Kendra nodded.

“We love our yoga moms, don’t front,” James mused.

Kendra just grinned. She did love her beginner’s yoga mom class, he was right.

“It’ll be a big opportunity for you too, to work with them. If enough sign up, I’d like you to take on at least one for solo instruction the moment you have those 1000 hours done, to give you that experience. But if any of them give you any trouble, you let me know, okay? I won’t stand for it, regardless of who they are.”

“Thanks boss.”

“Any time.”

By the time 11am rolled around, Kendra was nervous. Not a bad nervous though, more like butterflies. She was so closed to her next stage of yoga teaching that she could almost taste it. She just hoped that this giant group of giant men would be a positive experience. They arrived in a herd, filling up the room quickly, and Kendra waited at the front of the room off to the side while her boss waited for them all to be ready.

“Alright, thanks for joining us today. I’m James Fields, owner and lead yoga instructor here, and this is Kendra Lee, who will be running this class alongside me,” he started.

She just grinned at the curious looks sent her way. Let them underestimate her, that was fine.

“As you all know, this class is mandatory and I will be evaluating you for your conditioning staff, so pay attention and we’ll all have a great time.”

Kendra watched a few disgruntled expressions popping up and fought not to laugh. Hockey players. She should’ve known they wouldn’t be any different. As her boss continued to talk, Kendra’s eyes drifted across the room, eventually landing on the man in front of her. Well, man was pushing it – this guy couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than her. A broad-shouldered redhead, pretty face, serious expression taking in her boss’s words. This one was paying attention. This one wanted to learn. Good. Even from here she could tell he would tower over her, although at 5ft2 that wasn’t really a difficult barrier. Maybe 6ft4? Maybe? Either way, this guy was going to be a good student, she could already tell.

As if he could sense his eyes on her, the man glanced over, catching her gaze. She froze, a little embarrassed to be caught staring, but he just smiled. Oh what a lovely smile that was. It was all she could do to smile back.

“If you’re all ready then, Kendra will lead you through Sun Salutation to warm up.”

She broke out of her thoughts, waving cheerfully at them all and earning a laugh. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” she grinned.

~

“Yeah Freddie used to come to classes at my first studio, back in Anaheim about 10ish years ago. It’s been a while,” Kendra nodded, forcing a smile on her face.

Mimi raised an eyebrow but smiled politely at Freddie. “If you head on into Studio Two, Kendra will be right with you. I just need her to sign a form.”

He nodded, following the instructions with a smile sent Kendra’s way, leaving her alone with her colleague.

“Okay what the hell was that?” Mimi asked, wiggling her fingers in the direction Freddie went.

Kendra sighed, hands on hips.

“That was an old friend who I haven’t seen or spoken to in over 7 years. Him coming here out of the blue just threw me off, that’s all.”

“Is he going to be a problem? Because I have no issue with kicking him out if he doesn’t deserve a moment in your company,” Mimi said firmly.

It was times like this that Kendra really loved her friends.

“No, no it’ll be okay. There was no drama, we just drifted out of contact. Sure it sucked, but it was a long time ago? It’ll be fine. Besides, like you said, this is a big opportunity for me to do more with yoga rehab, right?”

Mimi pursed her lips but nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. But let me know the second that you change your mind, if you need to.”

Kendra just gave her a quick hug, nudging her friend’s hip with her yoga mat, before heading resolutely towards Studio Two.

~

“So you enjoyed the last group class then?”

“I did. Anything to keep my flexibility up as good as it can get, right?”

Kendra just smiled, nodding. “Not that you seemed to have a problem with your flexibility.”

“Well I certainly haven’t had any complaints.”

He froze the moment the words left his lips, looking mortified. It was all she could do to burst into laughter at the horror on his face.

“I am so sorry. That was so unprofessional,” he groaned.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard since I’ve started here,” she said, still giggling, “You have nothing to worry about Mr Andersen.”

“Please, call me Freddie?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as his cheeks flamed red.

“Sure thing. Now let’s talk solo session scheduling – what works best for you?”

~

Kendra took a shaky breath as the memories of her first solo yoga session with Freddie washed over her, before steeling herself, pushing open the studio door. Freddie was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor on the mat he’d brought with him, and immediately smiled up at her, loosening a bit of tension in her chest. She could do this. She could totally do this.

“Hey, Freddie,” she said, unrolling her own mat.

“Hey Kendra. It’s good to see you,” he replied as she sat down opposite him.

“Good to see you too. I won’t say it isn’t a surprise because that would be a lie, but it is good to see you after all these years.”

Freddie winced a little, making her grimace inside. Was that too much?

“About that…”

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, so Kendra quickly shook her head. Their past wasn’t what this was all about, and it would do neither of them any good to hash it up now.

“You’re here now,” she said firmly, “So, yoga rehab. Do you know much about what it entails or if there’s anything your team specifically wants?”

“Uh, I only know the basics really. Obviously I’ve done it a lot before for conditioning, which is what my trainer said this mostly will be as my injury was a blood clotting issue rather than muscles or joints?”

Blood clots. Damn. And for someone only in their 30s?

“That must’ve been really scary,” she murmured.

His eyes widened a little in surprise, but he nodded, smiling sadly. “I genuinely thought my career was over. I’ve been out for stretches of time before, but never for anything like this. I felt…helpless,” he admitted.

She could only guess he was being so vulnerable because of their history but she still appreciated his honesty. It can’t have been easy to admit such a thing.

“I can imagine you would, yeah. But the team are figuring it out, right? They wouldn’t be signing you up for yoga rehab if they didn’t have a plan in place?” Kendra said, trying to be positive.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. They’ve tried a few things and they seem to be happy with the results anyway – they’re looking at about a month if all goes well,” Freddie nodded.

“That’s fantastic. I’m glad I’ll be able to help you get back to where you need to be. I’ll do a bunch of research after today, to make sure I’m not pushing you too hard, to make sure I’m doing the best I can for you,” Kendra said, smiling.

One month. One month with a rehabilitation she’d never come across before. This was the exact kind of challenge she wanted – and it would be with Freddie?

“I know you will, Kendra. I trust you completely. I just…”

He trailed off, chewing his bottom lip, his hesitation making her chest ache.

“What is it?” she prompted, trying to be gentle.

“I don’t want this to be it. I’m not ready for my career to be over. I still want, no, need to prove myself,” he said softly.

“Your talent and reputation precede you, Freddie. Everything that you’ve achieved with the Leafs and now with the Canes? How beloved you are by teammates and fans? You prove yourself, every day.”

“You’ve followed my career?” he asked, clearly surprised.

To be fair, she didn’t think she would’ve been able to keep following him after he left Anaheim, but it was Freddie.

“How could I not? We were friends,” she shrugged, trying to keep her voice light.

A wave of sadness washed over Freddie’s expression, making her heart clench in her chest, but before he could speak, Kendra cleared her throat.

“You’ve got this, Freddie Andersen. We’re going to get you back to where you need to be, and you’re going to kick metaphorical ass. Maybe even literal ass if you need to,” she said firmly.

Freddie managed a small smile, nodding.

“Let’s do this then.”

~

“Hey, Kendra. Thanks for today. I really enjoyed the session.”

She looked up at Freddie as she took her hair out of the twisted bun she put it in for working, letting her hair cascade down her back in blonde waves.

“You don’t have to thank me every time, you know,” she mused.

After that fateful first group class, Freddie has eagerly signed on for more conditioning classes at her studio, and her boss had happily signed him on as her first solo yoga client the moment she reached her 1000 hours milestone. It had been intimidating, if she was being honest, but she was thriving under her own steam, leading all on her own. It didn’t hurt that Freddie was a willing student, keen to increase his flexibility and core strength. And it didn’t hurt that he was absolutely gorgeous either – but that was just for her own thoughts.

“I want to thank you though. The team, management in particular, are really noticing the work I’ve put in as full-time backup, and that’s all down to you,” Freddie said with a shrug and a smile.

“Well in that case, gold star for me,” she grinned.

Freddie barked out a surprised laugh, making her giggle as she rolled up her mat.

“Did you, uh…do you have any more classes now?” he asked, awkward enough for her to pay attention.

“No, you were my last of the day. Why?”

“There’s a new smoothie bar that’s opened up down the road and I was going to go after this – if you want, come with me? I’d love to learn more about how you got into yoga instruction so young,” he said hopefully.

Kendra eyed him for a moment, trying to read any implications or anything untoward in his words. The last thing she wanted was to give off the wrong impression, especially in her first adult job, but Freddie just looked so genuine that she couldn’t help but to smile. A friend couldn’t hurt, right?

“I could go for a smoothie,” she said after a moment or two, nodding.

“Great! Um, I’ll shower, change, and meet you in the lobby?”

“Sounds like a plan,” she mused, “See you soon.”

Within no time at all, Kendra had changed into a cute little cropped lilac sweater and black jeans, leaving her hair down her back to dry in waves. She hadn’t packed any makeup with her, annoyingly, but Freddie saw her all the time without makeup so she guessed it didn’t really matter. Even if she would’ve preferred a dashing of mascara and a swipe of lipgloss. Maybe she’d have to leave a spare of each in her work bag, just in case any future hangouts after work happened.

If today’s smoothie run wasn’t awkward, of course. Damn she hoped it wouldn’t be awkward.

“Ready to go?”

“Let’s do this!” Kendra said cheerfully.

Freddie just smiled down at her, easily towering over her 5ft2 frame with his 6ft4 one – yes she’d looked up his height to be certain, she was curious – opening up the door for her to walk through first.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased.

“I aim to please,” he drawled.

Kendra snorted, immediately covering her face in embarrassment, but Freddie grinned like a cat who got the cream.

“Cute snort,” he smirked.

“Ass,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue to let him know she wasn’t actually mad.

Freddie just laughed, a clear beautiful sound that sent butterflies in her stomach going overdrive. No, this was not the time. Be a professional. Don’t be a giggly idiot. Damn it.

The walk to the smoothie bar couldn’t have taken more than 5 minutes, the two of them staying in a comfortable silence – something that Kendra found difficult with people she’d known for years, so for her to feel such at ease with someone she barely knew? It was strange. Nice, but strange.

“Okay, what’ll it be?” he asked, looking up at the board, “My treat.”

“Are you sure?” she frowned.

Sure, this was her first job and she’d only been in it a couple of months, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pay her way.

“Absolutely sure. I insist,” Freddie said firmly.

The intensity in his eyes, warm but solid, made her inhale sharply and nod. If he insisted…

“I’ll have almond milk, pineapple, kale, and mango, with a dash of honey. Thanks, Freddie,” she said, smiling up at him.

He just smiled back down at her, sending those butterflies into overdrive again, stepping forward to repeat her order as well as giving his own. When their smoothies arrived, Freddie walked over to a table in the corner so she followed, sitting down with a happy sigh.

“Oh man that’s good. Thanks for inviting me out,” Kendra said, after taking a sip of her smoothie.

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to actually meet someone near my age that as interested in yoga as I am,” Freddie said simply.

“Yeah? Not too many friends or girlfriends wanting to join you?” she asked, somehow managing to stop herself cringing to hard at the wording of her question.

Freddie just smirked slightly but didn’t call her out, thankfully. “No friends who want to do yoga with me, no. Most the team only do yoga when they absolutely have to. And no girlfriend either.”

“That’s a shame,” she said lightly, ignoring the zing through her body, “Yoga is fun and a great stress-reliever.”

“Is that why you got into it then?”

Kendra relaxed back into her seat, taking another sip of her drink, before starting to talk. Over the next hour, the two of them exchanged life stories, getting to know each other properly. Freddie talked about his career so far in the Danish league, how different and difficult it was to move over to Anaheim in August, how he’s just trying to make his mark now he’s been with down with the AHL team most the season and only up for a week. In turn, Kendra talked about how she’d always lived in California, having moved from her hometown in Santa Monica to Anaheim after meeting her now-boss at a training course, how she’d seen her mom doing yoga with her friends and fallen in love with the flow and peacefulness of it as well as the strength it gave. Talking to Freddie felt like they’d been friends for all her life, something she’d never experienced before, and she could only hope this wasn’t the last time they got to do this. Freddie was special, that was clear as day, and she felt lucky to see this relaxed side of him that she doubted many were privy to.

Eventually though, once their smoothies were finished, they had to leave before they overstayed their welcome, and Freddie walked her back to her car.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking across the parking lot on my own, you know,” she mused, jerking her chin in the direction of his car, all the way on the other side.

“And if some weirdo stalks you to your car when I can prevent that, I’d rather avoid you being alone,” he shrugged.

“Aww are you my knight in shining armour, Mr Andersen?” she teased.

Interestingly, his cheeks dusted with a blush.

“I’ll sweep you off your feet any time you need, Miss Lee,” he smirked.

Kendra just burst out laughing, shaking her head at his banter flirting. Ridiculous guy. This was going to be a fun friendship, she could already tell.

“Give me your number? We can sort out another smoothie run,” Freddie said, smiling.

She ignored those traitorous butterflies and nodded, unlocking her phone and handing it over. It could only be a good thing to have more friends in Anaheim, right?

“You think you can handle seeing me outside of the yoga studio?” she mused.

“Oh I know I can.”

~

Kendra and Freddie settled on three yoga sessions a week for his rehabilitation, 12 in total, to give him the conditioning build up he needed while still taking care to manage his recovery. She’d spent all night after that first meeting researching and planning the best course of movements and flows for him, making it challenging but helpful, eventually dragging herself back to bed at 4am, satisfied that what she’d planned would help him.

With any client, she would want to make sure she was satisfied, but with Freddie? She needed it to. Even after everything, she didn’t want to let him down.

Their first two sessions went well, the first mostly easing Freddie back into the swing of things, assessing where his strengths and weaknesses were, and the second session left Freddie groaning but smiling, happy he was able to push himself. Their third session, which Kendra was preparing for, would be another mild push, nothing extreme but still to see where she would need to adjust any plans.

It was all a process, but one she was enjoying immensely. Not just because of her student.

“Knock knock.”

Kendra jolted out of her thoughts, hand on her heart as Freddie walked into the studio with a grin.

“You are the worst,” she groaned.

“So you don’t want the smoothie I picked up on the way?” he mused.

He brought her a smoothie?

Her lips parted in surprise, but she stuck her hand out anyway, Freddie just laughing as he passed it over. The moment she took a sip, a wave of nostalgia ran over her. All she could think about were the smoothie runs and coffees hangouts and even the occasional lunch they used to go to together. Two and a half years of memories all flooding through her system, and it was all she could do to keep her face calm and neutral as the memories of conversations and vulnerability and laughter swirled through her thoughts. This wasn’t fair. This really wasn’t fair. She wanted to be mad at him for daring to dive back into their past like him leaving meant nothing, but how could she? How could she be mad when those memories still brought her joy?

“Almond milk, pineapple, kale, and mango, with a dash of honey. My favourite. Maybe you’re not the worst. You really remembered this?”

“Of course I did. I loved our smoothie dates,” Freddie nodded, smiling.

Dates?

“Dates?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Figure of speech? I don’t speak English?” he offered.

“Yeah nice try, I’m pretty sure your English is better than most people I know,” Kendra mused.

Freddie blushed but laughed.

“How could I forget anything about the girl who got me doing the best Bridge pose of my life, hm?”

She tried valiantly not to think about how good Freddie looked bent over in a backwards arch. Valiantly.

“Alright, but don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you, Freddie,” she said brightly, “We’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned, “Give it to me rough.”

Kendra took a moment, trying to hold in her laughter, before she gave in and cackled.

“Oh man that was so bad, even for you,” she grinned.

“Not my finest, I’ll give you that,” Freddie shrugged, a light blush on his cheeks, “Still made you laugh though.”

Well he wasn’t wrong there.

Kendra sipped on her drink while Freddie laid out his mat, leaving the cup in a safe spot as she moved to stand in front of him.

“As always, let’s start with Sun Salutation,” she grinned.

The next hour flew by. As she promised him, Kendra did push him hard – some of the poses he wasn’t quite ready for, she could see that, at least even for the length of time they were trialling today. His natural flexibility hadn’t left him, that much was obvious, but there was still work to do. At least she could take pride in being part of rehabilitation that would never push him further than he was ready for. His safety, physical and mental, was the most important thing.

But he could do this. She knew that he could do this, and that excited her.

“Alright, that’s us done for today. Thanks, Freddie,” Kendra said softly.

Freddie opened his eyes, practically floating from savasana, face flushed from exertion.

“Thank you, Kendra. I feel awesome. Tired but awesome,” he grinned.

“Not aching too much anywhere?” she asked, standing up gracefully.

Freddie groaned as he stood up, rolling his shoulders as he checked in with himself. Kendra smiled wryly at the action – at least she could trust an athlete to know his own body.

“No, not too much,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she frowned, hands on hips.

“I promise. I know the difference between aching from a good workout to aching from injury and pain. This is good,” Freddie insisted.

Well alrighty then.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kendra said happily, rolling her neck from side to side to loosen tension, “Take a shower, Andersen, I can smell you from here.”

Freddie barked out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

“Care to join me?”

“In your dreams.”

Freddie just smirked, sending a shiver down her spine. There. That was it, the spark she’d been missing for so many years.

“See you on Wednesday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Freddie nodded.

~

From: Freddie I have a return date March 7th

From: Kendra That’s amazing! I told you that you could do it! These last eight sessions have really paid off! Do you feel ready?

From: Freddie As always, I should’ve trusted that you were right lol I think so? My body does for certain

From: Kendra And your mind? If you don’t feel mentally ready, Freddie, please don’t let them push you

From: Freddie Thanks, I appreciate that I think it’s more nerves than not mentally ready? Like, I don’t want to let the team down. And I don’t want critics to call me washed up

From: Kendra You could never let the team down They can see your passion, see how hard you’re working And screw the critics. They don’t know you or your body You are the furthest thing from washed up, so don’t talk about yourself like that

From: Freddie I’ve missed your fire. Yes ma’am

From: Kendra Damn right you have. That’s more like it

From: Freddie Can I still finish off my course of session with you? And maybe carry on for a few more afterwards? Just to make sure I still have that confidence?

From: Kendra As many as you want I’m here for whatever you need

From: Freddie Whatever I need? I like the sound of that

~

“So today’s your last official yoga rehab session with Freddie. How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, it’s all gone really well. It’s been nice reconnecting with him, as well as seeing him grow back into his conditioning and confidence. You were right, Mimi, this was a great idea,” Kendra grinned.

Mimi and Celeste both smiled at her, but the smiles quickly turned hesitant. What? What was wrong?

“Has he said something? Have the Canes said something?” she asked, starting to worry.

Had she done something wrong and he hadn’t had the guts to tell her?

“No, no, god no. Freddie’s had nothing but high praise for you since he got here and I have no doubt he’ll be saying the same to his team,” Celeste said quickly.

“He talks about me?” Kendra asked, not knowing whether to ignore the butterflies in her stomach or not.

“He does. And he always has a smile on his face when he leaves here, same as you. We just…”

“Just what?” she prompted.

“We just want you to be careful,” Celeste said, finishing her sister’s sentence.

 What the hell?

Mimi winced at Kendra's expression before clearing her throat.

“When I met you, it was obvious that part of you was missing,” Mimi said softly, Celeste nodding.

What?

“What do you mean?” Kendra frowned.

“This fun flirty side of you? These beaming smiles? It’s great, don’t get me wrong, but seeing you around Freddie makes so much sense,” Mimi explained.

Okay that was crazy.

“We really are just friends,” Kendra said, shaking her head.

Mimi and Celeste send her matching disbelieving looks.

“No, really,” Kendra said, shrugging, “We always had this flirty banter but it was never anything more than that.”

“Never anything more?” Celeste said, raising an eyebrow, “Not even once?”

“No!” Kendra laughed, “He would come to my yoga classes, we’d get coffee or smoothies occasionally, sometimes lunch, but never anything more.”

“I really don’t think you see what we see. What no doubt everyone sees when they watch the two of you,” Mimi said.

“You can’t fake that kind of chemistry, Kendra. He clearly has feelings for you,” Celeste added.

What?

He had feelings for her?

And everyone saw it?

Mimi and Celeste watched her obvious turmoil with soft pitying smiles.

“Think about it. Just think about it. That’s all we’re saying,” Mimi said, her voice warm and reassuring, “And be careful?”

“You’re our girl, okay? We just want you to be happy,” Celeste said, smiling.

“Uh yeah, sure. I’ll think about it,” Kendra murmured.

It was all she could do to walk in a straight line for their staff kitchen, desperately needing a cold bottle of water to sip on while she sorted through her thoughts.

She’d always found Freddie attractive. That was something she could admit to without hesitation. But it was something she’d buried deep, knowing she could never act on it. Bringing that acknowledgement back up to the surface was terrifying, because it wasn’t just a physical attraction – it was everything about him. If she let herself think about how attracted she was to him, let herself think about his laugh, and his kindness, and his terrible taste in coffee, and his soft smile when he talked about his family, and literally everything else about him…she felt like she would explode.

How was she supposed to behave normally around him in their last scheduled yoga session, when all of these dangerous feelings were bubbling at the surface?

No, she had to find a way. She couldn’t ruin everything, not when she’d just got him back into her life. She just couldn’t.

Somehow, she managed to keep a lid on her emotions for her entire day until Freddie’s session at the end of her evening, running through the most challenging routines that pushed him to his limit, but left him with a smile on his face. He was ready. He was really ready for his return to play in two days time.

So why did it feel like everything was ending?

Freddie had stayed mostly quiet, focusing on his movements, but there were times in between flows that she caught him staring at her as if he was thinking. Thinking hard. It was almost off-putting, if it didn’t make her feel giddy. Were her friends right? Were her feelings really reciprocated?

Whatever was going through his mind, she didn’t know, but even she could feel a trembling intensity between the two of them that she couldn’t put a finger on. It felt like…anticipation.

When their class was over, Freddie insisted on waiting for her to grab all of her things, Mimi and Celeste just smirking as he waved goodbye to them, escorting her out to her car. This time he apparently hadn’t parked that far away from her, so he was insistent on walking her properly, although it could definitely be classed as more of an extremely slow stroll rather than a walk.

Like he was drawing this out as much as she was.

“You must be freezing,” Freddie murmured, “Here take my jacket.”

Before Kendra could form a word of protest at his sudden words, Freddie was slipping his jacket off and placing it over her shoulders. The warmth immediately hit her body, thrumming through her veins, and she knew without a doubt that her burning cheeks gave her thoughts away.

“There. Better?”

It was all Kendra could do to nod, staying silent as Freddie made a grunt of approval. Why was this affecting her so much? It was a just a jacket. It was just a jacket, right? It didn’t stop her sinking into the warmth though, picking up the scent of his cologne, ignoring the way her heart started beating that little bit faster.

She had to say something. She had to say something.

“Freddie…I need to ask you a question,” she said softly.

“Go for it,” he mused.

“Did you know it was me when you agreed to do a yoga rehab course?”

“What?”

Kendra exhaled a little shakily, but shook her head. She needed to know.

“When your team suggested yoga classes as part of your rehab treatment plan, how did you pick a teacher? Did you know I would be running this for you?”

“Ah.”

A single word. How ominous.

But Kendra just stayed silent, unwilling to say anything else before he did. She needed to know. It would change everything.

“The team gave me a list of options, with short descriptions about the teacher and any feedback from other clients. And…the moment I saw your name on the list, I didn’t have to think any further or look at anyone else,” he murmured.

“What?”

Freddie let out a shaky breath, halting his walk, so Kendra stopped next to him. What did he mean by that?

“I took it as a sign from the universe that I finally had a chance to make up for letting our friendship fizzle out. You were one of the best parts about Anaheim for me, and I was so wrapped up in my head in Toronto that I was stupid enough to let our friendship go. To let you go. I wanted to see you again. I knew that you would be amazing from the yoga side of things, but to get the chance to say that I’m sorry? I couldn’t pass that up.”

As he spoke, his words clear and his expression more serious than she’d ever seen, her heart started racing like it never had before. He really meant all of that, didn’t he? He really chose her?

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she eventually said, a little more breathless than she would care to admit.

“Yes, I do,” Freddie replied, huffing out a laugh, “You deserved better than I treated you.”

He looked relieved, like her being mad at him was even a possibility (not with them, never with him), but she just shook her head. Yeah, it had hurt at the time, when she finally resigned to losing contact with him – but that was over 7 years ago. With time, that hurt had faded into an ache, which in turn faded to occasional wistfulness. She could never hold a grudge against him for a trade, and certainly not for following his dream. That just wasn’t who Kendra was.

She started walking again, Freddie wasting no time in joining her, even though their steps were practically glacial in speed.

“Maybe I deserved a little better communication but it was so long ago, Freddie. I’m not holding onto past grudges. And honestly, the fact that you chose me because you wanted to reconnect? That’s all I needed.”

“Really?” he asked, voice hopeful.

“Really really,” she grinned, “Although I’m sure you can think of something to make it up to me.”

A grin spread across Freddie’s face too, making her feel a little giddy.

“Anything you wanted, Kendra Lee.”

“That is a dangerous offer, Frederik Andersen,” she shot back.

He just shrugged, grin not leaving his face. “You know I’m good for it.”

This, these flirty exchanges, served to do nothing other than light her blood on fire. Why was it always so easy to slip back into this with him like nothing had changed? That was a good thing, right?

“Come out with me on St Patrick’s Day night,” she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed, but she just laughed.

“I’m going to a karaoke bar with Mimi and Celeste – join us,” she explained.

“That’s what you want? Out of all the things you could’ve asked for…you want me to join you for karaoke,” he said incredulously.

Kendra inhaled sharply at the implication in his words but nodded anyway, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

“I do. It’ll be fun, to see you outside of work, and to do something with you that we’ve never done before. We already have a little booth booked and it’ll be better than cramming into a regular bar for St Patrick’s Day,” she said firmly.

He laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief, before eventually nodding.

“Alright, I’ll be there. Text me the address,” he mused.

Kendra just grinned, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach as they finally reached her car.

“Thanks for lending me your jacket, Freddie.”

“Any time.”

~

By the time the evening of the 17th March rolled around, Kendra was buzzing. She'd not seen Freddie since his debut back on the ice, him having given the three of them tickets to say thank you. Watching him win? It was everything, and she couldn't have been prouder of him. But with his schedule and hers, he hadn't scheduled any more classes like he'd said he'd wanted to, so Kendra had been limited to text messages, hoping that her daydreams weren't just silly fantasies.

Kendra, Mimi, and Celeste had been in O'Malley's for an hour, and Freddie still hadn’t arrived. The longer that time went on, the more disappointed she felt, not wanting to believe that after everything they’d regrown between them that he would just ghost her. No, that wasn’t Freddie. It couldn’t be Freddie.

“Breathe. Have a drink. He promised he’d be here, right?” Celeste said with a sweet smile.

“He did. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have changed his mind,” Kendra sighed.

“Hey, no sad faces. It’s St Patrick’s Day and we’re having a good time!” Mimi said cheerfully.

Kendra just groaned, taking a big gulp of her beer, her friends just cheering. They were right. She couldn’t dwell on this. If Freddie was going to come or whether he wasn’t, she was still out with her friends to have a good time. That was what she needed to focus on.

“Up next, Kendra singing Red!”

“Ooh girl that’s you, go!” Mimi squealed.

Kendra took a deep breath to steel herself, sliding out of their booth with a confident smile. If anyone could make her feel better, it would be Taylor Swift, she knew that much. As the intro music starting playing, she focused on letting it flow through her, tapping her foot in time with the beat.

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street, Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly, Loving him is like trying to change your mind, Once you're already flying through the free fall, Like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all.”

As if summoned by magic, the door to the pub opened, and Freddie walked in. Within seconds he saw her standing on the karaoke stage and stopped in his tracks, offering her a small stunned smile. He came. He didn’t ghost her. Freddie actually came as she asked him. That had to mean something, right?

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes, Tell myself it's time now gotta let go, But moving on from him is impossible, When I still see it all in my head, In burning red, Burning, it was red.”

She found herself pouring her emotions into the words, pouring everything she felt about Freddie into the song, not able to take her eyes off him. By now, Mimi and Celeste had noticed how she was performing just for Freddie – she could see their grins from across the room – and a few other patrons were starting to notice too. But she couldn’t stop herself. Her body felt almost out of control, singing her heart out to the only man who’d ever truly held it.

“Oh, losing him was blue, like I'd never known, Missing him was dark gray, all alone, Forgetting him was like trying to know, Somebody you never met, 'Cause loving him was red, Yeah, yeah, red, Burning red.”

His eyes were almost wild, locked onto her like she was the only person in the room. It was a heady feeling, giving her the confidence she needed to finish the song with a smile.

“And that's why he's spinning 'round in my head, Comes back to me, burning red, Yeah, yeah.”

She curtseyed dramatically to cheers and applause as the song ended, a wide grin on her face, and she moved to step off the stage, Freddie was already there with a hand extended to help her down. She took it silently, inhaling sharply as Freddie didn’t let go – instead her guided her across the room to the bar, the crowd parting with whatever intensity was on his face, so much so that they were served immediately.

“Two baby guinnesses,” Freddie asked politely.

The barman just laughed, nodding as he poured the shots, Freddie not letting go of her hand even as he paid for their drinks. He passed her one of the shots with a hopeful smile, the sweetness in his eyes intoxicating, so she clinked the glass gently with his, the cool liquid sliding down her throat smoothly.

“I wasn’t sure if you would make it,” Kendra said, offering him a small smile.

“I was thinking. Thinking about a lot of things. And I have something I need to say,” Freddie murmured, voice barely audible above the rumble of the room’s conversation.

“Oh?” she said, breath caught in her throat.

“I need to be honest with you, Kendra. I don’t think I can do any more classes with you.”

Oh. Everything in her chest felt like it was crumbling, Kendra barely able to get a breath in.

Wait, what?

“It would be incredible unprofessional of me,” Freddie added.

“Unprofessional? Freddie, if I’ve done something-”

The last thing Kendra was expecting was for Freddie to cut off her words with a kiss.

And not just any kiss. A toe-curling, melt into his arms, curl her fingers into his shirt kind of kiss. As his hands cupped her face and his lips moved with hers, it was all she could do to let out a soft little moan, interrupted only at the chorus of cheers and whistles around them. Freddie broke the kiss with a soft laugh, Kendra just feeling dazed, but his shy smile just made her giddy all over again.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. I just didn’t think I could,” he admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

They were right. Mimi and Kendra were right.

“What changed?” she managed to ask.

“We changed,” he said. “We’ve both grown so much in ourselves since I left Anaheim and I am proud of both of us for taking what we need to make ourselves happy and successful. But I don’t want to lie to myself any more, thinking that I don’t need you too.”

“You need me?” she said, surprised.

“I do, in every way. I was an idiot for so many years, Kendra. I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said seriously.

“Jesus, Freddie, knock a girl for six why don’t you,” she said, huffing out a laugh.

He froze at her words, clearly fearing the worst, but Kendra just grinned. How could she be anything but excited?

“I’m yours, Freddie Andersen. I always have been,” she said happily.

The smile that spread across his face was worth a thousand lifetimes. This was what she had been waiting for. Exactly this.

“Now, buy me another drink and sing a song with me, and I’ll consider kissing you again,” Kendra grinned.

He laughed in disbelief but grinned so widely in response that it made her giddy. “One blue moon pale ale, coming right up.”

Her favourite girls night drink? How did he remember everything she’d ever said?  They were really doing this. They were finally doing this. 

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” she laughed.

“Probably. You love it though.”

That she did.

[randomfoggytiger]

"You Had Nothing"

(Dedicated to @goodshipsmulder~. Merry Christmas!)

Perhaps a Part II to “Gold” 

Set during the events of Fight the Future.

*****

They’d been waiting 56 hours, 13 minutes, 10 seconds before the phone rang, loud in a room so thick with anticipation that it was nearly nauseating. Langly would have answered, but he’d just dipped to the john; and had there not been security footage to prove either way, the victor of the final frenzy-- Frohike’s stumpy grab and Byers’ uncharacteristic snatch-- would forever remain a mystery. 

Byers spat out “Lone Gunman’s headquarters--” in the same breath as Frohike’s “Mulder, is that you?”; and both were winded and heady with relief when their friend’s monotone croaked across the line, across the ocean, across the world. 

“Hey, settle down, everyone. Can’t hear you all at once.” But he was smiling-- they heard it-- and was pleased he’d been missed. 

“Is Agent Scully with you?” Frohike cut to the chase, locking his thumbs together in the half-second of silence. 

“Yeah… yeah, she woke up a couple hours ago. Doing well. Fever’ll break sometime tonight, nurses say.” 

His report was peppered with warmth and weary exultation, joy and a touch of fear fading and coming alive again, if they listened for it. The three compadres-- Langly had rejoined them, a streak of yellow lightning vaulting over cables and discarded coffee cups and a trampled donut box-- neglected further investigation in their eagerness to ask and ask and ask about what happened, were they at McMurdo, who did and didn't they and hadn't he--

“Fellas! One at a time, please.” The please was implied. “And can I get back to you on all that? We’re a bit jet lagged.” 

Byers nodded, stopped the phone from its madhouse hot-potato from one hand to another, and sighed, “Yes, of course. Get some rest, Mulder--”

“Not a chance!” hollered Frohike; and snatched it right back. “Mulder, you can’t just leave us hanging like that, especially concerning the delectable Agent Scully.” 

“Yeah, Mulder, what did she say? Bet her eyes really popped.” 

There was a pause and a long sigh and what sounded like their friend shifting positions. 

Finding it hard to judge if Mulder was amused, angry, or willfully silent, Byers tried to redirect. “I think we should let Mulder rest-- he’s had a hard couple of days.” 

Langly snorted and Frohike huffed. 

“Not until we know how Scully took his words of undying love.” 

“Yeah, Byers, stop trying to be a wet blanket. Mulder’s just evading the question.” 

They were bickering now, of course: tense days passed in total lockdown-- ear to the phone and sleeping in shifts-- wore them to frazzled ends focused on a singular purpose. Goal accomplished, their energy had to be vented elsewhere. Poking Mulder about his private life and hoping it matched the thrilling conclusion envisioned in their caffeine-marinated heads was exactly what Frohike and Langly were bent on doing; and they traded verbal blows with Byers as well as each other, three dogs scrapping for the upper hand and losing sight of their original aim the longer the battle dragged on. 

The first few mutters through the phone weren’t loud enough to snag their attention; but a forceful “Guys!” pulled them up short. 

It was Scully: authoritative, assertive, and annoyed. Deeply, deeply annoyed. 

“Agent Scully?” Byers asked, again conscious and commiserate. 

“What do you three think you’re doing?”

“What happened to Mulder?” Langly’s transparent attempts at misdirection, they hoped, hadn’t been caught by Scully. The trademark sigh-- humor them-- puffed through: they had, but their bid for Mulder's health had also, temporarily, stalled her wrath. Frohike thudded Langly on the shoulder. 

“He’s resting, actually,” she replied. “Or I assume so, since he’s scrunched up in a chair.” Her voice shifted, misdirection having worn out its bag of tricks. “Like I should be; and was until a minute ago.” 

Danger, once turned away, was doubling back with a vengeance. 

Frohike tried-- “We’re terribly sorry, Agent Scully-- we’ll let you get back to catching your beauty sleep; and I’m sure Mulder will call us in the morning if anything’s--” but even her affection for him wouldn’t deter the delectable lady’s insistence. 

“First, you three are going to explain why you were shouting about me to Mulder.” An expectant pause. "Is there something wrong?"

“Rest assured, Agent Scully, no one's in danger. We were merely….” As one, the Lone Gunman looked into every crack and crevice of the room for the right word. “...merely congratulating him. And you.” 

“...'Congratulating’.” 

“Yes, on a successful mission. And we’re sorry we disturbed the both of you. We’ll hang up now and let you rest.” 

Her winding-up breath was abruptly cut off by Frohike’s swift stab to the end button; and all three slumped, sighed, or fidgeted out their nerves. 

“What’ll it take,” Frohike snapped, swinging his arms to relieve tension, “an alien invasion?” 

“Pffft, more likely the sun burning out and the cold consuming us all,” Langly parried. 

Byers kept silent, wondered how they could so spectacularly waste another opportunity. Those were hard to come by, and with no guarantee of a second chance. 

All three silently wondered how much of their fight Scully had overheard, and how much she would piece together later.  

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[rev-glut]

A Calm Night

MattFoggy x Reader

Summary: One night you find yourself on the rooftop above the apartment. Eventually both your partners join you.

Info: Fluff. Written with a female Reader in mind but no gender-pronouns are used so feel free to interpret as you want! 0.8k words.

Prompt: “what are you doing out here by yourself?”

It’s been some time since you’ve seen the stars. The last time was probably that camping trip you went on 3 years ago. You’ve long gotten used to the city stars of artificial lights. It came with the most amazing people too so you wouldn’t trade it.

You’re not sure how long ago you snuck out of bed and grabbed one of the spare blankets before quietly going to the roof. Matt really needed his rest. He came back early tonight, since it was oddly calm, he said. Foggy, of course, was happy to hear that and have Matt back before getting his own beauty sleep. You too were glad Matt was back and injury-free.

However you didn’t sleep for long before waking up. Once you realized it would take awhile to get back to sleep, even with both partners happily and safely in bed with you, you got up to get some fresh air. That was at least 20 minutes ago. Now you’ve just been watching the city, wrapped up in a blanket with some slight wind blowing. Nothing major, in fact it was nice.

It’s like your brain has slowed down for a little bit. Most thoughts are simply just fleeting. Random observations about those around you. Spending a few minutes on Matt and Foggy, your wonderful boys. Both stubborn and kind, intelligent and strong, loyal, and most importantly both are safely here at home.

The door behind you creaks open. With a glance back you see a very familiar brunet. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” Matt asks, softly padding over to you.

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” Your tone matches his. “I wanted some fresh air.” It is nice to just sit outside for a moment, not doing anything but taking in the scenery. “You were right, it is oddly calm tonight.” You say as Matt settles down next to you. Immediately you throw part of the blanket around him.

“How long have you been out here?” Your head easily falls against his shoulder. You hum.

“A little before one.”

Matt makes a noise that you can easily decipher after years of knowing him. This one is both concern and disbelief with a hint of affection. “Sweetheart, it's been over 40 minutes.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize how long it’d been.” Before Matt can respond the door creaks open again, this time revealing Foggy.

“I didn’t know we all decided to leave bed for the rooftop.” Punctuating his sentence with a yawn as you open an arm to welcome him.

“Sorry darling, I just wanted some fresh air after waking up. I didn’t think you or Matt would wake up too and follow me up here.” Easily he leans on you with the blanket around him now. You all made it a point to buy bigger blankets once you realized how difficult it got trying to put all three of you under one.

“Well it happened. How long have you been out here?”

You smile. “You just missed that conversation, dear. I’ve been out here for over 40 minutes and Matty’s just been here for a few minutes.”

“It is oddly calm out here.” Matt repeats with a grin.

“Yes, I can second that now.” There have been so few cars out and you haven’t heard a single siren at all.

“Bed’s are calm too, nice, but you’re nicer.” Foggy mumbles, snuggling into you. Both you and Matt laugh.

“We can go back to bed, dear.” You’re prepared to get up, ready to shift your weight, but Foggy says,

“Nah. We’re already here, we can stay for a bit.”

“Okay.” So you settle back into your impromptu snuggle session on the roof, looking out at the city.

Eventually you all get up to move back to bed. You hand Foggy off to Matt so you can gather up the blanket. Their hands linked and Matt’s arm looped in yours, despite the blanket taking up nearly all of your arms, you head downstairs. Untangling from Matt to set the blanket down somewhere to be washed another day.

In the bedroom Foggy says, “You’re going in the middle now so you can’t leave again.” From where he’s already settled. Matt was there earlier, a rare occurrence since he usually came to bed later and therefore took one of the outer sections. Sometimes you and Foggy dragged him into the middle when he came back after making sure he was okay.

You laugh a little. “Okay, Fogs.” Crawling into bed with Matt right behind you. Quickly you all fall back into place, Matt leaning over to kiss Foggy and you goodnight before arms were slung around waists and chests and legs tangled together. You and Foggy trade your own kisses before going back to sleep, content.

In the morning you’ll offer Foggy hot chocolate in the morning while Matt makes breakfast, thankful none of you have work that day so you’re all free to spend it with each other and grateful for how much love he has in his life. Foggy will plant a kiss on his cheek leaving a chocolate residue behind and you’ll all laugh about it as you set aside a mug for Matt too.

None of you would trade any of it.

[gem-in-the-horizon]

Friede accidentally causes an avalanche while trying to pursue the explorers in Circhester

Series: Pokemon Horizons Characters: Friede, Murdock, Dot Minor: Spinel, unnamed Explorers lackey Length: 2.5k

After a chit-chat about safety and weather conditions: here they are making their way to Circhester.

Friede grimaces slightly. He put on an unfazed facade for Dot’s sake, but he really dislikes the cold, and Circhester is cold. Very cold, in fact. Murdock is actually wearing pants and a jacket for once, as well as trading out his typical sandals for winter boots. Dot is wearing boots as well instead of the snorlax slippers she likes so much.

“I can see you making that face, you know” Murdock chides, looking over his way, “If it’s really that bad, I packed a couple light blankets in the backpack” he tugs at the strap going across his chest.

About an hour ago, Dot burst through the door to tell them she thinks one of the Explorers members, the one who keeps giving her fake information, is in Circhester. So after a chit-chat about safety and weather conditions: here they are making their way to Circhester.

Friede grimaces slightly. He put on an unfazed facade for Dot’s sake, but he really dislikes the cold, and Circhester is cold. Very cold, in fact. Murdock is wearing pants and a jacket for once, as well as trading out his typical sandals for winter boots. Dot insisted on facing the enemy in person, so after a bit of convincing, she’s wearing boots as well instead of the snorlax slippers she likes so much.

“I can see you making that face, you know” Murdock chides, looking over his way, “If it’s really that bad, I packed a couple light blankets in the backpack” he tugs at the strap going across his chest.

Right, Murdock is always pretty prepared. After being ambushed in the alleyway last time, Friede decided to bring back-up. Diana is helping the other two kids do research on the monster balls, and if Friede is being honest, he wants to keep the kids out of this mess as much as possible.

But Dot insisted on going, and she doesn’t do things often enough that Friede can turn down her request and feel good about himself after. Therefore, Murdock is here as backup for him, and to cover Dot if things go wrong.

“Course you did. And I’ll be fine. I can survive a bit of cold” Friede replies, only half lying about being able to survive the cold. It’s not that he turns into a Friede-sicle the moment the temperature drops, he just acts like he does to cope with his complete and utter intolerance of the cold.

Dot stops walking, causing him and Murdock to stop as well.

“I think they should be in this area, so keep an eye out”

“Roger that” Friede says, “Though, we should stick together if this is really who we’re dealing with” Dot nods. Friede filled Murdock in on what happened in the alleyway, and the kids told them what happened on the boat. They aren’t up against a fair fighter.

He’d really prefer Dot to be on the ship right now.

But, he can’t always get what he wants. They’ll just have to be vigilant.

___

It’s only a few minutes later when Murdock points out something in the distance

“You said one of the pokemon was a Beheeyem, Right?”

“Yes!” Dot is the one to shout, immediately running off in the direction Murdock is pointing.

Friede pinwheels after her, and Murdock is quick to follow. Ah, and he thought Liko was the reckless one. As it's turning out, all three kids are reckless.

“Dot, hold on, it’s best to have a plan-” he starts, but Dot cuts him off.

“I’m not letting him get away this time!”

The Beheeyem floats over a low hill, and Dot clambers up after it as fast as she can. Friede is trying his best to catch up to her, but he underestimated how fast children are, even ones who are in their rooms 23/7. 

He reaches the top just in time to see Dot slip and gracelessly slide down the icy side of the hill. He slides down after her. It’s not super steep, so they both reach the bottom intact.

“You alright?” Dot nods, moving to stand up.

“It’s a bit more slippery than I-”

“AUGHHH-” Murdock bowls past Friede, and with a build up of momentum propelling him, slides through an abandoned crowd of snowmen.

“Aaaaaaand strike!” Friede calls out, chuckling slightly at the sight. He walks over to give Murdock a hand up.

“That way!” Dot yells, and takes off again.

“I’ve never seen her this motivated before,” Murdock says as Friede pulls him onto his feet, “Go on ahead and I’ll catch up”

Friede shoots him a quick okay and takes off after her. Is this how Orla and the others feel when he does things like steer the ship through storms and chase down the enemy on his own? He’ll have to write an apology letter later. 

“YOU!” he hears Dot shout from out of sight, and never before has a single word sparked so much adrenaline before.

It’s going to be like on the boat when Murdock called and he realized the kids were facing off the enemy on their own. They’re going to ambush Dot like they did with Friede and Dot’s not going to be able to do anything and maybe it’s too late and Friede just needs to-

Oh.

Dot is not in fact, being ambushed right now. The Beheeyem is hovering around a shorter woman holding a magnemite, who has a very annoyed expression on her face.

He catches up to them, eyeing the woman warily.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” he asks, leaning down to look at her. He doesn’t know enough about their enemy to know if this is the right person. From what the kids told him, he assumed they were dealing with a man. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if she were hired on behalf of the Explorers, like the other guy with the Bisharp.

“I don’t know. Is this your kid? It’s bothering me”

“I am not an it” Dot interjects.

Friede raises an eyebrow at the woman. It seems unlikely that it’s pure happenstance Dot’s info led them to finding a Beyeehem and it’s “trainer” out in the middle of Circhester. He’s fairly confident that this is the Beyeehem he fought before, he’s just unsure if this is the person he faced off against.

“I’ll cut to the chase," Friede points at her, "do you work for the Explorers?”

“And if I do, what? You’re going to battle me?” she asks, not very enthusiastic.

He brings out Charizard’s pokeball, “Yes, actually”

“I think I’ll pass” she hmms, turning away with the magnemite in hand. The Beheeyem doesn’t take it’s eyes off Friede.

It might be poor battle etiquette but…

“Air slash!” he calls out, and the Beheeyem moves in time to dodge Charizard’s attack

“What did I just say!” she shouts.

“Well, that’s not your pokemon is it? So I’m not technically battling you” 

He’s stepping out on a limb here, but he’s pretty sure the Beheeyem is still being controlled remotely by someone else. This earns him a glare from the woman, though she doesn’t make any move to command the Beheeyem.

“Again, air slash!” he shouts, and this time the Beheeyem isn’t able to dodge all of them. It’s not exactly fighting back yet, but it’s dodging fairly well for supposedly not being commanded.

“Okay, Charizard, dragon claw!” Charizard swoops in, ready to land a finishing blow but…

It teleports away.

And Charizard’s dragon claw ends up crashing into the side of the mountain. Oh.

Oh no.

He just got duped.

Everything pauses for a moment, and Friede locks wide-eyes with Murdock. Then they hear it. The slow rumbling of tons upon tons  of shifting snow. Friede’s eyes flicker to Dot and back, Murdock nods, then everything goes to hell.

They barely have any notice before the onslaught of snow barrels down the mountainside towards them. He watches Murdock swoop Dot into a protective hold with his back facing the oncoming snow, and watches Charizard land in front of Murdock and Dot, preparing to beat back the bulk of the avalanche with flamethrower.

Friede told it to always protect the kids before him, so he’s glad his partner remembered that.

In the same beat, while Friede has never directly been in an avalanche before, he recognizes that the more people grouped together means the better chance of survival, so on instinct he grabs the nearest person to him, not really looking at who it is.

From somewhere close to him, Friede hears a voice shout, “Flash Cannon!” and the last thing he sees before the snow knocks them over is a magnemite pulverize the first wave of snow that would’ve sent them halfway down the mountain.

___

“Friede”

“Friede”

“FRIEDE! Come on, I can see your jacket sticking out” a voice calls.

Somewhere in his mind, Friede recognizes it as Murdock.

Right. Murdock. DOT! He shoots his head up, shaking snow off his head. There’s hair in his face, and Friede feels his goggles around his neck instead of on his head.

“Is Dot alright?” he calls, trying to make out anything in front of him. He feels a bit like a beached seel with how he’s laying, pushed up on his arms.

“We’re okay” Dot says, and Friede finally catches sight of them against the snowy background. Dot’s standing next to Murdock, and thankfully both look unharmed.

“Charizard took out a lot of snow with flamethrower, then absorbed a good chunk of it through brute force. It’s a bit worse for wear right now, but because of Charizard we’re both alright” Murdock explains, gesturing towards a vaguely orange blob in the distance.

Before Friede can move to get up on his own, something, or rather someone kicks him in the gut, and he unceremoniously rolls off to his side. Right. Magnemite woman. He forgot about her.

“You’re heavier than you look, you know” she mumbles, standing up and immediately moving to sort through the snow while Friede clutches his stomach.

“A ‘thank you’ might be nice” he mumbles. He gets the feeling she wouldn’t have fared very well without him as a human shield.

“Thanks for causing an avalanche” she says cheerily, without pausing to look at him.

He narrows his eyes at her. It is technically his fault. But she was the one not being cooperative. He’s about to ask what she’s doing, when she stops her frantic shuffling and turns to frantic digging, standing up triumphantly a moment later with the magnemite in hand.

That makes sense.

He walks over to Charizard, who’s standing upright now.

“You’re looking a bit rough, bud. Thanks for protecting them” he rests his hand on Charizard’s head for a moment before recalling him.

He looks over in time to watch the woman plant a small kiss onto the magnemite before mumbling something and recalling the pokemon. Well, now he feels a bit bad. She did say she wasn’t interested in battling, yet because of him, her magnemite got taken out anyway.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate that before the Beheeyem re-appears. 

That’s low, he doesn’t have any pokemon on him besides Charizard.

A tinny voice speaks out from the Beheeyem “Sorry to leave you like this, agent, but it seems my time is out”

“Oh please, you’re not sorry at all” the woman drones, staring at the pokemon with an unamused expression.

“You might be right about that. Consider yourself free for the rest of the day, toodaloo!” and the Beyeehem teleports away again.

“So you ARE working for the Explorers!” Dot shouts, pointing at the agent.

“Never denied it, Cherrim-kid”

“Tell me about who you’re working for” Friede demands, glaring at her.

She shrugs and starts moving her way back to the bottom of the mountain,

“Well, my lovely boss just left me to trudge through the aftermath of your little battle, so I’d say Greenie is a very kind and considerate person” she says with a smile plastered on her face.

“Right. Sorry about that” he rubs the back of his neck. He never claimed to think before doing things. Greenie, huh. He gets the feeling that’s not his actual name.

He steps into the snow to follow her down the mountain and back to civilization. The snow goes up to about his knees, same for Murdock. Dot on the other hand, is quite a bit shorter. The snow is nearly up to her hips.

There’s about 10 seconds of trudging before Dot slips forward with an oomph. Friede offers an arm to her, and she rights herself.

“Hey Dot, you want a lift?” Murdock asks, gesturing with his arm. She looks at him for a moment, but doesn’t reply right away.

“I can carry you so it’s easier” He clarifies.

“Uhm, I’ll pass on that offer” she mumbles, fiddling with her sleeves.

There’s another oomph as the agent tilts forward into the snow. Right, she’s not much taller than Dot is, so the snow is up to about mid-thigh on her. Friede chooses this moment to feel thankful for his lanky legs, despite the amount of doorframes he’s hit his head against.

Murdock trudges over and pulls the agent up by the back of her jacket. 

“What about you? Interested in a lift?” she bats the snow off her face, then looks up at Murdock and shrugs.

“Yeah, why not”

With that, Murdock hoists her onto his arm, and Friede is somewhat jealous and very impressed with how he can make lifting up an entire person look as exhausting as holding a glass of water.

“I’ve got two arms, so let me know if you change your mind, Dot” Murdock calls, continuing to make his way down the mountain.

Friede kind of wishes the invitation extended to him as well. It’s pretty cold up here and he wants to get out of the snow ASAP.

“Mind if I grab one of the blankets?” Friede asks, already reaching into Murdock’s backpack.

“Go for it. You want the other one, Dot?” she looks at him to nod, then falls forward with another oomph.

“Got it” Friede calls, grabbing the blankets and moving to rescue Dot from her newfound snow prison in the same breathe.

After two more slips, Dot pipes up,

“Murdock, could I uhm. Take you up on that offer?”

“Of course” he says cheerily, wasting no time in scooping her up in the other arm. It’s a pretty funny sight, holding both of them.

With just him and Murdock walking, the trip down does a lot faster. Though, it’s still considerably slower than the way up on account of all the snow.

___

“Civilization at long last!” Friede exclaims, throwing his hands up when the path leading to Circhester comes into view. It’s only been about ten minutes of trudging through snow, but trudging is exhausting so it felt like an hour. Murdock sets his passengers down.

“Think we want to take the train back or call for a pick-up?” Murdock asks, looking at Friede. 

“Maybe the train. I’m not sure there’s a good area to land, and Orla prefers not to pilot the ship near towns after the whole bell-tower incident”

“Right, I forgot about that. How’s the train sound, Dot?” Murdock asks, and Friede looks over and realizes there’s just three of them.

“What? Did the Explorer’s agent run off already?”

Murdock laughs at the shock in Friede’s voice. He’s glancing around. How did she run off so fast, it’s been like 30 seconds.

“Guess so. Can’t say I blame her. Maybe she’s worried you’re going to cause another avalanche?”

Friede pouts a bit at that, but he’s only pouting because Murdock has a point.

“Let’s just get our train tickets already” Friede huffs, changing the subject.

Today alone he's seen enough snow to last a lifetime. He wouldn't be sad if he never saw a snowflake again.

[basiccortez]

Chapter 2 pairing: eventually, Rhett Abbott x female!reader. Female!Reader x Luke Tillerson. Reader's last name is Lawton word count: 4.9k warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, mentions of cheating, mentions of dementia, slight spoilers to outer range. eventual: death, murder, fighting, excessive drinking, cheating, birth. masterlist

Chad Lawton was one the big three in the small town of Wabang. He owned a ranch on the opposite side of town, far away from the Tillersons and Abbotts. His old man once said that it was the smartest thing his great-great grandfather could’ve done to purchase land as far away from the Tillerson/Abbott mess. It gave them peace and comfort, and it kept the “noise” that the Tillerson and Abbott boys liked to cause. But that of course didn’t seem to stop as the kids grew up. Wabang was a small town full of people who never escaped. The Tillersons, Lawtons, and Abbotts had been somewhat friendly since the day they all moved there. 

So when one day Chad Lawton found himself in the middle of town in just his pajamas and bathrobe, Cecilia knew there was something very wrong. She had called Brooks immediately and told him what was going on. The Lawton boy came into town very quickly seeing his father all worked up and yelling at Deputy Joy to get the fuck away from him. It took nearly ten minutes for Chad to calm down enough for Brooks to even approach and another ten for him to get into Brooks’ truck. That night the town gossip was hot as they talked about what had happened.

Brooks tried to ignore it the best he could, but it was everywhere he went. Even weeks after the incident, the town heifers were still talking about it. He heard the whispers at the grocery store, at the barber shop, at the trading mill, at the rodeo. He was thankful to have a good relationship with the Abbotts, and for Cecilia putting a squash to it. 

“I wouldn’t be talking about other folks’ business, when your husband was running around chasing an under aged tail at the rodeo last weekend.” Cecilia had whispered to one of the church ladies in the middle of a service. Brooks couldn’t help but laugh and felt like he could go to Cecilia for help. It was actually her advice in calling Y/N back to Wabang. 

Which is how she found herself now, sitting at her kitchen table with her brother and fiance, looking like they were ready to murder each other. Y/N had come back about five months ago, a couple weeks after the pajama incident and found the house in disarray. Brooks had told her that their dad had started to lose his mind, she just never really knew what he meant until she saw it for herself. Her heart shattered in her chest when Chad Lawton didn’t even recognize his own daughter. She had cried in Luke’s arms for hours that night about her dad’s condition. And with his help they drove up to Cheyenne to get Chad seen by a specialist. 

“I am not hiring some stranger to take care of him! We can do it!” 

“No we can’t, B!” Y/N sighed, running her hands through her hair, “You and I both have day long jobs, you have rides on the-” 

“I’ll give it up!” 

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re going to give up your dream-” 

“If that means staying with dad then yes I will,” Brooks said, stomping his foot. 

“Do you not hear how you sound right now! Like a child, Brooks!” Y/N yelled. Luke stood up from his spot and stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders, “You can’t take care of him on your own. What’s to stop him from wandering into town again? Or worse, driving off somewhere on the ranch. We have hundreds of acres he can get lost on.” 

“It’s the best for him, Brooks-” 

“Hey, you shut the fuck up,” Brooks said clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at Luke, “You have no right to talk about our family business, you damn vulture. Why don’t you go sleep with some-” 

“Fucking christ!” Y/N cursed and pushed herself up from the table, and stormed down to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Luke looked down at his boots as Brooks walked out the front door, slamming it shut as well. Luke sighed and walked down the hallway, knocking on the locked door. 

“Babe?” 

“Go away,” She mumbled, leaning her head against the cool porcelain of the bathtub. Between fighting with Brooks and the headache from the morning sickness, the last thing she wanted to do was deal with Luke. 

“Listen, he’ll come around. It’s a hard thing to deal with, having to make a hard decision about your parent’s health.” 

Y/N pushed herself up from the ground and opened the door, “He’s always cared more about this land, and the old man than I ever had. But I’ve seen this one too many times. He can’t take care of him on his own.” She sighed and ran a hand over her forehead, “You love me right?” 

“Of course baby,” Luke said, grabbing her hand. 

“I’m going to need to stay here, for a little longer,” Y/N said, “I need to be here with Brooks in case something happens. Between Brooks and I, I think we can make it work, taking shifts.” 

“You got me too, babe. I’ll be here to help too.” 

Y/N nodded as Luke kissed her forehead, and then turned to go out towards the barn. She dropped a hand to her stomach, rubbing absent minded circles on the barely there bump. She knew her time was ticking before she popped, and it was harder to hide the pregnancy from him. She swallowed thickly and walked out to join the boys. 

— — — 

It took less than a day for Luke to help Y/N move her stuff back into her childhood bedroom. She had been staying with Luke since coming back to Wabang a couple weeks ago. Brooks had put it out at the church that they were looking for people to help keep an eye on Chad during the day. Y/N hated it, it felt like asking for babysitters, but it was the only thing Brooks would agree too. The list was mostly made up of church ladies, who promised to drop off casseroles and roasts, and some of the local farmers, who would stop by and check the cattle. 

Rhett had been one of those farmers who decided to sign up, which surprised pretty much everyone. Y/N didn’t even know he was there as she was counting the cattle, moving them from the barn to the pasture. Rhett had drove up in his truck, and Y/N tipped her hat up seeing his familiar body walk over. 

“You supposed to be riding, with your uh. . . condition?” Rhett asked, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Condition? Is that what we call it now? I’m guessing Brooks told you about it,” Y/N laughed, and Rhett nodded sheepishly, “And I already got the all clear. Just no riding bulls.” 

Rhett smirked and walked over to the fence, “Brooks said he’s got a list. Where’s pops?” 

“Dad’s in the house with your mom eating lunch. Brooks ran into town to get some more feed.” 

“So they left you to do all the hard work.” 

Y/N just shrugged and moved her horse back into the stable. Rhett followed her in, as she dismounted from the steed. 

“Here let me,” Rhett said, moving to help her take the saddle off of the horse. 

“I’m pregnant, not handicap,” Y/N said, and grabbed the saddle off with a grunt and walked it over to the hooks. 

“How long? Nah, that ain’t-” 

“How far along?” Y/N smiled, “Fourteen weeks today. Little buddy is giving me a run for my money, I'll tell you that. Never been so tired and so sick in my life.” 

“Tillerson ain’t caught on?” Y/N sucked in a harsh breath and looked down at her boots, “Sorry I didn’t mean-” 

“I was waiting to see if this was a viable thing, ya know. I didn’t want to get him excited and have it taken away. Luke has always talked about being a dad,” Y/N knew she was lying, but it was something that she told herself night after night as she lay awake. It wasn’t that Luke didn’t want to be a father, she could see it in his eyes as they spent time with the little ones at church outings, and they had only talked about it a handful of times. Everytime, Luke said he wanted to wait just a little longer, until they were married and hand their own house on the Tillerson Land. 

“I can see,” Rhett said, leaning against a post, “I reckon he oughta know soon.” 

“He will,” Y/N said, crossing her arms over her chest, “I should go inside and see what our parents are up to.” 

Rhett nodded and followed behind her. They were welcomed with laughter as they walked into the house, something Y/N hadn’t heard in the house in years. The sound of her dad’s hearty laugh was like music to her ears as she walked into the kitchen and saw Cecilia Abbott near tears as her father was holding his stomach in laughter. 

“What’s going on here?” Y/N asked, smiling. 

“Your dad was just telling me this old story about Royal and him during the rodeo days,” Cecilia said, wiping under her eyes, “Oh boy, you two really got up to some antics back then.” 

“Oh heavens yes,” Chad laughed, “Then the kiddos were born and it seemed to multiply. Heather was always gettin on Y/N about hanging around the boys. If she could see her now, running around with them Tillerson boys.” 

“Dad,” Y/N warned with a smile, “Let’s not talk about all that-” 

“Can you believe Cece, that damn blonde one got her pregnant.” 

Y/N closed her eyes and sucked in a breath as her father revealed her secret to none other than one of the biggest gossip in town. Y/N loved Cecelia Abbott, she really did, but sometimes she put her foot in her mouth. Cece loved a good gossip story as much as the next cowboy hat wearing farm-wife did. 

“Oh wow, congrats,” Cecelia smiled at her, her blue eyes darting over to Rhett, who placed his hands in his back pockets, “How far along?” 

“Fourteen weeks,” Y/N smiled shyly, “You can head out now, I think I got it handled from here.” 

Cecelia nodded, knowing that her presence probably wasn’t welcomed anymore. She stood up from the kitchen table and walked over to hug Chad, before grabbing her hat off the counter. She smiled at Y/N and then gave Rhett another pointed glance, before slipping her hat on her head and walking out the front door. 

“I’ll walk her out,” Rhett said, and Y/N nodded, as the boy followed his mother out to her truck. Rhett waited until he was at his mom’s truck before opening his mouth, “Tillerson don’t know. . .about the baby.” 

“Is it even his?” Cecelia asked, looking back towards the farm house. 

“She’s not like him or any of the other buckle bunnies,” Rhett said, “She wouldn’t just say it's his without it being true.” 

Cecelia chuckled and shook her head, opening the door to her truck, “A mess she’s gotten herself into. She had such a bright future.” Cece sat in the driver's seat and smiled at her son, “I know you, Rhett, I can see it in your eye. . . but you can’t get mixed up in her shit. It’ll only end bad for you and for her and for that baby.” 

“I know,” Rhett said barely above a whisper. Cece placed a hand on her son’s cheek and rubbed his cheek bone softly with her thumb. 

“You ride at eight?” She asked him and he nodded, “Good. Gives me time to go home and bake a pie. I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah,” Rhett said, closing the truck door. Cece rolled down the window and started the old Ford up, “Don’t. . . Don’t go around sayin’ stuff about it. She’s probably giving Chad an ear full right now. Bad enough Brooks was runnin his trap the other night to me and Perry.” 

“Secrets safe with me. Bye, Rhett.” 

Rhett waved to his mother, and watched her pull out of the Lawton driveway. He watched the truck turn off the gravel and then walked back into the house. He was surprised when he heard crying and walked into the kitchen, seeing Chad crying in his daughter’s arms. Y/N looked up at Rhett, her own eyes red with tears as she tried to comfort her dad. Rhett waited outside on the porch as Y/N calmed her dad down enough that she could get him up from his chair and to his room to rest. 

She sighed as she walked out the front door and sat down next to Rhett on the slider. She ran her hands through her hair and let out a soft groan. 

“I wish I could fucking drink,” Y/N laughed to herself, and sniffled, “He could tell I was upset about what he said, and it was just. . . his emotion center is all-” 

“You don’t have to doctor ‘splain anything to me,” Rhett said, and put a hand on her back, “He okay now?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N bit at her thumb nail, “Mrs. Johnson was supposed to come tonight and watch him while I go watch Brooks and Luke but I don’t think-” 

“You need the break,” Rhett spoke and Y/N looked up at him, “I know he’s all you got, but you also can’t stress yourself out too much, for the baby.” 

Y/N bit her lip before standing up, “Wanna see something?” 

Rhett nodded and Y/N stood up. She untucked her blue flannel from her jeans, and lifted it up enough to show the black tank top underneath. Rhett’s eyes widened as he looked at her stomach, seeing the small swollen spot. She put her hand on the tiny, tiny bump, accentuating it even more. Rhett could remember how touchy Perry was when Rebecca was pregnant, and he got that same sudden rush. 

“Noticed it the other morning, even though Brooks says I’m just seein things.” She smiled down at the small belly, “It’s only up from here.” Rhett looked up at her with bright blue eyes, and Y/N could read his mind, “Not much too feel quite yet.” She picked up his hand and placed it on her skin. His eyes widened and he let out a small chuckle, “My mom said in her diary that she could feel me starting to move around fifteen weeks. Any day now.” 

“That’s uh. . . that’s cool,” Rhett retracted his hand and Y/N put her shirt down. 

“Yeah. . . I’m gonna tell Luke tonight,” It felt like a stab to Rhett’s heart when those words escaped her mouth, “I’m only gonna get bigger and there’s milestones he’ll miss if I wait any longer.” 

All Rhett could do was nod. 

— — —

The smell of livestock had never bothered her before, but something about being pregnant and waiting behind the arena with Brooks had her wanting to turn and vomit. Perry was helping tape Brooks’ wrist as Royal was tapping Rhett’s. Luke never liked to be distracted and had told Y/N that she was a distraction, so she waited until after his first ride to go see him. 

“You okay there?” Perry asked Y/N and she looked up at him, her fist still covering her mouth and gave him a thumbs up. Perry chuckled and shook his head, “Rebecca couldn’t stand the smell either when she was pregnant.” 

“Jesus Christ Brooks, who haven’t you fucking told!” Y/N yelled at her brother. 

“The pastor,” Brooks shot back, and Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, “I’m kidding, just these two. And well, Perry technically told Royal.” 

“Cece told me this afternoon,” Royal answered and finished taping Rhett, “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Cowboy’s promise.” 

“Well I thought this,” Y/N said, delivering a slap to her brother’s chest, “Cowboy could promise.” 

“Hey!” Brooks laughed, right as the announcer called Luke’s name, “Better go see the baby daddy.” 

Y/N flipped her brother off, before walking over to near the shoot where Billy and Trevor were waiting. Trevor smiled down at his soon to be sister-in-law and put his arm around her shoulders. Out of all of them, Trevor seemed to like Y/N the most. She thought she was good for Luke, and it helped that she was Chad Lawton’s daughter and would be set to own one of the three big Wabang ranches. 

Luke’s ride was going to be easy, he had drawn an easy one, but it still got the boys excited as they stood next to her and cheered on Luke. Watching Luke and Brooks ride always brought a type of excitement in her body, but right now she was feeling dread as Luke got bucked off in five seconds. She could see the look in his eye as he watched his name drop under Rhett’s on the scoreboard. Trever and Y/N shared a look as they walked over to where Luke was coming out of the arena. 

“I should’ve gotten fucking eight. It was an easy fucking ride,” Luke cursed as he threw his gloves down. 

“You still did good,” Y/N said. 

“I’m gonna lose to that stupid fucking Abbott,” Luke seethed and she knew better than to talk. Luke looked up and could see the way her body language shifted and he sighed, walking over to her, “Hey,” He grabbed her face with his hands, “Let’s go watch Brooks. He needs to see us there.” 

Y/N nodded and took Luke’s hand, walking back to the side by Trevor. Brooks’ ride was going to be a little bit harder than Luke’s and Rhett’s, but it wasn’t the worst bull in the circuit. Y/N climbed up on the fence, watching as Brooks dropped into the chute, and the bull already started bucking. 

“Hey,” Y/N said, and placed a hand on Brooks’ shoulder, “You good?” 

“Always,” Brooks smiled at his sister, “Don’t get too close, don’t want ya hurtin the kid.” 

“If this kid is like us, it’ll take a lot more to knock it down,” Y/N smiled and patted his shoulder, “Get ‘em cowboy.” She hopped back down and landed next to Luke, whose face was unreadable. He placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. 

Y/N waited with baited breath as the gun went off and the chute opened. The second the bull was free, the animal bucked hard to try and get Brooks off. Brooks’ black cowboy hat was knocked off as the eldest Lawton held on with one hand and the other in the air. It seemed like time ticked on forever, Y/N’s eyes trained on the clock as it ticked down until the buzzer sounded. Brooks let go of the rope and let himself be bucked off the animal. He picked up his hat and looked at the scoreboard, seeing himself slide into first. 

“Brooks!” Y/N cheered and the Lawton boy looked at his little sister, pointing at her with a big smile. He ran over quickly, climbing the metal fence and dropping down next to her, hugging her tightly, “Dad would be proud.” 

“Did it for him,” Brooks said into her hair. 

— — — 

Y/N didn’t stick around long after Brooks' ride, mainly because of Luke and the Tillerson boys pulling her away after Rhett’s ride. Rhett didn’t ride nearly as well as Brooks, and was just shy of beating Luke. Brooks had won the circuit, securing his position in the semi-finals. Rhett and Luke would have to ride again next weekend if they wanted to secure a place in the semis. Y/N wanted to congratulate Rhett, but Luke was not about to let her leave his side. His sudden possessiveness was giving her whiplash, as she sat next to him at the Pit Bar.

She was hardly paying attention to what the boys were saying, knowing it had something to do with the conversation they had with Royal Abbott about the deed to the land. Y/N could never figure out why Wayne Tillerson was so obsessed with Abbott's west pasture. He had been that way since she had met the man when she was young. It seemed to have gotten worse after he had his heart attack a year ago.  

“Did he say anything to you when he was helping out at the ranch?” Luke asked, Y/N. 

“No,” Y/N shook her head and sipped her water, “My old man said there was a reason why my grandaddy settled on the opposite side of town. To stay away from this shit.” 

“Smart old man,” Luke smiled and kissed her cheek, “Trev, Maria just walked in.” 

Y/N looked over where Luke pointed his head towards. Maria smiled at her and Y/N gave her one back and a small wave. Maria was one of the girls that Y/N used to be jealous of in high school. She was naturally beautiful with her shiny brown hair and big brown eyes. Y/N swore that girl never had a zit in her life or had a bad hair day. They were friends, both being on the dance team together in high school, and had plans on studying pre-medicine at the same college. The boys seemed to notice Maria first, and then Y/N. Even Rhett noticed Maria over Y/N, the two of them dating briefly in high school. Y/N seemed to be the shoulder to cry on for both of them when they would argue. 

“Go get it, Trev,” Y/N smiled, and nudged the Tillerson boy with her foot, “She’d be good for you. Keep you a bit. . . tame.” 

“Tame? Huh? And that’s what you did with lil Luke here?” Trevor laughed. 

“Of course she did,” Luke smiled, putting his arm around her, “Calmed me down into a perfect family man, I mean. . . I’m going to be a father soon.” 

Y/N tried not to let her jaw drop at Luke’s revelation. She knew he probably overheard what Brooks had said, but didn’t think he’d spill it out on the table now. She gave him a tight lipped smile and looked over at the other two Tillerson boys who weren’t hiding their shocked looks. 

“Surprise?” She said, softly. 

“Wow,” Billy said, “And I thought maybe you had some breast implant surgery done.” 

Y/N scoffed as Trevor hit his younger brother upside the head, “Ignore him, he was choked by his cord when he was born. But congrats, you two. Excited to have a little one running around. Better start looking for an ATV for the rugrat.” 

Y/N smiled and nodded as Trevor stood up from his seat and walked over to the bar where Maria was. She didn’t dare to look up at Luke, scared to find the expression on his face. But the wave of nervousness washed over her as he put his hand on her thigh, and rubbed it gently. He placed a kiss on her temple and fell back into conversation with Billy. 

The Garth Brooks song playing through the speakers was one of Y/N’s favorites as Luke spun her around the floor. Billy had disappeared going to find a girl for himself, and Y/N wanted to dance. She giggled as Luke dipped her, and stood her up, placing a kiss on her lips. When the music changed from the up-beat country song to a slower one, she sighed as Luke brought her in close. They swayed to the familiar voice of George Strait, Y/N leaning her head on Luke’s shoulder. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked, softly. 

“Tonight, after the rodeo. I was judging the ride to see how your mood was going to be,” Y/N said, honestly, “I didn’t want to tell you too soon and then something happened.” 

“Well,” Luke took her hand, and spun her around so her back was against his chest, “I would’ve liked to know sooner, either way. If something did happen, I wouldn’t want you to go through it alone. Besides all the extra shit with your brother and dad couldn’t have been good on you or the baby.” His hand traveled down to her bump, and for some reason, it felt odd having his hand against her skin. Unlike when Rhett touched her belly earlier that day. 

“I know it’s just. . .Oh shit,” Y/N pushed away from Luke as she saw Brooks and Rhett head outside. She could see in the way Brooks was walking, this wasn’t going to end well, “I’ll be right- Brooks!” 

“Why don’t you go back inside and find Luke,” She heard Perry slur, as she pushed the door open as Brooks and Rhett walked in on the fight waiting to happen between Perry and Trevor. 

“Brooks,” Y/N called out to her brother. 

“Go back inside,” Brooks said to his little sister as he pushed Perry back from Trevor. 

“Don’t tell her what to fucking do!” Trevor yelled, grabbing Brooks’ arm. 

Rhett grew angry, as he put his hands on Trevor pushing him back from the two men and Y/N. Y/N could hear him muttering under his breath as Brooks came and stood in front of her, almost as if he was both protecting her and blocking her from watching Rhett lay a punch on Trevor’s face. The single punch sent Trevor flying towards the ground and Y/N gasped, taking a step closer, only to be stopped by Brooks. 

“Can’t get in the middle of that,” Brooks muttered, “Too dangerous to stop an angry drunk man.” 

Trevor got up quickly, and grabbed Rhett’s legs trying to tackle him to the ground. But Rhett had some height and strength on Trevor, and could keep himself on his two feet. Trevor broke free from Rhett’s grasp and landed a punch to Rhett’s jaw. 

“If you won’t I will,” Y/N said, and took a step forward as the door to the bar opened again and Maria walked out. Rhett’s name fell silent on Y/N’s lips as Rhett delivered one last punch to Trevor, knocking him back down on the ground. Rhett’s blue eyes looked at Y/N, and then over to Maria. Y/N went to reach out for Rhett as he walked past her, going straight to Maria. Brooks watched as his little sister’s confidence diminished a bit as once again, Maria was chosen over her. 

“Come on,” Brooks said, and guided his sister inside, “Let’s go find Luke.” 

Y/N nodded, and didn’t bother looking over at Rhett again as she walked back into the bar. Rhett looked up briefly from Maria, seeing the two walk back inside. Rhett felt a pang in his chest as he watched her go sit back down by Luke, who put his arm around her and his hand on her belly. She must’ve told him, and by the look on Luke’s face, he must’ve taken it well. Which made Rhett feel even worse for how he felt early at the Lawton Ranch. 

“Can I tell you the truth real quick? I know I don’t bring much to the table,” Rhett said and looked back down at Maria, “But that guy’s the biggest asshole you’re ever gonna meet.” 

Maria didn’t say anything as Rhett walked back inside, just looking over at Perry, and Trevor, who was still groaning on the ground. Y/N’s eyes looked from her glass of water in front of her, to Rhett, who had a certain swagger in his step as he walked into the bar. She shifted in her seat slightly as he walked by their table, and knocked on it, giving them a slight greeting. Luke watched him walk on by, grabbing his stetson from his table and then walking out the front door. 

“I wanna go home,” Y/N said, grabbing Luke’s attention, “I’m getting a headache.” 

“Yeah, of course, baby,” Luke said and kissed her temple, before getting up, “I’ll go close the tab.” 

“I’ll go wait outside,” Y/N said and Luke nodded. He grabbed her hand and helped her stand up, but not before he placed his hat on her head. She smiled and kissed his cheek, before heading out the door and waiting by Luke’s truck. 

“You told him?” Rhett’s voice startled her as she jumped and looked over at him. He took his hat off his head and held it on his chest, “He looked like he took it well.” 

“He overheard Brooks saying something to me about standing on the fence next to the chute. Said it was dangerous.” 

“Well he’s right,” Rhett said and walked closer to her, “I read that at fourteen weeks, the baby is the size of an orange.”

“You googled that?” 

“Read a book that Perry had,” Rhett smiled, sheepishly, “I hope he treats you alright.” 

Y/N nodded and Rhett leaned forward, to place a kiss on her cheek. His lips lingered for a second, then he placed his hat back on his head and walked away. 

“Hey, baby,” Luke said, walking out the door, “Have you seen Trevor?”

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

taglist: @starlightsiren @callsign-phoenix @wannabeddiesgirl @sweetlittlegingy @gretasmokerising @soggy-max @the-winter-marvel33 @callsign-blue @lewispthings @nobody7102

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[skzsauce01]

Grape Soda, the Gateway Wine

Synopsis: When Jeongin comes to you for help with stealing a pegasus in the dead of night, of course you’re going to say yes. Or, how the Great Pegasus Heist goes wrong and potentially right.

Warning: stealing

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: son of Dionysus!Jeongin x child of Hermes!reader

Camp Half-Blood AU Masterlist

Every heist has a backstory, and it just so happens that this heist has a noble reason: to reunite a dear brother and sister back together because the gods forcefully separated them apart in fear that they would overthrow Olympus together. Sana and Jeongin, the two demigod children of Dionysus, are far more powerful than they appear, and with their combined skill sets, they could defeat Zeus easily.

At that point in Jeongin’s story, the sky claps with thunder, causing Jeongin to wince and to apologize to the king of the gods, saying that it was a joke. You also clap, but for Jeongin’s impressive acting and excellent narration. He bows, and you pretend to throw roses.

“So are you in?” he asks. He picks up his half empty can of grape soda, a sure sign that he’s nervous. Though he inherited Mr. D’s affinity for drinks, he and Sana only start treating their preferred drink of choice like water when something is wrong.

You didn’t need the play to be convinced. The moment he mentioned a heist, you were completely sold. “Of course.”

“I’ll meet you at your cabin at midnight and then we’ll head to the stables.”

The dramatic performance provided you with no actual context, but while the two of you rummage around the armory for anything of use, he explains it to you anyway.

Since Sana and Jeongin are the only campers of Dionysus’ Cabin, they’re unbelievably close, sharing everything with each other. However, Sana left for a quest with Chan, son of Poseidon, and Dahyun, daughter of Apollo, a few days ago and didn’t tell her younger brother what the quest was about. Last night, she Iris Messaged him to make sure he was taking care of himself. And that one message drove Jeongin into a frenzy because she allegedly never calls without an update about herself or whatever she’s doing. Also, he heard a thunderstorm in the background, and she’s terrified of thunder, so he needs to rescue her.

You could’ve pointed out that she was probably projecting her fears onto him or that she’s with strong demigods who can protect her—especially Dahyun with her powers of audiokinesis that can muffle the sound of thunder—but hey, you’ve never stolen a pegasus in the dead of night before, so you’re not passing this opportunity up.

When you ask him about where she was, he admits that he has no idea, but they were in a cave somewhere, he says, and caves usually mean that there are nature spirits nearby, so someone must have seen them. You nod sagely and grab a new knife for yourself as he continues lamenting about Sana. Children of Dionysus can induce madness in people, and you distantly wonder if Jeongin accidentally did it to himself.

Nothing in the armory is good for a heist, so you resort to “borrowing” some gadgets from Ares’ Cabin, namely the smokescreen grenades. Since Jeongin is set on leaving camp, you’ve decided to join him along for the journey. After, you visit the stables before they close to drop off a backpack of supplies for the informal quest before returning back to your cabin to prepare other things. You take a few lockpicks in case any of the locking mechanisms are cursed and trade your half brother Minho three bags of chips for a pouch of sugar cubes. He doesn’t ask questions, just wishes you luck with whatever you’re going to do with them.

A minute before twelve o’clock, you sneak past your siblings, some of them sleeping, most of them not. The privacy curtains around each “room” help you leave without detection, but it’s not like Jackson, Hermes’ Cabin’s head counselor, cares enough to drag you back. As long as he doesn’t see you, he has plausible deniability.

Jeongin is waiting around the back with a backpack slung over his shoulder. When he sees that you’ve only got grenades holstered at your hips, his eyebrows go up. You show him the sugar cubes and reassure him that you’re coming along to find Sana. He sighs in relief. As he leads the way to the stables, you keep watch for any patrolling guards, such as the harpies or even Mr. D himself. There’s no light anywhere, and since a flashlight would immediately alert everyone of your whereabouts, the two of you tread carefully. Occasionally, a leaf or branch crunches under your steps, scaring Jeongin. You’d prefer to make a run for the pegasus stables now, but you don’t know how fast he is, and Jeongin is also sipping on a can of grape soda.

“Can’t it wait?” you hiss.

“I’m nervous, okay? Gods, I hope Sana brought enough raspberry punch with her.”

At long last, you’ve arrived at the stables. You and Jeongin swap positions as you try to find all of the locks on the stable doors. There are several, probably because previous campers also tried to steal pegasi back in the day. Fortunately, none of them are cursed or trapped, so all you have to do is place your hand over them and let the locks automatically unlock for you. One final click later, you push open the heavy double doors and gently shut it behind you and Jeongin. He finds the light switch, and the stables come to life. You shove the sugar cubes into his hands as he scans all of the pegasi residing in the stalls.

“Which one?” you ask him as you go retrieve your backpack from a pile of hay.

“Are there really no black ones?”

You glance up, and most of the pegasi are white, with some of them having different colored markings, but there definitely aren’t any pure black ones like Jeongin wanted. He goes to a stall with a brown pegasus inside and tries to feed it a sugar cube. Meanwhile, you watch with amusement as the pegasus shies away.

“Her name is Brisket,” you report. The informational sign on her door also mentions that she’s initially distrustful of strangers and prefers apples.

“Here,” he tries again, holding out a cube that she eyes warily. “Come here, Biscuit.”

“No, her name’s Brisket. Let’s just try another one.”

You point at the stall across the way, and Jeongin shoots you a look that says, “Are you serious?” It’s not ideal, but the white pegasi has a black mane and seems far more friendly than Brisket. You approach the pegasus first, and he sniffs you all over as he searches for any treats. As Jeongin reluctantly comes over, you learn from the sign that Michelini enjoys long flights over the campgrounds and has a penchant to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. Jeongin offers Michelini a sugar cube, and two seconds later, Michelini’s loyalty has been successfully bought.

After you unlock and open the stall doors, Michelini trots out and spreads his giant wings for all to see. You clap, and he whinnies in agreement. Jeongin climbs on first and waits for you to open the doors to the back exit before helping you on. You land solidly on Michelini, who paws the ground in protest. Jeongin lets him have another sugar cube, and that placates him enough to walk outside. He’s itching to fly, but Demeter’s and Aphrodite’s Cabin have trained the pegasi well enough that they know to wait for instructions.

“Where are we going?” you whisper as Jeongin pulls out a map from his backpack. His tiny flashlight doesn’t illuminate the paper well, so you have to squint to see where he’s pointing. “Kentucky?”

“They have the world’s longest cave system. It’s been almost a week, so they’ve probably reached Kentucky by now.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Jeongin nudges Michelini up, and soon the two of you are in the air. Every instinct of yours is shouting for you to whoop, but this is a heist, so it’s better if you don’t right now. The cold wind hits you right in the face, reminding you that you’ve successfully stolen a pegasus for at least a night. You should do this more often.

Unfortunately, your partner-in-crime doesn’t share those feelings. He has opened a second can of soda and is combing through the map once more. Michelini flies around in circles, clearly enjoying his freedom.

“Hold me,” Jeongin abruptly says, his voice shaking. The sugar of the soda has finally taken hold. Or it could be his nerves. “You’re still here, right?”

You wrap your arms around his torso, mostly for his sanity. His backpack becomes your pillow, and the idea to swipe a bar of ambrosia from him is compelling. But you choose to close your eyes instead and let your hands remain where they are. “Yep. Wake me up when we get there.”

“Where are you going?”

Jeongin flinches at the sound of his father, and you nearly get an elbow to the face. When you peer out from behind Jeongin, Mr. D is standing—levitating—in front of Michelini. With his signature goblet of Diet Coke in hand and a loud Hawaiian shirt, he looks more like a lost tourist than a camp director who’s about to dole out punishments to thieving demigod teens.

“Good evening, Mr. D,” you politely say. “How are you?”

As is tradition, he responds by calling you the wrong name and then ignoring you. Meanwhile, Jeongin is frantically explaining why he needs to go find his sister while intermittently chugging his own soda. He and Mr. D are more alike than you thought. You wonder if Jeongin’s idea for a pegasus heist came to him while he was stress-drinking soda.

To your surprise, Mr. D doesn’t cut him off immediately but instead listens carefully. Then he remembers that you’re also here, and he banishes you to Chiron while he sorts out his family’s problems. Jeongin shoots you a panicked look, but there’s nothing you can do. The Great Pegasus Heist is over.

After landing, you walk Michelini back into his stable and feed him one last sugar cube before making your way to the Big House. In theory, you could’ve returned to your cabin without any issue, but seeing that Jeongin is about to get heavily reprimanded at the very least, you knock on Chiron’s door, waking him from his sleep, and tell him what happened. You don’t know what you expected, but one week of kitchen patrol is not it.

“Can’t you overlook this?” you try. “I came to you with good, moral intentions, and now I get punished for it. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I can’t encourage this kind of behavior. Taking a pegasus to leave camp without permission is unacceptable. The cleaning harpies will be expecting you tomorrow. Now, back to bed.”

After a moment of silence, you quietly ask, “Is Jeongin gonna be alright? And Sana and Dahyun and Chan? Can you at least tell me what their quest is if I can’t get out of kitchen patrol?”

He smiles kindly but shakes his head. “They’re all going to be fine.”

You know they are, but having the details of their super secret quest would make Jeongin feel better and your punishment less unfair. Nonetheless, you head back to Cabin 11 where only disappointment and questions from your siblings await.

The next day, no one answers the door when you knock at the Dionysus’ Cabin, so you head to the stables with more bribes for Michelini. Riding on a pegasus, even for less than five minutes, was fun. The double doors are wide open today, and you walk past someone from Aphrodite’s Cabin giving lessons to another camper on a familiar brown pegasus. Apparently, that guy isn’t a stranger to Brisket.

You make a beeline for Michelini, who pokes his head out when he spots you. As you pet his mane and feed him apple slices, you jokingly ask if he overheard the conversation between Jeongin and Mr. D.

“Got any gossip to share?” you say as he sniffs you for better treats. According to Jackson, sugar cubes are unhealthy for pegasi, so you opted to bring Brisket’s favorite snacks instead. “I’ll bring you a whole pouch of sugar cubes if you tell me. Any tea for the sugar?”

When it’s clear that Michelini isn’t going to start speaking any time soon, you lead him outside and let him fly you over the grounds. Canoe Lake shines under the morning sunlight, and several campers from Hecate’s Cabin are already paddling around. Meanwhile, the arena is packed with people with swords and weapons aplenty. You don’t see Jeongin among the crowd. You guide Michelini to the strawberry fields because maybe he’s tending the strawberries today, but only satyrs and Demeter’s Cabin are there.

After half an hour in the sky, you return Michilini to his home, get scolded by someone from Aphrodite’s Cabin for giving him too many snacks, and feed the rest of the apples to Brisket. You have plans to sneak a midnight flight at some point, and she looks like she could be interested once you’ve bought her loyalty. Maybe if you’re extra kind to her, she’ll adopt you as her human, though you think Michelini is gunning for the position of being your best pegasus friend. You give him one last chance to tell you about last night’s conversation, but he only whinnies when you show him you’ve run out of treats.

Instead, you try Dionysus’ Cabin again, unlocking the door with ease when you receive no answer. Inside, the two beds are neatly made, and each side of the room has its own respective piles of leftover drink cans. You snag a grape soda from Jeongin’s side and take it with you in case you need to use it to lure him out of wherever he’s hiding. Seriously, where is he? Did Mr. D let him leave after all? And if he did, did Jeongin really not invite you along?

You storm to the Big House, ready to demand answers from Chiron or Mr. D, whoever you see first. What you don’t expect though, is to see Mr. D and Jeongin playing a card game on the deck. They have matching silver goblets, which is rather sweet.

“You’re okay,” you blankly say.

He smiles brightly and nods. “Sana Iris Messaged me this morning. They’ve finished their quest and are coming back now. She said they should be back tonight.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t even know you had and open your stolen can. He says the questing trio were tasked to slay a sea monster that made its way into an underground spring and that Sana was only able to call a few times because she traded most of her drachmas for caving gear. He interrupts his recap by telling Mr. D that he lost the game.

While Mr. D grumbles and mutters something that sounds close to a swear, he motions for everyone to leave. Jeongin waves goodbye and walks down the stairs with you. You hold out the soda to him, but he passes up on it, so you continue drinking because grape soda is surprisingly good.

“We’re having a party when they get back. I told Sana what I did,” he sheepishly says, “and she said she wanted pegasi at the celebration, so do you wanna help? They really seemed to like you.”

The power of sugar cubes. “So we’re stealing pegasi again?”

“We’re not really stealing. My dad said I could throw the party, so are you still in? Or does it being legal make it less exciting?”

You elbow him, partially in indignation, partially as revenge from last night. “Shut up, or I’ll get Michelini to kick you in the face. Parties are just as fun as heists.”

“Much more likely to happen too,” he laughs. When you elbow him again, he throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, sorry! But it’s true.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s not.” When he sees you mulling it over, he sighs and pulls you forward to the direction of the stables. “C’mon. Brisket’s gonna take forever to like us.”

You follow him, but your thoughts are swirling with plans. Maybe you’ll push up your pegasus stealing plans for tonight. Bribe Michelini, land on the doorstep of Cabin 12, and kidnap Jeongin to be your accomplice again because both of you need to finish the crime now. Maybe you’ll even make it to Kentucky before getting caught.

Yeah, that sounds fun.

You’ve even got the perfect words to convince Jeongin to come along: “Every heist has a backstory, and it just so happens that this heist has a noble reason: to prove Jeongin wrong.”

Gods, is this what grape soda does to a person? Well, if it is, you’re not complaining.

A/N: This is the end of the Camp Half Blood AU! If you haven’t already, make sure to check out the masterlist for the other stories about the rest of the members. Thank you all for reading and for the support <3

[cloudbattrolls]

Everything Moves

Jameth Abnale | The Spine | Present Night

Jamie, wobbling on his crutches as the helm holding him thudded to the ground, watched in both awe and horror, for he could hardly believe what he was seeing up above.

What he was hearing.

A terrible cry that had come from someone - something - that sounded like it had never had a throat of its own before.

He held his breath as he saw…as he saw a troll, unconscious and swathed in now fully dead wire. A troll Jastes had made.

Could it…could it be…

He saw Jastes look back down at him, and he shrank away. Was the resistance leader going to do something horrible to him too? Was he about to die?

But the other man only gave him a sad smile, a wave, and then -

- he turned to crackling green energy, and dove into one of the screens on the helm room’s walls.

The rebel was gone.

Jamie’s mouth hung agape. 

The blueblood sat there for a minute, stunned, until the elevator he had come through dinged open and he looked over blearily.

Inexplicably, Chimer Latrai stepped out. At least, he couldn’t imagine who else the tall fuchsia and black blob could be, since he could barely see a bloody thing at the moment.

“Doesn’t that just cap it all.” The kookaburra troll murmured. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Nope. Though it would’ve been a dream to actually talk to you before this all went pear-shaped. A whole barrel of pears, if what I see here is any gauge. Also, why is there a naked, unconscious troll up there? Who the hell are they?”

A ghost of a smile flicked across Jamie’s lips, for the voice was indeed hers.

“I would be willing to bet that’s the Process. Or Nobody. Or whatever name you might know of them by.”

Chimer’s eyebrows raised as she came closer, but she did not argue. “Yeah, we’ve met. Really interesting if that’s the case, seeing as I was pretty sure they were an AI.”

Jamie coughed, his expression faintly amused. 

“Up until about three minutes ago, you would have been correct. Then Jastes happened.”

“Jastes…?”

“The rebel I was chasing.” 

“I see we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Yes, I imagine we do.” He murmured, wiping some blood off his face. “But I’m very tired, and I imagine the empire still wants my head.”

“Nope. I helped fix that for you. You’re still in a lot of hot water, but you’re not gonna drown.” 

He blinked.

“Why would you do that for me?” Jamie said, weary and suspicious.

The fuchsia chuckled.

“I never had a grudge against you, man. I tried to give your factory back, at first. I suspect our buddy up there stopped us from talking. Granted, things are a little different now, and I’m not just gonna hand it right back to you, but…I don’t want to be your enemy. I need you. Let’s work together.”

Chimer held out her hand.

Jamie sighed.

He took it, and got to his feet.

The blueblood could practically hear Viltau saying ‘I told you so.’

Nevertheless, he accompanied the seadweller back up to the city’s surface with fairly good grace as Chimer dialed someone for aid in handling Process, blinking his eyes in the moonlight as they readjusted. His face felt naked without his glasses, and he sweated a bit in the hot, humid air.

But even he could see dimly as lights slowly began to flicker back on around them, unsteady at first, and then more, and more still, spreading across the darkened buildings like a glowing web. Slowly, the wail of sirens and the sounds of fighting dwindled.

“What the…” Chimer sounded baffled, but Jamie thought he knew.

“There is a new electric mind among us.” He murmured. “Traded one for another. Good exchange, I think.” he said, tapping a crutch on the pavement, for he was sure Jastes could hear him as Process once had. 

He was still frightened of the cyborg, he wouldn’t lie. Especially with his new abilities.

Yet he rather hoped that, some night, they would meet again. 

THE END OF

THE MIND ELECTRIC

[introtoafrofuturism]

Afrofuturism X Space Traders

There's a lot that I have found interesting since taking this course on Afrofuturism. I know this might sound a little crazy but I never watched “Black Panther", until three months ago for a film class that I was taking. Since beginning this course I rewatched Black Panther and have been watching the “Black Panther” television series which I really enjoyed. 

For this blog specifically I would like to talk about “Space Traders” and give my opinion on the short film. Within the first 5 minutes of the film I thought that I wasn't going to like it. I thought to myself, “In what world would aliens come down to us and propose gold, metals, an energy source, and more, in exchange for our Black population”. I just didn’t think we as humans with common decency and love for one another can basically exterminate a whole race in exchange for goods and services. I’m not saying that films should always be relatable, but even when watching the film “Pumzi” I didn’t think that type of dystopian society is totally unthinkable.  

Within 5 minutes of watching, I realized that Black people have faced exact issues of being traded in the past. This was an emotional film for me to watch and not only because of the cold heartedness from others but because of my initial thought of “This is so unrealistic and not at all possible”. There must be so many other people that may have watched the film, thinking something like this could never happen without realizing how many times Black people have faced prejudice, discrimination, and have been kicked out of their homes and traded for literal products, or for lifeless material with a price tag. If there’s one lesson that I know, it's that history always repeats itself and it’s so heartbreaking to see how quickly history can be forgotten even if it’s promised not to be. 

When the Space Traders made their offer to the Vice President, they stated that they would not try to coerce them to make the deal and if they decline there will be no harm done. The board and everyone else voting would not face any backlash from the Space Traders if they declined their offer, yet still accepted their offer to trade their entire Black population for goods and services. It's another depiction of Black people not being able to make their own choices, just in a different time and place. If the majority of the vote decides to trade them in, they have no way to prevent it from happening, and their only choices in the end are to be shot dead or traded, which is exactly what has happened in the past. 

The film ended with a white news broadcaster (replacing the Black broadcaster) stating that as they say goodbye to their Black friends, America can now welcome peace and prosperity. They ended it on the note suggesting without the removal of Black people from within society, peace and prosperity could have never been achieved. I believe that “Space Traders” includes obvious themes of Critical Race Theory as well as Interest Convergence Theory. I’m not saying that all white people only make decisions that favor them but Interest Convergence Theory wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t true. In the past and in current day America, many white people tend to not oppose something that's morally wrong as long as it benefits them. It's really scary to think about what people in today's world would do if they were offered the same deal from “Space Traders”. Would they have the same expectancy and vote status in the film (63% yes 37% no)? 

[extreme-investor-network]

Cruel to Be Kind

Let us begin with this post from an individual over in the land of wallstreetbets who is bemoaning the fact his $340,000 trading account has been beaten down to $88,000 (a 75% drop) due to picking up such gems as TSLA and ROKU. As you will see, he wants to know how other fellow "traders" deal with such sad feelings. Take a minute to read this: Now, a true act of tough love would basically say, "I'm sorry you had those losses. Please extract that $88,000, stop trading, and know you've got tons of time left to put your life in order. Focus on good mental health and stop harming yourself with trading." Of course, since this is reddit's WSB forum - - a venue for hopeless gambling addicts and self-imagined trading geniuses, no such advice was forthcoming. Instead, you had the likes of this.......... Yes, you read that right. The respondent just said two of the stupidest, most cliché things imaginable: - It isn't a loss until you sell; - The market will eventually come back. That second item is just plain insanity. Nowhere is in written, either on heaven or Earth, that all prices return to their point of origin at some point. Some people paid $1,243/share for Tesla only months ago. Can they rest assured that at some point, a year from now, or a decade, or even a hundred years from now, that it'll get there again? No! Is it possible? Yes. It is assured? No, no, no! As for the first point, that there's no loss until you sell. On this, I absolutely agree. If you're a tax authority. But otherwise, good GOD, people, the asset has DROPPED in price. You have a loss. Mark-to-market is a reality with every passing second of the day. Of course, that wasn't the only "advice" offered........ OK, so in this instance, perhaps to help this poor chap feel better about his $200,000+ loss, these two guys stated they've lost over TEN TIMES that amount and are still hanging in there like good bag holders. Let's examine a few of the elements of this interaction: - ".......the more numb you are to it": This sounds like an excerpt from a Gamblers Anonymous meeting - "Stocks are cheap now" - No, they're not! Their prices have dropped, yes, but that doesn't make them "cheap". They are still exceptionally expensive by any objective measure. - "The spring is coiling" - Nice metaphor, but it doesn't change the reality. There's no spring, and even if there was, it isn't "coiling." It makes for a nice visual image to seduce yourself into anticipating the orgiastic release of tension, but it ain't gonna happen. Ask the shareholders of Virgin Galactic how their coiled springs are doing. - "Hope the companies I own have their heads down and are working hard" - I can assure you, the personnel at these companies do have their heads down, but not for the reasons you hope. The rank-and-file employees there are completely bummed that their equity has lost so much value. They were counting on it to buy a house, have a nice retirement, or do any of the other things that fat employee stock options and RSUs can provide. As it is, that terrific incentive has vanished, and instead of "working hard", the personnel at the given firm are probably leaving the office at 5:00 p.m. with atomic clock accuracy. One more......... Okay, let's pluck through these final three: - "If I liked prices at the top, I like them more now" - That makes absolutely no sense. You aren't dealing with a commodity that has a fixed value. In other words, if you were purchasing jet fuel for your airline at a given price, and the price dropped by half, it makes all the sense in the world to cheerfully buy more fuel at the cheaper price. You get the same benefit, but you're paying less. In the case of paying for an asset like corporate equity, there's no such comparison. In fact, the old saying "don't throw good money after bad" is based on the precept that something whose price is plunging is certainly acting that way for a reason. - "Inflation already peaked" - says who? Biden? Paul Krugman? God almighty? - "Dollar cost average. Have patience." - This is amateur hour, bush league type stuff. Buying more of stock XYZ at cheaper and cheaper prices, simply to assuage the pain you've felt by screwing up and buying it earlier at higher prices, is unworthy of an investor older than, say, an elementary school student. For equity bears, the psychological zeitgeist of the dialog above is tremendously helpful, because it helps create the slow, grinding, bounces-now-and-then stock market which makes for a fantastic shorting environment. For people like the original poster, however, who is coming to his peers, hat in hand, hoping to get some sage wisdom on how to deal with his financial woes, the counsel they are offering here will merely be a psychic salve as his 75% loss metastasizes into a 95% one. Original Article Original Article Here: Read the full article

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

okay i’m going to rant about Supernatural here for a minute, as a head’s up, but i’m just seeing so many people not understand what the show is actually doing - which is fair, i don’t expect anyone to have 15 seasons of genre tv show memorized - and assuming the worst when i’m pretty sure that it’s a fucking beautiful, galaxy brain story playing out.

like, just. the final season 15 big bad is literally God - but he’s not really God, the Christian God, he is the incarnation of the writers themselves. the character of God was originally a tongue-in-cheek avatar of the actual writers as the author of the Supernatural books (yes, inside Supernatural there are Supernatural books, and Supernatural conventions, and a Supernatural musical), Carver Edlund - as in Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund, two of the primary writers at the time. he was, at the time, a ‘prophet’ who could foresee the future and write what was supposed to happen.

the character of God is the author of this story, and this entire season has been about how the protagonists have to defeat God - they have to literally defeat the story itself in order to be victorious. in a fucking unprecedented level of meta, the villain of the final season is literally the story and the writers themselves.

and then you have Castiel, a character who was supposed to be in a handful of episodes 11 years ago and then permanently killed off. a character who was meant to be permanently killed off again three years after that, who was kept and brought back again and again because the fans demanded it, because Cas and Misha Collins became so intrinsic to the story. 

at the end of his first season, the ‘prophet’ (God) told Castiel that he wasn’t supposed to be in this story, and Castiel replied, Yeah, well, we’re making it up as we go.

and then, in the episode before the one with this confession, God confronted Castiel and called him the one thing that he couldn’t ever control. God, Cas’s “father” (the writers who created him) shouted at Cas for never doing as he was told, for always being the spanner in the works.

and then, Castiel culminates years of character development with a beautiful speech about how happiness is in the being, not the having, and comes out as explicitly queer. he confesses that everything he’s ever done has been for love.

and what is Supernatural about? Supernatural is about love saving the world. that was literally the final message of the season 5 finale, which was originally intended to be the series finale. the first time Supernatural ended, “love will save the world” was its final message.

Castiel is the queer love that the writers never intended to exist but that they couldn’t control and couldn’t stop, that they tried to kill and couldn’t. 

Castiel didn’t die, Castiel is the queer love that couldn’t die. 

and, i think many people don’t realize, the deal that Cas made with the Empty was something put into action - two seasons ago, i think? it was quite a while ago that he made this deal. this has been planned for a long time, it wasn’t a last minute fan service thing. there are people putting meticulous care into this story and they’re not playing around with it, they are laying out their final hand with deliberate intention. the writer who crafted Castiel’s confession (a gay man, fyi) wrote that speech as the first thing he wrote for the season. there is care here.

people unfamiliar with the show may also not realize that when Castiel first came on the show, he saved Dean from hell - because Dean had also made a deal, a deal trading his life for the one he loved most, his brother. Castiel made a deal trading his life for the one he loved most, his son. 

that is a parallel, a rhyme to this story, that can only be completed with Dean saving Cas from hell. that is a beautiful, poetic, fucking incredible way to bring this to a close. i have been very wary about actually trusting this show after getting burned over and over, but even i can’t deny the care being written into this and the self-aware beauty of the story that is unfolding. 

Castiel has died a dozen times before, at least, as has Dean - in fact, two seasons ago Cas escaped the Empty, the "hell” he was just taken to. leaving your story there would be hella weak sauce, and make no narrative sense.

but Dean, who has been galvanized by rage for so long - Dean, who has been lost and furious knowing that he’s a puppet whose strings have been pulled for a capricious God’s amusement and who now knows that maybe the only real thing in the universe is that an angel is in love with him - laying down his anger and choosing to fight for love, saving Castiel the same way that Castiel first saved him? our protagonists, collectively known as Team Free Will, defeating the Author and choosing their own destiny, choosing love and saving the world? 

now that’s a fucking story.

i’m still nervous, of course i am. but all of the pieces have been set in place, and with two episodes left, for the first time i’m actually excited to see how this story ends.

[michelle-is-writing]

Great friends, Four (6 Underground)

This was a request from @lunawolfnicky​ - Thank you so much!

Word count: 2.6k~

The reader is named Babs, which will be explained in the story.

Tonight was unlike any other night since everyone got back from the mission. It took a couple of weeks for everyone to finally settle down and relax for a change, not to mention catch up on sleep at the same time. This was the first night nobody stayed in their room. Instead, everyone filled the only room big enough to hold everyone, which also happened to be the kitchen.

“I still think you’re fucking crazy,” Two says to Three as he chomps down on a ridiculously greasy burrito he made a few minutes ago. No matter what, he eats to the fullest and he doesn’t care what anybody has to say about it. “Yes, we’re ‘dead,’ but we’re not actually dead!”

“I can eat whatever I want, when I want!” He argues back, “I ate like this before my death and I’m going to continue eating like this. Nothing can stop me.”

“But you’re not actually dead! That’s the problem!” Two nearly shouts at him, causing us to laugh at her small outburst.

“Clogged arteries beg to differ,” I pipe up, causing everyone to laugh even more with the girls chanting “oooh” at him in a teasing manner. However, one outlier of the bunch seems to be having less fun than the rest of the group. Granted, four always tends to look at me with a frown forever marked on his face. I don’t have the slightest clue as to why he looks at me this way, but I do have to say it kind of bothers me. When Four first arrived, I thought he was interesting and not to mention hot, but now those feelings aren’t really on my mind now.

“Why would you even bring that up?!” Three exclaims as he throws his arms into the air. “Don’t speak that stuff into existence, and it won’t happen!”

“I saw a few of you kind of guys at the hospital that I worked at,” Five says, lightly laughing. “Of course, that was right before I had to perform an artery bypass on them, but it doesn’t happen right?”

With a few more laughs, we all grow quiet until Five speaks up once more. “Speaking of the hospital I used to work at, what did you do before you got here, Babs?”

With the question, I feel myself grow quiet. Sure, we’ve all shared our stories of how we’ve gotten here with Four having a failed heist mission and Two being a former CIA agent, but with me, no one knows my story - only One does, and with him expressing his rule that nobody can get close, I have yet to share with anyone else. However, he’s not in the room right now, so why not?

“You don’t think One has cameras in here?” I joke, but no one knows I’m joking. That’s because I’m the one who runs and monitors all the cameras, hence why I’m called ‘Babs’ instead of a number. Technically, I’m not a part of the team, but I still have a role in it.

Seeing Two and Three exchange worried looks, I can’t help but let out a laugh. “I’m just joking,” I clarify, moving to sit up a little. “Well, um, to start, One found me right after Two, and originally, I was supposed to be on the team, but when I suggested that places will have cameras and I can get into them since most places don’t have secure access points monitoring them, I was the camera person of the team,”

Looking around the room, I see everyone looking at me, fully interested in my story. Even Four looks like he’s listening to me. “He actually found me when I was with my ex-boyfriend one night. My ex asked if I could drive him somewhere, and I said sure, so when we got there, and I saw him talking to three guys all in black in an empty parking lot, I knew something was up. One second, my ex is talking to them, and in the next, one of the guys walks up to my car and breaks my window to drag me out of there. Had I not switched my car into drive a second earlier, I probably would’ve been traded for something; who knows. But then the guy, he uh, held onto my car door, so as I’m speeding out of there, the guys yelling at me, threatening me, telling me he’ll kill me, I don’t know what came over me,”

With a strong voice, I say the last part of my story. “So, I drove toward a tree and swerved my car so that my side of the car would hit the tree and effectively get him off my car, and, well, kill him, which it did,” Now everyone’s eyes are the size of saucers, and I can only hope they won’t judge me. “One caught up with me just fifteen minutes later as I sat in my scratched-up car, parked in front of some random gas station. He told me he knew what happened back there and asked for five minutes to explain everything. I don’t know why he chose me or why he even thought I’d be a good addition to the team, but he did,” Sighing, I shake my head. “I still feel nauseous when I think about that time, even guilty, but One keeps reminding me not to, and I’m thankful for that.”

Moments of silence that feel like forever pass over us until Four speaks up. “Wow,” He mutters, “Just wow,” Expectantly, all of us stare at him to continue. “You still feel bad about that situation?” He asks, to which I just nod at him. “What a pile of bollucks.”

“Four!” Five exclaims, a frustrated look taking over her face.

“I’m sorry, do you have a problem with me?” I ask, quickly receiving a heavy nod back.

“Yes, I do!” He blurts out. “You still feel guilty even when your boyfriend didn’t give a shit about you, obviously, and yet you feel bad about it! My ex was fucking my best mate during my funeral and let me tell you, I haven’t felt a thing for her in all the time I’ve been here. But you, poor little you still feels something!” He mocks, making me tilt my head as my eyes squint in anger. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, mate!”

Once again, everyone stares at him shocked at his outburst. Me on the other hand, I feel my complete mood shift as everything comes to a head. “You done?” I ask, gaining a wary face from Four. “First of all, don’t give me your poor attempt at sympathy as I didn’t fucking ask for it. Secondly, if you want to be rude and disrespectful to me, then don’t speak to me, don’t look at me, don’t even think about me. I could give two shits less about your opinion, and I don’t give a damn if you even have one after this. We clear?”

This time, my words bring on a shocked look to Four’s face as he seemingly searches for an answer. “I-uh, but-“ This time, I cut him off.

“No buts. There is no argument to what I just said. You either do that or stop being a dick. Your choice.”

With that, I stand and walk towards to door to get out of this room. I can’t stand to be in here any longer. Especially after telling the only guy I’m remotely attracted to in the room to basically fuck off.

Entering into my trailer, I plop down at my desk and turn on the cameras to the room I was just in. I lied. There are cameras in there, but I’m the only one who has access to them. Plus, I don’t think it would be fun if One had access to video footage of Two and Three getting very close in that room either. Pulling up the footage, I wipe away a stray tear on my cheek as I watch everyone still sit in the same shocked state I left them in.

“You know why we call her Babs?” Two is the first one to speak up, her voice gentle as Four turns his head to look at her. Meanwhile, she just smiles at him. “Babs stands for bad-ass-bitch, and well, she earned that nickname after standing up to One a while back.”

At the memory, I giggle as I wipe away another tear. I’m not going to lie, that was a pretty fun day back then.

In response, Ben slouches back into his chair as he drags a hand down his face with a sigh. “Fuck,” I hear him mutter to himself before jumping up from the chair and heading to the door.

“Where are you going, mate?” Three asks, mocking Four’s earlier name for me with a grin.

“I’m going to apologize!” Four yells back, making my eyes widen. In a few quick seconds, I’ve turned off all my monitors and immediately get into my bed underneath my covers like a child trying to hide from their problems.

A few moments pass before I hear a knock on my door, making me squeeze my eyes shut and sigh. Do I let him in and let him apologize? Or do I wait it out and make him work for it? However, my mouth works before my brain does, and a short “come in” leaves my lips.

I listen as my door opens, followed by foot-steps. Begrudgingly, I sit up in bed and watch as Four stops in front of me, a seemingly nervous look on his face. “I’m sorry,” He quickly comes out with it, making me squint my eyes at him like before. After what he had to say with everyone back there, he’s apologizing? Why so soon?

“I shouldn’t have said all that back there-“ He begins, but like last time, I cut him off.

“Then why did you?” I ask, quick to jump in at his shit-apology. “I was explaining how One found me, and you thought my story was - what? Stupid? Immature?”

“No, no, of course not!” Four quickly argues, shaking his head as his eyes stay locked on me.

“Then what?” I ask, “What was it?”

Four pauses, searching for an explanation. “Look,” He starts, “I know I’ve been a dick to you ever since you got here, and I’m sorry, but I can explain.”

At his response, I lean forward with an incredulous stare. “You can explain?” I ask him, only receiving a nod back. After a few seconds, I nod at the arm chair facing my bed where he sits down. Despite face remaining calm, his bobbing foot and wrestling hands give his emotions away.

Leaning back against my bed frame, I wait for him to start talking. At least he knows he was a dick to me. It still doesn’t make anything better though. The never ending glares and constant scoffs at anything I had to say has been wearing on me ever since we first met. Not to mention the slight heartbreak I felt because of it all.

“One told me what happened to you when you first got here. The ex-boyfriend, the guy trying to kill you, everything. A-and for some reason, I felt this need to protect you - I can’t explain it, and I sure as hell have never felt it before,” The more Four speaks, the more I listen. I even find myself lost in his words - words I never thought I’d hear from him.

“But to see you so sad over losing your ex like that after the shit he put you through, it just… I guess it stirred something in me,” For a moment, Four pauses as his eyes flicker from me to the floor of the small trailer I call home. Meanwhile I feel my heart sink slowly to the pit of my stomach as I realize Four has it all wrong. Completely wrong.

“So, I drew myself away from you. And I know it’s wrong; and I’m so sorry I did.”

When Four finishes speaking, his eyes don’t move as time passes by us slowly. In a few moment’s time, my body seemingly takes control as I move to sit on the edge of the bed, my hands finding their way in between Four’s. At this, he quickly looks back up at me, his green eyes filled with something I can’t exactly explain. Maybe its or worry, I don’t know. Whatever it may be, I just hope he’s willing to actually listen to me for a change.

“Four, I never missed my ex, nor was I ever sad about him,” I correct him, causing his brows to furrow together in confusion. “In fact, it was quite the opposite. When One found me and brought me here, I realized how stupid I had been to follow my ex so haphazardly and I was so upset with myself. You don’t realize how long I’ve spent trying to get over that, and it’s so hard,’

At this point, I’m trying to hold myself back from crying, but in a moment of comfort, Four squeezes my hand, somehow ensuring me it’s okay. “I have had no one to talk to about this either. So, the only thing I’ve been able to come up with is ‘you live and you learn’,” Shaking my head, I turn my head away. “I never thought he’d put me in a predicament like that - ever - and I’m so afraid of being hurt like that again.”

Before I realize what’s happening, Four has moved onto the bed with me, his arms wrapped tightly around me while my face rests against his t-shirt clad chest. It surprises me for a second before I’m melting at his touch. I never thought this kind of moment would ever happen, but I couldn’t be more thankful for it happening right now.

“Sometimes, we’re betrayed by the ones we trust the most; our ride-or-dies,” Four murmurs to me, his voice soothing me. “I know exactly how you feel, but baby,” Reluctantly, Four pulls away from me, only to wipe away my tears. “It makes us stronger, it made you stronger, and I think this strength is what makes you so damn powerful, more powerful than you’ve ever been… and you should be thankful because you came out victorious.”

Once Four’s words process through my mind, I feel myself taking his words as the truth. He’s right.

Smiling, I nod. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I mutter, gaining a smile back from him for once. The simple gesture sends a fuzzy feeling through me, and it feels good to not be followed up by any heartache.

With a small chuckle, I sigh. “I guess we got off the wrong foot then, huh?” I chide, making Four laugh as well.

“Yeah, I think we did,” He agrees, staring at me with those mossy orbs again. “Why don’t we start over, yeah?”

Smiling even more, I nod.

“Hi,” Four starts, holding his hand out to me. “I’m Billy. It’s nice to meet you.”

A quick wave of surprise washes through me at the realization of his real name, but it’s soon replaced by happiness.

“Hi,” I start the same way he did, “I’m (Y/n). It’s nice to meet you too,” placing my hand in his, I watch his face show the same reaction mine had seconds ago. “I think were going to be great friends.”

“I think so too,” Billy states, his smile remaining. Once again, its as if time halts and my body takes control once more followed by Billy’s. Soon, our lips meet and euphoria spreads between us like a tidal wave, flowing through the touch of our skin.

Great friends indeed.

[uncpanda]

The Ties that Bind: Omnivore

AN: This is the start of The Reaper/ Foyett Arc! I'm going to post these chapters consecutively. One a night at 6pm EST and there will be five parts total. Enjoy!

Master List

You’re fast asleep when your phone starts ringing. It’s become a habit, since you’ve moved to DC, to keep the ringer on when Spencer and Aaron are away on a case. You never know when one of them is going to call and you usually get texts while they’re gone. They very rarely call you in the middle of the night. So when your phone rings, with Sharp Dressed Man, Aaron’s designated ringtone, which he hates, you jolt awake.

You make a mad grab for you phone and manage to answer right before the last ring, “Who’s dead?”

“A bus full of people.” Aaron’s voice is rough, as though he’s been crying.

Your mouth opens and closes several times as you situate your pillows and sit up in bed. “The answer I was looking for is no one. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Sorry.”

You take a deep breath, “No. I’m sorry. This obviously isn’t the time for a joke. What happened.”

“We’re in Boston. Did Spencer tell you why?”

“Yes.” And it made your gut clench. You remember reading about that particular killing spree back in college. You’d been twenty two at the time, in your senior year of college, while Spencer was finishing up his first doctorate and planning his second. The killings had barely been a blip on your radar, you’d spared a thought about how horrible they were, and then moved on to what had to be done. This time however, two people you cared about, a lot, were going head to head with the bastard.

“The lead detective on the case ten years ago was offered a deal by the reaper. If they stopped hunting him he would stop killing. The detective took. The deal ended when he died. Three hours ago, I got a call from the reaper and was offered the same deal. I hung up on him.”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “And he killed a bus full of people.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re blaming yourself.”

“Despite a less than stellar pep talk from Dave, yes.”

“Do I want to know?”

There’s a humorless laugh, “No.” You read inbetween the lines, whatever Dave said would make you want to hit him. You stay silent for a moment, and it’s enough time that Aaron asks, “You’re not going to tell me it isn’t my fault?”

“No. Rationally, you know that. You know you can’t save everyone, and you know that you’re not responsible for the actions of a mad man. Emotionally though? I imagine you’re a mess. You’re probably replaying the conversation in your head, wondering if you hadn’t hung up on him if maybe he wouldn’t have killed more people? You’re wondering what would have happened if you’d taken the deal. You’re obsessing over every detail and you’re mad.”

This time he’s the one who’s quiet for a moment before saying, “We may have become too close. You’ve gotten too good at reading me.”

“I can read two people in this world Aaron. You and Spencer. You guys can read everyone else. Seems like a fair trade off to me.”

“I suppose.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“Not unless you can tell me who The Reaper is.”

You sigh into the phone, “Sorry, my crystal ball is currently broken.”

“Understandable. Can we get dinner when I get back?”

“Sure. There’s a new Thai place I want to try, and Spencer absolutely refuses to go.”

“Sounds good. Go back to sleep. And thanks for answering the call.”

“Anytime.”

You hang up and go check to make sure your windows and door are locked before falling back asleep. You don’t hear anything from Spencer or Aaron over the next twenty four hours. You assume they’re alive, but you’re not a hundred percent sure. When you reach hour thirty six you call an old friend. You meet him at the usual spot, a cafe downtown where the two of you usually talk and people watch.

You get there five minutes late and find him out on the patio with a cup of coffee. You slide into the chair across from him and the accusation flies, “You’re late.”

You shrug your purse off your shoulder, “Five minutes. And what do you care? You’re retired.”

Gideon smiles at you, “Exactly. You don’t know how much time I have left.”

“You’re not even seventy. You’re in good health. And you no longer work a life threatening job. I think you’ll be okay.”

He rolls his eyes, as the waitress drops by with a cup of hot chocolate. You give him a look and he shrugs, “You drink too much caffeine.”

You don’t argue with that. The two of you sit in silence and watch people go by for over ten minutes before he says, “You’re distracted.”

“You can take the profiler out of the FBI but you can’t take the profiler out of the man.”

“Talk to me.”

You shake your head, while training your eyes on a woman and her dog. You scowl when she tosses a wrapper on the sidewalk, “It would break the rules.”

“Which rule.”

“The no talking about the FBI or your former team rule.”

He leans back in his chair, “I didn’t even know we had rules.”

“I made them up.”

“Share them with me next time. This time break the rule.”

You turn away from the people and towards Gideon, “Did you see the Boston Reaper is back?”

“Unfortunately.”

“The BAU is there and trying to do what they do, but he’s taunting Aaron. Apparently he offered the old lead detective a deal ten years ago, that if he stopped hunting him, he’d stop killing. The detective took it.”

Jason scowls, “I always knew something was going on. That case . . .it was . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

“He offered the same deal to Aaron. Aaron turned him down, and then the Reaper killed a bus full of people. He’s blaming himself.”

Gideon’s brow furrows for a moment, “Of course Hotch is blaming himself. He’s a perfectionist. I blame his father. What I’m more interested in is you calling him Aaron. Very few people actually do that.”

“We’re friends.”

He smiles, “How the hell did that happen?”

“He and Spencer went to visit a serial killer in prison. The serial killer planned the visit so he could kill two FBI agents without interference to stall his execution. Aaron might have been ready to throw down but Spencer talked him down. I went there to yell, and instead I found someone who needed a friend.”

“Your teacher side is showing.”

“I know.”

“You hang out a lot?”

You clasp your hands in your lap, “He has somehow become my best friend.”

Gideon smiles, “You’re going to have to push. Get him into therapy so he doesn’t become like me. So he doesn’t become the job. You’re going to have to demand to be in his life even when he doesn’t want you there, and he’s stubborn. But you . . .you’re persistent and even more stubborn and you like to collect wounded birds.”

Your brow furrows, “What?”

He sits up a big straighter, “You identify with people like you. People who have been left behind, who don’t have anyone. You started with your brother, I’d guess a few friends in high school and college, you did it with me, and now you’re doing it with Hotch.”

You suck in a breath through your nose, “Is that bad?”

His bottom lip juts out slightly, “Not anymore, I don’t think. With Joel you learned to be selfish. You learned to take something for yourself even if Spencer didn’t like it. You regressed a bit when you left California and came here. This is you being selfish again, and it’s good. Yes, you care about me and Hotch and want to help us and the other friends you’ve made but you’re not supporting us one hundred percent, and you let us care about you too. You wouldn’t have let people take care of you when you were younger. You had a point to prove.”

“Me being friends with Aaron is selfish?”

He nods, “And with me.”

“Explain please.”

“Does Spencer know that you and I talk regularly, that I keep tabs on him through you? Does he know you and Hotch are friends?”

“No.”

“Because you know he won’t like it. He wouldn’t like you hanging out with me because he’d want to do it too but can’t because I can’t have any part of the BAU back in my life. And he isn’t good at sharing you. Never has been. He used to complain about Joel all the time. Which turned out to be warranted, but I’ve also heard him complain about your high school boyfriend too and how much of a douche he was.”

“Spencer loved Bryan right up until he saw me kiss him. He freaked out after that.”

“He was scared of losing you. Still is on some level. You’re the only person who has consistently been in his life. I only made things worse. The best thing I did when I left was saying goodbye to him in person and that’s only because you made me. He won’t be happy when he finds out you and Hotch are friends or even more than friends,” you blush at that, “He’ll probably freeze you out for a few days. But he’ll get over it. Especially when he sees that you’re truly happy.”

You take a deep breath, “Aaron and I are only friends.”

“For now. But when he’s had some more time with the divorce, and when you pull your head out of your ass you’ll realize that you two . . . well I’d have to see you together to be certain, but something tells me you’d make a good match.”

You sit with that information and the two of you return to people watching.

On your way home you get the text from Aaron, ‘Just landed. Can I come over?’

Your response is simple, “Absolutely.”

Aaron is waiting by the door when you get there. He looks fairly worse for ware. He’s leaning on the door and it seems to be the only thing holding him up, “I don’t have any scotch. Only wine and tequila.”

His lips quirk, “I’ll settle for pizza and beer.”

“I think I can handle that.”

You nudge him to the side, and unlock the door. The two of you enter and you ask, “You have your go bag.” He nods, “Go change into your pajamas. I’ll order the food.” He doesn’t argue. By the time he comes back out in sweatpants and a tee-shirt the pizza is on the way. You watch him for a moment. “You want to talk about it?”

“Foyett escaped and I feel like a failure.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, “You caught him Aaron. And you said yourself, he’s incredibly intelligent. You couldn’t have done anything else.”

He swallows, “Rationally I know that but . . .”

“Can I make a recommendation?” He nods, “Make an emergency appointment with your therapist. Like ASAP. They’ll be able to help you process this, come to terms with it.”

He studies you for a second, “I’ll call first thing in the morning, and make the appointment.”

You nod in acceptance, “So, war movie or sitcom?” When he smiles at the question, you know he’ll be okay. And the fact that he sleeps over on your couch and that fills your belly with butterflies is something that you rigorously ignore all while Gideon’s words from that afternoon echo in your head.

[jiminrings]

I REQUEST A SOFT BADBOY DRABBLE WITH SHY READER AND HES TEASING HER BUT SOMEONE ELSE JOIMS IN AND THEYRE DOING IT TO BE MEAN BUT HES LIKE STFU BEFORE I PUMCH UR FACE ONLY IM ALLOWED TO BULLY SHY READER GRR 😡😡😡😡 and soft readers like 0.o but *squeals incoherently* 😭😭😭😭

last name, jeon.

drabble week: day two

drabble week masterlist

pairing: badboy!jungkook x shy!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "can't you tell that i really don't want you to be here?"

notes: a tiny change on the plot!! also: frat boy!jimin from day four makes an appearance :D

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“do you wanna form-“

... yes

you DO have an alliance with jungkook

it's a very fair trade honestly

he pretends to be your boyfriend!! there's no specific boundaries to it, but he springs into action as soon as you're put into an inconvenience

in exchange, you whore him out to your friends!!! :D

no but literally that's how he called it

the whole reason this came to be in the first place is because you hATE confrontation with a burning passion

especially when it comes to those "i have a crush on you" moments that people spring on you all of a sudden

you don't like them back!!! that's the truth!!! but the problem is that you aLWAYS feel guilty letting people down

you obviously don't have the obligation to like someone back just because you sit next to them in class :// IT'S JUST IN YOUR NATURE TO FEEL THAT WAY

you wouldn't get into a relationship with said confessor to ease your guilt, clearly

do you plan on denying their advances? yes

but hOW????

you always take the passive-aggressive approach

you get jungkook to carry your bag and hold your hand, walk in front of said person and pretend not to see them, jungkook makes sURE to put some snide eye contact in there aaaaand the whole ordeal is finished :D

you've managed to let someone down slowly without having to speak to them in-person!!!

jungkook comes more handy than that too

you take him when you want to eat out because you're too anxious to eat alone

you take him when you want to go somewhere in which lining up is essential and you're also too anxious to stand by yourself

you take him when you want to go shopping when there's a sale but you're almost always intimidated by the barrage of people and salespeople so he asks and answers the questions for you

jungkook, in hindsight, is the perfect fake boyfriend for you <3

ALSO jungkook wants something from you

"whore me out to the girls from the families your family's friends with, and it's a deal :D"

that alliance and exchange is going pretty well so far

you mAY be on the more-reserved side but that doesn't mean you're self-aware!!!

you know that your parents are loaded and your shy nature could be somehow chalked to that since you didn't really have anyone that wasn't as non-superficial as you'd like, since they were the overprotective helicopter two-rotor seven-blade parents :(((

jungkook, however, is the only constant you have in your formula

you've known him since childhood and have been friends ever since

his mom's your mom's personal assistant, and one day when mrs. jeon couldn't find a babysitter for jungkook, your mom didn't hesitate to let four-year old jungkook come with her to work

jungkook's your fIRST actual friend that hates gold spoons with you because of how tacky they look :-) he's your emotional support person basically

your emotional support person who was sO close to running late from picking you up during his free day >:( you were about to break into a sprint if he arrived a second later, because you managed to spot a jock coming to you from the corner of your eye awhile ago

You Do Not Like Him <3

"and i even changed into a short-sleeved shirt to ward off your suitors. how romantic of me, don't you think?"

now that he mentions it, it's only now when you can drink him in in full-display

... wow

his right arm's the only one with his tattoos while his left's completely blank, but something about the balance just makes you !!!!!!!! even more

his arm's not completely covered but it was coming to be, something about the blank spaces of skin that are yet to be inked being a nice touch

"very romantic, kook."

now tHAT'S the answer he wanted to hear

he forcibly on your helmet for you to showcase, your grunts of annoyance being drowned out by whistling

(he's even looking left and right and making eye contact with anyone who has their eyes landing on you!!!!)

your cheeks smushed is a look he'll never be tired being in awe of, but he'll never tell you that, of course

"do you ever wonder if your parents would kill me if i misplace even a single hair on you?" jungkook thinks out loud and you don't even flinch with how sudden his thoughts could be, sitting on his seat first so it'd already be balanced when you do, "you sure you’re okay riding with me?? on a motorcycle????"

he usually uses yOUR family's vehicles (they let him and insisted he just takes one at this point) but when you called him, he was en route to kim kradle (it's a one-stop vehicle shop apparently) to get new rims for his motorcycle, bUT NOT ANYMORE HE GUESSES????

you come first compared to the booking he's waited on for three weeks

"i have insurance, i think."

no that's the wrong answer

why did you even bother.,,.,

jungkook flicks your nose because your forehead's protected by the helmet, his face contorted in half faux frustration

"you were supposed to be mad at me for asking that — not logical!! don't even joke about that."

"... my life insurance? like, in the instance that i-"

oW THAT HURT

he flicked even harder this time!!!

you roll your eyes at him and it doesn't go unnoticed, a hand outstretching instead of his fingers flexing

“wallet, please.”

????

jungkook's surprised that you even look confused, this time rolling his eyes at you

“you rolled your eyes at me. you need to bribe me so i won’t rat you out.”

right

he has a never-ending knack for the you're rich jokes

you also know that he likes the cold and would turn the fan on even if it's too hot for a blanket, just because he wants to feel cocooned

you also know that he picks from the fourth row of drinks from the front because it's always been a habit

("the germs cling on to the first row!!!")

you also know that maybe, just maybe, you can't stand it tonight when he's putting himself out there instead of being your faux boyfriend

you keep on zoning out and hoseok, perhaps the only tolerable fellow rich kid you can tolerate within your circle, finally connects the dots in his head and snickers

he's been talking about finding the vintage sneakers he's always wanted on depop and how he almost got scammed for like tWENTY minutes already

in reality, all your nods and scowls aren't towards his story

it's to jungkook and... who's that? jihye whose dad is so colossally shitty, that this one rapper wrote a diss song for him? oh yeah, that jihye

"you like him. like actually 'lose your virginity to him' love him."

WHAT???

there's no way

"how did you-"

"you blush like one."

alright that answer was too quick

hoseok should've ATLEAST tried to wait for a few seconds before answering

"a-and the love part?"

"babe, jungkook may not be the richest one here and that should say a lot," you peer up at him nervously and he actually chuckles, peering to everyone at this function, "dude's humble — he could also just be dense to not see you love him."

okay very true

hobi's making a dig rn at how jungkook coinicidentaally happens to be blonde and maybe this is your cue to leave

hobi does not realize that his hair is aLSO dyed blonde while talking shit about jungkook and his hari

okay this is it

once again, you are NOT listening to hoseok and he's figured out what you're doing by now

you're psyching yourself up with a couple of shots and your heels are digging on the carpeted ballroom

MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TO BE MORE OUTGOING!!

"pretend to wobble. it doesn't help that nothing can sink you."

oh okay makes sense

if you're gonna try and charm jungkook while trying to play it off as just being tipsy playfulness, atleast make it believable

hoseok snickers because this is just A+ content with the things that you choose to do in your way

shy girl with high alcohol tolerance mannn coming of age film writers would LOVE you ://

you're about to cross the distance between you and jungkook, but something knocks you on your shoulder with a gentle force that seemed intentional

is that-

hold on a second

"what a coincidence :O"

jimin?

jimin???

as in, wholesome yet slightly fuckboy-ish frat guy jimin???

he looks dashing and composed, meeting your eyes perfectly and he doesn't let your confusion startle him

"i know that look. what am i doing here?"

he says it eloquently as if he's practiced it

AND HE DID!!!

you must've looked so shocked that you immediately apologized, shaking your head no

"i-i didn’t mean-..."

you're confused, sure, but that doesn't mean you're immediately judging

it's just that you never saw jimin here or any function of the like, but you wouldn't put it past him if he does go to these things!!! he looks like a million dollars anyways

"relax, doll. you’re so far the only other person i know that i've seen in these type of things."

he looks calm and collected, but maybe that's just because he spent the last five minutes waiting for you to stand so he could bump into you

this place is just sO suffocating and a familiar face is gonna be his relief from something so fancy that it became mundane

"have we been in the same event before this?"

"not that i recall, no. i get invited but this is only the first time after awhile that i went."

jimin drinks from his champagne flute, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, "wanna know why i'm here?"

you're curious!!! what can you say!!!!

you never really interacted with jimin at all before this, but a familiar face like his is comforting

because hoseok's already engaged in another conversation and jungkook's,,,, being jungkook and is fawning all over jihye

jimin chuckles at your insistent nodding, leaning closer to whisper to your ear

"my stepdad’s loaded as fuck."

oh so that's why

he tugs you down to sit at the nearest possible empty chairs, all its occupants gone anyways because they're in the dancefloor busting tRULY horrendous moves

maybe it's because jimin feels lonely too like you are, and it's him feeling comfortable because he's pulled you like ten seconds ago and not once asked him anything out of bounds

maybe that's why he fell into conversation with you easily because you're always intently listening

"might love me as a real son too. maybe that’s a bonus? you don’t really expect that shit in the things you see."

this situation is actually pretty cute

you snort because maybe you’re nOT that shy when you drink,, that’s the only thing that changes in you probably

this whole conversation that sprung from boredom was unknowingly the subject of many stares, including jungkook who you were initially supposed to go to

“you’re worthy of love, jimin.”

:O

jimin sPITS his drink because where the fuck did THAT come from???

why did you say that and why does he feel that he needed to hear that

“i-i think — i think you need more,” he raises his own glass to your lips hurriedly, caught in surprise but you still gulp nonetheless

“you’re-“ you keep sputtering as he keeps making you drink, but he rubs circles on your back at the same time and it's when you realize that jimin the frat guy may not be that bad, “what??? don’t think you’re not the only one with daddy issues! shouldn’t we have like, a radar for each other?”

jimin snorts at your counter and his eyes crinkle to the point where he can't see anything, not being able to see how you're still trying to recover with all that fizz down your throat

wow ur really enjoyable to talk to

“you’re insane and i think-“

listen

you're not really big on feeling beyond a sense and all that stuff, but you feel as if the aura around you just got dark all of a sudden

"who are you calling insane?"

jungkook appears at your side in an instant, hands wrapped around your shoulders while you remain seated

you've honestly forgotten that you were supposed to go to jungkook, but you're reminded of that vERY clearly now

"go away, jimin," he mutters through his teeth, looking at him dead in the eye

hold on

wait

THAT'S JIMIN???

okay now he's confused

sometimes jungkook's mouth just moves on its own without loading the thought process

"why are YOU here?"

jimin furrows his brows, shocked that he'd even see jungkook here out of all people

the guy barely even attends classes!!! and that's coming from him!!

"why’s he here?"

he crouches to your ear, eyes still furrowed at the younger guy

"long story."

nO???

jungkook scowls bitterly because jesus fuck

YOU’RE ON WHISPERING TERMS NOW????

he left for one second, and the moment he comes back, that's when this fucking frat guy approaches you?? was he waiting on him to leave??

you and jungkook only act as a couple when the need arises, and even if you don't feel it, hE feels that this is the need!!! this is the need and it is arising!!!

"get back to uh, alpha bravo charlie or something, park. beat it."

why’s he reciting the nato phonetic alphabet???

jungkook sounds half-angry and half-sad at the same time, and you don't know which side should you focus on

“move,” he repeats this time again but more sternly, making jimin much more confused since jungkook's trying to pull him away from his seat

jimin doesn't budge and it makes the frown even more evident in jungkook's face

what is he FEELING

“can’t you tell that i really don’t want you to be here?”

“i’m not here for you, though. i’m here for y/n.”

he answers honestly, shis gut telling him that there's definitely something going on between the two of you

“y/n doesn’t want you here," kook argues back surely, only noticing your bitten lips now that makes him realize that you're not exactly sober; just a happy kind of rush

he sees you raise your hand timidly, an equally cheeky smile on your face that's only directed to jungkook like it's meant for him

"i-i actually don’t mind."

you don't,,,

you don't mind?

HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

why aren't you signaling him to commence the faux boyfriend act!!

"y/n has a boyfriend."

“... i’m not hitting on her.”

alright this is more than the entertainment that jimin wished for lol

“yeah, well she has a boyfriend still so beat it.”

you do??

the last time you checked, jihye's gonna have jungkook as her boyfriend within the night!!

“i don-“

ALRIGHT THEN

jimin decides to indulge jungkook, knocking his knee with yours as he winks slyly, urging you silently to watch on, turning to look at you and ask

“what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

you don't answer.

that gives him all the more reason to do so.

“last name, jeon.”

jungkook looks the most determined you've ever seen him, eyes characteristically angry with his arms across his chest that his suit tightens, “first name, me.”

....

......

the three of you know that’s not the truth

jimin takes it in, sighing when he sense that something else is about to be unfold and he does noT want to be a part of it

not before whispering to your ear again for the last time, of course

“pretty weird name if you ask me,” you laugh automatically, momentarily forgetting that jungkook's standing by you on just your opposite side and could hear you

he leaves and that only leaves you with jungkook, looking up at him as he's too frantic to even sit

“what are you doing?”

“being a social butterfly," you quip just as fast, drinking your water afterwards

jungkook only clenches his jaw by then, being taken-aback when you speak again

“who are you doing?”

://

“i’m busy being mad at- wait a minute, WHO???”

who instead of what??

the short-lived enthusiasm you had with jimin left with him, crashing just as hard when you're reminded of jungkook's presence

“jihye’s a pretty nice girl. you should go home early tonight.”

his brows furrow, trying to get you to look at him but you avoid his gaze insistently, “what? what are you talking about?”

“she’s not my girlfriend though.”

you're not at all satisfied with the answer because it sounds so wrong, knowing that jungkook's a handsome guy and everyone wants to be with him!!!

and he probably wants to be with everyone else besides you.

“then who-...”

“don’t know yourself anymore? jimin must’ve really swept you off your feet, huh?”

jungkook huffs as he qualifies for a rebutt, your internal wallowing being cut short

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

...

....

“well would you look at that,” jungkook snickers, sighing through his nose as your eyes finally meet his, directly stubborn yet soft around the edges

“she’s not my girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend. what a coincidence.”

god did he feel so threatened the moment his eyes couldn't find you besides hobi and instead next to jimin, eyes crinkled in laughter without hesitation

have you been chasing after one another this whole time?

jungkook silently grabs you by the hand and you wave no opposition to it

maybe it's your liquor-influenced vision or maybe it's you hyperfixating on such a warm moment, but your eyes immediately lock to see the matching red thread bracelet he wore like yours

you're dressed in next year's spring collection line, and the structured silk black gown that has a train behind it doesn't exactly scream to have a simple red thread bracelet as its accessory according to your mom's designer and everyone else —

but you don't have the heart to take it off

there's no need to take it off

jungkook drives your car and no one says a single thing about anything

his hand’s on your thigh and you don’t question it, eyes locking into the way his hand looks perfect and the way the bracelet looks meant to be wrapped in his wrist in the first place

you're sure this time that it's not the newfound courage you have, but rather the need to do it

you kiss jungkook's cheek on a red light.

it's on a red light that jungkook realizes he could fit the visage of his world within one hand, finally kissing you like he's always wanted to

“yeah. what a coincidence.”

[struggling-with-time]

The Man That Is Wilbur Soot [Wilbur Soot x reader]

Paring: c!Wilbur Soot x Gender neutral!reader

Summary: Inspired by the Song Honey Honey by ABBA aka I took the line "I'd heard about you before I wanted to know some more"

Warnings: Fluff?

Words: 3.4K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Event Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: This was made for my ABBA event. Check it out here! (Also requests are still open! Click here!) btw, this was supposed to be like 1k

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You had heard about Wilbur Soot before. Everyone had heard about Wilbur Soot the President of L’Manberg. The guy who stood up to the Tyrant Dream of the SMP. And came out victorious, unlike the others whose life has been lost to the Tyrant, and their names to the passage of time.

You can’t say, he didn’t intrigue you enough, for you to set out on the dangerous journey that is crossing the SMP. Because he did. His country did. The ideals that you’ve heard about did. Everything intrigued you enough to leave your village behind and track into the world.

So that’s what you did, backpack on your shoulders, map in hand. You set into the big world, on the tracks to the dangerous country that the SMP is. You barely get out of the village before you are able to hitch a ride.

It’s a merchant that is headed for one of the villages closer to the border. It’s a bigger village than your own. The name rings a bell, maybe a traveller has mentioned it when passing by. So you hitch the ride, he tells you about his trades. He’s a merchant of fabrics, listing many places you haven’t even heard of. But there is one that catches your attention.

“You’ve been to L’Manberg?”

“Before it became independent yes.”

“Tell me about it!”

And the merchant does, for the entirety of the ride. He talks about the few people that resided there when he passed through the back then settlement. You beg him to tell each detail he can remember. And he happily provides. You take note of every you hear in your notebook. Your travel journal. Your… well diary.

He’s a good man, you note to yourself when he pulls into the bigger villages. The sun on the horizon.

You’re much further than you thought you would be on your first day.

This is going to be a good trip.

---

This is going to be a horrible trip.

You’ve been wandering for days, the closer to the border of the SMP, the fewer carts had come by, and even fewer willing to take a traveller with them.

You sigh as you watch the sun starting to set, and you are forced to make camp once more. It has been days since you last slept in a bed. To be exact 16 days. You had only managed to stay in an inn for the first night, realising your small amount of money wouldn’t get you far if you spent it all on beds.

You are reminded of the people whom you met that first night, a girl who talked about how President Soot had come by the town in his own travels to the SMP, and she had met him. No not just met him. She had spent the night with him.

And you just couldn’t help yourself, you had to quill your curiosity somehow, so you had once again asked for details, and she had provided.

The fire you get going is better than the last one. Not that the last one had ever turned into a fire. It had rained in the morning, and most of the wood you could find yesterday was still wet by the time you wanted to settle down.

But today, you had been lucky, it had been sunny all day, leading to being able to find dry sticks and a couple of pieces of logs. That you could make into a fire.

A clear stary night over your head as you turn in for the night. Hoping to get at least a couple of hours out of the fire to keep you warm. And to keep the mobs away. Knowing you still have a couple of days of wandering left before you will reach the borders of the SMP. You sigh as you jolt down the few interesting pieces of the day in your notebook.

Not that anything of importance actually happened. But maybe out there someone would read your notebook and find the fact that you saw a parrot in a birch forest be found interesting.

---

You have under half a day of walking left when a cart is willing to pick you up. Turning the hours of walking into a mere hour in the cart. You can feel yourself squirm in your seat as the silence falls upon you and the woman who picked you up.

“…So… Why are you heading to the border?”

She lets you sit in silence.

Rude much?

But… You can’t really call her rude, she was nice enough to pick you up and take you to the border. Where she very unceremoniously dropped you off, and headed off east, seemingly following the border never crossing it. She was… weird.

You instead tighten your back, and head over to the guarded tollbooth. A man looking bored out of his mind and close to sleep sits there. Not even having registered the cart that was there moments ago.

How often do people come through here?

The thought crosses your mind. You know it isn’t one of the main border entrances. You know of one that lies further west. But still, a good 2 to 3 days travel away. Besides you’re pretty sure someone told you the toll at the busy entrances is higher than the ones people rarely use.

But now that you are here and can read the price yourself. It seems the person had either lied to you, or the price at the main entrances are a lot higher than you could ever think about paying.

An idea strikes you, maybe… Just maybe… The guard will fall asleep. Just maybe. You linger on the side of the road. Seemingly interested in the plants nearby. You start jotting down stuff in your notebook. Taking note of the size of the leaves, the colour. You mumble the information to yourself.

Your eyes keep glancing over, as his head slumps down further and further.

It barely takes you a few more minutes of stalling before the guard is full-on snoring. You barely catch yourself nearly letting out a sound in victory.

Silent. Right. No noise.

You can do this. You can sneak past him. You can be silent.

You suck in a breath, as you start moving as slowly as you’ve ever done in your life. Hoping to the sky gods the slowness helps you with being silent. And it does, to some extent. But your backpack still rustles around, and the loose stones on the pathway still skirt across the dirt.

But he keeps sleeping, and before you know it, you’ve managed to sneak past him. Sneak into a country. You did it!

You decide your celebration is best celebrated far from here, and you make your way on the now stone path.

---

It takes you a couple of days before you hit your first village. You’re surprised by this. Normally there is a city around half a days’ time from most border crossings. But this is the SMP. The fact that its citizens aren’t exactly allowed to leave. Is more than public knowledge in other countries. They are under the rule of a Tyrant after all.

You figure it’s time to sleep in a real bed, you deserve it.

You head straight into the in, it’s barely past lunch, but there is a plentiful of people in there already. You stumble a bit at the sight, you had expected a couple of patrons, not a room full of people. But nonetheless, you make your way to the bar.

Conversations bustling around you, a waiter running around, and either the innkeeper themselves behind the bar, or just a barkeeper. You aren’t exactly sure. But you wave them down anyway. Maybe she can help you find the innkeeper and ask for a room.

“Well, hello there, you look exhausted.” Your shoulders sink further down at the comment. Did you really look that bad?

“I was wondering if you had a room I could rent?” you ignore the rude comment and stick to politeness.

“I figured.”

“… So um… Do you have a room free?” You try once again.

“Sorry hun, but if you hadn’t noticed we are full right now.” You completely deflate at the answer. In return, she takes pity on you. “But if you ask around over at the stables, someone might let you on as a passenger and take you to the next city. It’s half a day by cart, so you might just catch one if you’re fast.”

You beam up that answer, profusely thanking her, before running back into the street. Before realising you have no clue where the stables are.

It takes you two people, and three wrong turns to find the stables. And nobody is preparing any carts when you get there. Just a guy saddling his own horse.

Ah well, it never hurts to ask.

You approach the guy.

“Hi!”

He looks a bit confused when you stand across from him, on the other side of the horse.

“Um… good evening?”

You smile at him.

“Can I help you?” He speaks slowly.

“Ah yes! Sorry! I’m a bit out of it. I’m trying to get to the next town over.” You happily tell him.

“And you’re telling me this because…” He trails off. Leaving time for you to answer, instead, you leave him hanging. Until he coughs.

“Because…” He repeats.

“Because I was thinking, maybe you were heading that way.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I can pay…” You try.

“Well then, why didn’t you start with that.” He looks you and your baggage up and down twice before clicking his tongue. “We can make this work. Do you know how to hold on?”

You nod, and he settles onto his horse, waiting for you to do the same. You manage to hoist yourself up and onto the horse. It doesn’t even flinch at the added weight. You’re thankful to the sky gods for that.

He rides the two of you out of town and onto the road for the next town.

“What’s someone like you this far out in the country?”

“I’m a traveller.” You tell him.

“To the border? So you could look at it and head home?” He snorts.

“No no, I’m not from the SMP, I’m just travelling through. I’m headed to L’Manberg.” He snorts once more.

“L’Manberg? That bunch of spoiled brats.”

“Spoiled brats?”

He laughs this time.

“Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“You truly aren’t from these parts.” He comments, and let the conversation fade out after that.

You don’t question the man, instead just pays him as the sun starts to set, and you are once again in an unfamiliar village. At this point, you barely remember the route you used to take in your home from your house to the baker.

Okay, that’s a lie, that is a route that is embedded into your mind, that you could sleepwalk it. For the sole reason that the route had you pass the library. Which was a place you spent a lot of time. Especially after finding out about the interesting man of Wilbur Soot.

Some books portrayed him as a traitor of the SMP, others the hero of the folk. But every single depiction had one thing in common. That he was an interesting enough man for people to want to write about him.

And that made you interested in him. He had started a revolution in a country that wasn’t his. You weren’t sure where he was from. None of the books in your village had mentioned that.

You head into the inn, this time, it’s bustling from evening patrons, but nowhere as lively as the one in the previous town. The reception this time has a separate table. Which you welcome happily. This means you don’t have to cross another sea of half-drunken people you don’t know.

However once again, the inn is full.

What’s going on here?

This one is even larger than the other one and seemingly has fewer patrons. But you take the rejection with a head held high. Thank them for their time, as you head into the now dark streets.

You sit now on a couple of steps, you’re tired, exhausted, and just want to sleep in a bed.

The door opens.

You nearly leave your skin in shock. You had expected the owner to be asleep. Instead, an elderly lady stands there.

“Would you look at that? It seems I have a guest.” She speaks.

“No no, I’m just passing through, I’m sorry I just needed to rest for a moment. I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way!” You ramble on as you scramble from the stone step.

“Nonsense.” She tsks at you. “Come in you poor child.”

She steps back into the house, leaving the door open.

“You coming? Close the door after you, it gets so terrible cold at night.”

You find yourself following her. Closing the door after yourself. You carefully put down your backpack as she ushers you into a seat in the kitchen. Setting a plate of hot steaming soup in front of you. You nearly drool at the sight. You can’t remember the last time you had warm food. Especially not warm homemade food.

You are quick to dig in, and she laughs warmly at you. You feel comfortable here.

“Why were you out in the street this late? That’s no safe place to be.”

You stop the spoon still in your mouth. She laughs once again, but the kind air around her never leaves. You swallow and pull out the spoon.

“I’m making my way to L’Manberg.” You tell her.

“Ah, L’Manberg. I’ve heard about that place. President Soot right?”

“Yes, yes.” You nod at her. “Wilbur Soot.”

“Ah, the Antarctic prince.”

You stop once again.

“The what?”

“The Antarctic Prince?”

You hum.

“Ah my dear, President Soot is the second born of King Philza from the Antarctic Empire.”

You stare at her; this was new information. She laughs once more. You are quick to grab your notebook and write down the new information. How had something this important not been mentioned before? This explains so much to you. And it eagers you even more to continue the trip.

The man of Wilbur Soot only seems to keep getting more and more interesting as each day passes.

The kind lady offers you a bed and a bath.

You are more than happy to receive both. Although you would never admit that to anyone that you could barely recognise yourself in the mirror. And for the second realisation that night. You understood why the innkeepers didn’t want you around.

You’ve never slept as good as you did that night during your travels.

---

You stretch as you can feel the scorching heat of the sun above you. It has been three weeks since you left the kind lady. She had asked for her son to help you move deeper into the country, so you were closer to the border you are desperately trying to reach.

You had travelled with her son for about a week, when he had to start heading more west than south, you had thanked him as much as his mother. But he had brushed you off that having a travelling partner was nice, and that you if came back through he would love to hear stories of the famous L’Manberg and its citizens.

The map you had brought seems to not be well mapped in the SMP. It wasn’t something you were unprepared for, but it did surprise you how little it truly resembled the mapping of the roads.

But a map is a map, and a destination is a destination. So you head onwards.

And onwards…

And onwards…

And onwards…

Sometimes meeting other travellers now that you are deeper in the countries. The nights where you aren’t alone passes faster than the ones where you are.

You hear stories of L’Manberg you have never heard before, and retellings of events but in other perspectives.

It seems a lot of people have a lot of opinions on the small country. But you understand, you too would have a lot of opinions if a city suddenly started wanting independence from its country.

It takes you weeks before you start coming across people who have been near L’Manberg regularly. It gives you a sign of hope. You’re getting closer, your journey is reaching its destination.

---

It’s storming the day you spot the country on the horizon. It’s still storming by the time you reach the country. The SMP toll guard is seemingly nowhere nearby and you pass the border with ease this time. Luckily for you. Or else you would have to explain why a traveller like you didn’t have travel papers.

You had expected to be met with one of the cities of the small country immediately. But it seems they are further from the border. And by further, it takes you an hour at foot-travel to meet the capital of the small country.

The streets are bustling.

That’s when it hits you.

You’ve made it.

You’ve actually made it.

You might look mad, but you let out a laugh right then and there. A laugh of relief. A laugh of victory. A laugh of … being alive.

“Having fun there?”

You turn around, to be met with the eyes of a stranger. A tall brown-haired stranger, nonetheless.

“Yeah, I just… Yeah.” You trail off. You eye him up and down, he’s cute. You put your hand out to present yourself, your name, the country you came from, and the name of the village you used to live in.

“Wilbur Soot, President of L’Manberg.” He returns with a smile. You barely listen to his words. Too captured by his smile. When…

Oh.

Oh, sky gods.

This is the man.

This beautiful human being of a man is the man.

“You alright there?” He asks as he watches you falter for a moment.

“Yes, yes, everything is fine. More than fine actually.” You tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You smile at him, and he smiles back.

“So, what are you doing here? You are an awful long way from home.”

He starts walking, and you fall in step with him.

“I’m here to see the country. I’ve heard a lot about it.” Leaving out the unsaid, I’ve heard a lot about you. He didn’t need to know yet, just how intriguing you found him.

You follow him down the street as he points a couple of things out, a couple of buildings, a couple of people. You listen and stop to note something down a couple of times, and he waits, patiently. Until he leads you to the local inn.

He holds the door open.

“A drink?”

“Yes please.”

He finds the two of you a booth, and you easily fall into conversation.

He asks you about your hometown, you about his.

He asks about your journey, you ask about the revolution.

You continue this game of ping pong. And the further down your drinks you get, the more personal the conversation gets. The less you note down. Yet, the man himself never falters from being the most interesting thing you’ve ever encountered.

And the night moves along, your conversation following.

You don’t really know when his hand landed on your thigh. Or when your lips met his. But suddenly you’re stumbling into a room together.

His touch setting you on fire, and your touch egging him on.

Your head is spinning as your back hits the bed.

Your notebook is lying tucked away safely in your backpack, staying there all the way into midday when you finally wake up. Disorientated, confused, and hungover.

Sitting there in that bed, you can’t help but remember the words of the girl you met the first night. And you can’t help but agree with her. Wilbur Soot surely is a love machine.

You hear rustling beside you, and you turn your head.

He’s awake.

He’s watching.

He’s watching you.

You lazily smile at him.

And at that moment, there is nowhere else you would rather be.

You had heard about him before, and you wanted to know some more.

People later down the line found your meeting story anywhere from boring to fate. But one thing was sure, you entered L’Manberg with one goal in mind. And never left again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-