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redhairedfeistynerd · 3 years

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Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 1

A/N: I'm months behind on everything but here is my piece for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words: 5800+

Part 2 will be up soon!!

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be reposted anywhere.

There’s a muffled humming coming from somewhere under a pile of paperwork and takeout containers on your floor. The sound is constant, piercing, and irritating. Eyes still closed, head pounding from an evening of too much wine and schmoozing, you reached down towards the sounds and ran your hands over the stack, following the vibrations of your phone. Once found, you yanked it away from it charging cord and used every ounce of energy you had, pulling the phone close to your face. Opening one eye a sliver to hide from the light, you read from the bright screen.

Hey, listen, I know we've had our differences the last few years but I think it's time we put all of it behind us. I saw Rosie the other day and asked her how you were doing but she kept it pretty vague. I hope to hear from you soon, even if it's only a text to say you’re doing okay.

Reading over the message a second time, in utter shock that he had the audacity to message you and pissed that he even dare ask your friend about how you were; you decided to turn off your phone and toss it into a pile of clothing on the floor.

What. A. Dick.

Rolling back over into your cozy blanket cocoon, falling back asleep, temporarily pushing away any thoughts of the man from your past.

The message was all but forgotten until later that day when a familiar song came on the radio and you couldn’t help but think about how you had both downed several beers at a pub and sang it at the top of your lungs. Maybe it had been a dream earlier and the text never happened. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, hoping it was all your imagination, you indeed saw that there was a text.

The ever-so-hard to escape blue eyed man, was trying to weasel his way back into your life and you weren't having any of it. Dropping the phone into the bag sitting at your feet, getting up from the desk, shaking out a bit to ease the tension that one tiny text had accumulated.

"Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about him," you repeated the words over and over, hoping to push all thoughts aside. In stocking feet, walking around the small hole you called your office and continued to shake it out. The calm didn’t last as long as you hoped, anger slowly creeping up and out.

"Stupid frikkin guy!! UGH!" The sound of your disgruntled cry, shook you a bit, the frustration clearly coming out louder than expected. "All right, settle yourself down, you can't let him have this sort of pull over you," hoping the self-talk would work, you ran your hand through your hair and walked back to the desk. "Delete it, pretend that you never looked at it and it will go away."

There was no way the struggle going on inside your head would even fathom deleting the text. Truth be told, as much as you cursed and hated the thought of him trying to slide back into your life, there wasn’t a month that went by without a thought of him crossing your mind. A song playing, a Romcom from the 90s, the pizza you both loved so much. Why couldn’t you escape him?

You shot off a quick text to Rosie, curiosity was killing you now, itching inside you, desperate to find out how the hell you had come up in conversation.

Y/N -Word on the street is that you ran into a clown I once knew; I’m curious what was said.”

Rosie: Oh no, he didn’t.

Y/N: He did and it was pathetic

Rosie: It was a super quick interaction. Both of us waiting for a coffee and being friendly. He asked about you almost right off the bat though. It almost rendered me speechless after what happened.

Y/N - So, that’s it? What did you say? Did you tell him how fantastic my life is going and that I probably wouldn’t even remember him?

Rosie: you and I both know, that that’s a load of shit. I’ve had wine nights with you, that man-child has never left that brain of yours.

Y/N Shut up.

Rosie: Really though, it was super quick. I said you were doing charity work and were still in the city, happy and healthy.

Y/N- good to know. I’ll just sit here and pretend his message never happened then. Carry on as usual.

Rosie: see you later this week?

Y/N Definitely, bye babe.

Placing your phone down on your desk, you continued opening your mail: thank you cards for volunteering, appreciation notes from parents and kids, and requests for you to help out at other groups around town. The next month would be hectic, with collecting the many donations from around the city. You had to finish training several new volunteers that would assist with wrapping, delivering, and presenting gifts to the charities and individual families that you helped support during the Winter months.

It became a mechanical process, opening envelope after envelope, that you weren’t paying attention to the return addresses. It wasn’t until you read the first few lines that the letterhead caught your eye and did it burn.

Blue-eyed monster strikes again via his mother.

You knew it wasn’t the case though, his mom, was offering a bursary to some of the kids you helped out and she was reaching out to you and other groups in the city to help.

It didn’t take much to pull your mind from work once you had read the Evans name on the letter. Bits and pieces shifted in your mind; you couldn’t fight it any more today. The letter slipped to the floor and you sat back against your desk, the memories that you had been pushing away, were flooding back.

It all started innocently about three years ago, bumping into one another around town, having several acquaintances that knew each other, and a tendency to make the other smile when the lamest dad jokes were thrown around. His face was incredibly animated and you loved the way his eyebrows would jump up while he spoke, there was mischief behind them that you wanted to discover. Even a quick peek, would ease the curiosity.

You recognized that laugh from across the room of the gallery – full of heart and genuine. Turning around, you spotted Chris mingling with other attendees of the charity event. You were here to help raise money for low-income families in the community that could not afford music lessons or music therapy for their children. The profits from the art sold this evening, would help buy instruments for the school that was set to open the following month. You knew Chris had donated and you had volunteered to help teach the parents with baby's groups every second weekend. It was the least you could do, you had a bit of extra time and needed to give back to the community that helped you and your family out during your childhood.

“How did I know you would be here?”

You must have zoned out thinking about that boisterous laugh that you didn’t see Chris walking over to you. You smiled as he leaned in wrapping one arm around you, a beer being held in his other hand. His smell was intoxicating – a mixture of orange and the woodiness of sandalwood. Would it be wrong if you pulled him closer to take a quick whiff before he pulled away?

He took his time moving back from you, winking as his arm shifted back to his side and lifting the beer to his mouth with the other, take a long sip.

“So, you out here to buy some art?” he asked, taking another drink.

“No, not buying tonight. One of the pieces is mine, I donated it to help out.”

“You have something up for sale here?” He questioned, taking a quick spin around to quickly look at all the art hanging around the gallery. “Which one is yours?”

“Oh, I am NOT telling you that. I think I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one is mine. You can play the role of Sherlock Holmes.”

“Now, that’s just cruel.”

“Cruel? Nah. Mysterious? Yes. Are you up for a little game of 5 questions to help you out? If you can guess which one is mine, then I guess you have bragging rights because I haven’t discussed my art with anyone here. If you don’t figure it out, then I suppose it will be a mystery forever.”

“Oh, I KNOW I’ll be able to figure this out!” Chris says loudly, clapping his hands together and popping each shoulder up and down. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Here’s the deal, you ask me whatever you need to to figure out which one is mine. Obviously, you can’t ask which one is mine as one of your questions. Ready?”

“Ready!” Chris said enthusiastically. He took your hand and brought you to the front of the room to observe the first of the paintings. “Let’s take a quick gander and then I’ll start. How does that sound to you?”

“Whatever you need to do, Evans.”

Chris pulled you from canvas to canvas, still holding your hand as he inspected each piece. “First question. “Did you only use paint for the one you donated?”

“NOPE, next question, Evans!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” he bounced around on the spot and turned his head to quickly glance over the works close to him. “Shit, I guess I should have asked if what you donated was a painting, right?”

You walk a circle around Chris “Is that your question?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

His blue eyes flick quickly to yours before he says, “Ya, actually...ya. That’s what I want to know. Did you submit a painting?”

“Yes, one of my paintings is hanging somewhere in one of these giant rooms.”

“You really don’t think that I’m capable of figuring this out, do you? Ye of little Faith,” he smirked and pulled you to the back of the dark room. “Any reason why it’s so dark back here?”

“Maybe that’s what the artist wanted?”

“Here’s question three then,” he said as he pulled you closer to him, your eyes looking into his as he asked. “Is you painting in the dark room?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

Chuckling, you take hold of his hand and lead him to another section of the gallery. “I don’t want you to miss any pieces, so take a look around here before you ask number three.” He squeezed your hand and looked up, the ceiling adorned with a beautiful piece; birds in flight but as they reached the furthest wall, the began to decay, until only single feathers remained.

“Here’s number three, ready?” He looked to his left where you were nodding your head back. “Did you mainly use your hands for this piece? I mean, instead of brushes or other tools.”

You were silent for a moment before answering, did you want to tell him how much of yourself you had put into this piece? That what the brushes couldn’t do, you did with your hands and arms? “I did. This one needed more than brushes.”

Chris smiled at you, “feel like telling me what else you used?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grabbing a glass of white wine from the tray passing by. “You want a glass?”

Chris held up his bottle, its content revealing that it was still half full. “I think I have a pretty good idea which one is yours, so these last two questions are going to be good.” With two large gulps, he finished up the rest of his beer. “So, what happens when I guess, do I get some sort of prize? Maybe you could paint me or something?”

“If you mean, could I dump a bucket of paint over your cocky head, then, sure!”

Chris burst out laughing, pulling you into him for a squeeze. “I love how you make me laugh and I bet you would actually do that to me. But really, if I do guess, what happens?”

You kept your body close to his, his arm still holding you close as you responded, “what do you think would be suitable prize, Chris? Do you want me to paint something, make you a prince? Maybe something of you and Dodger? Or maybe I could paint your like one of my French girls.”

“I would love one of your pieces, but if I win this, I’d like to take you out. Is that okay with you?”

Your grip tightened around the wine glass, trying not to let it slip to the floor. It was a shock, to hear that this man, one that you had flirted with for months, was asking if you wanted to go out with him.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I... I didn’t expect you to ask me that,” you answered, fidgeting with your hands out of awkwardness.

“It’s ok, you can say no! It’s all right to tell me no.”

“No. No. I’d love that. If you can guess which one is mine, I will gladly go out with you. Dinner, drinks, walk – whatever you like.”

Chris placed his empty beer on the table closest to you. “Ready for my last two questions?”

“As ready as one can be.”

“Is your piece hung on the wall as a landscape?”

“Look at you Evans, you got another one.”

Chris rubbed his hands together, his smile wide and full, clearly showing that he was on a winning streak. “Here’s number four and then I’ll go right to the painting I think, the painting I know it is. Chris walked back and forth in front of you before turning to face you with his last question. You had grabbed another glass of wine and took a sip, waiting for his winning question. “Does your piece use more than black and white? – so many of these photos, sculptures, paintings are very monotone.”

“You’re good Evans and yes, I filled my picture with the rainbow. So, take my hand and show me what the answer to this mystery is.”

His warm hand took your free one and he walked you to one of the side rooms – this room was full of colourful pieces. You could feel the heat flushing across your cheeks and a thin layer of sweat formed at your hairline. Chris stopped and turned towards the back wall and pointed to one of the paintings. “I’m pretty sure this one is yours,” he said with a half-smile. “Am I right?”

You had wished, during those few minutes he had suggested that he take you out, that he would guess which one is yours. But what were the chances with over 40 pieces around you? You tried to keep your body from slouching before you softly answered “No. That’s not mine.”

The happiness in his eyes left quickly once you responded.

“Are you going to tell me which one is yours though?” He asked you eagerly.

“No, I think I’m going to keep that secret to myself. Thanks for the fun, Evans, I should get home. Another day of charity work for me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’d still like to take you out though, will you let me do that, please?”

“I guess we’ll have to see what the future brings,” you replied, giving him a little wink and a squeeze to his hand, you took one last sip of your wine before heading to the coat check.

Chris watched you as you wrapped a scarf around your neck and slipped your arms into the long, wool coat. Walking back over to him and wrapping your arms around him, it was a quick hug and he barely had an arm around you before you were stepping back. With a smile on your face, you turned and stepped out into the night. Chris watched as you turned right and glanced his way, your hand lifting up and into a quick wave. He couldn’t stop smiling and knew he had to see you again.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. You couldn’t get him out of your thoughts and dreams after the encounter at the gallery. He really was something; funny, compassionate, a hard worker, and you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly good looking.

After an event in town and a few drinks later, it was easy as pie, asking him over for dinner. He had initially thought you were pulling his leg.

Chris couldn’t stop laughing. "Oh ya, sure you want me to come over for dinner," laughing at your request and taking a sip of his IPA.

The pink that had flushed across your cheeks when you had shyly asked him was disappearing like an ice cube in hot soup. He picked up on the change immediately and apologized profusely. "I didn't think you were serious! You are serious, right?”

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just dinner," you shrugged. “I don’t see why you would have such a dramatic response to a simple question.” There was an awkwardness now and maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to come over. “Sorry, I thought since we kind of hand a friendship blooming and I tend to invite friends over...”

He took hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest, a big smile across his face. “I'll come by; don’t you worry. Which day this week works for you? I'll be out of state after this week for a bit, so hopefully something the next few days will work for you,” he said, squeezing you a bit before he released his hold on you.

Trying not to be awkward, you responded "This week will definitely work, tomorrow or the next day are open for me."

"Let’s go for tomorrow, okay? Would you like me to bring anything?” Chris smiled

“Be sure to bring the dog, he's the one I'm really inviting.”

"Well, fat chance of me coming by now, I see where your allegiances lie, " he said half closing his eyes and glaring at you in a teasing manner.

"Ok then, just drop the dog off, I'm sure he'll enjoy the feast."

Chris couldn't help laugh at the way you were carrying on with this charade. The half-smile that was currently on your face was one full of mischief and it was something that he had come to enjoy the last few times he had run into you around town. He could see a sparkle in your eyes, something that he didn’t notice before today and it was something, that he could get used to.

“A thought crossed my mind... what exactly would have happened if I had guessed right?”

“Since that didn’t happen, I guess you’ll never know,” you said with a shrug and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You sure like to tease me.”

“What exactly am I teasing you over?”

“The opportunity to be in your presence again,” he replied, a slight blush crossing his cheeks.

Finishing up your drink, you placed the glass back on the cardboard coaster and turned to face him.

“What the hell is THIS?” he asked grabbing at the green monster type thing that was hanging from a lamp in your living room

"That, is a flying frog - one of those weird ass dad gifts - he's always finding these peculiar creatures for me and I can't seem to part with them.

"It's sure ugly"

"You're ugly!” You shouted back at him and burst into the most beautiful smile he had seen cross your face.

"What are you, 12?

"Sometimes,” you replied.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at you and pull you into a quick side hug. "You're a funny one" he feels you squeeze him back softly, a smile crossing his face at the quick interaction.

"I better go take a peek in the oven and make sure everything is baking the way it should. Make yourself cozy, I'll be right back." You looked back to him, pointing at the couches before turning and walking down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning you head back, forgetting to offer him a drink but his long strides had brought him right behind you quickly, almost colliding with your body. He tripped up a bit and moved his hand to your hip to catch himself.

"I want to see what you're up to in here, see what the chef is cooking up.” Chris resting his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you were stirring on the stove.

“You couldn’t sit still and wait for me to come back, did you miss me that much,” you teased.

“I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for a second longer.”

“That is the cheesiest lines, Evans. Does shit like that work for you?”

“What matters is, if it’s working on you. So, is it?”

You hummed, refusing to answer the question and carried on taking care of the food in the oven. Satisfied with how everything looked, you turned the timer back on and offered Chris a drink. Agreeing on wine, you pulled a bottle from the rack, passed the stemless glasses to Chris, grabbed his hand, and lead him back into the other room. Sitting on the larger of your two couches, Chris took a place beside you, taking the bottle from your hand, opening the bottle, and pouring you a generous glass before pouring his own.

“To friendship,” he said raising his glass

“To friendship, good food, and drinks,” you added and brought your glass to his, a quick clink, and sips were taken.

Dinner was ready within the hour and you both continued to chat while enjoying your meal.

“That was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time, thank you”, complimented Chris as he wiped his mouth with the napkin when he had finished his last bite.

The compliment brought the feeling of heat to your face and out of awkwardness you almost knocked your glass over as you reached for the wine.

“Want a refill?” You asked, holding up the second bottle of red that night. “You have good taste in wine, Mr. Evans, this wine is top notch,” you said, looking over the label of the wine he had brought with him.

Chris smirked and slid the glass to his left “I’m glad you think so, I’ll definitely have another. This should probably be the last one though, I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome.” He watched as you poured, your hair falling forward as the wine glass filled. “Cheers, thank you for the invite and many thanks for a delicious meal. You are constantly surprising me with your talents.”

“You aren’t overstaying. I’m enjoying your company and don’t want you to leave yet. Here, let me show you what I’m working on for this year’s event,” you said and pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and slid your finger across the screen. Shifting your body across the cushions toward Chris, you held the phone out towards him.

“What is it you are putting on this year?”

“Another charity event, it’s to help out the single parents that live in the community. I try to donate as much time to charities as possible.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“I want everyone to have a special holiday season, you do it. I see that you donate time and money to charities.”

“I have the means to help and giving back is extremely important to me.” Chris looked through a few more of the photos before placing the phone down next to him on the couch.

Reaching over to take her phone, Chris put his hand over yours and slid closer. “I know you always think I’m joking around with you when I say how much I love seeing you smile but I’m being 100% honest. Your smile is contagious and I feel like it lights up anywhere we are. It’s a beautiful smile and its part of why I’m so attracted to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh shush, you!” you said pushing your hand into his chest, your smile wider than he had seen before. Again, he put his hand over yours and pulled you to him gently with his other hand. He brought you close, enough to hold you against him for a hug. He watched as your eyes tried to find a joke hidden in his face but you quickly realized that there was something else there. You weren’t sure who moved first as your lips met quickly enough that your teeth clacked together and you swore in pain.

“Oh fuck, only I would ruin an almost perfect moment. I’m such an-

He pulled you to his lips again, kissing you softly and trying not to laugh at the look on your face.

“Am I a joke to you, Evans?” you asked, kissing him back on the lips.

“Oh, not at all, I didn’t want to have to explain to people we know how I broke your teeth though. I mean, I could make up some ridiculous story about it, could be fun,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, bringing yourself back up to face Chris and pull him by his shirt towards you and kissing him without any stupid errors. You could taste the wine on him, the sweetness adding to the softness of your kiss. He took the lead, pulling you closer and slipping his tongue delicately across your bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

Your eyes opened when you hear Chris let out a soft moan, not expecting to hear such a sound from him before you could emit one. He did it again and you felt it all the way down your spine and into your soul. Your hands, still in idiot mode, found their way to his hair, and were quickly taking apart his well-coiffed hair by running your hands through it.

“How does your hair smell so damn incredible?

“How do you taste so fucking delicious?

You pulled back, staring him in the eyes “Hmm, maybe you need to taste a bit more, clean that palate of yours,” you teased.

“Are you implying...”

“Not implying, the buffet is open, sir. Dig in.”

Chris’s face went a light shade of red.

“Oh, did I catch you off guard, Casanova?”

“I mean, no... no...’ he stumbled, “OK, fine yes, yes you did.”

“Well, now that you know, let’s get back to business. All right?”

You took control, standing up, taking his hand roughly and leading him to your bedroom.

“I want you to take off my clothing, piece by piece. I want to see it on the floor and,” you said placing her finger on his lips, “no more talking,” you ordered.

“Anything you want,” he whispered into your ear and he ran his tongue down your neck so softly, that goosebumps raised over yours arms. His hands wandered from your shoulders and down your arms, taking hold of your hands and moving them to his belt buckle.

Looking up to him, he nodded, silently urging you. Undoing the belt and still staring into his eyes. Moving to unzip his jeans and push the button away, Chris was unzipping the back of your dress, the cool line of metal touching your back as he drew the zipper down the length of your back.

“You have goosebumps, do I need to warm you up?

“I’m hoping you get to that. Now, what did I say about talking?”

He smirked, pushing the dress down each shoulder until it dropped to the floor. Stepping out of it, you kicked it off with one foot, tossing it towards the wall. Chris’s hands were already roaming, his hands on your hips, fingers sliding into the thin elastic of your panties. His hands slipped across your warm flesh and directly to your cheeks, grabbing each one and squeezing, and pulling you closer to him. His lips were pressed into yours, his tongue back to searching for yours as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to your bed. Gently, he sat you on the edge and leaned into you bringing you down to the mattress.

His kisses ran down your sternum and across the soft skin of your breasts while his hands ran across the tops, gently running his fingers over your nipples.

“Keep doing that, keep... keep touching my breasts, Chris.”

You could feel him pressing into you, his erection, warm and pushing against your core.

His hands squeezed your left breast while he brought his mouth down to your right, taking the nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it. Running his tongue around the bud, a chill running across your arms and a moan escaping your lips.

“I need to be in you now, please, y/n,” he said, kissing up your chest.

“In the drawer, condoms are there and hurry the hell up, Evans, I’ve waited forever for it to rain and fill up the well.”

He chuckled as he crawled over you, limbs knocking yours, a soft hand slapped across his ass, as you watched him open the nightstand drawer, which got stuck in his effort to hurry. “Come on Evans, you got this,”

“A little self-talk over there to get you motivated?”

Chris smiled as he held up the package and smiled at you before sitting on the edge of the bed to roll the condom down his hard length. He was on you again, returning quickly, his lips pressing against yours. His lips, wet and warm, pushed harder against your mouth as he pushed your legs further apart, taking himself in his hand, rubbing across your wetness and pushing halfway. The groan that escaped his mouth while his tongue continued to touch yours, sent a tingling sensation down your body.

“Chris, please...” you started to plead and before you could continue, he finished pressing himself into you with a grunt.

“Come on baby, show me how well you can move,” he said as he licked a strip across your neck.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and shifting your body against his, you let out a wail. Your bodies moved together, the pace quick, the sounds of your wetness echoing throughout your room.

“Listen to the sounds we’re making, baby,” Chris panted and drove deeper into you. His body was incredibly warm against yours, the sweat making his chest glisten in what light crept in from the hallway.

Chris slipped his hand down and his fingers met your warmth, crawling in to press against your clit. You clenched around him; a low moan escaped his mouth as he continued his movements.

“A bit more, a bit more,” you groaned, your back arching as Chris sped up. You looked up at him and reached your hand up to his face, holding on and staring into his blue eyes as you felt the tingling ball up within.

Faster than expected and with one last swipe of his fingers, your orgasm spread out from within. Your shoulders tingled, spreading down to your fingers as you yelped out, the warmth of pleasure flowing down and across your body. Chris had shifted to move into you, helping your orgasm along as his own shuddering began. His lips were pressed into your neck, your name crossing his lips as he slowed his pace, and leaned onto one of his arms. He continued kissing up your neck and met your lips, heavy breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

“You’re incredible Y/N. Incredible.” One more kiss was pressed to your lips before Chris sat up, heading to the bathroom. You watched the light turn on and the door close behind him. You rolled to your side; a smile of satisfaction crossed your face as you closed your eyes.

Your heart jumped when you were woken by blankets being pulled half off of your naked body. It took you a few seconds to realize that a man, a very handsome man, was sleepy peacefully beside you. Turning to face his back and shimmying closer, you pulled the blanket to cover your shoulders and back. His muscular back stared at you and you couldn’t help but raise your hand to the pale skin, bringing your fingertip to his warm skin and drawing lines to connect each freckle.

“You, know, that feels incredible, please don’t stop,” Chris asked, his words muffled into the pillows.

You continued using his back as your canvas; swans, sunrises, all the beautiful pieces of the world this man helped you see.

Pushing back into you Chris spoke, “I’m going to be away next week, so I’m hoping I can see you again before I head out of town?”

Your fingers drew the word yes on his shoulder in response. Chris turned over to face you, pulling you closer to him for a soft kiss. When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile and pulled him in for something a bit more passionate.

Bags packed and his dog set to stay with his family, he walked by the room Scott was in. “Hey, I’m heading out, the car is almost here. Give me a hug for the road.” His younger brother stood up and embraced him, giving him a few pats on the back and wishing him well for his short trip. “Will I see you when I get back or you heading back home?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be around still. Mom wants me to stay in town a bit longer. You okay if I’m still free loading off of you a bit longer than planned?”

“You know you’re more than welcome to stay,” he said as his phone chimed from his pocket. “Cars here. Take care of the fam and Dodger for me.” His brother gave him a smile and Chris grabbed his coat and carry-on from the table before heading to the front of the house. Dammit, he had forgotten to remind Scott again about what they had discussed earlier that day. “Scott, make sure you get that message to Y/N, okay? This schedule change was pretty last minute.” He shut the door before he heard a response from his brother. The driver held the door open for him and collected his bags to place in the trunk. He couldn’t get you out of his mind on the way to the airport; your smile, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your naked skin pressed against his. He couldn’t wait to be next to you again.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans rpf #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #writing challenge #ssholidaychallenge #redwrites

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alias-b · 4 years

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sins of my youth. 001

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

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

A/N: Hey!!! I'm definitely not giving up on LFTM, I've had this story whirling around my brain and it's been pulling at me for a while. Hoping I can slow down, care for myself, and juggle both fics at my own pace. Thank you guys for reading and for being so supportive. I hope everyone who enjoyed WTL also enjoys this fic, it's a totally different direction. I'm excited to share it! I'll tag warning in each chp like I always too. TW: Light bullying, hints at an inappropriate relationship between a teacher/student, and teenage jerks.

Chapter 1: Fast Times

A blaring bell trilled. Lunch time. So close and yet so far. Scrambling high schoolers like zoo animals clamored into the cafeteria. Knocking shoulders and bouncing around. No one really cared about knowledge today, the last day of school before winter break began.

1984. Coming to a close.

“Evie!” A hand rose to wave. One pink scrunchie around the elegant wrist. Heather Holloway. Cute as a button smiling there. Hands pulled headphones down to acknowledge her. Evangeline Fenny. Best friends since the sandbox and now seniors. “This stupid day is dragging.”

“It’s killing me.” Evie whined to herself, settling her beat up lunchbox on the table. Red and blue pattern, scribbled all over with song lyrics in black marker. “Mrs. Stockard fell asleep at her desk, I wanted to die.”

“She snores so loudly.” Heather sparkled when she laughed, sweeping her hair back into a high ponytail with her scrunchie. Evie held a mirror up for her to see out of habit. “Thanks.” It was particularly louder than usual. Teens pregaming the parties to come over the two week vacation.

“Going skiing with the folks this year?”

“No, they’re going up to the cabin and I’m staying home after Christmas.” Heather unpacked her lunch, carefully organizing it. Evie pulled a regular PB and J out, amused.

“Sushi?”

“My mom’s going through a phase.” Heather poured herself a bit of soy sauce and plucked up chopsticks.

“Your rich is showing, Heath.” Evie giggled when a foot kicked at her under the table.

“Trade you a piece for half the pear.”

“Deal.” They switched. Evie tucked some unruly dark curls aside, sitting back.

“So...there is a party tonight. Loch Nora. Bunch of schools.”

“Which ones?” Evie’s brow rose.

“Ridgemont will probably crash, but who cares. It’s winter break, we’ll go and have some fun then crash at my place. Eat chips, make fun of them, and pass out like we always do.” Heather bounced a little. “C’mon, Evie. I’ll pick you up and we can walk from my house.”

“I’ll think about it.” That meant yes to Heather. She grinned, reaching across to pat her friend’s arm playfully.

“It’ll be fun.”

Evie just whined and crunched on her pear, brows scrunching. Parties weren’t the same since the incident. But, she picked the popular, social butterfly for her closest friend.

The two couldn’t have been any more different.

Heather Holloway. Rich girl from Loch Nora befriending Evangeline Fenny, a Cherry Lane girl, in preschool. They switched beaded hair ties and the rest was history. Bonded over music and fashion. Heather was classically stunning as if she jumped off a magazine.

Students used to make snide comments. That Heather kept Evie around because she made her look prettier. Sweet Heather shut that down. Loudly. Whenever the subject came up. Evie Fenny was a bigger girl. Plush. Fat. It wasn’t a dirty word. She was a strange and pretty teen who carried herself too high to be bothered with comments.

Water off a duck’s back was the saying.

Used to be she hid herself under big sweaters, tunics, and flared jeans. But, that was before the incident. Afterward, she came to school with a new haircut. Louder makeup. Even louder, fitted clothing. Flaunted the hourglass and caught eyes on her hips swaying. Sat next to Heather at lunch as if nothing had changed. Red glossed lips only smiled and the student body took to her. Those who stayed angry burned alone.

Thick skin, no pun intended.

“If that asshole Tannen shows up, I’m dipping.” Evie decided with one breath.

“I’d say that I’ll protect you, but you made your point last year.”

Ah, the incident.

“I’m never going to live that down.”

“It was legendary.” Heather beamed, crushing her fist into her opposite palm. “Bam. Prick went down. My friend is Wonder Woman. Super Bitch.”

Evie broke to laugh, eyes rolling.

“Truthfully, I don’t recall it all.”

That was a lie, she remembered every second of it. Sometimes her knuckles warmed at the thought.

“I just...didn’t think you had moves like that. Your mom is basically Dolly Parton. You don’t even like violence. You squirm during horror flicks. You love your cat, your guitar, and all plant life...and you beat the hell out of Ridgemont’s golden boy asshole quarterback.”

It did earn Evie some Hawkins’ fame. Ridgemont was their main rival. The Bulldogs. Football players found a soft spot for the teen.

“Don’t tell my mom she’s Dolly Parton, that’ll go straight to her head.” Evie joked, popping her water bottle open to drink. Heather’s big eyes lifted behind her.

A flood of cologne wafted before two fingers tugged a curl. Little harder than they should have. Water choked to spill onto Evie’s chest.

“Whoops, you got all wet, Fenny.” A tongue clicked. Billy Hargrove slid around the table. All his glory. Heather plucked up a napkin to offer it.

“Watch it, Hargrove.” She huffed down at herself. The yellow tee tucked into her jeans was soaked through.

“Girls can’t help it around me, I guess.” He had one hand in his pockets and another cradling his silver lighter. Flicking it open and closed. Eyes narrowed. “Polka dots, huh. I had you figured for florals.”

“You’re an asshole.” She covered her damp shirt and bra with her striped cardigan. Thick fall colors warmed her skin. Noted the fact that he'd thought about it.

“Whatever you say, Ivy.”

Billy knew her name. They were neighbors. Unfortunately. Right down to sharing the same space between their bedroom windows. She’d had dinner at their house. Susan Hargrove was new and eager to make some friends and Ms. Fenny was eager to be friends with everyone. Perfect match.

Evie glared up at him. Fucking Adonis.

“Heather, you going tonight?” He ignored his neighbor and leaned over with one palm on the table, back to Evie as he sat down to flash that darling smile.

“Maybe.” Heather gestured with her chopsticks.

“I can work with maybe.” He acted like the girl behind him wasn’t there. Frankly, Evie was used to being invisible. It was better than being bullied. Most days. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe you apologize to my friend and say her name right.” Heather winked at him.

“Who?” Billy stood and turned, mocked some surprise. “Oh. Evangeline. So quiet, I forgot you, chica.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a jab at her mixed heritage or him just being a smartass. Billy rolled her name off his tongue like it was a joke. Like it wasn’t a real word. Blue eyes alight at her stony expression. Sly and alert.

The California transfer vibrated after leaving the basketball team before the season ended. Word was that he was persuaded to leave after some fight with Steve Harrington. Billy was a strange one too.

Often, he seemed lax when he was alone like the world didn’t matter. Other days, he was rocking and quick on his feet. Hungry and itching for something. Anything. It was a scary look on such a pretty boy. You could never gauge where his mind was. Where it would go next.

“Evangeline.” He sounded out again even slower. “Your mom lose a bet?”

“It’s a poem.” She replied flatly, sitting back to cock her head at him. Billy snapped his fingers to point.

“Sounds like the name of some chick whose man died in her arms.”

She huffed at him, leaning in.

“...That would be what the poem is about.”

“Fucking depressing.” Billy tapped his chin. “I got it. I’m going to call you, Angel. I won’t forget that.”

“You are not calling me-”

“Trying to compromise with you, Fenny. You cast the first stone.” Billy flicked his eyes to Heather. “Bring your friend with you to the party, Heather. Some guys like angel cake.” He winked and slunk off to his band of merry assholes. This school worshiped him. Kissed the ground he walked on since he started in fall.

“What a fucking slimeball.” Evie grumbled to herself, stuffing trash aside to ball it up. Thought about tossing it at Billy's big head. Heather gave this conflicted look as if to say, but he’s cute, right?

“Ignore him.”

“Bad enough his family moved in next to me.” They packed up their lunches. “God, I want a smoke so bad.”

She didn’t keep the habit up just to save her singing voice. Her mom picked up cigarettes only after the divorce last year. Smoked out her window and hid it, but Evie knew. No judgment there. Better than other habits moms pick up after divorces.

“I’ll pick you up at seven tonight?” Heather walked out with her after the bell rang.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in fifth.” Evie turned to go to her locker and stuffed the lunchbox away. Grabbed a book to hurry to class. History. Three more periods left. Students fidgeted around her.

“Hey, Evie.” Steve Harrington batted his eyes at her. Friendly enough these days after he left the popular cliche and broke up with Nancy Wheeler. Sometimes having your heart stopped on made you nicer. Not always. “You, ah, do the paper?”

“All six pages.” Evie set it on her desk. “You?”

“I made an attempt.” It was strange because Steve never gave her the time of day before this year. Maybe the guy was lonely. He tapped his pencil and the chatter quieted when their teacher walked in. Late as always.

“Class, pass your papers to the front.”

“Hopefully they don’t come back with red wine stains.” Robin mumbled behind her, one leg crossed up so she could draw on the rubber side of her sneakers. Evie caught a snort, taking the papers to pass them along. “I like the jacket.”

“Thanks. New haircut?”

“My own dad didn’t notice.” Robin beamed.

“Psst, Evie.” A note flicked on her desk. Tammy Thompson. Pretty girl, kind of shy. “To Steve.”

Evie considered herself a professional middle man for lovesick note passing. Discreetly, she gave it to Steve, head cocking. He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, but wrote back.

Whatever the reply, it made Tammy’s shoulders fall.

AP Biology was next. Teacher treated it like his kingdom and didn’t pose much of a challenge because he was disorganized as hell. Evie was relieved to share the class with Heather.

Billy, Tommy, and Carol also had it too. Hargrove bitched for a week about how the other science classes had no openings. Strange because he wasn’t an idiot. Still got his work in and maintained a B average. Probably due to his dad. Neil Hargrove seemed like a real hardass. And all of Cherry Lane had heard him and Billy arguing at some point.

Evie might have also witnessed some more physical spats through the windows.

She figured it was why Billy hated her. She knew something about him. Something he hid because it made him feel smaller. He caught her eyes once and barked nastily before taking off in his Camaro. A gust of smoke.

She never brought it up.

Dads could be real assholes.

“Watch the movie. Fill out the worksheet.” Their teacher was as ready for this day to be over as the students were. Lights went down. Yawns followed. Evie propped her elbow up on the high lab table she shared with Heather, doodling new lyrics between answering questions.

A crumpled paper hit her hair. Stuck into brown curls. Heather turned back to glare at Tommy shrugging with a sleazy grin.

He was no artist. Evie smoothed it for a wide, big lipped and breasted caricature of herself. She drew on it and scribbled a note back. Smiling sweeter when she flicked it at his chest. Carol and Billy leaned in on either side to see Tommy’s expression sour because Evie gave him nothing.

“You got my hair all wrong.” She’d written. Fixing it for him.

Billy snorted and turned back to defacing his textbook.

“Bitch.” Tommy muttered to himself, tossing it away. Evie finished her sheet, dug for her compact to reapply a lip color. Caught Billy behind her. Intent on whatever vulgar drawing his mind was concocting. Blue eyes flicked like he’d been aware of her this entire time.

The mirror snapped shut.

** ** **

Study hall. Last period of the day. Most kids who had it were skipping out early during the hour. Slipping away one by one through the library. Evie was one of those kids.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Fenny?” The smooth as silk voice lowered, startled her enough to drop her notebooks and folders.

“Fr...Mr. Bowers.” Evie dropped before her English teacher standing so close to her. Second period. Been in Hawkins three years teaching the junior and senior classes. Fredrick Bowers. Dream of a man to all the teen girls. “Sorry.” She bit her bottom lip, eyes lifting to see him and his shadow blocking the light from touching her.

“No, I’m sorry, Evie. I figured you’d heard me coming.” Sky blue eyes centered on Evie there before he came to one knee. Helped her gather lose papers strewn about.

Mr. Bowers had a name and face all the teen girls drew little hearts around in pink gel pen.

Evie thought she saw those same cartoon hearts bubbling up behind his back. Popping like gum. Styled toffee blond locks, trimmed mustache, and groomed side burns. A simple patterned shirt tucked into fitted slacks with the sleeves rolled up. Never a tie. Something groovy about him that stuck from the seventies. Mid thirties and hell of a smile.

Evie tucked hair aside, displayed her blush in full view obscenely when he flashed those sparkly whites at her. Eyes crinkling.

“I’ll warn you next time.”

Her heart plucked like a song when their fingers brushed. Dashing and broad. A Jane Austen character come to life. Enough to make any young girl melt. And how quickly she did.

“Next time.” Evie gave this scoff. Pulling her notes close as they both came to their feet with hard intent eyes.

"I wanted to give you something. A book to read over the break." He pulled it from his leather messenger bag and peered around.

"An assignment?" Evie sparkled at him so he was lighter.

"No, it's just because I believe you're so clever and mature. I think you'll read it with an open mind and we can talk about it like we talked about all the others. It's complicated material. I, ah, really shouldn't be giving you this book." He offered it. "But, there were quite a few I wasn't allowed to give you. After that chat we had over The Crucible. I'm just so fascinated by what you think."

"Lolita. I know what happens in this one." Evie peered at the battered title. Rough paper between her fingers, it was clearly an old copy. She peered at his chest instead of his eyes. "We-"

"Don't you miss talking? You know. Last year. Someone who knows what you're going through. I want all my students to be comfortable around me."

"I am comfortable, we..." Evie glanced as someone passed far down the hallway.

Bowers helped her after her dad left. A shoulder. A confidant. A crush that... She felt her heart close in on itself.

"I thought you said we couldn't anymore."

"I miss you." He whispered that. Lush and blunt. She barely heard it. Eyes snapped up.

Someone missed her. Someone wanted to listen. Someone who saw her depth.

His wife left him before he came to Hawkins. Evie learned a great deal about her too.

"I won't tell, I never do." She hid it away into her bag, matched his tone. "We can...talk. Not here."

"Good." He swallowed. "I just think you blossom under guidance and support. I always knew you were one of those girls."

Evie blushed again. Eyes on her shoes.

“I wanted to say I was impressed with your paper as well. As always.” Fredrick gave her arm a pat and left his hand there. Fingers pressed into the knit fabric of her cardigan. His lip twitched.

“Good. That’s…I’m glad.” Evie’s eyes flickered over stormy blue ones, swaying. Lashes gave a dreamy bat. “I was thinking, ah, about you when I wrote it.”

“Really, you should speak up in class more.” Fredrick gave her one subtle squeeze and dropped his hand. “All those funny poems you shared last year.”

“My songs.” Evie corrected softer and he only smiled to nod.

“Right.” An idle step backwards before he leaned over her. A great deal taller. The shadow crept over her eyes this time. “You have a Merry Christmas, dear. And speak up again in class, Evie. You know I love to hear from you.”

A sensation like a fizzling sparkler glowed in her belly. Out her spine. Spread over skin.

“I know.” She giggled at him, peering around. “Merry Christmas, Mr. B. We'll talk.”

“Small town, I’m sure I’ll see you out and about.” A wink and he was gliding off. Shoulders back and chest perched high.

“You might.” Evie swooned against her locker. Watched him go. Gasped a breath into her lungs. Swept all the clouds aside to fill her backpack with work. He made her feel so special, like no one ever could.

“Anyone...” She sang to herself, “who knows what love is...” Fingers plucked up a final book. Evie hummed and thought of small cartoon blue birds spinning around her head as she went into the restroom. Washed her hands and lingered to see her reflection.

Evie was in a strange place. In and out of her skin. Torn between love and hate for her body.

Usually, it just took a brave face. Her dad always used to tilt her chin and tell her to put on her bravest face before leaving home.

She hoped the one she chose was convincing.

Her mom would always spin her favorite Bible or Dolly Parton quotes. Which helped on occasion even if she wasn’t sure which source the words came from half the time.

A sigh. This was her flesh. She’d live in it as best she could. Dreamed herself into something better.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway until the door shoved open. Humming cut.

“Hargrove!” She gasped, dropping her messenger bag. “Billy, you can’t be in here!”

“God damn it, Fenny. You again?” Billy skidded to hush her. Pressed them back into the wall. The heat of his body engulfed her frame, standing a good few inches taller. “Do me a fucking solid. Hide this for me.”

Billy had no sense of boundaries because he was stuffing a baggie into her front jean pocket.

“What are you doing?” She seethed at him, smacking his arms off her to put some distance. “Get off me!”

“Don’t say a word. Got it?” Billy lifted a finger with an intent look. Smelled of leather and his heavy cologne. Hairspray too. It all overshadowed the cigarette scent. He smoothed his tee out and turned to see the door. Scrambling like a spider, Billy jumped up on the toilet, threw his messenger bag outside, and pulled himself up. Wiggled his way out.

Evie heard a thud and groan.

“What the fuck?” She whispered, more so to herself as he disappeared. Hands pulled what was clearly concealed weed bundled up several times and bagged from her pocket. “Shit.” More footsteps before the door burst as she shoved it away.

“You see that Hard-grove kid?” A thick accent asked. Security guy. Useless.

“Uh!” Evie pulled her bag up. “Who?...This is the ladies room! Can’t a girl have a moment here?”

“Sorry!” He cringed away before she jumped into mushy period talk. It always worked.

Evie rolled her eyes and marched out to find Billy. Casual as can be, he tossed his bag into the trunk of his car and stilled to light a cigarette. Grumbling, steps hurried up the hill.

“Asshole!” She tossed the weed at his chest, made him catch it awkwardly and stuff it into the trunk with a hiss.

“Keep a lid on it, will you?” He slammed it shut. No one was around to see them.

“Don’t do that shit again.” She pushed into him to go, Billy’s big hand wrapped around her wrist. Tugged her square into his chest. An unkind grin swept.

“I had you figured, didn’t I? You didn’t say anything.” Billy blew smoke into the air, plucked the cigarette out to flick it with his free hand.

“Let go.” Evie huffed. “I would have been in deep shit too for that.” She wiggled and pushed at his chest.

Billy flicked his bright eyes over hers. So brown they looked black in winter. He never noticed that she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks like he did. Pale for a girl with darker features. Indiana falls and winters must have taken the color right out of her. Looked like a lot of the mixed gals he knew back home.

Big curls. Soft and curvy.

Angry at him over something he did.

There's no place like home, he figured.

“You’re so weak.” Billy laughed at her. Took another drag. “They told me you freaked out on a guy last year.”

“You want to be next?” She twisted away from him and turned. It wasn’t a real threat. He’s seen her tend to plants like they were humans. Feed neighborhood cats and nurse her own. Old black cat with not long left. Little fucker was always creeping him out from her bedroom window. Constantly staring with huge green eyes like it knew something Billy didn’t.

“Babysit your own weed.”

“You walking home?” Billy was relentless, voice lifting.

Evie huffed and turned.

“What, are you going to say I probably need the exercise? My bike chain broke.”

“Christ, I was gonna offer a ride. Figured I owed you for saving my damn weed and my break. Not like it's out of the way.” Billy turned to open the passenger door. “Quit being a drag and get in. I don’t bite hard...unless asked.”

“You’re such a creep.” She eyed him there. Wondered how he stayed warm in a tee, jeans, and leather jacket. “Not waiting for Max?” He gave this annoyed look.

“She’s going out with her stupid friends, not my problem today.” Billy got in, gesturing. “At least close the door if you’re not coming. I went through the effort to open it for you.”

“What a gentleman.” Sarcasm.

Evie came back toward his car and debated it. Smelled like it might rain with the sky turning grey. And she really didn’t want to walk in these shoes. Rationalizing it, she slipped inside and shut the door. Settled her bag in her lap. Even buckled up. Billy revved the engine and skidded to speed out without a second glance.

“You going to the party with Heather?”

Evie peered at him watching the road with this hard look on his face. Ghosted a smile. Bingo.

“You’re being nice to me to get to Heather, huh. You know you’re not the first guy to pull this. Could have just asked me about her.”

Crystalline eyes flared up at her face.

“What? Dorky chicks like you turn me on, too.” He replied rougher, not bothering to watch the road.

“Wow. Spread it on thick, Hargrove.” She turned from him.

“I always do.” He hit a hard corner. Christ, he drives fast. “I got a shot?”

“She thinks you’re cute.” Evie shrugged. Far too used to this. Eyes slid to his profile. Wild curls still golden on grey days. The boy glowed. It was absolutely insufferable. Leaves whirled by, brown and dead. A smile crossed her face. “Listen. Since you’re saving me a walk. I’ll help you.”

“Help me? I don’t need your help, I just wondered if she was gonna show.” He scoffed, turning on Cherry Lane.

“You want to know what Heather likes. It’ll help you.” She crossed her arms, nearly flying forward when he screeched to a stop in front of his house. Billy shot her a look, filled with pride. “You got a pen and paper, bud?”

He snatched her bag, tore a page from her notebook and dug into his glove box for a pen.

Ass. She hugged it back to her chest.

"Talk."

“Okay.” A breath. “The thing about Heather is she’s a romantic. Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice. If you can quote that just once like Mr. Darcy, she’s yours... Well? Are you writing?”

Billy did a double take and huffed, grumbling. He actually marked it down.

“Mr. Who?”

“Your life amazes me.” She chuckled. “Darcy.”

“Got it. Darcy. I’ll ask Susan about that shit, she’s a reader.” He muttered, tongue sweeping out before he scribbled.

“And she loves museums. First date ideas. Milkshakes. Cheese fries with jalapenos. Cheeseburger gal. Chinese from that corner joint. Always spicy. Easy picks.”

“A girl after my own burning heart.” Billy felt her peer at him again. Lips lifting with this expression he couldn’t read. Blinked her big eyes and went on.

“Definitely loves to snuggle in with something scary even though they freak her out. Must be a curiosity thing.”

“Any excuse to get close to someone, I like it. This is gold, Angel, go on.”

“You know, I think that’s all I got for you.” Evie turned to get out, sighing. That was just a little evil. “Billy.”

“What?” He shut his door and turned from her.

“Thanks for the ride.” She moved to go toward her house. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Billy didn’t reply. Just watched her go into her house before he dug for another smoke.

“Mom?” Evie called. “I’m home.”

“I’m in my room, sweetheart!”

Ramona Fenny was a spirited woman, went by Mona to the neighborhood. A girl of the 60s. Built like Dolly Parton with a pumped hairstyle to match in sleek dark brown, almost black. She worshiped the woman. Looked like she could have modeled atop a cake.

A church going girl who used prayer to get her through the divorce. Never pushed it on others, not even Evie. Too busy pushing other things. Like the free days she lost having her daughter young. She liked what worked in life and this worked for her. Liked the pretty side to things.

Mona was a sunny side up sort of mother.

Best friends with Claudia Henderson as they both went through divorces which was not in God’s plan. Evie liked Dustin, she babysat him on occasion and he was a good kid. Bullied like her.

Mona owned the favored hair salon in town. Worked long hours with a team of women and ran a tight ship. Did hair for all the social elites so she knew everyone and all the hot gossip. And did she love that detail the most. Evie helped out with reception during vacation time. Liked the extra cash.

“I was going to go to Heather’s later, there’s a party.”

“Oh, have fun, baby.” She pushed her kid to go out. To live. To be smart. Never asked her to call. Not out of trust for Evie, she couldn’t be bothered. Never imagined her daughter would be up to mischief.

If only she knew.

Sometimes, Mona keyed in when it suited her. Understood when Evie’s likes and dislikes changed. When she asked to not go to church anymore because it didn’t help her after her dad walked out. Ramona was understanding as long as you didn’t bring up things like depression and anger. There always had to be a way out. Turn the other cheek.

Evie knew her mother always thought the best.

“Great.” Evie crossed to steal the hair brush, helped her mother out with the teasing. Dyed rich and dark locks that used to be a mousy brown. Dark eyes like her daughter. Evie didn’t look like her father with his brighter features. Her lush hair and russet eyes. Thick brows. “You going out? All dressed up...”

“Just into town, couple of errands.”

That was something that changed a week after her dad moved out. Mona’s style revamp. She was a woman of the sixties and seventies and that came back full force. Styled and pumped up like she was walking out of a Nancy Sinatra music video. Men around town noticed it and the woman certainly speculated.

But, her daughter had a style change too after the incident so it must have run in the family.

“Better?” Evie eyed the glittery rings sitting in a ceramic dish. They looked like gumballs there.

“Touch of hairspray and I’ll be right as rain.” Pink manicured nails came up with the can. “Take cover, baby.”

“Got it.” Evie disappeared in a waft of spray. Stole an ice cube from the freezer to crunch it out of this habit she picked up when dad was gone. Cool and melty between her fingers before she swallowed it down. Felt the bulge tense all down her throat. Another followed. Teeth straining to crack it like glass. The chunks went down a little less smooth as she looked for real food and shut the fridge instead.

Evie went into the bedroom to see her old cat on the pillow. His head lifted. Skinny and balding. Blind in one eye.

“How’re we doing, my handsome boy?” Evie dropped her bag and crossed to pet him. Purrs erupted, whiskers twitching. “Bourbon, my darling.”

A scratch of a meow rasped.

“Yes, I love you too. I’d kiss you if my lips weren’t done up.” She smacked her lips and stood. “Outfit.” Clothing pushed around. Her room was a small, intimate space. Few pictures and purple curtains. Desks covered in song lyrics, trinkets, and needle felting projects.

Evie held up garments to the cat, but he was no help. Just purred there like a motor boat. Settled on a black top with some sparkle and a magenta wash denim jacket. Jewelry was a must, she preferred earrings that were huge acrylic hearts. Bourbon had gotten into the window to watch the window across the way.

Billy wandering shirtless and damp. Muscles red and bulging like he’d done a quick work out

“Yeah, not today, my sweet.” Evie plucked the cat from the window and reached to close the blinds. Billy caught her. Winked and licked his lips slower. She made a face at him. Utterly loathing and not impressed at his peacock way of navigation. “Ew."

The blinds snapped down, leaving Billy to laugh there. Evie carried her purring cat out, chiding.

"Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is.”

~~~~

TAGLIST OPEN! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks!

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #Billy hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove imagine #SOMY #Angel Fenny #writing #mine #Billy x oc #billy x angel

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bibbumblebee · 5 years

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Ectober19: In Which Sam Falls Apart at a Halloween Party

My first ever fic for anything before. Not perfect, but it was a lot of fun to write! Also it’s 22 minutes late shhh don’t tell anybody.

Prompt: Fangs/Shatter

Sam’s fangs were really starting to bother her.

They poked at the inside of her bottom lip, and if she wasn’t careful, she found herself sticking them into her tongue or the soft gums behind her bottom row of teeth. She wondered how on earth some of the ghosts Danny fought back to the Ghost Zone could stand having such deadly teeth. All the time. Her fake ones were about to drive her crazy.

Just a few more hours, Manson, she told herself. She took a drink of punch, wishing it was spiked, to soothe the sores forming along her lip and the bristly, nervous anger that had lodged itself in the back of her throat. Gothika, Vampire Queen, doesn’t take her fangs out. Not even for boring parties.

She had come with Tucker and Danny, had actually come at their insistence. Tucker begged her the moment he found an invitation to Paulina’s party in his locker. She’d declined and declined, in varying shades of no, until Danny asked her one day after class. He’d held his invitation in his hands like a secret the two of them could share and looked at her shyly.

“Be more fun with you there,” he said.

Those eyes. Bluer than springtime. That little half-smile that, had she not known him since grade school, she wouldn’t have noticed. Would have thought was sadness. The slight quiver in his voice, like he wasn’t sure he should be saying anything. Afraid he might mess it up. Afraid she might say no. But how could she say no to that? To him?

She realized now she probably should have.

***

Danny had decided to dress up as Phantom for Halloween, saying that it was the only time during the year he could be himself and no one would be suspicious of it. “People love Phantom,” he told her when he announced his plan. “Maybe I can use tonight to get people to like Fenton, too.”

“Dude,” Tucker said, scrolling on his PDA for lists of popular Halloween costume ideas, “Phantom’s public enemy number one. They don’t love you.”

“Yeah, well, they love the idea of me.”

Sam knew how much it hurt Danny that the world feared Phantom as much as they hated Fenton. She’d been so certain that using his ghostly half to save the city from other ghosts would work. Would make him a hero. Would make him realize people loved him. She never suspected Amity Park would turn on him. And judging by how Danny’s face fell every time he saw Phantom on the news, every time Tucker reminded him that Amity Park wanted him dead for real, every time his parents invented another doomsday device, Sam got the feeling that Danny never suspected the hate, either.

***

She sipped some more punch, eyeing her black lipstick stain on the cup. She’d have to reapply soon. Maybe go and find Tucker, trying to pick up girls with his sexy professor costume. Sam tried to tell him that sexy professor was not the costume he thought it was, but his heart was set. He’d come in tight pants that highlighted his (admittedly) nice calves and a shirt he only buttoned up halfway.

Just as Sam figured they would, most of the popular kids assumed he was trying to be a sexy Mr. Lancer. Sam would have felt bad if she didn’t think Tucker needed to learn his lesson.

Still. She could use a dance.

Sam set down her empty cup and adjusted her black gloves where they had slid down her arms. She was going to go and find Tucker when she saw a flash of green from across the courtyard.

Paulina’s Most Perfect Halloween Party was held at the country club, like all her other parties, and the outdoor garden and courtyard had been decorated in purple streamers and smiling Jack-o’lanterns. Candles with artificial flames had been rigged on wires, suspended above their heads. It cast everything into a warm haze, everyone’s costumes cloaked and flickering between shadow and light.

Everyone’s except Danny’s.

He lit up like a star, a star with its own gravity, pulling everyone at the party to him. It was that natural magnetism Sam noticed he had while he was Phantom. Smiling, making jokes, puffing his chest out boldly. Confident. In control. With that smile, and that mop of silvery white hair, it wasn’t difficult to see why people were drawn to him. Why they feared him.

“Oooh, Ghost Boy,” said Paulina. She grabbed his arm. “How do you make your eyes light up like that?”

“Ghost Boy?” Dash said. Sam noticed him lurking behind the two of them, his face painted green like Frakenstein’s monster. Big, hulking, mindless mistake, Sam thought. Fitting.

“If that’s really the Ghost Boy,” said Kwan, appearing next to Dash as if summoned, “then we gotta report him.”

“It- it’s not Ghost Boy,” Danny said, and Sam heard the panic in his voice. “It’s just me. Danny Fenton.”

“Yeah right,” Kwan said. “Don’t lie.”

“Why would Ghost Boy lie about being Fentwerp?” Dash’s voice carried across the courtyard as if he was standing next to Sam at the punch bowl, making conversation. “He wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Yeah,” Paulina said. Sam noticed her back away from Danny. She tried not to notice Danny’s face as it fell. “Ghost Boy wouldn’t lie about being a loser. No offense.”

“Yeah…” Danny said. “I guess not.”

“But still…” Paulina said, “You do have a pretty sweet costume, Danny. How does it glow like that?”

“My parents’ ghost hunting tech,” Danny said. His voice, which had lost a significant portion of its confidence, strengthened a little.

He and Tucker had rehearsed answers on the walk from Sam’s house. She’d tried to pretend to be focused on gluing her fangs over her real canines, but really she was trying not to turn around and stick the fake teeth through Tucker’s cheek. Asking questions like If Paulina wants to dance with you, what do you say? and If she wants you to turn invisible, will you? and Yo, man, I never thought. Can you turn just clothes invisible?

Sam stopped listening after that.

***

She only came tonight because Danny wanted her to. “Be more fun with you there,” he’d told her. But he hadn’t been with her the entire evening. She’d stood, her back to the garden wall, following his spectral glow around the party, trying not to think about the way he smiled when someone said his name. The way he fidgeted with his hands, more than likely trying to fight the urge to show off too much.

“You can’t shoot ectoblasts, you know,” Tucker told him. “Unless you lie and say you rigged one of your parents’ guns into your suit.”

They were in Sam’s room, waiting on her to finish applying her makeup. She’d decided on a darker, more dramatic look than the one she usually wore, replacing her purple eyeshadow for gray, opting for fake eyelashes over her natural.

Danny hovered behind her, watching her glue her eyelashes on. She felt his t-shirt brush against her shoulder. Caught the smell of laundry detergent and winter air and electricity—something he’d had since the accident. A permanent, static chill where there should have been body heat. Even while alive, he carried the chill of the dead.

“Why are you covering up your lashes?” he asked, watching her in the mirror.

She turned and batted them at him, laughing at the expression on his face. “For dramatic effect.”

“I’d say it worked,” Tucker said, sitting on Sam’s bed to tie his sexy loafers. “Earth to Danny? You in there?”

A second too late, Danny turned away, and Sam noticed the flush along his pale cheeks.

***

“Remember,” Tucker said. “You’re not Danny Phantom tonight. You’re Danny Fenton dressed up as Danny Phantom.”

“I know.” Danny watched Tucker unbutton and rebutton his dress shirt, making what he probably thought were sexy faces in the mirror. “I want them to like me. They already like Phantom.”

“And possibly want to kill him.”

Danny blanched. “Yeah. That too.”

After Sam finished her makeup, she encouraged Danny to sit down so she could cover his face with some powder, too.

Danny was sporting a black eye, only just starting to fade, from his most recent run-in with Dash’s fists. He’d been in worse shape from other fights, but Sam didn’t want Danny to be embarrassed by the bruise. She knew, too, that he carried marks far worse than the black eye, but it was the least she could do for the party.

Though neither of them would say so, Sam had seen the scars. She hadn’t meant to. It had been an accident, walking into his room without knocking. He’d been quick, but she’d seen his side where Valerie shot him. The long burned scar along his ribs. She couldn’t imagine it didn’t hurt, even now nearly a month later. She’d seen the smaller scars along his back, random collections from his fights over the last year and a half. The wings of a purpling bruise along his shoulders—more than likely from his fight with Skulker that ended with Danny’s back buried in ten inches of brick.

And it was all her fault. Because she couldn’t say no. She couldn’t say No, don’t go into the portal. She couldn’t say No, it’s okay. You don’t have to prove anything to me. No, she’d taken one look at those big blue eyes, that mess of black hair, the suit he’d slipped on, highlighting his narrow waist and lean arms. The curve of his back. Of course she wouldn’t tell him no.

And he’d died because of it.

He died a little more every day because of it.

It had taken Sam a few moments of convincing, but she managed to seat Danny at her vanity and powder his face to cover the worst of the bruising.

He fluttered his eyes shut so she didn’t get any powder stuck in them, and she occupied herself with blending over the purple and black blossom around his eye. She tried not to think of his hair, tickling her cheek, or of his cold breath on her hand. Just a brush and powder and a fresh bruise that, if she pressed too quickly, caused him to wince with phantom pain.

***

She didn’t notice she’d been lingering next to the punch table, her cup empty in her hand, her eyes focused on a spot just next to the DJ’s table on the dance floor.

“Sam?”

She looked up to see Danny standing next to her, his eyes glowing like will-o-the-wisps waiting to lure her away. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said.

His eyes searched her face. Sam wondered what he found there. Anger? Sadness? That oh-so carefully practiced apathy?

“Paulina and the others are actually talking to me. Me,” he said. “Not Phantom. Fenton.”

Sam tried to appear happy at the news, but she’d known that would be what happened. She chewed her bottom lip, no longer caring about the sharp fangs still glued in her mouth.

“I mean, all they want to talk about is my parents’ gear and my costume, but still.” When he stepped closer, a chill fell over Sam and she shivered. It was as if she had decided to step into a bucket of ice water. “They actually seem interested.”

The way his voice swooped up with hope. It was enough to make Sam regret coming, regret hearing that joy in Danny’s voice and know it wasn’t because of her. Sure, she was happy for him. Being accepted is all he ever wanted, Phantom and Fenton. He was obsessed with saving people, protecting people. Being loved.

She wondered if he knew.

“I know,” he said.

Sam froze. About how she felt? She wasn’t sure she knew how she felt. She just knew that guilt that followed her wherever she went, that feeling of walking on ice every time she felt Danny near her. The way the chill traveled up her spine and froze the bones under her skin. And when he touched her...a wayward brush, an intentional hold on her wrist, a thoughtless clasp of her hand...it shattered her. Broke her into a million pieces inside. Thin ice under a heavy weight—gone.

And yet, in amongst those pieces lay a stronger, scarier feeling. The feeling of the life she’d nearly destroyed, the life fighting through the death, the patient blue of his eyes. The slight pout lingering behind every smile. His spidery fingers. His birdlike bone structure.

She had been the death of him.

She wished he’d return the favor.

“I know they’re only going to like me for tonight.”

Oh.

Right. Of course. The popular kids. The costumes. The party.

“Well you know you’ve always got me,” she said. After a moment, she added, “And Tuck.”

There it was. That sad, shy smile. “I know.”

“I know you do.”

“The fangs,” he said, glancing toward her mouth. “When did you put those in?”

“Put them in? I’ve always had them.” She tried to lift her voice, dangle it on a thread of humor. She failed.

“I mean,” Danny said, “I guess Gothika, Vampire Queen, wouldn’t be a very good vampire without fangs.”

“You remember Gothika?” She hadn’t talked about her in weeks, and she never believed Danny had really been listening to her.

“I remember,” he said. He looked up at the popular kids, who were clustered on the dance floor, not dancing, just talking. Taking selfies. Checking their friends’ profiles. Even Tucker was out there, Sam noticed, trying to talk to a very harassed-looking Valerie.

“I invited you tonight,” he said.

“Yeah?” Sam knew she was the only person at Casper High to not get an invite from Paulina. It stopped bothering her well over a year ago.

Danny turned and looked at her mouth again. “Stop chewing on your lips,” he said. “You’re going to put a hole through them.”

She tucked her fangs inside her mouth, licking her teeth along them, tasting the sour glue holding them in place. “Nervous habit.”

They shared a silence for a moment, Danny’s eyes flicking away from her face, looking up to the candles above their heads. Sam watched the light bounce around his features, casting his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks into shadow. Be more fun with you there.

She forced her eyes away before he caught her staring.

“I’d love to dance,” he said, answering her unasked question. He turned and gave her his sad half-smile.

“With me?”

“With you.”

He took her hand, and she shattered at the touch.

#ectober #ectober2019 #ectober19 #my first fic #danny fenton #danny phantom #tucker foley #sam manson #halloween #fangs #shatter #writing #i tried #sorry it’s late #sorry it’s long #i got distracted #ectoberweek19 #ectoberweek

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texanredrose · 6 years

Text

Omega’s Strength (Pt 4)

Yang leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest with Blake and Weiss beside her while Ruby stood in the middle of the loading bay. Across from her in their make shift ring was Nigel, who seemed more than a little apprehensive about facing off against the young woman hefting the huge sniper scythe like it was nothing. The twin SMGs in his hands didn't seem like they'd be capable of standing up to the cutting edge of Crescent Rose, even if he did combine them into their pole ax form.

"Okay, so! We've got about three days before we disembark to infiltrate the abandoned base. Before then, we'd better get some practice in working with each other," Ruby said, the cheer in her voice grating on her sister's nerves. Most of it came from sheer impatience, wanting to be the first one to fight just to keep the thoughts at bay. "We're going to start with some one-on-one drills, and then some cooperative ones against hard light opponents and Weiss’ summons. Sound good?"

"Uh, couldn't we do some old-fashioned, 'two truths one lie' bonding instead?" Nigel offered with a weak smile.

While the rest of his team laughed, Yang shook her head. "This guy's supposed to be a solider?"

"It takes all types, Yang," Blake replied, nudging her shoulder lightly. "And we played that game the day after initiation."

She winced, opting to remain silent rather then dredge up any more memories from their time at Beacon. As the battle began, she had to admit that she'd judged him a little too harshly; the young man displayed a genuine amount of skill and focus as he reacted to her sister's fighting style. It actually took Ruby a solid minute to land a hit, sending him sprawling and taking a chunk out of his aura level in the process. They wouldn't be able to push each other as hard as they had in school, where their recovery time could be easily monitored and adjusted, but he still had some fight left in him.

With the gunshots to cover their conversation, Yang glanced at her partner and cleared her throat. "Congrats. By the way."

At first, the Faunus raised a brow before seeming to sense why the blonde was so terse. "Thanks. I'm sorry I wasn't the one to tell you."

"It's whatever."

"No, it's not," Blake replied, and she could see how her partner turned to look at her from the corner of her eye. "Yang, I know you're going through a rough time right now and I'm sorry for the part I played in it. I never meant to hurt you again."

She sighed, turning to meet those concerned amber eyes. "Oh, come off it, Blakey. This isn't your fault, same as before. We've talked about this." Shaking her head, the blonde glanced away a moment before returning her lilac eyes to the Faunus beside her. "Look, I'm not mad I went into heat. It was bound to happen eventually and better last week then in the near future, yeah? And it could've been worse, so it was probably for the best." A frown touched her lips and she looked away. "It's just reality. Face it, Blake. I'm not mate material anymore. That's... that's just how it is. I've accepted that."

"You're lying through your teeth right now." The Faunus' voice became tight, her volume lowering to keep everyone else unaware of her anger. She didn't have the same inscrutable mask the Schnees favored but she kept her ears up and her face smooth, leaving her eyes and voice to convey the emotions, something they did all too well as Yang could practically feel her partner's heated stare boring a hole through the side of her head. "Did you talk to Winter about this? Did she say any of this?"

"I got mounted and I have no mark to show for it; does she really have to put it into words?" Her left hand slid down, grip tightening on the metal of her prosthetic. "We already talked about it. I told her I made a mistake. I shouldn't have bitten her."

"Yang." A hand laid on her shoulder, pulling her gaze back to Blake. "Did you mean it? The mark?"

She wanted to look away and deny it but... she couldn't. From one Omega to another, between partners, she could admit the truth just once. "Yeah, I... I did." Her shoulders fell and her gaze dropped. "I dunno why I thought... I just... in the moment, it felt mutual, ya know? But I was wrong." Shaking her head, Yang shoved everything aside, drawing herself up to her full height. "None of it matters now anyway. In a few days, it'll be like nothing happened." Her lips turned down at the corners. "And to her, nothing did."

With a thump, Nigel landed flat on his back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling while Ruby stumbled away, hefting Crescent Rose with only a small wince. "Okay! So! That was pretty good!"

"Lady, you got a funny definition of 'good'," Oswald said, smirking and cracking his knuckles. "Guess I'm up next?"

"Stand down, O-man. I want the next fight." Stryker called out, heading over to help her teammate up while carrying her over sized, serrated falchion with the other hand, resting the flat back of the blade against her shoulder.

"Oh, great!" Ruby laughed, collapsing her own weapon down and storing it on her back. "I'm sure Weiss would-"

"Actually, I think I'd like to have a go at Yang." The blonde's eyes snapped to the Alpha's. "What'd'ya say, Blondie?"

Yang furrowed her brows, her frown growing more severe. Well, she wanted in on the action, but she had a feeling the woman wasn't going to take her seriously as a combatant. No better time to disprove that than now, she supposed, though Blake quickly grabbed her arm when she pushed off the wall.

"Maybe it isn't such a good idea, fighting an Alpha straight off the bat." The Faunus' ears twitched, as if she had more to say but chose to keep it to herself, and that had the woman gritting her teeth in barely contained frustration.

"Winter rejected me; if she wanted a say in who I'm around, she missed that chance." With a jerk of her shoulder, she pulled herself free of Blake's grip, Ember Celica expanding to cover her forearms in the next moment. "And I don't want a mate anyway."

If she said it enough, she'd believe it.

It was an old fashioned tradition- and one she'd rather liked- for mates to pit their strength against each other as a sign of trust. Back in the day, it arose out of practical necessity; everyone had to fight to keep the Grimm at bay and everyone needed a training partner. Most often, Alphas were too protective of their mates to stay on the sidelines and Omegas often faced the same problem, the former rushing in to beat back an attacker while the latter would defend their mate from any foe. Betas tended to control themselves a little better but they felt the inclination, too, and often lept into the fray themselves. During their time training together, she'd somehow tricked herself into thinking Winter saw their bouts as something similar, a way of testing each other and feeling the other out. It was why she always withheld the final blow, never wanting to push too far; it wasn't about winning or losing, it was about improving side-by-side.

That romantic streak helped land her in this situation to begin with, though, and she shoved all those thoughts aside. This was about one thing alone: fighting. They had four new comrades-in-arms to acclimate to and the sooner they did it, the better. Alpha, Beta, Omega- none of that mattered at present.

As she took her spot across from Stryker, Yang felt her entire being focus on the impending bout, all too ready to fall into the soothing rhythm of combat.

"Ready?" Ruby called out, a hint of trepidation in her voice. "Go!"

The Atlesian immediately swung her blade around, holding the grip with both hands and readying for a sweeping strike to ward Yang off. Except, she'd learned a thing or two since the Fall of Beacon and didn't fall for the obvious advantage her weapons' smaller size would grant her to dart in for a quick first strike. Instead, she brought her fists up, curled loosely so she could snap to defense or offense depending on the situation, and shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. So acclimated to facing off against Winter, she almost started her usual bob and weave, trying to bait out the woman's first attack, but she had a feeling it wouldn't take nearly so much to provoke a reaction from Stryker. Throwing a quick jab with her left, Yang shot out a single round, testing the woman's defenses.

Rather than take the shot and shrug it off or blocking with her weapon, Stryker made a show of jumping to the side, rolling back to her feet and charging towards the blonde. A sloppy waste of energy- ducking would've accomplished the same thing considering how high she'd shot- but Yang set aside her mental critique to remain focused on the battle at hand. She watched the jagged edge of the blade as it swung towards her, skipping back to stay just out of reach while watching the woman's footwork.

She carried her momentum forward with every strike, either unable or unwilling to change course once committed, and that proved to be a weakness Yang could exploit with ease.

The blonde bided her time, moving to keep the blade out of reach but never so far away that she couldn't close the distance if she so desired. It almost seemed like Stryker was being intentionally ostentatious with her fighting, leaving herself far too open for someone of her presumed experience. Bearing that in mind, Yang waited for another sweeping strike before darting to the woman's undefended side and delivering a medium strength hook to the spot just below her opponent's ribs.

If she'd sparred against anyone else, it would be a full strength blow, coupled with the concussion of her weapon and powerful enough to send them clear across the cargo bay. This time, she gave the woman a warning shot, a bit of encouragement to take the fight seriously, and she wasn't disappointed when Stryker rolled with the momentum and brought her sword around for a full strength counter attack. Before the Fall, she might've tried ducking beneath it or rolling out of the way, maybe shooting at the ground to aid in her escape, but now Yang merely set her feet and raised her right arm, allowing the prosthetic to act as her shield.

It had taken months of training to become accustomed to the idea that the flimsy bit of metal fed by her aura would ever be as good as flesh and blood, but she'd come to rely on the construction as her fighting style changed. The teeth of the falchion tried hard to gouge into the metal but her aura flared, reinforcing the artificial limb as she absorbed the shock of the blow without budging an inch.

The sudden, jarring impact threw the Atlesian off, her own footing shifting to maintain her balance as eyes opened wide.

Deciding to send the message loud and clear, Yang quickly rotated her prosthetic arm in a circular outward motion, shock having made Stryker's stance too weak to prevent her blade from being moved and trapped between the blonde's arm and body. With that threat effectively neutralized, she shifted her hips and threw her weight into the motion while slamming her left hand against the side of the blade, turning a quick half circle and dragging Stryker with her until her grip gave out, separating the soldier from her weapon as she went sprawling. Although disarming her opponents typically fell outside Yang's forte and style, working with her father to reestablish equilibrium had given her a little insight into not always relying on her offensive strength alone.

With a dismissive grunt, she lifted her arm and let the falchion fall to the ground.

"I can see my previous advice went unheeded." Winter's voice at once grated on her ears and made her heart stutter in her chest, lilac eyes quickly snapping to the door leading into the cargo bay, where everyone not already present- with the exception of Ren and Nora, likely up in the cockpit- stood, watching the demonstration with various degrees of amusement. None could be found in the Alpha's expression, though, arms clasped behind her back as she tilted her chin up a little. "You're not taking this seriously. You have joined forces with survivors of the Fall of Beacon, individuals who are well and above what your skill level was when you were their age." She paused, gaze landing on Stryker as she pushed herself to her feet. "And perhaps even now."

"Well, pardon me, Specialist." Stryker growled, raising her chin defiantly. "Perhaps you'd like to show us how it's done?"

Yang's shoulders tensed. Immediately, she wanted to shoot the proposal down; not only did she not want to be used in a territorial power play between two Alphas, she didn't really want to spar against Winter again, not so soon. Being in close proximity hadn't started feeling normal yet, not enough time had passed to take away the sting, and she didn't trust herself not to get distracted or, worse, betray her own turmoil in the middle of the fight.

However, after the initial panic passed, she acknowledged that there seemed to be no easy way to get over her heartache, but the unpredictable rhythm of battle had always helped her sort through her thoughts.

Yet again, fighting against Winter... it still seemed like too big a risk to take.

"Do you honestly need a visual demonstration?" Winter's tone, cool and crisp and dripping with well earned condescension, cut through her thoughts. "I'd thought you were trained better."

"Apologies, Specialist." The other Alpha gave a salute, though the lazy execution conveyed a distinct level of mockery. "I didn't realize you'd retired from the front lines."

The words pricked at Yang's pride. Were they mates, it would be well within her right to step in and offer her own opinion. Despite lacking that distinction, though, she'd still chosen Winter as a mate, she'd been willing to bond with the woman, and the insinuation that the Alpha couldn't back up her word with skill angered the Omega.

Many things she would let slide, but not that.

"She's just trying not to embarrass you," she said, taking a few steps forward and then turning around, ensuring Stryker was only able to see her side and not her back. Raising her fists, she resumed her ready stance, lilac eyes falling on Winter. "But I like to actually break a sweat during training."

The Alpha remained silent for a moment before sighing, striding forward purposefully. "I would hate to waste your time. I trust the rest of you will be paying attention."

"Absolutely," Stryker replied, obviously miffed by Yang's dismissal, but the Omega didn't rightly care.

She watched as Winter pulled her blade free of her hip, hitting the button that separated her dagger out before the battle even began. To some extent, that mollified Yang's wounded pride a little; if nothing else, the woman at least saw her as a competent combatant, warranting none of the beginner tricks that she so often played on others.

They'd sparred against each other enough that it seemed only natural to start near the top of their respective abilities, and the Omega repaid the gesture in kind, clenching her right fist harder to activate the plate in her palm, red dust threading between the grooves in preparation for her first strike with her prosthetic. From the corner of her eye, she could see the worried look on Ruby's face, barely assuaged by her decision to allow the display to continue.

"Ready? Go!"

No hesitation, no breaks- Winter flew forward, sped along by her glyphs, and Yang could hardly blink before both of her arms shot out to block the Alpha's first few blows. Sparks flew as metal met, her opponent not bothering with the test of strength and instead flipping her blades around to try from a different angle. Their sparring sessions usually came to this in one form or another- the flash of steel as Yang defended herself, throwing the occasional jab to create distance and waiting for the right moment to strike. She couldn't allow Winter to create too much distance, though, or allow either of her weapons to remain free, because the moment she did, a white Beowulf or Nevermore would come bursting to life from a glyph to harass her, and then she'd be defending herself twice over with little to show for it.

Instead, she had to balance remaining within striking distance with defense, all too aware that the biting edge of either blade would be enough to weaken her defenses, and throwing a punch where she could. They hardly ever landed, the woman's quick movements and incredible flexibility merging with the grace of a dancer, and any time it looked like she might've robbed her opponent of her sure footing, a glyph would appear to stabilize her.

They traded blows for a few minutes, shuffling back and forth, before the woman made to retreat, aided by her glyphs, and Yang immediately gave chase with a burst from her left gauntlet. The moment her foot hit the ground, though, she turned her body, right fist cocked back and ready to unleash the first in her counter offensive even as a summon began to take form just out of her direct line of sight. She threw every ounce of her weight behind the blow, but the telegraph was too obvious, allowing Winter to dodge; it worked out well, allowing the Omega to spin and slam her fist into the side of a Beowulf's jaw, it's gaping maw disintegrating with the rest of its body as the one strike managed to dispel it entirely, a wreath of flame issuing from the line of her knuckles and scorching the floor.

Usually, the heat would force Winter to take a moment and collect her bearings, but this time she seemed to press forward regardless of the sweltering temperature, flipping the shorter blade in her off hand around and beginning a series of strikes that had Yang twisting to keep her prosthetic between blade and flesh, blocking each blow until she could press forward, lowering her shoulder to deliver a devastating uppercut with her left that just barely clipped the Alpha's chin.

Had the hit landed solidly, it probably would've taken a chunk of aura and significantly impaired Winter's senses for a moment. As it stood, her head snapped back and the rest of her followed in a fluid backflip that might've looked to the naked eye like she'd avoided the blow entirely, landing in a crouch and shooting forward in the next moment to attack again. Always aggressive, always pushing every defense Yang had- she could feel the sweat accumulating on her brow and rolling down her spine as she worked to block and bob and weave, the sounds of gunshots ringing through the air as she used her blasts to either avoid, close, or disperse yet another summon.

The longer the fight wore on, the more glancing blows got through her defenses, and the more strikes she landed in turn. On the one hand, she probably had more stamina, and blow for blow could last longer if each one landed, but Winter knew her weaknesses a bit too well, never hitting hard enough for her semblance to flare bright. The Alpha would bleed her dry with papercuts before being foolish enough to try and win a contest of brute force, and both of them could sense the tipping point approaching.

She'd somehow managed to land a solid punch against the woman's left side with her right, hampering her movements slightly, but Yang had gone on the offensive too often in order to get that, allowing a bit of her hurt to spur her forward. The Omega's aura was likely dangerously close to having the fight called, so the next time Winter retreated, she flicked her right wrist and cycled to yellow dust, lightning arcing along her prosthetic and she shot forward, ready to land the last blow. A white Beowulf blocked her path for a moment, but she jumped up and over it, spinning around so she could bring her fist down on top of the Alpha. At least, that's what it looked like she planned to do, but a shot from her left pushed her past Winter, allowing her to whirl around.

Fist cocked back, feet planting themselves as her hips twisted, Yang had every intention of following through and delivering the strike that she'd always held back in every previous bout. She couldn't impress the woman, couldn't sway her, so why not release the rage and anger and hurt in a decisive way?

Yet, her body went stock still, fist still a good half foot from making contact and cackling with undischarged lightning.

She couldn't do it.

It had nothing to do with the pragmatic concerns, that they shouldn’t be pushing each other this hard considering the stakes; she couldn't take the last blow and potentially insult the woman. Winter had taken it easy on her, remaining on the ground rather than forcing Yang to deal with an aerial opponent; this wasn't about trying to outdo the other or prove who was stronger.

It was never about that.

Chest heaving and blinking sweat from her eyes, Yang noticed that the Alpha hadn't bothered turning around fully, only barely looking back at her out of the corner of her eye and over her shoulder.

Then, she noticed that Winter had flipped her sword around so that it protected her back, anticipating the attack and prepared to use the flat of her blade to knock aside Yang's fist. She could've easily dropped down, pushed her shoulder into the Omega's gut and flipped her using her own momentum, but she'd held back as well.

"Holy shit," someone said, and with her heart beating so loud in her ears, Yang couldn't properly tell who the voice belonged to, but that didn't matter.

Haltingly, she drew her fist back, gulping in as much air as she could manage while Winter straightened up, blue eyes scanning over her form. "Are you hurt?"

"Sore, but fine," she replied, both hands still curled into fists. Talking to the woman shouldn't be this hard, shouldn't feel like a thousand claws digging into her chest to rip out her heart, but there it was; they were comrades and nothing more. "How's your side?"

"I'm quite certain it'll bruise." The woman offered a small smile. She probably meant the comment in a kind way, acknowledging the strength it took to leave any sort of mark without breaking someone's aura first. In combat, very few could pull it off, and the only exception that existed adorned Blake's and Weiss' collarbones- mating marks, which seemed to fly in direct defiance of aura and science.

The reminder stung.

"It'll fade," she said, sourness infecting her tone as she turned on heel and started walking away. "Just like before."

Shame and self loathing rose within her again, making bile appear in the back of her throat. Tears threatened to fall but she forced them back; this wasn't about anything other than getting back to normal and she'd likely have to face off against the Alpha several more times before she would stop acting like a kicked puppy.

Her feelings didn't matter.

With a quick motion of her right arm, the lightning that had remained trapped in her artificial limb discharged in a bright flash, leaving the whole thing smoking lightly. Yang reclaimed her spot beside Blake, ignoring the worry shining bright in amber orbs and crossing her arms over her chest. The metal felt hot against her skin but she wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t show an ounce of her inner turmoil.

"I'll trust that served as sufficient proof," Winter said, her voice as steady as ever. She stood facing her countrymen, hands clasped behind her back and appearing for all the world like she hadn't spent the past several minutes fighting a battle that ranged all over the enclosed space. How the woman could so consistently resume her normal poise would forever confound the Omega... even if she did still admire it. "They may be taking it easy on you for now but you've still much to learn in the way of real world application of your techniques before you can hope to match them. There is a distinct difference between being graduated and being blooded; remember that you haven't earned the second title yet, and they have. You'll learn much more that way."

Apparently through with her lecture, the Alpha turned, missing the glare thrown at her back by Stryker and heading straight for the doors leading back into the ship. With only a bit of trepidation, Ruby cleared her throat, trying to resume the training by calling out Oswald and Blake, pitting the Omegas against each other. Probably a good idea, considering the way Weiss' jaw immediately clenched, blue eyes riveted to her mate's back as the combatants prepared to face off. Yang trusted the Alpha's restraint but, considering the demonstration previously, some part of her worried how far everyone would push before someone snapped.

"So... you and the Ice Queen, huh?" She sighed through her nose, turning her head slightly to see Qrow leaning back against the wall beside her, the smell of whiskey heavy on his breath. It really shouldn't surprise her that the 'errand' he'd ran involved replenishing his liquor supply. "You two make a good pair."

"You hate her," she replied, turning her attention back to the fight. Unlike the previous two rounds, Oswald and Blake seemed to be decent matches, combining long range and short range attacks effectively. Where her partner had flexibility and her clones for distractions, her opponent had a good amount of brute strength and determination, not to mention a surprisingly solid stance. No matter what, Blake couldn't seem to get around his guard, his movements even faster than Ruby's- no, wait.

Yang squinted, focusing intently on his shield arm. It seemed to flicker from one position to the next- an illusion semblance, forcing Blake to aim for a target that might not even be there. Clever.

"I don't hate her." He puffed out a bitter laugh. "Let's just say, she reminds me of someone I used to know. It sucks being trapped in a memory by yourself." Red eyes glanced her way. "Feel like you probably know how that feels."

"You're doing great at this pep talk thing, by the way."

"This ain't a pep talk. It's a 'pull your head outta your ass' talk." He straightened up, reaching up to the collar of his shirt and tugging it aside, putting the mark there on display. Yang had seen it before, briefly, but never learned who gave it to him or how long he'd walked around with a mark and no mate, just a ghost he tried to drink away the same as his semblance. "You're not stupid enough to end up like me, Yang, so stop acting like it. When this war's said and done, you've gotta find a way to keep going. Hell, even now, you can't just give up again, alright?" He straightened up his shirt, scratching at the hollow of his jaw. "Way I figure it, either you need to get back with her or move on. Walking around pissed off every day of your life ain't gonna cut it."

"Guess that decision was made for me then, huh?" Yang pushed away from the wall and turned, stalking off towards the cargo bay exit. "I'm done listening to this."

Maybe she couldn't stay angry at herself forever- it might die out eventually- but listening to her uncle try and smooth this over... she didn't know what happened to him because he wouldn't tell her. Far be it for her to feel guilty over a story she didn't know; she'd done that for enough years already.

His point remained, though. She couldn't keep sniping at Winter to soothe her wounded pride and broken ego. The feelings weren't mutual and that wasn't anyone’s fault- she couldn't demand that the Alpha return them for her sake.

"Yang." She stopped, looking back at Weiss, whose own gaze remained riveted to the ongoing battle. "Why didn't you use your semblance?"

"She didn't hit me hard enough," the Omega replied, furrowing her brows slightly. That much should've been obvious.

"You've been stomping around, angrier than a hornet's nest for the past week, and bleeding it off through your solo training hasn't quite done the trick." Blue eyes flicked over to her, and it should be uncanny how much she resembled her older sister but that never seemed to strike Yang quite as hard as it should. Perhaps it came down to how they'd met or the months spent at Beacon, but she could always clearly separate the sisters, just as most anyone could separate her and Ruby; their shared features always managed to look off just enough that she couldn't mistake one for the other. "You should have more than enough fire coursing through you to have brought a little bit of heat to the fight."

Brows furrowed, she turned to glare at the shorter woman. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Who'd you disappoint? Me, Winter, or yourself?" The line of her shoulders tightened as Weiss turned her attention away from the fight, setting her hands on her hips. The Alpha looked her up and down, expression pinching into one of minor annoyance. "Given the state of your clothes, I'm leaning towards the latter. Seriously, when was the last time you showered?"

She opened her mouth to snap back with a response but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she shook her head. "Look, if you're just going to give me a hard time-"

"You're doing that well enough, don't you think? Beating yourself up on the inside." The Alpha held her gaze, seeing if she'd balk, but Yang had both hands clenched into fists and her jaw set, just barely restraining herself. "Really, I wish it was more difficult to read your mind recently, but you might as well be putting everything up in neon lights!"

"What. Do you want. From me?" She could feel the red swirling into her eyes, fire burning in her blood as her anger began to boil. First Blake, then Qrow, and now Weiss- would there be no end to this torment? How many times would it be shoved in her face? "What's it gonna take?"

They stared each other down and though a little voice whispered in her ear that she should avert her gaze, she refused. Weiss had her mate and the Omega refused to let herself be swayed again, beholden to her instincts when only her sense had any merit left. She'd known from the beginning her heat was doomed and she'd let useless emotions and hope convince her otherwise.

That mistake she wouldn't- couldn't make again.

"Stand by your team," the woman said, even as Ruby called an end to the match. "And when you stumble, let us help you up. That's what we're here for- and this time, we will be here. Don’t shut us out."

Blue eyes shifted to focus on Blake, who seemed to be working out her left wrist while exchanging a friendly handshake with Oswald. For his part, he seemed winded but in high spirits, and seeing as the only one to perform notably poorly was their team leader, Yang couldn't help but wonder how much longer until tensions began to rise on team SNOW.

Considering how many times Stryker had looked her way since the end of her spar against Winter, she could only imagine how bruised the other woman's ego was; hopefully, her team would find a way to sooth the injury rather than exacerbate it.

"So, that just leaves Wisteria and Weiss!" Ruby called out, a cheery smile curving her lips. "After this, we'll go grab some food and talk about ways to improve." Silver eyes darted around the cargo bay before she cleared her throat, not a soul meeting the proposal with anything other than resigned acceptance and putting a dent in her pep. "Uh, on second thought, food in an hour, free time until then?"

"That sounds perfect," Weiss said, flashing a smile at her partner while taking Myrtenaster in hand and settling into her stance. "Ready when you are."

Wisteria pulled her whip free, the coils unfurling while the metal chain on the very end hit the ground with a sharp chink, and nodded.

"You looked good fighting Winter." Blake's voice pulled her attention away from the impending fight, not that she was very invested for the combat’s sake.

The blonde could see Stryker's pouting in her peripheral while looking at the fight and it made her feel a bit smug; that's what she deserved for daring to imply Winter was anything less than an expert in combat. "I still feel a little off balance."

"Balanced enough to toss that Alpha aside like she was nothing," the Faunus said with a forced chuckle, biting her lip the moment after. "You... think she's going to give you trouble?"

"Nah." Lilac eyes darted across the cargo bay, briefly catching Weiss and Wisteria trading plumes of fire before focusing on the grumpy Alpha for a moment. "I think it's just a military thing. She's got something to prove; it has nothing to do with me."

When she looked back at her partner, the disbelief was written plainly in her expression. "She's obviously interested in you."

Yang shook her head, ignoring the worrisome crack of lightning that issued from Wisteria's whip. "Stryker's interested in getting one over on Winter. I'm just the person who can give her that."

It should've stung, but it didn't; no one would be sincerely interested in her, and she'd gone through quite enough to cement that fact in her mind. At the very least, she had no illusions about the Alpha's intentions, no way she could possibly misinterpret that flirtatious tone of their first meeting or the cocky banter before their bout.

It perhaps served as the only category in which Stryker could conceivably beat out Winter.

"As long as you're aware, Yang." Her partner sighed, obviously treading a fine line between pushing too hard and not far enough. "About what you said earlier... for what it's worth, I don't think Winter sees it as nothing."

She almost snapped out a response, anger flashing through her, but somehow managed to keep the words in check. Blake was trying to help but it just made the pain worse, images flashing in her mind.

Dutiful Winter, trying so hard to toss her base nature aside and be the pragmatic soldier- she hadn't quite succeeded in remaining entirely detached and likely saw that as a failure of some sort, as if resisting the call of an Omega in heat remained something any Alpha could do with enough determination.

"Maybe. Doesn't change the facts though.” She mumbled. “We don't... see each other the same."

The Faunus sighed. "If you say so."

That seemed to be as far as Blake was willing to push at the moment, relenting to the other Omega's stubbornness. Personally, Yang believed her to be trying far too hard for something that would never happen. Even if she somehow magically could be around Winter without feeling like her heart was about to be ripped from her chest, things would never be like they were before, that mutual respect and trust that came so easily when they trained against each other laying in fragments around her mind. She'd wanted Winter to see her as something more than her sister's teammate or an Omega who had failed in the one moment when triumph was paramount.

As lilac eyes returned to the battle before them- Wisteria's dust whip certainly had versatile uses but Weiss hadn't even seen fit to try summoning yet, though her defense seemed hardly able to keep up- Yang's mind wandered through her memories, sifting through the days after reuniting with her team. Between working through Blake's lingering guilty looks at the prosthetic replacing her lost arm, Weiss' erratic mood swings between unrelenting joy at their reformation as a team and the constant need to live up to her own impossible expectations, and Ruby hitting her emotional limit and unloading all the fears and insecurities that were born that fateful night as Beacon fell, Yang had enough things to focus on that shoving her own problems aside had come naturally, but her time spent training with Winter brought a different sort of liberation.

She'd never met the woman properly before the Fall and had no memories to compare against when it came to their battles. The Alpha didn't have a picture in her mind of how Yang used to be, treating their every interaction the same, and with that came a strange sort of comfort. None of Blake's babying her, or Weiss' razor edged concern, or Ruby's worries; just the rhythm of the fight and a new bar to surpass, a new challenge to overcome. As much as she'd come to rely on her team like she did before, she couldn't escape the memories of their days at Beacon, when everything felt simple and straightforward.

With Winter, she'd had that again- no complicated, painful goodbye to mar their time together.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Beyond the gratefulness she felt for having a glimmer of that old mindset back, she'd started to fall in love with the woman's poise, her quiet but forceful demeanor, her unrelenting pressure and passionate defense. Winter could be calm as a placid lake or as angry as a hornet's nest and anywhere in between, just as emotive as her sister but requiring a bit of finesse to coax it out. The Omega thrived during the times she could do such, because it seemed like the woman genuinely found her puns amusing and listened whenever she got started on a story, even the ones she obviously embellished.

Perhaps she'd tricked herself into thinking polite interest meant something more, that a compliment about her style or strength weren't just methods of improving her morale. Maybe Yang's attention wasn't the reason the Alpha would tell stories from her early days in the Atlesian military or her own Academy days.

It seemed possible that every interaction had only existed in her head as something more than a comrade in arms interacting with another. She'd wanted to believe, fervently, that she could be desirable... but there remained no single moment she could turn to in her recollection that displayed as much.

Yet... their little exhibition match felt so much like they always had. A good workout but not a serious threat against one another- their auras hardly ever took enough hits to be concerning, almost like they weren't able to bring themselves to risk harming the other. They didn't fight against each other in earnest often; if Yang wanted a real test, she'd go up against Ruby, her sister's speed a good way to get around her heavier movements. Weiss and Blake often had to get too close to do serious damage, unless the Alpha summoned, but those tests were better served against Winter's own summons, so that neither wasted precious aura while honing their concentration.

Out of everyone available, I think I have the most experience fighting you, if it comes down to that.

They fought against each other most often but never hard enough... she'd obviously misinterpreted the reason for that. She thought it resembled Blake's bouts against Weiss...

She'd thought wrong.

The fight between Wisteria and Weiss ended on an amicable note, with the Alpha using her glyphs to rob her opponent of footing and the Beta being too hard pressed to recover adequately. With Myrtenaster against her throat, Wisteria yielded, and even Yang had to admit she'd learned quite a bit from the exhibition. Team SNOW obviously had a ton of experience fighting in regulated, supervised matches, but the raw demeanor Team RWBY had adopted on their quest to defeat Salem's agents went above and beyond what could be taught in any classroom. Loss and pain had taught them what instructors couldn't and everyone seemed keenly reminded of how much they'd grown since their Beacon days.

Yang, however, didn't feel nearly as optimistic despite all that. Blake and Weiss were obviously still getting acclimated to keeping their instincts in check, their fresh bond nearly pulling both into the fights. Discipline and the lack of a truly dangerous threat had kept them on the sidelines but the battlefield wouldn't be as kind. A cry of pain, a groan of effort- it wouldn't take much to distract one or both of them, which meant plenty more training in the days ahead. Even if they had a heading now, the time traveling to their next fight would be used honing their skills as much as possible.

That's why the Omega found herself standing in front of the Chief Engineer's quarters once more. This time, it wasn't to seek out some scrap of a memory; her fight with Winter had made it clear that she needed to close the chapter on her infatuation for good. Perhaps it would get Stryker to cool her jets a little, focus more heavily on the battles ahead, and give the lot of them a clear mind. The Alpha might've been able to put the events behind her and move on as if nothing happened but, as long as Yang kept coming back her trying to relive something that never truly existed, she would continue feeling strange around Winter.

Best to do it quick, like ripping off a bandage. Go in, put the furniture back, take the blankets to the laundry, and wipe the slate clean. It really stood as her only option.

Yet, she hesitated.

What's wrong with me? She frowned at the door, hands still curled into fists. Her anger at herself hadn't abated in the slightest, despite Blake's efforts to cajole her. At least Uncle Qrow and Weiss had kept their 'advice' to themselves, allowing her to leave without any further conversation after the last match ended. Just go in and do it. You can't keep walking around like this. You're distracting everyone. Get your head on straight.

"Yang?" The blonde blinked, turning her head to see her sister approaching her. "You left the cargo bay pretty quick. Is everything alright?"

"It’s going great," she replied, a sour note in her tone that made her sigh. "Sorry, Sis. I didn't know you wanted me to hang around."

"Well, I meant what I said about the hour downtime. I think everyone needs to get their thoughts in order." She walked closer, and it struck her again how much Ruby had grown. Where before she'd hardly come to the Omega's shoulder, now they were nearly eye to eye. Aside from gaining considerable combat experience during her time traveling with the broken remnants of Team JNPR, the Beta had also grown taller and leaner, the baby fat in her cheeks whittled away. But she hadn’t lost her smile. "But I wanted to check on you. We... haven’t really talked much lately."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." She sighed, shaking her head. "I've been kinda... out of it is all."

Silver eyes darted to the door. "Your heat really did a number on you, huh?"

Yang frowned, looking towards her feet. "That's one way of putting it."

"I'm sorry it didn't go well this time. I know you really hate not having the suppressants because of how bad it gets." She heard the contact more than felt it, her sister's hand lightly grabbing onto the prosthetic just beneath the anchor. "We'll try to find some next time we borrow Altesian cargo to resupply. And maybe, once this is all over, you can start looking for a mate?"

At first, she wanted to chuckle at the Beta's concept of 'borrowing' but felt her amusement cut by a sharp knife, brows furrowing into a scowl. "That's not going to happen. Ruby, I know it's hard to understand, but... that's not in the cards for me anymore." She lifted her right hand, tapping her thumb and forefinger together, the clinking of metal against metal echoing in the hall. "This... most Alphas aren't going to look past this. I'm not as good as I used to be."

"But you're so much stronger!" She should've expected her gear head of a sister to see only opportunities where others saw deformity; honestly, she should probably be grateful the Beta hadn't done something foolish to justify having one of her own limbs replaced with a weaponized prosthetic. "You're really getting the hang of your new fighting style! I mean, the way you disarmed Stryker and moved against Winter? Even Weiss admits you've pushed her sister harder than she ever did! And that last battle when-"

"Ruby," she said, trying to be forceful without betraying her anger. It shouldn't surprise her how optimistic the Beta could be but that didn't mean she wanted to hear any of it. "None of that matters. There's more to life than being a Huntress. I wanted a family of my own down the line and that's... that's not possible now." Yang pulled her artificial limb out of her sister's grasp. "This thing? It's a hunk of metal. Just because I can use it to fight doesn't mean it replaced the flesh and blood I lost." Lilac eyes traced along the prosthetic, her lips curled into a grimace. "Omegas are supposed to protect the people they care about most and be the gentle, supporting heart of the family. I can't do any of that." Metal creaked as she clenched her fist, pushing the gears to their limits. "I lost my arm because I wasn't strong enough to defend my partner. I let you run off to fight a war alone- I practically sent you to do it. I can't even keep from hurting myself, who's going to trust me to hold a child, even my own?" Beneath the boiling rage coursing through her veins, she could feel the sadness, that endless pit of despair she felt so ready to be dragged back into, and refrained from doing that by the barest margins. "Sometimes, this is the hand life deals you. Literally." She tore her gaze away, glaring at the door to the Chief Engineer's quarters. "It's shit and it's terrible and it's nothing at all like what you wanted. You just have to accept it... I just have to accept it."

Silence descended upon the sisters, with the blonde keeping her scowling gaze focused on the door ahead of her.

"I thought you... didn't spend your heat alone." The younger woman spoke tentatively.

Yang winced. "It would've been better if I had."

They fell quiet, the only noise being the swishing of fabric as Ruby stepped close enough to wrap her arms around her sister. The moment she registered the hug, all anger and pain fled from her system, her shoulders dropping as she glanced at the mop of hair pressing against her chin. "I'm sorry."

With a sigh, she carefully extricated her arms and returned the embrace properly. "Don't be. I did this- all of it, and I have to accept the consequences."

"Well, you know you're not alone, right?" Her sister muttered into her shoulder, squeezing tighter. "Blake, Weiss, me- we're all here, rooting for you. Jaune and the others, too."

"Yeah. I know." Yang felt her lips twitch into a smile. "Tell you what. After we kick Salem's butt, we'll have a big party- bake a whole bunch of cookies for everyone, stay up late playing video games, and pretend like we didn't just save the world from absolute evil. Just like old times, right?"

Ruby giggled. "It's only like old times if you tell really cheesy jokes all night, you know." They separated slightly, a small fist lightly knocking against her shoulder. "And for what it's worth? You've always been the heart of our family." Her smiled grew even larger. "Dad, Uncle Qrow, and I would've been hopelessly lost years ago without you there to set us straight!"

The Omega chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Whatever you say, Sis." She patted her younger sibling's shoulder. "You should head up and grab some food, plan out what you're going to say to everyone. I've... got some things to get in order first."

"Okay. Don't be late!" With a flick of her cloak as she turned, Ruby started towards the stairwell. "Love you, Yang! See you in a little bit!"

"Love ya too, Rubes." She waited until the Beta disappeared before allowing her expression to fall. At the very least, her sister didn't push too hard in reassuring her and soothing her injured pride; neither did she seem too keen on addressing Winter directly. That boded well, since it meant she could maybe put the issue to bed after this. Assure everyone she'd moved on and be done with it. Hopefully, they'd believe her.

If she was really lucky, maybe she'd believe herself, too.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Yang palmed the door open, stepping inside after another moment's hesitation. Nothing had changed since her last visit and she did her best to breathe through her mouth as she began moving the furniture back into place. Resetting the room to its default state... it stung, slightly. Washed away any resemblance to her memories, distanced her even further from them, but that was the whole point of the exercise. Most Omegas either didn't bother with such or would restore everything to its pre-heat state before leaving their temporary nest. Had she the choice, she would've left everything as it had been... but it just encouraged the emotions she needed to kill.

It took a few minutes but she managed to get everything set back against the walls. Now, all that remained to even hint that anything had happened were the blankets, still stacked and folded on the bed, save for the one she draped around her shoulders during her last visit. Tentatively, she inhaled through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as the scent filled her lungs. Hers and Winters intertwined, but not the way mates would be. The tang of salt, the sweet undercurrent of sex, coupled with their individual scents made it clear that they'd been together but that the singular occurrence remained just that. Once the sheets were washed, the scent would die out completely within a couple weeks, only discernible to those in heat and maybe Faunus. In two months' time, it probably would be gone entirely.

Yang went and gathered them up, turning her head away so she wouldn't be tempted... but the pain in her chest stopped her. If she washed them, it would mean the destruction of the last trace that anything existed between them, no matter how brief. As terrible as it sounded, some part of her desired a memento from it all. She had no mark, no child, no words of affirmation- just blankets drenched in the scent of herself, Winter, and sex.

Wash them, burn them, throw them through the cargo door- just get rid of them somehow.

Lilac eyes glanced down, looking at the fabric gathered in her hands.

As long as they exist, you're going to remember.

With a sigh, she let them fall back to the bed. She should probably be ashamed of herself- always clinging to stupid hope when sense said otherwise- but the Omega couldn't bring herself to destroy the last remaining proof that, for a glimmer of a moment, she'd been worthy. Even without her arm, she'd been at least a warm body and a friend dear enough for the Alpha to consider easing her agony.

Yang would never have a mate... but she at least had friends.

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I've made a lot of dumb decisions. Might as well make one more."

She turned, ready to finally leave the room for good- and she meant it, this time- but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Despite having compromised so much already, she felt as if one more had to be made before she could be entirely satisfied.

Yet, it probably remained the stupidest one she could make.

You're an idiot.

Growling, she turned and snatched one of the blankets from the bed, throwing it around her shoulders and marching out of the room. When the door closed behind her, she turned, punching the door control repeatedly until the metal crumpled, electricity crackling for a few moments before the whole thing shorted, the lights in the hallway flickering briefly as the door's indicator lights all powered down. Locking it probably would've been the better long term plan but... no. If she happened to go into heat again, she couldn't bear going back to that room. It would be an even greater torment that her first stint.

Yang looked left and right, clutching at the blanket and hurrying towards the stairwell. She kept her ears and eyes sharp, unable to rely on her sense of smell at all, and scurried to her quarters as quickly as possible. Once there, she closed the door and locked it, snatching up the handheld game from her dresser top and sitting down on her bunk.

"Guess picking up bad habits runs in the family." The blonde muttered, pulling the blanket around her shoulders tighter and inhaling deeply as the game started up.

She had about twenty minutes to kill, anyway.

#TRR writes #Elderburn #Elderburn Omegaverse AU #Omega's Strength

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my-random-ocs · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: Wolf Moon

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x OC (eventually)

Warnings: Language because that’s just who I am lmao, mentions of dead bodies, blood, murder, mild teen partying

Author’s Note: Hi, everybody! So I’ve been debating doing a rewrite for a while. I am super excited to do this and I hope that you all enjoy it! This story focuses on Vivian Byrne, best friend of Stiles and Scott. I’ll be updating every Friday at least, and I will be writing for the whole series. This will be a Stiles x OC eventual pairing because slow burn best friends to lovers is my favorite thing in the entire world, and Stiles Stilinski deserved the world. Please don’t be a silent reader, leave feedback, reblog the hell out of this, but please do not copy my story on any other site. I am also publishing this story on Quotev, under the name birdie. Alright, I’m done. Thanks for reading bye - Maddy

|| Masterlist || Next >>>

I am going to tell you a story.

Now, this... this is not your normal fairy tale. This is a story of a bunch of teenagers who went looking for something they shouldn’t have, and what happened next was like nothing they ever could have imagined. It brought sadness and pain and a million other bad things, but it brought good things, too. It brought friendship, and that friendship turned into family. It brought happiness to places happiness never thought it would be, and love to places it should have been the whole time. It changed their lives forever.

And this is how it happened.

____________

“This is not a good idea,” I say, standing in the yard of my friend Scott McCall’s house.

“Climbing the trellis is by far the best way to go,” Stiles defends, trying to find a good foothold.

“Do you even know what a trellis is?” I ask.

“Of course I do- you want to lend a hand?”

I smirk. “Sorry, I left the grappling hook at home.”

“And replaced it with a baseball bat, apparently.”

“Hey, this bat is for any kind of predators in the woods. We don’t know what’s out there. We might need this to defend ourselves.”

Stiles gets a grip on the column and starts to climb. “And a fucking baseball bat is gonna do that?”

“Vivian?” Scott asks as he appears on the porch. “What are you doing here?” I look up at Stiles, who hasn’t noticed Scott has come outside. I smirk. Oh, this is going to be hilarious.

Just then, Stiles falls halfway off the roof, which he had somehow managed to reach. Scott and Stiles scream. Scott waves a baseball bat before realizing it was his best friend attempting to break into his house. “Stiles what the hell are you doing?” Scott demands as I come closer. I am not at all trying to hide my loud laughter as I climb the steps of the front porch.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Stiles says, hanging upside down. “Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator!” Scott exclaims defensively.

“It’s Stiles,” I laugh.

Stiles scoffs at me. “Okay, now you are just mean.” He looks back to Scott, and continues talking as if hanging upside down is a perfectly normal way to have a conversation. “Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave about twenty minutes ago with Viv’s brother. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even state police.”

“For what?” Scott asks.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” With that, he flips out of the tree he was tangled in, landing on his feet.

Scott’s eyes widen comically. “A dead body?”

“No, a body of water. Yes, dumb-ass, a dead body.” He climbs over the railing to join us on the porch.

“You mean, like, murdered?”

“Nobody knows yet,” he says. “Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?” Scott points out.

Stiles turns to me excitedly. “You want to say, or should I?”

I sigh, shifting my bat from one hand to the other. “They only found half of the body.” I turn to Stiles. “And you should not be this excited about this shit.”

Stiles ignores me. “We’re going.”

____________

Scott, Stiles, and I pull up to the Beacon Hills Preserve. “We’re seriously doing this?” Scott asks as we all get out of the car.

“You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town,” Stiles replies, patting his friend on the shoulder. Scott looks to me for support, but I only shrug, hefting my bat over my shoulder. This might not be the best idea for the end of winter break, but it is pretty interesting.

“I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow,” Scott says, following us into the woods.

“Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort,” Stiles says sarcastically.

“No, because I’m playing this year. In fact, I’m making first line.”

“Hey, that’s the spirit,” Stiles says. “Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.”

“Hey, so quick question,” I chime, “which half of the body are we looking for?”

Stiles pauses. “Huh. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Okay. Follow-up question: what if whoever killed the body is still out here?”

“Also something I didn’t think about.”

“Right.” I tighten my grip on my bat. “Just making sure.”

We hit a hill, so we had to climb. “It’s comforting you’ve planned this out with your usual attention to detail,” Scott says.

“I know,” Stiles says, not seeing an issue. I roll my eyes.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott leans up against a tree and takes out his inhaler. “Vivian, how come you didn’t think about this?”

“My planning skills are going towards this semester,” I defend. “I left a pile of school supplies just waiting to be organized on the kitchen table.”

“That’s because you’re weird,” Stiles responds. Before I can retort back, Stiles falls to the ground, Scott following suit. Seeing what made them do that, I kneel next to them. In front of us is a group of men with flashlights. I guess that they were police officers also looking for the body. Stiles smiles. “Come on!”

“Stiles!” Scott protests, but he is long gone. I help him up and we chase after our friend.

“Wait up!” I whisper-yell.

“Stiles!” Scott calls.

I catch up with Stiles and both of us turn, realizing Scott isn’t next to us anymore.

Suddenly, a dog barks, and Stiles falls to the ground in surprise. “Oh, shit!” I exclaim and back up.

“Hold it right there!” A man yells. I realize it was a police officer and his dog.

“Hang on, hang on,” a new voice comes, and none other than Stiles’s father and my godfather walks up. “This little delinquent belongs to me. The girl is fine, too.”

“Hi, Uncle Noah,” I smile nervously, reaching a hand down to help Stiles up.

“Dad, how are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying to adjust his eyes to the light.

“I think we’re about the same,” another voice says, walking up to us. I close my eyes, wincing. Oh, shit.

“Hi, Griffin,” I say. I open my eyes to see my older brother giving me a stern look.

“So, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” Noah asks.

“No,” Stiles replies. “Not the boring ones.” I stifle a snort.

Noah looks around. “Now, where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Scott’s at home,” I jump in before Stiles. “Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.”

“It’s just us,” Stiles chimes. “In the woods. Alone.” I shoot him a look, mentally telling him to shut up. That is not helping.

Noah looks unbelieving. He shines his light into the trees. “Scott, you out there?” Oh, for the love of God, Scott, don’t come out. “Scott?” Finally, he gives up and turns back to Stiles and I. Finally, he sighs, lowering his light. “Well, young man, I’m gonna walk you and Vivian back to your car.”

“Viv, we will talk about this later,” Griffin tells me. I nod. He looks at the object in my hand. “Nice bat.”

I look down, embarrassed. “Thank you, Griffin.”

Noah grabs Stiles’s jacket, dragging him off, and I follow. “Stiles, after you drive Vivian home, we are going to have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.”

____________

Here it is: the first day of school. At least for me. Every other student is starting their second semester at Beacon Hills High School. I peer at the front of the school from the window of Griffin’s car, fingering my locket- it’s a silver circle, with a blackbird engraved on it.

“I remember it being smaller,” I say, butterflies growing in my stomach. The building definitely hadn’t looked this big during the tour.

“You’re going to be fine,” Griffin assures me, slowly making his way to the front of the drop-off spot. “Hey, and the principal told me that you’re not the only one starting today.”

I furrow my brows. “Really?”

He nods. “Yep. Some girl named Allison. She’s going to meet you and the vice principal outside the school in a few minutes.” He moves the car up some more and glances at me. “How you feeling?”

I shrug. “It’s just weird, you know? I don’t really know anyone here besides Stiles.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Griffin smiles. “It may take some getting used to- this is definitely not Los Angeles- but everything’s going to work out.”

“Yeah, I know.” I shake my head, clearing my thoughts as Griffin pulls into the drop-off spot.

“Okay, this is us,” he says as I grab my backpack from my feet and open the passenger side door. I shoulder my bag as I step onto the pavement, and stare up at the high school.

“You’re going to do great,” Griffin calls as I close the door. “Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I say as he puts the car into drive and heads off toward the sheriff’s station.

I take a moment to look around at everyone milling about. Everyone I see is talking to someone or heading off to class. Everyone seems to fit in.

“Viv!” A voice to my left calls, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turn and see Scott and Stiles by the stairs of a side door, Stiles waving his arm wildly at me. I lift my arm in a half-hearted wave of my own, and make my way toward them.

Once I get there, Stiles turns to Scott. “Okay, let’s see this thing,” he says, and Scott lifts his shirt to reveal a bandage. Stiles moves to touch it, but Scott pulls away.

“It was too dark to see much,” Scott says, “but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

“A wolf?” I ask, confused. “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh,” Scott says.

“No, not a chance," Stiles says.

“I heard a wolf howling.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean no I didn’t? How do you know what I heard?” Scott asks, smiling slightly as we walk toward the doors.

“Because California doesn’t have wolves, Scott,” I say. “Not in decades.”

Scott stops walking, and Stiles and I follow suit. “Really?”

“Yes. There aren’t any wolves in California.”

Scott shakes his head. “Well, if you guys don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the body.”

Stiles jumps a little at the information. “You- are you kidding me?” Stiles demands.

“No, man, I wish,” Scott says. “I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.”

“Oh, God, that is fucking awesome!"

“You are way too excited about a dead body in the woods,” I notice.

Ignoring me, he keeps talking. “I mean, this is seriously going to be the best fucking thing that’s happened to this town since-” Stiles trails off, unable to think of something. “Since the birth of Lydia Martin!” He exclaims as a red-haired girl appears in his view. So this is Lydia Martin. Stiles had told Scott and I over break how he had a crush on Lydia. "Hey, Lydia... you look..." Lydia strolls past, not looking at him. "Like you're gonna ignore me." I feel a pang in my chest when I hear Stiles try to talk to Lydia. I don’t recognize the feeling, so I shake it off. He turns to Scott. "You're the cause of this, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott says, not believing him.

“Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I've been scarlet nerded by you."

“That’s not a thing,” I say, then check my watch. “Okay, I have to meet the vice principal at the front of the school.” I finger my necklace again, nervous. “God, does being the new girl always feel this scary?”

Stiles places a hand on my shoulder, smiling comfortingly. “You’re going to do great. Most of your classes are with Scott and I, so it’s not like you won’t know anyone. You’re going to be fine.”

I manage a small smile. “Thanks, Stiles.” I take a deep breath. “Wish me luck,” I say, turning to walk away.

“Good luck!” my friends chorus back.

Soon, I am at the front of the school, and spot a dark-haired girl on a bench. I quickly come to the conclusion that this is the Allison that Griffin had been talking about in the car. “Hi,” I greet. “Do you mind if I, um…” I trail off, gesturing to the space next to her.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead,” she says quickly. I sit down, pulling my backpack on my lap. “You’re new, too?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Today’s my first day.”

“Mine, too.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Allison Argent.”

I shake her hand, and introduce myself. “Vivian Byrne. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Allison pulls her hand away and fiddles with the strap of her school bag. “Are you nervous?”

I nod. “Definitely. I’ve never been the new girl anywhere. I have two friends here already, but it’s still a school full of strangers, you know? Are you nervous?”

Allison nods. “I probably shouldn’t be- I’ve moved around my whole life, and been the new girl a thousand times, but- you’re right, it’s still a school full of strangers.”

“At least we have each other,” I say, smirking.

“That’s true,” Allison replies, smiling softly. Before either of us can say more, Allison’s phone rings. She looks at the caller ID and sighs. “My mom. Again.” She answers and says, “Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it.” She rifles through her bag, holding her phone to her ear by her shoulder. “Everything except a pen. Oh, my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

Just then, the vice principal steps outside, waving toward Allison and I, and Allison hangs up with, “Okay, okay, I gotta go. Love ya.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says. “I’m Vice Principal James.” He reaches out to shake our hands as Allison and I stand up.

“Allison Argent,” Allison says, shouldering her bag.

“Vivian Byrne,” I say, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Very nice to meet you both. Let’s get this tour started, shall we?” With that, the three of us move toward the front door. “So, where are you girls from?”

“I grew up in Los Angeles,” I answer, the door shutting behind me.

“San Francisco,” Allison adds, “but it isn’t where I grew up.”

“It’s not where you grew up?” Mr. James asks.

“No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family.”

“Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while.”

Allison’s face morphs into an expression that says she doesn’t really believe that.

After a few more seconds of agonizing small talk, we reach the door to the English classroom, where Allison and I both have our first class. I sigh, relieved that I have Stiles in my first class.

“Class, these are our new students, Allison Argent and Vivian Byrne,” the vice principal announces, gesturing to each of us. As the students’ eyes move between Allison and I, I shrink back, wishing I am invisible. I catch Stiles’s eye in the back of the room, and he winks, lessening some of the butterflies in my stomach. “Please do your best to make them feel welcome.”

Allison heads toward the seat right behind Scott, as I immediately move for the seat in front of Stiles, both of us keeping our heads down. As soon as Allison sits down, Scott turns and offers her the pen he was holding. She smiles, a little confused, but takes it. “Thanks.”

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page 133,” the teacher, who I remember from my schedule as Mr. Curtis, announces, and I take out a notebook and pen.

____________

After what seems like years, the final bell rings, and I make my way down the hallway, searching for my locker. Finally, I find it, and sigh in relief. I smile when I see the person next to me. “Hey, locker buddy.”

Allison turns toward me, grinning. “Hey.”

“So, what do you want to bet they stuck us with lockers next to each other because we’re both new?” I ask, opening my locker, glad it doesn’t get stuck.

“That happened to me when I moved to Berkeley,” she says, rolling her eyes while opening her own locker. “I think they thought it was a good way to make friends, but it really just felt forced.”

“Good thing we’re already friends.” I freeze. “Unless you don’t think we are. Which is fine. I get it. I mean, we did only meet, like, five hours ago-”

“Vivian, take a breath,” Allison interrupts, holding back a laugh. “We’re friends.”

I calm down a little, smiling. “Good.”

Allison and I close our lockers and turn, spotting Scott and Stiles. Allison immediately smiles at Scott, and both of them are wearing a look like it’s love at first sight. Okay, now that is adorable.

“That jacket is absolutely killer,” a voice next to me says, causing me to turn toward it. In front of me is Lydia Martin, who is examining Allison’s outfit. She turns to me next. “And those boots are amazing.”

I self-consciously look down at my own outfit: black blazer, white button-down- both with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows-, purple tie with black paw prints, plain jeans, black studded combat boots, and of course my locket.

“Where did you two get them?” Lydia asks, bringing me back.

“A Marc Fisher sample sale last year,” I answer nervously, fingering my locket, though I don’t know why I’m nervous. Guess the whole day just has me anxious. “Got them for, like, ten dollars.”

“My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison says, fiddling with her bag strap.

Lydia points to the two of us, smiling. “And you two are my new best friends.”

We all share a small laugh as a boy comes up next to us, wrapping an arm around Lydia. “Hey,” she says as he leans forward and kisses her.

Jackson pulls away and looks at Allison and I. “Who are you?”

“Vivian,” I say, more confident now.

“Allison,” Allison answers, and Jackson shakes both our hands.

“So, this weekend there’s a party,” Lydia says, leaning against Jackson’s shoulder.

“A party?” Allison asks.

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Friday night. You guys should come.”

Allison flounders for a response. “Uh, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, what about you, Viv?” Lydia asks cheerfully.

“I- I don’t know,” I stammer. “Parties aren’t really my thing. I tend to get nervous in social situations, and trying to make small talk with a bunch of strangers seems terrifying.”

Jackson puts an arm up against the lockers and asks, “You guys sure? I mean, everyone’s going after the scrimmage.”

“You mean, like, football?” Allison questions.

Jackson scoffs. “Football’s a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We’ve won the state championship for the past three years.”

“Because of a certain team captain,” Lydia says proudly, playing with Jackson’s hair.

“Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don’t have anywhere else-”

“Well, I was going to-” Allison starts, but Lydia cuts her off.

“Perfect. You’re coming.” With that, Lydia grabs Allison and I by our wrists, dragging us along with her and Jackson. I look over my shoulder at Stiles, waving a little.

He smiles back before the double doors close behind me.

____________

The whistle blows as I sit on the bleachers, watching Scott and Stiles practice.

After a minute of watching the team, Allison speaks again. ”Who is that?” Allison asks, looking at Scott, who I realize Coach just put in the goal. From what Stiles told me of Scott’s skill, this was not going to end well.

Lydia follows her eyes. “Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class,” Allison shrugs.

“That’s Scott McCall,” I answer. “He’s my friend.”

“Have you been friends long?”

“Like two weeks,” I chuckle. “My brother and I moved here during Christmas break. I grew up with Stiles- he’s in our English class, too- and my brother wanted to be closer to Stiles’s dad, who’s been a family friend since… well, forever, really. Stiles’s parents and my parents have been friends since they were in high school.”

That gains Lydia’s attention. “Your brother?” She asks. “What about your parents?”

I hesitate. “It’s um- it’s a long story.”

Allison and Lydia send me apologetic looks, but before they can say anything, the whistle blows, and a ball comes flying right toward Scott. It hits him right on the head. Well, it hits his helmet, but the impact still knocks him to the ground. I wince sympathetically.

“Way to catch with your face, McCall!” One of the players shouts.

Scott gets up and another player throws the ball. I expect him not to catch it, but to my surprise, the ball lands right in the stick’s net. “Way to go, McCall!” I shout, shooting my friend a thumbs up.

Players keep throwing the balls toward the goal, and everyone keeps expecting Scott to miss, but he catches all of them. “He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison comments, impressed.

“Yeah, crazy good,” I agree, very confused. Stiles made it seem like Scott was horrible at lacrosse.

Just then, it is Jackson’s turn. Jackson is the captain of the team, and obviously the best player. He threw the ball toward Scott. I hold my breath in anticipation, knowing that Scott wouldn’t be able to catch this one. However, Scott is able to catch it. It’s unbelievable.

Nevertheless, I jump up and cheer for my friend. I am joined by Lydia, which I think is a little weird since what was her boyfriend that failed to get the ball in the goal.

“That is my friend!” I hear Stiles shout, grinning, making me grateful for the supportive goofball.

Scott snaps the ball over to the assistant coach, looking confident, and I am still confused. Not to sound mean, but Stiles made it seem like Scott wasn’t very good at lacrosse, and I haven’t seen either of them practice the few weeks I’ve been in town.

____________

“I don’t know what it was,” Scott said as he, Stiles, and I go for a walk in the woods after practice. We all agreed to look for Scott’s inhaler that he’d dropped the night before. “It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that’s not the only weird thing. I can… hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.”

“Smell things?” Stiles questions. “Like what?”

Scott nods toward Stiles’s jacket. “Like, Mint Mojito Gum in your pocket.”

Stiles scoffs and stops walking as he checks his jacket pocket. “I don’t even have any Mint Mojito…” he trails off as he pulls out a packet of gum.

“Scott, it’s fine,” I assure him as we all continue on the path. “Your body is just going through some changes. Things will start happening to you that you don’t understand. It’ll confuse you, but it’s a magical time.”

“Shut up!” Comes Scott’s quick response.

I stop him in his tracks by placing my hands on his shoulders. “Dude, don’t worry. It’s all normal. It’s just your body’s way of telling you that you are a woman.” Stiles snorts.

Scott looks at me in exasperation. “Why are you like this?”

I grin as he pulls away and we all continue walking. “So, all this started with a bite,” Stiles says, bringing us back on track.

“What if it’s like an infection, like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” Scott asks, concern showing in his voice.

“You know what, I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stiles says. “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

Scott stops walking. “Are you serious?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.”

“What’s that? Is that bad?” Scott’s expression begins to morph into one of fear.

I catch on to what Stiles was doing. “Oh, yeah, it’s awful. But it only happens once a month.”

Scott turns toward me, furrowing his eyebrows. “Once a month?”

I nod, acting completely serious. “Yep. On the night of the full moon.”

Stiles howls and I burst out laughing.

“Hey, man,” Scott says, annoyed. He shoves Stiles and keeps walking.

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling,” Stiles laughs.

“There could be something seriously wrong with me,” Scott insists.

“I know! You’re a werewolf!” He growls playfully, and Scott shoots him a look. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon."

We stop at the spot Scott thinks he had dropped his inhaler. “No, I could have sworn this was it,” Scott says, confused. “I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler.” He kneels down and sifts through the leaves.

“Maybe the killer moved the body,” Stiles suggests.

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are, like, eighty bucks.”

I turn and see a man not much older than us standing in the woods watching them. “Oh, my God." I hit Scott’s shoulder, making him turn and get up. Stiles grabs my wrist and pulls me back. “What are you doing here?” The man demands, walking toward us. None of us answer. “Huh? This is private property.”

“Uh, sorry man, we didn’t know,” Stiles says. He tightens his grip on my hand as the man steps closer.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott trails off. “Uh, forget it.”

The man pulls something out of his pocket and tossed it to Scott. My eyes widen. It was Scott’s inhaler. Without a word, he walks away.

“Alright, I gotta get to work,” Scott says.

As soon as the man is out of earshot, Stiles grabs onto Scott’s shoulder. “Dude that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.”

We all look in the direction he walked away. "I wonder what he’s doing back,” Scott says.

“If being terrifying was his goal, then he definitely accomplished it,” I comment, relaxing a little now that Derek Hale is gone.

____________

Stiles and I race out onto the field the next day at lacrosse practice, eyes flitting about looking for Scott. Finally, I spot Scott getting geared up on the bench.

“Scott!” Stiles shrieks. “Scott, wait up!” We come to a stop behind Scott. I rest my hands on my knees, slightly out of breath. Wow, I need to work out more.

Scott stands, saying, “Stiles, Viv, I’m playing the first elimination, man- can it wait?”

“Just hold on, okay?” Stiles asks, tapping Scott’s shoulder. “I overheard my dad on the phone.”

“And then I overheard my brother talking to Stiles’s dad on the phone,” I chime in.

“The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A.,” Stiles continues. “They found animal hairs on the body from the woods.”

“Stiles, I gotta go,” Scott says, grabbing his stick and helmet.

Stiles moves clumsily around the bench, trying to grab Scott’s arm. “Wait, no! Scott! You’re not gonna believe what the animal was!”

Unfortunately, Scott doesn’t even hear us, since he’s already on the field. I sigh, “It was a wolf.”

Just then, Coach blows the whistle, signaling the start of practice. Stiles huffs in frustration. “We will talk after,” he says to me, and joins the team out on the field.

I climb the bleachers toward the top and decide to take out a book while I wait. I spot Allison walking up, smiling as she waves to Scott, and makes her way up the bleachers to where I am sitting. “Good book?” She asks, smirking a little at the size of my book.

I grin, holding up the open novel. “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” I say, marking my page with a bookmark. “Best one in the series.”

Allison furrows her eyebrows, sitting next to me and placing her bag at her feet. “Why’s that?”

“In this one, no one believes Harry about Voldemort being back. It’s all these teenagers fighting for their world because the adults won’t, so they take matters into their own hands.” I blush. “I mostly just really love the trope of the teenagers doing a better job saving the world than the adults.”

“That’s really cool.” Allison shakes her head a little. “It’s been forever since I read Harry Potter.”

I hesitate, then say, “Well, I have the whole series at home if you want to borrow it.”

She smiles. “That sounds awesome.”

Just then, the boys start practice. And as my friend and I watch the boys play I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Smiling and laughing with a friend, talking about books, I feel normal.

____________

The next day, Scott and I meet Stiles at his house. When we both reach his room, we see the floor covered in pieces of paper.

“Get in,” Stiles orders. “You gotta see this thing. I’ve been up all night reading- websites, books, all this information.” Stiles begins digging quickly through the papers.

“How much Adderall have you had today?” I ask, slightly amused at our friend’s antics.

“A lot,” Stiles replies, and I snort. “Doesn’t matter. Okay, just listen, both of you.”

“Oh, is this about the body?” Scott asks, tossing his backpack down as we sit on the bed. “Did they find out who did it?”

“No, they’re still questioning people. Even Derek Hale.”

“The guy in the woods who almost gave me a heart attack?” I question.

“Yeah!” Stiles waves his arms. “Yes! But that’s not it, okay?”

I hold back a laugh. “What, then?”

“Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore.” Scott and I exchange a confused look, and Stiles elaborates. “The wolf, the bite in the woods,” Stiles clarifies. “I started doing all this reading.” He suddenly stands up. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

“Should I?” Scott asks, confused as to where this subject change is going.

“It’s a signal, okay? When a wolf’s alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of them.”

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott questions, disbelieving.

“No… werewolves.”

“Are you seriously wasting my time with this?” Scott demands, standing up and grabbing his bag. “You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.”

“I saw you on the field today, Scott,” Stiles says. “Okay, What you did wasn’t just amazing, alright? It was impossible.”

Scott shrugs. “Yeah, so I made a good shot.”

“No, you made an incredible shot!” Stiles takes Scott’s backpack out of his hands and puts it back on the bed. “I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. People can’t just suddenly do that overnight.”

Scott still doesn’t look believing.

“Oh, come on.” Stiles turns to me. “I mean, you believe me, right?”

“I believe you,” I say immediately, standing up.

“Thank you, Vivvy!” Stiles exclaims, throwing an arm around me.

“You do?” Scott demands.

I nod. “Yeah. I trust Stiles. If Stiles thinks you’re a werewolf, then Scott, you’re a werewolf.” Scott looks at me like I'm crazy. “I mean, come on. There’s the vision, the senses. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you not using your inhaler at all the past few days.”

“Okay!” Scott exclaims. “Dude, I can’t think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Stiles looks at Scott like he’s insane. “Tomorrow?! What? No! The full moon is tonight. Don’t you get it?”

“What are you both trying to do? I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?”

“Scott, we’re not trying to ruin anything,” I promise. I try to keep my voice calm as I try to reassure Scott. “We’re just trying to help.”

“You’re cursed, Scott,” Stiles adds. “You know, and it’s not just that the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

“Bloodlust,” Scott repeats.

“Yeah, your urge to kill.”

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles.”

“You gotta hear this.” Stiles unearths a book off the desk and starts reading aloud from it. “The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse. All right? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does.”

I turn and start rifling through my bag for my cell cellphone. “You have to cancel this date. I'm going to call her right now.”

“What are you doing?” Scott asks me.

“I’m canceling the date,” I say like it’s obvious.

“No, give it to me!” Scott yells, seizing me and shoving me up against the wall. Scott’s fist is inches from my face when he suddenly shouts angrily and tosses the office chair across the floor, causing me to breathe in sharply.

Scott pants and turns to face me again. I stand frozen against the wall, breathing hard. “I’m sorry. I gotta go get ready for that party.” He turns and takes his backpack from Stiles's bed. “I’m sorry," he repeats, and walks out of the room.

As soon as Scott shuts the door behind him, Stiles walks quickly over to me. “You okay?” He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder, worry lacing his tone.

I manage a nod, stunned at what just happened. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I shake the shock off. “I’ve never seen anyone get that angry.” Satisfied that I’m okay, Stiles goes to pick up his chair, but he freezes. “What?” I walk over and see the chair. On the back of it are three large tears, like the chair had been clawed. Yep. Scott is definitely a werewolf.

Stiles and I share a glance. “We have to get to that party,” I say, and Stiles nods in agreement.

____________

When we get to the party, I hesitate to open the passenger side door to Stiles’s Jeep. “Okay, is it normal to be stressed out about going to a high school party?” I ask, peering through the window at Lydia’s house.

At that, Stiles moves his hand away from the door handle on his side and looks over at me. “You’ll be okay,” he assures me.

“I’ve never actually been to a party before,” I say, looking back at him. “I’m always afraid I won’t know what to say, or how to act, and is there dancing? I don’t know how to dance. And am I even wearing the right thing?” I look down at my outfit, sure that it is all wrong. Stiles and I had stopped at my house so that I could change into a nice blouse with my leather jacket and some cute ankle booties. In my mirror at home, I thought I looked good, but now I’m not so sure. “God, I’m probably not wearing the right thing. I don’t even really know anybody in there. I mean, I know Lydia and Jackson, and obviously Scott and Allison are in there, and I know you, but that’s basically it. You know what, maybe I should just stay in the car.” I know I’m full on rambling now, but I can’t seem to make my mouth stop moving. “Yeah, I should just stay here-”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop,” Stiles rushes out, holding back a smile. “Breathe.” He places his hands over mine in an attempt to calm me down. “It’s okay.” He waits for me to take a deep breath, and when I finally do, he continues. “Look, I’m going to be in there, too. I’m going to stick with you the whole time, and it’s going to be fine.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “You don’t have to dance, you look great, and, hey, you don’t even have to talk to anybody if you don’t want to.”

I scoff. “What?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah.” He pokes my bag. “I know you have a book in there. If you want to just camp out in a corner and read while we keep an eye on Scott, that’s cool.”

I smile, calming down a little. “I feel like that’s not the point of a party.”

Stiles shrugs. “Hey, if it’s good enough for Rory Gilmore…”

I laugh, significantly calmer now. Finally, I stop laughing and look at Stiles, who is smiling softly at me. “Thanks for that,” I say, immensely grateful I’m friends with this boy.

“No problem.” He glances behind me at Lydia’s house. “So, you ready to brave this?”

I look out the window at all the people going into the house. I’m nervous, but I know I have Stiles with me. Finally, I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Awesome,” he smirks, stepping out onto the pavement and moving around the Jeep to open the passenger side door for me.

“Thanks,” I say, shouldering my bag.

“So, what book do you have in there?” He asks, eyeing my bag.

I blush a little. “City of Bones.”

He laughs, hooking his arm through my elbow. “Let’s go, Gilmore,” he says, leading me up the steps and into the house.

Almost as soon as we get inside, a body crashes into me, nearly knocking me down. I gasp, stumbling back, but Stiles catches me before I fall. My mind processes that it was Scott that crashed into me, and I notice that he looks totally drunk. Why do I have the feeling that his sluggish movements are not caused by drinking?

“Yo, Scott, you good?” Stiles asks, but Scott walks away, completely ignoring him.

“Are you okay?” A girl- who I recognize from my science class as Harley- asks Scott next. He ignores her, too, continuing toward the exit.

Stiles and I exchange a look, and rush back outside, but Scott had already driven away, leaving Allison at the curb. I’m about to walk up to her when I spot her walking away with Derek Hale.

As Stiles and I get into his Jeep, I send a quick text to Allison. Hey, just saw you leave the party with someone. Not that I don’t trust you, but can you text me when you get home?

A moment later, my phone pings with her response. Sure thing :)

Deciding to check Scott’s house for him first, Stiles speeds off in that direction.

____________

As soon as we get there, we race up the stairs to Scott’s bedroom, and Stiles starts pounding on Scott’s door.

“Go away!” A distant voice shouts.

“Scott!” Stiles calls through Scott's bedroom door. “It’s us.” Scott cracks open the door, but won’t open it wide enough for us to go through. “Let us in, Scott. We can help.”

“No!” Scott says, sounding like he’s in pain. “Listen, you gotta find Allison.”

“She’s fine,” Stiles says, attempting to push open the door further. We saw her get a ride from the party. She’s totally fine.”

“No, I think I know who it is.”

“Just let us in,” I beg.

“It’s Derek!” Scott bursts out. “Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods.”

Stiles and I freeze, and fear starts seeping into my mind.

“Scott… Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party,” Stiles says slowly.

My heart nearly stops with those words. My new friend could be with a literal killer right now.

Before I can do anything, Scott slams the door shut again and locks it. “Scott!” Stiles shouts, banging on the door.

____________

When we figure out that Scott has left, Stiles and I immediately drive to Allison’s house. “Did she answer you back?” Stiles asks as we speed down the street.

“She said she would let me know when she got home, but she never actually did,” I say, scrolling through my messages and only seeing Allison’s Sure thing :)

When we finally pull into Allison’s driveway, I am out of the car before Stiles can even put it in park. We run up the front steps and I ring the doorbell five times, desperately hoping Allison is okay. I may not have known her very long, but she’s already my friend. Finally, Allison’s mother opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Argent,” Stiles says. “Um, you have no idea who we are. We’re friends of your daughter’s. Uh, look this is gonna sound kind of crazy, um…”

I can see Mrs. Argent getting annoyed already, so I interrupt. “We know Allison left the party abruptly and wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“Allison!” Mrs. Argent calls. “It’s for you.”

Allison walks onto the landing and looks at us in confusion. In my head, I sigh in relief and relax.

“Viv?” She asks, walking down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, um, sorry,” I stammer. “You never answered me back, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, sorry,” Allison says through a slight laugh. “I was literally just about to text you that I got home.”

After that, Stiles and I somehow convinced her we are in fact not crazy, and to at least hear Scott out, before we head back to the Jeep to continue our search for Scott.

On the way down the road, I call Scott, but it just goes straight to voicemail. I shake my head at Stiles’s questioning glance, and I grow more worried by the second.

____________

It’s morning when we find Scott walking down the street near the woods. We pull up next to him and he gets in. As we continue driving, Scott speaks. “You know what actually worries me the most?” He asks.

“If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head,” Stiles says, and I snort.

“She probably hates me now.”

“I doubt that,” Stiles assures him. “But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could just… tell her the truth and… revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a fucking werewolf.” We both give him a look.

“That is the worst fucking idea I have ever heard,” I say from my position in the backseat.

“Okay, bad idea,” Stiles admits.

I reach forward and squeeze Scott’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“If I have to,” Stiles continues, “I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it.”

“Oh, I remember Medusa,” I say fondly. “She was so fun.”

“You named your snake Medusa?” Scott asks Stiles in disbelief.

“Actually, that was all her,” Stiles smiles, nodding his head toward me.

I grin. “I was obsessed with mythology when I was a kid. Medusa was a woman Athena cursed because Poseidon was a dick. Her hair turned into tiny snakes and she could turn people to stone by looking them in the eye.”

Stiles glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I remember you dressing up as her for Halloween when we were eleven.”

“I thought Medusa deserved some justice,” I shrug. “Hazel thought it was hilarious, especially since she was dressed as Athena.” I feel that familiar pang in my chest, as I usually do at the mention of my twin. But as Stiles sends me a small smile, the three of us continuing our banter all the way home, for the first time since that fateful night almost three years ago, I feel alright.

#blackbird fly #vivian byrne #teen wolf #teen wolf oc

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buckybarnesappreciationsociety · 6 years

Text

“Winter Soldier 2.0-Dad On A Mission”

Summary: After 2 months, Izzy’s privileges were restored. She and her parents settled into a routine of keeping the lines of communication open and honest. Their piece of mind shattered when an evil from the past tipped the scales of happiness. How will the team react? What will Bucky do to get his daughter back? The answer will definitely surprise you!

Word Count: 2K+ (Yep it’s long)

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, distress

A/N: A keyboard translating English to Russian was used for the conversation between Nat and Bucky. (www.masterrussian.com)

Bucky, Jillian, Izzy and Steven fell into a peaceful existence. After her 2 month grounding, 16 year old Izzy enjoyed hanging out with her 9 year old brother, Aunt Nat and Wanda and bff’s Kayla and Maddie. Truth be told, Maddie had a serious “crush” on Sam! He thought it was cute!

Steven was growing by leaps and bounds; Izzy becoming a beautiful young lady, with dark auburn hair, a brilliant smile and her signature freckles. Everyone said she looked like Bucky. On the other hand, Steven was a combination of his dad and mom. Chocolate brown locks, deep blue-gray eyes, olive skin tone like Jillian and her dazzling smile..

Steven loved hanging out with this dad. They dubbed it ‘guy stuff.’ Izzy extremely athletic, played soccer at the Central Midfielder position. Bucky NEVER missed a game. The other parents admired his enthusiasm. And heaven forbid if the Avengers attended as well. They were a raucous bunch, especially if Izzy scored a goal

SOMEONE’S LURKING IN THE DARKNESS

Friday around dusk, everyone milled around after the game. It was hard fought but alas, Izzy’s team lost by a score of 3-2. Tony thought a team pizza party would lift their spirits. So, he reserved the entire eatery, “Reynaldo & Giovanni’s Pizza Emporium.” The heartbroken players, coach and parents dined on succulent calzone, strombolis and a variety of pizza.

Izzy sat at the table with her friends, picking over her food. Bucky noticed and consoled his daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart, why the long face?” Sighing heavy, Izzy sounded broken, “Dad, it was my fault we lost. I let the team down.” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“C’mere baby girl.” Lifting her chin, Bucky reassured his distraught daughter no one blamed her for the team’s loss. Now, where’s that beautiful smile, huh?” Wrapping her arms around Bucky’s massive frame, Izzy’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

Returning to Jillian’s side, Bucky noticed a look of terror on his wife’s face. “Doll, what’s wrong? Looks like ya seen a ghost?”

Trying to clear her head, Jillian replied, “I think I did babe. That man who as across the street looked like Rodney.” Bucky craned his neck, looking out of the large window.

“Doll there’s no one out there. Are you sure it was him?” Bucky’s forehead creased.

Visibly shaken, Jillian responded. “I guess not my love. Everyone’s leaving, guess we should too.”

Mrs. Barnes wasn’t wrong. Rodney slithered from a distance, watching Izzy. He knew the school she attended, her place of residence and favorite hangouts. His twisted mind devised a plan to kidnap her for ransom. With the IQ of a gnat, the doofus forgot who her real dad is, James Buchanan Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier.

Nat, Wanda, Tony, Sam and Steve walked back to the Tower since it was only 3 blocks. Izzy and Steven wanted to join them, but Jillian balked at the idea.

“Hey mom. I’m gonna walk back to the Tower with….” Jillian cut Izzy off. “No you’re not. We’re taking the car! Bucky and his puzzled daughter stood silent after the outburst. Draping his arm over Jillian’s shoulder, Bucky tried to calm his nervous wife. “Angel, what’s gotten into ya? You’ve been jumpy all night.”

Jillian’s hands shook as she apologized to her daughter. “I’m so sorry Izzy. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Listen, let’s just take the car home, okay?”

Steven and Izzy nodded ‘yes.’ Exiting the restaurant, Jillian was on high alert. Obviously something or someone frightened her.

Once home, the kids showered and went to the theatre for movie night. Jillian opted to stay in the apartment and read. She felt the bed dip and gazed into her husband’s worried eyes.

“Hey, are ya okay?” Jillian closed her book and replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about earlier, kinda tired,” pecking Bucky on the cheek, she grabbed her book and continued reading. If there’s one thing James Buchanan could spot and that’s a liar. Right now, Jillian was lying!

Joining his kids, Bucky settled down, watching “John Wick 2”. Izzy was tucked under his right arm, Steven under the other. Bucky was a doting father and husband, love and adoration written all over his face. All of that happiness faded when he thought about Jillian. Did she really see Rodney?

HANGING OUT

No missions on the weekend ushered in much needed downtime. Izzy, Kayla, Maddie, and Steven were enjoying a lazy Saturday morning in the common room with Sam, Nat, Thor and Tony.

The quirky billionaire mussed Steven’s hair, “So, any plans for today?” Kayla chided, “Nope. We’ll probably walk to the park and hang out for awhile. It’s a pretty day.” Izzy added, “Yeah, we wanna get out a bit.

Nat remarked, “Be careful Izz. Do you have your pepper spray and cell phone?” Giggling, Izzy kissed her overprotective aunt on the cheek. “You worry too much. We’ll be fine and to answer your question, yes I have both.”

APPREHENSION

“Hey mom, dad! Where are ya?” Bucky heard his son bellowing and came to see what all the fuss is about. “Hey champ, why all the racket?”

Trying to catch his breath, Steven informed his dad they were leaving for the park. To his dismay, Jillian vetoed the idea.

“Steven James Barnes, you’re not going to the park!”

Steven bristled at his mom’s harsh tone. “But mom, we wanna go to the park and kick the soccer ball around. PLEASE?”

Standing before Bucky and his wife were 3 adorable teens, with puppy dog eyes. Izzy batted her eyelashes, “Mom, dad I love you. We’ll be home before dark and I’ll take good care of the rugrat.” Izzy gently nudged her brother.

“Doll, what d’ya think?, “Bucky replied, quirking an eyebrow at Jillian. Breathing a deep sigh, Jillian gave the kids permission to go out. “Just be careful and Izzy, watch your brother.”

Steven grabbed the soccer ball and the merry band rode the elevator down and out of the Tower.

After the “grandparent” fiasco, Uncle Tony purchased Izzy a new phone, with state-of-the-art Stark tech. NO ONE outside of family, has her number. As an added measure of security, Steven and his sister carried burner phones. Everyone on the team were programmed into both phones. At the push of a button, help could be summoned in a flash. Even with all this security, Jillian still had an uneasy feeling.

Steven grabbed his phone, shoved it in his front jean pocket and grabbed the soccer ball. Kayla dashed beside him and swiped the ball, causing the kids to laugh. “Gotta be faster, squirt,” Maddie giggled.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Rodney Baretti, thief, con artist, Izzy’s sperm donor. This man was lower than a snake and his so-called “parents” weren’t a shining example either; the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Rodney, his brother Caleb, and their parents managed to worm their way into Izzy’s life. Of course, there was an ulterior motive behind it; money.

Caleb and Rodney were troubled children born to an abusive mother and alcoholic father. By high school, both had a juvenile record for petty larceny and possession of a controlled substance. Rodney, the eldest, steered his brother down the wrong path.

By the age of 20, Caleb served time for armed robbery; 10 years. He was released after 6 years under the stipulations of obtaining his GED, attend anger management classes, get a job and become self-sufficient. He achieved all of those goals and was doing well on the outside. His attempt to distance himself from the vicious cycle of drug and alcohol abuse was short lived.

Rodney didn’t want to be a father and Jillian was excited about that. At least Izzy wouldn’t come in contact with his family’s toxic behavior.

The plan to kidnap Izzy was devised by Rodney and his parents. Caleb tried to distance himself from the fiendish plot, but Rodney enticed him with money and drugs.

PLAN A

First, fill Izzy’s head with falsehoods about Jillian. If all else fails, they would know where she went to school and lived. Knowing he couldn’t waltz up to Stark Tower or her highly secure school, Rodney cam

PLAN B

Caleb slithered around watching while Izzy played in the park. He bought chloroform and a getaway van. Rodney knew the plan was foolproof.

SURREAL

Steven and Maddie teamed up against Izzy and Kayla in a mini soccer match. Caleb kept a safe distance, not drawing attention to himself.

An afternoon of physical activity was quite taxing, Steven and Maddie, sat on a bench, breathing heavily, gulping down their water, while Izzy and Kayla visited an ice cream stand situated on the sidewalk, not too far from the bench.

Kayla grabbed two cones from the vendor, both chocolate. She carefully walked back to the bench to give Steven his cone. Just as Izzy got her and Maddie’s cone, the sound of screeching tires penetrated the quiet park. Two men with masks jumped out and snatched Izzy by her arm. Remembering her self-defense training, the courageous teen kneed one of the men between his legs.

Running in the direction of the fray, Steven, Kayla and Maddie attempted to grab Izzy, as she kicked and screamed. One of the stoolies managed to get the chloroform rag on her face. Izzy’s body went limp and was pulled into the van.

“IZZYYYYYYY, NOOOOOOOO!!!!! SOMEBODY HELP US PLEASE!!!” Steven emitted a blood curdling scream.

The ice cream vendor called police, but when they arrived, Izzy was gone.

“STOOOOP…..STOOOOOP!!!! IZZZYYYYYYY, OH MY GOD….PLEASE HELP US.” Kayla let out a high-pitched wail, while her body shook.

During the maylay,Maddie scrapped her knee on the sidewalk and needed medical attention. Kayla held Steven close as she dialed Bucky’s phone.

“Hey Kayla, hey. Wha-? Bucky sounded surprised.

Hollering in the phone, Kayla replied, “MR. BARNES...MR. BARNES PLEASE COME QUICK. THEY, THEY TOOK IZZY

Steven was in the background shouting for his sister. “DAAAAD….DAAAAD….DAAAAD! IZZZYYYYY….I WANT MY SISTER!”

Bucky swore this was a terrible nightmare. His military instincts went into overdrive.

“STEVE, TONY, WANDA, NAT!!! SOMEONE’S SNATCHED IZZY. WE GOTTA GET THERE NOW!!!!”

Tony summoned his suit and flew out of the Tower. Nat, Bucky and Steve ran fast as possible. The kids were only 3 blocks from home.

First on the scene, Tony. He made certain Maddie and Kayla received medical attention as well as calling their parents. Once their parents arrived, they told police what occurred.

Bucky bolted to his son’s side. “NO NO NO NO!!” Desperation dripped from his raw throat. “THIS CAN’T BE...IT’S..IT’S A NIGHTMARE….M’NOT AWAKE!”

Kneeling down, Steve scooped up Steven, who was unresponsive, and cradled his namesake; placing a blanket around his rattled shoulders. ‘This is unbelievable! I-I can’t…Oh geez, Izzy.”

Meanwhile, Jillian slumped down on the floor of their apartment and sobbed uncontrollably, yelling for her baby girl. “IZZZZYYYY….IZZZZYYYY!!!” Wanda rocked her back and forth. “Shh-shh I’ve got you. They’ll find her-they’ll find her.”

Standing, Bucky’s eyes were blank; devoid of any emotion. The metal plates in his arm shifted loudly. Nat tried to speak to him, but there was no response.

Bucky’s movements were robotic, calculated. Tony and Steve watched closely as he strode back to the Tower.

“H-hey Buck?” Steve stuttered, holding little Steven in his massive arms.

Natasha informed him, “Shit Steve, that’s not Bucky.’

Steve gingerly carried little Stevie to Dr. Cho, where Jillian and Wanda were waiting.

“OH MY SWEET SWEET SON. WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? WHY ISN’T HE TALKING?” Jillian was visibly distraught, running her hand through his har.

Dr. Cho examined Steven. “He’s in shock. I’ll keep him here overnight and monitor his vitals. Jillian you may want to stay as well.’

Through a deluge of tears, shoulders shaking, “I’ll be here.” Wanda stayed with Jillian.

Upstairs, Nat tried to reach Bucky, but he was in Soldier mode. At least his wife and son weren’t around to witness his transformation.

ЬЩМУ ТФЕФДШФ

(MOVE NATALIA)

“ФКУ НЩГ ЫГКУ НЩГ ЦФТЕ ЕЩ ПЩ ВЩЦТ ЕРШВЫКЩФВ ФПФШТ?”

(ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GO DOWN THIS ROAD AGAIN?)

ШЬ ТЩЕ РФМШТП ЕРШЫ ВШЫСГЫЫШЩТ ЦШЕР НЩГ

(I’M NOT HAVING THIS DISCUSSION WITH YOU)

ЦРФЕ ЫРЩГДВ Ш ЕУДД НТ?

(WHAT SHOULD I TELL JILLIAN?)

ЕРУ ЕКГЕР

(THE TRUTH)

Tony analyzed the blood and found it to be Caleb’s. All of his information was on file because of his stint in prison.

“I need to get to Bucky before he does something stupid”, Steve deadpanned.

Tony cautioned the blonde super soldier to wait before approaching Bucky. The rest of the team was contacted. Everyone convened in the conference room. When Bucky arrived in the room, Sam nudged Clint, looking at their friend.

The gray sweats and t-shirt had been shed for black tactical gear; loaded to the hilt with weapons. Bucky stood quietly in the back of the room, arms folded across his chest and icy stare.

James Buchanan Barnes no longer existed, nor the Winter Soldier. He was someone more dangerous ….a father on a mission.

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rosegardentwilight · 6 years

Text

Satisfied Chapter 6: Down for the Count

Satisfied Summary: Fate must hate her or her so-called good luck had run out. What other explanation was there to the course of events that would collide with her life that would bring her to Adrien Agreste’s Wedding? Rated: T Pairing(s): Marichat, Adrienette, and Adrien/oc Word count: 3k ish for Chapter 5 Also read on: fanfiction, AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

A.N.- Don’t know how many people are still reading it on this platform, but here’s the next chapter. Going to be posting spoilers for chapter 7 soon.

Chapter 6

It was a highlight to visit Mrs. Petit’s apartment every week, even if she could only spare a few minutes so they could catch up. They had a chance encounter on the stairs and Marinette had offered to help carry her groceries back and the whole way they talked. After that day, everything changed. Marinette would often come over to talk about various subjects from school to her future dreams. The elderly women would offer her advice but only when asked. The knowledge that someone gave up her time, effort and energy at a moments notice to listen brought her comfort. She wouldn’t trade the laughter and conversations for anything in the world.

Her friend’s face lit up at the sight of the baked goods and she stepped aside ushering Marinette towards the couch before starting a pot of tea for them to share.

"How are your studies?" Mrs. Petit asked.

Marinette started pacing the room, smiling softly. Education was the first thing Mrs. Petit asked in their time together, Marinette assumed that it was important in her upbringing. It was prompted when one day she had brought over her sketches, and although Mrs. Petit knew nothing about fashion, she could still appreciate Marinette's sketches.

"Everything has been a dream come true. My teacher slipped that I'm in the final pool for the Agreste internship. It would be an opportunity of a lifetime; not only would I be working with the most talented man in the business, the exposure to other contacts would jump start my career."

During her response, she couldn't help but notice how lined the walls were with old photographs of Mrs. Petit and a man assumed to be her husband, prompting Marinette to ask, "Whatever happened to your husba- Mr. Petit?" Her heart panged inside her chest partly out of guilt that she had never asked before.

The old lady patted a space for Marinette to sit next to her before letting out a sigh. "He passed on 5 years ago, God bless his soul. The doctors said that his heart just gave out...I was at the store at the time, and as crazy as it sounds, I knew something was wrong. It wasn't until I came home and found him that I…" Mrs. Petit’s voice trailed off into silence as she relived the memory.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" Marinette couldn't even begin to describe how she would feel if that happened to her.

"It's ok, child. I love and miss him so much. And when you love someone like I loved him, he is a part of me. It's like you're attached by this invisible tether and no matter how far away you are, you can feel them. When they're gone it feels like part of you is ripped open, but when reunited there is nothing better."

Surely Mrs. Petit wasn't insinuating that only one person was completely compatible out of everyone in the world?

"I'm not sure I understand," She confessed picking up her cup of tea.

"For example, Ladybug and Chat Noir..." Marinette almost spat out her tea. "It's clear from watching them in a battle that they’re opposites, but that's what makes them strong. He raises her up when she needs it most, and visa-versa."

The only question racing through Marinette’s mind at that exact moment was: how many fights did Mrs. Petit witness, putting herself in danger in the process?

"So-So you think that Chat Noir an-and LadyBug are soulmates?" Marinette was lucky not to drop her cup in the process of setting it on the table. It seemed to be the safer option. Mrs. Petit simply smiled before answering, "I would bet my life on it." Such a bold statement made Marinette even more curious about what her relationship was like with her husband.

“Would you tell me more about him?” Since her project was completed and Amelie had Adrien over, she was in no rush to return to her apartment.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Can you get me a drink, sweetie?” Amelie raised her head from its comfortable spot on the blonde’s chest batting her eyelashes. Her words snapped Adrien out of his thoughts, pulling his eyes from the fire. He hadn’t meant to drift off, but his girlfriend seemed to be more interested in her Instagram account.

But it was a simple enough request, so Adrien threw back the fuzzy blanket left the comfort of the warm fireplace. On his way to the kitchen, his eyes landed on Marinette’s door. He hadn’t seen her since he arrived. The model glanced back at Amelie who was too busy taking a selfie to notice when his feet veered off course. He pushed open the door to a semi-dark room except for the lamp that illuminated the designs on the desk. His heart dropped as his shoulders slumped down, no wonder he hadn’t seen her. He was about to leave when some of the designs on the desk caught his eye. They were for Ladybug and Chat Noir. He shouldn’t, but Adrien couldn’t tear himself away. His fingers brushed over the sketch. Is this what Marinette did in her free time? Maybe he could persuade her to move forward with these and then he wouldn’t freeze to death on patrol this winter.

The only thing that could draw his attention further was a piece of paper with his name underlined. Curiosity got the better of him and he reached for what looked like a list and pulled it out of the magazine. His eyes narrowed as he started reading: Never be alone together Keep conversation to small talk What was this? The list seemed to go on and on of regulations set in place against him. The Marinette he knew wouldn’t have come up with this on her own. Adrien picked up the magazine and instantly zeroed in on one name; Amelie.

“Adrien?” Her voice startled him, and, in a panic, he shoved the list in his pocket and closed the door.

He grabbed a glass of water but with every step back to his girlfriend, his anger stoked into a fire. When the cup was slammed on the table, it finally caught her attention.

“What’s wrong with you?” She tried to clean up any spilled water from damaging the end table. Amelie leaned back in her seat to notice Adrien with a permanent frown sulking in his blanket.

“Talk to me,” she cooed as her fingers played with the fluff of hair on his neckline.

“Why, so you can boss me around like everyone else?” Adrien thought that he mumbled it quietly enough for only him to hear, but a stern cough drew his gaze to meet an electrified stare.

“What did you say?” Her tone drew goosebumps, and Adrien knew it was too late to turn back.

“Don’t you get tired of ordering everybody around all the time?” This was giving him flashbacks of some of his conversations with Chloe. “I saw the way you talked to people at your mom’s company, and the way you twisted Marinette’s arm into her date.”

“My mom has been grooming me to take over the business for a year. What kind of boss would allow their employees to submit subpar work with the fashion shows only a couple weeks away?” From the business side she made a point but in all his years he had never witnessed anything like that go down in his dad’s company. His dad would never admit it, but Adrien had seen the number of hours he had poured into its success. “And like it or not, Marinette agreed to the date all on her own.”

“What do you even know about this guy anyway?” With those words, the fight grew.

Marinette allowed her feet to wander the familiar worn path from Mrs. Petit's apartment to her own as her mind mulled over the wisdom she was given. If she was honest she had never given much thought to her stance on soulmates, but the way that she had talked about her late husband was persuasive. Even if she was off base with her examples, her heart was in the right place.

As she neared her apartment, she heard shouting, slowing her stroll to a stop. It was only a couple steps to the door, but she didn’t need to venture any further to hear the words that were being said. She shouldn’t listen, but as soon as she heard Adrien’s voice say her name she knew that she couldn’t move even if she wanted to; they were arguing about her? Her skin crawled as her chest tightened on the spot, she never wanted to be the reason that they would fight.

"Maybe we shouldn't be. I'm done, Amelie." An icy sensation shot down her spine at the anger in his words. Did she hear what she thought she heard? The sound of approaching footsteps caused her to jump, regaining control over her limbs, but there was no place to hide short of bursting into a stranger's apartment which would bring about more trouble in the long run. Marinette froze like a deer in headlights when he slammed the door shut. Immediately his face softened when he caught sight of her a couple feet down the hallway.

"Marinette," one hand flew to the back of neck out of instinct reaction. "I guess you heard that, huh?" His voice was heavy almost as if whatever was in mind had spilled out through his vocal chords.

"Not all of it, but these walls are paper thin so I'm sure the neighbors did." It was supposed to be a joke, but Marinette couldn't even bring herself to laugh. She was waiting for him to excuse himself right then and there, but it never came. Wasn't she supposed to be overjoyed that the boy she had liked for so long was finally free? But she couldn't budge this feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was wrong. So, she did the only things she could do; retreat into the sanctuary of her room. “You should probably go. If she catches you out here she’ll chase you down to the street.” Her roommate had a temper when she was fueled enough. Marinette turned towards the door of the apartment but before she could push it open, Adrien’s hand gently grabbed her arm.

“We’re still friends right, Marinette?” The question caught her off guard because she had known Adrien longer than his relationship. It was hard to think as his eyes were wandering in hers searching for an answer.

She slipped on a smile, “We’ll always be.” However true the statement was it still left the stale taste of a lie on her tongue. ‘That’s all we’ll ever be,’ her mind corrected.

His body seemed relaxed as if the simple words lifted a burden he didn’t know he was carrying. He glanced warily at the door before giving a slight head nod as his farewell. Marinette watched as Adrien walked out of site before letting out a sigh she was holding. If her conversation with him was any indication of what was waiting before the door, she wanted to take a couple moments to herself first. When Amelie got into her moods, it shifted the feel of the apartment. There wasn't talking, and they would stay mostly in her room.

"Amelie?" She asked as she slid through the door, she heard a muffled cry in the kitchen. Marinette rounded the corner in time to see her roommate wiping tears from her eyes. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Adrien he- something came up and he had to cancel the weekend trip." Amelie's voice cracked slightly, but she managed to keep her composure. Even though that may be true, Marinette had a feeling that wasn't the only thing that was wrong. It wasn't like her to hide things but pushing the matter more might only cause a fight to break out between them.

“It’s ok, you can always go another time.” Her response elicited a muffled sob. “I finished my dress for the final. We can celebrate.” It was the perfect excuse to give her roommate the comfort she needed without bringing up the real reason she was upset.

“I don’t feel up for going.“ Amelie crossed her arms allowing her eyes to fall to the floor.

“We can stay in,” Marinette suggested, cutting off the excuse she was receiving. “I can make chocolate chip cookies, have ice cream and drown in Chris Evan movies.” If that didn’t sound like an enticing night, Marinette didn’t know what did. Amelie’s face softened before she wrapped her arms tightly around her roommate. They stayed there for a moment before she buried her face into the crook of Marinette’s shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you as a friend.” The redhead’s mumbled words barely reach Marinette’s ears, but they spurred a frown. She often wondered after interactions like this what her relationship with her parents was like. There were similarities between Amelie and Adrien with their behavior, but it wasn’t something that got discussed.

“Nonsense,” Marinette quipped in her upbeat tone. “We are lucky to have each other. Now go pick out the first movie and I’ll put the dough in the oven.” Amelie didn’t hesitate to leave her friend’s side to pick out the entertainment for the night, it was good to see her small pep talk aided.

Marinette let out a sigh as her feet stumbled back until the small of her back hit the counter. From what she had seen of Adrien from their encounter, the break had to be his idea. It only sparked further questions about what Amelie did to push him over the edge in the first place. If she had arrived a couple minutes sooner, she would have filled the holes in what knowledge she was lacking.

What happened now? As silly as it seemed, she had gotten used to Adrien around her apartment, but now he had no reason to be there. She allowed her mind to wander to a fantasy of the blonde returning to their apartment, but not for Amelie. Adrien confessing his feelings was a dream* that looped in her mind constantly since he walked back in her life to the point where it played out in front of her. Despite his taller frame, their eyes would lock, and he would lean further in, his breath tantalizing every nerve in her body as it mixed with hers.

“It’s always been you.” He would say as his thumb stroked her cheek. His touch would leave a fire wherever he went, and she could feel her body craving him. Suddenly his lips crash on hers and she is overtaken by the urge to explore every crevasse of his mouth with her tongue-

“Mari, are you coming?” She had inadvertently been caught red-handed in her daydream. She thought the advice that she had received from one of Amelie’s magazines was supposed to prevent this kind of behavior. Making the list had only increased the number of times her mind wandered.

“Just a moment,” she responded quickly as she fumbled over the dough. No, Adrien was just a friend. The thought that she was the reason for the break up made her stomach churn. There had to be a reason that her name came up during the fight.

Once the cookies were in the oven and the timer set, she sunk comfortably in the couch next to her roommate. They exchanged smiles and the movie began. The timer was the only thing that pulled her away only for the fact she didn’t want the sweets to burn; it was an important part of girl nights after all. When she placed the tray on top of the stove, her phone in her pocket buzzed. She glanced back at Amelie, pulling it out.

Adrien: I’m sorry about earlier.

Her fingers hovered over the screen. Her first instinct was to respond but that went against everything that the magazine that Amelie had given her stated. She had made a list earlier that afternoon that she could reference in her moments of weakness.

He’s only texting you because he is alone.

She had to be strong. It was the only way she would get over him. As much as she hated to admit it, him dating Amelie changed things that couldn’t be overlooked. She didn’t want to be second place. What she was feeling now would fade over time and with any luck, she would be able to have some resemblance of a friendship with him further down the line. She shoved the phone into her pocket without responding and retreated to the living room, cookies in hand.

“You know, a watched phone never rings,” Plagg stated in between bites of his Camembert. He was shot an annoyed look from the blonde. The list that he found was getting inside his head, and as much assurance as he tried to convince himself, he was worried. What did he do to Marinette to that made her react this way?

“She’ll text back, I know her.” Even though some years had separated them, Marinette was still the girl he knew. She was always there for her friends no matter what. Even though he assumed he was no longer welcomed in the apartment, he was going to make a conscious effort to keep her in his life in some capacity. She made him want to be better, she could take one look at him and call out hidden potential even he didn’t know was there. Now that she was back in his path he craved her friendship.

“If you say so,” his kwami replied, not fully convinced. He needed something--anything-- to distract himself. He placed his own movie in the player and settled back into his seat; he would much rather be engrossed in Batman’s world than his own. The phone was still in his view so he could reply when she texted him.

Halfway through the movie, his confidence was wavering, but he still had faith that she would. It wasn’t long after that sleep overtook him. Plagg pulled the blanket higher on his chosen and rested on the top of the couch. Adrien had his ups and downs just like any other Chat Noir in the past, but he started to worry about what this would mean for the dynamic of the team. There was no doubt that Tikki was giving Marinette a pep-talk tonight, but that wasn’t an option for him. Adrien was sinking into a tailspin but refused to acknowledge it. If he couldn’t show that he came to care for the sleeping boy on the couch with his words, he would have to show him with his actions. His eyes remained glued on Adrien’s phone waiting for it to light up with a text message. He must have watched it all night, but nothing ever came.

#miraculousladybug #miraculousfanfic #miraculousladybugfanfiction #miraculousladybugfanfic #adrienette #adrien x marinette #marichat #Chat Noir and Marinette #ml ladybug

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lobsters-on-their-heads · 6 years

Text

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Christmas Part 1

So far, this is in three parts, each part covering one day. Extra notes are included on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799/chapters/30119613

“I can't believe you signed us both up for this.”

Delphine checked her hair one last time and watched Cosima straighten her tights in the mirror. “Alison's done a lot for us while we've been gone,” she reminded her. “The least we can do is go to one Christmas Eve service with her, if it's going to make her happy.”

“Have you ever been to a Christmas Eve service?”

Delphine turned and put her hands on her hips. “My mother sent me to Catholic boarding school. What do you think?”

“Oh shit, you went to Catholic boarding school? You never told me that.” Cosima stood and smoothed down her skirt. “That explains a lot.”

“Does it?”

“Well, like, yes and no.” Cosima sorted through her winter blouses in the closet until she found one she liked, and pulled it over her head, talking as she went. “Yes, because you can be, like, kind of cold sometimes – and not in a bad way! That is not an insult, I promise.”

Part of Delphine burned at the insinuation there, even as she knew that she had been cold, very cold, in the past. She thought they were past that, though, that Cosima understood and forgave, and that the past months showed that Delphine could be just as warm as Cosima was. Then Cosima came over, her blouse still catching on her bra, and she put both hands on the sides of Delphine's face.

“I did not mean that in a bad way. I promise.”

Delphine took a deep breath. The Hendrixes were picking them up in less than ten minutes. With Cosima's hands still on her face, Delphine pulled Cosima's blouse down and adjusted it for her. “Okay. You said yes and no, though.”

“Correct. Also yes because you have really awesome posture, and that's totally a Catholic boarding school kind of thing.”

She smiled at that. “Alright. What else?”

“Well, actually, it also explains your totally progressive and open views of sex, contrary to surface expectations.”

It certainly was contrary, since all Delphine's teachers had taught them about sex was that they shouldn't have it until marriage, and that boys would want to have a lot of it. “Explain.”

Cosima was gearing up now as she took her blazer from the closet and buttoned it up. “Okay, so, my first girlfriend in college grew up super Catholic, right?” Cosima bent to put on her boots, grunting as she did. “Once she realized that sex wasn't bad, and I do mean the day she figured that out, she was like a sex maniac. She couldn't get enough of it. It was like, every time we fucked, it was her giving the Catholic church a big middle finger. And she wanted to try all this kinky shit precisely because she'd been told her whole life that it was a sin.”

Still listening, Delphine smoothed down her dress one last time and put on her own shoes. The theory made sense, in an anecdotal way, but she wasn't a fan of it. “So I have sex with you as an act of rebellion? Is that what you're telling me?”

“Well, hopefully you have sex with me because you love me and I turn you on, but rebellion probably played a role in the beginning.”

“In the beginning.”

Cosima checked the time; the Hendrix minivan would be there in any minute. She gave Delphine a shit-eating grin. “Well, you know. Except we both know you only slept with me the first time because Leekie told you to.”

“Oh, you are. A. Brat.”

Cosima darted away just out of Delphine's reach, her cackle coinciding with the buzz of her phone, telling them that Alison was outside.

“You are going to pay for that.”

Cosima was still grinning as she put on her coat. “Do you promise?”

So that's what she's after...

Delphine held off answering for a minute, putting on her own coat and gloves and starting up the stairs. She was silent long enough to make Cosima squirm, long enough for her cheeky little grin to falter and the beginnings of an apology to form in her eyes. Then, at the outside door of the comic shop, Delphine paused with her hand on the knob.

“Only if you're very good,” she said. “Then I'll let you pay for it.”

* *

The church was tucked into a residential community in Toronto proper, surrounded by apartment complexes and corner stores. It was clearly a church, and yet it wasn't. The doorway recalled the steep entrances of Église Saint Maclou in Lille, where her mother had taken her twice a year or so growing up, but the facade and shape of the building could have fit a school or a nice communal home just as well. Delphine followed Alison and Donnie into the church, Cosima's hand in hers. The kids led the way, already comfortable enough here after two prior visits to jaunt ahead and claim a place to sit. Just inside the door, an elderly woman in a Christmas vest gave them all programs. Without thinking, Delphine reached her fingers out for some holy water, and staggered slightly when there wasn't any.

“You okay?” Cosima asked.

“Yes.” She smiled back at her. “I almost forgot I'm not Catholic anymore.”

They sat a few rows from the front, still holding hands, together with Donnie and Alison flanking the children in the middle. While Cosima flipped through the program and muttered about not being able to sing, Delphine looked around the room. People, mostly families with children, filled in, hugging and smiling at each other, dressing and behaving more informally than she'd ever seen at Église Saint Maclou. One teenage girl came wearing her pajamas and plastic antlers, even as the rest of her family was a bit more respectable, and no one batted an eye.

Also, while most congregants at Église Saint Maclou looked like Delphine and her mother, the people who filled the seats here looked much like the population of Greater Toronto. Three women in front of them chatted in Argentinian Spanish, if Delphine's ear was correct, and a Middle Eastern man in the aisle helped a teenaged boy practice Arabic greetings. A woman in a wheelchair was situated nearby, her hands flapping back and forth as she smiled and moaned, and the other congregants told her they were happy to see her.

And some of them were gay. Delphine was obviously no stranger to gay people, even before she'd come out to herself, but she had never, ever, seen gay couples in a church before. There was a pair of elderly men, bald, hunched, and covered in liver spots, who held hands on their way in. There was a pair of women and their two small children. In the row behind them, a woman whom Delphine suspected was transgender sat and tapped Alison Hendrix on the shoulder, and then the two of them fell into an animated conversation about fabric until Alison pointed down the row and said, “And that's my sister Cosima and her fiancée.”

“Huh?” Cosima looked up at the sound of her name. She was more nervous that Delphine had seen her in some time.

The woman behind them extended a hand. “Hi, I'm Corinne. I can certainly see the family resemblance here!”

You have no idea, thought Delphine.

Compared to church services of Delphine's youth, the Christmas Eve service Alison took them to was a zoo, but not in a negative way. The children of the congregation led most of it, from Bible readings to acting out scenes from the Christmas story that included an actual infant from the congregation who cried during his big moment in the spotlight. At one point, a toddler in a cow costume broke away from the group and wandered down the aisle until he stopped and stared at Cosima, three slobbery fingers in his mouth.

“Okay, that was fucking adorable,” Cosima whispered once the boy's father came to carry him away.

Afterwards, there was hot chocolate, hot apple cider, and cookies for everyone, and then they piled back into the minivan to head to everyone's current homes, where the kids would be allowed to open one present each before bed.

“Are you having supper with us?” Charlotte asked Cosima and Delphine. “Helena's making a traditional Ukrainian Christmas dinner.”

“Mom's helping,” Kira added.

Delphine looked over at Cosima, whose face mirrored her own.

“Uh, I don't think we will, no,” Cosima said. “We're pretty tired, so I think we'll just go to bed.”

“And we have presents to wrap,” Delphine said.

“And that.”

The Hendrixes would be staying at Sarah's house that night, it turned out. They'd brought some air mattresses and bed linens as well as Christmas stories to read to the children. All in all, it sounds a little too cozy for Delphine at the moment.

“We'll see you first thing tomorrow morning, okay?” she told them.

* *

Back at the Rabbit Hole, both Delphine and Cosima were happy to remove dress shoes and tights, and pull on pajamas. Delphine sat up in bed and checked the handful of “Joyeux Noël!” messages she'd gotten on her phone. Cosima curled up beside her on the bed and pulled the covers over their knees.

“What did you think?” Cosima asked.

“It wasn't what I expected.”

“Yeah, me neither. Not sure what I did expect, though.” She played with a loose thread on Delphine's flannel pants. “Alison wants us to go back, though, and I don't really think I want to.”

“You don't have to. We only went tonight as a favor, and we'll only be in Toronto until the end of January.”

“Yeah. D'you think...” Cosima leaned back and chewed on her lip.

“What?”

“D'you think she was just showing off this cool new gay-friendly church she has? Like, 'hey, lemme take my queer sister to this church with all these other gay people. Won't she think I'm cool?' And, 'Oh, let me show her off to my new church, so everyone will know how cool I am, that I have a gay sister.'”

Delphine thought about it. Until tonight, actually, Delphine had never wondered what Alison thought about Cosima's sexuality. There was acceptance, and that was all that mattered, especially with everything else they had to contend with. “I have no idea, chérie. Is that what you think?”

“I don't know. I mean, on the upside, the kids get to hang out with a bunch of people with a bunch of different backgrounds, which, from what Felix told me, is not the case in Bailey Downs, so that's good.”

“Hm. Maybe.”

Delphine sank deeper under the covers and closed her eyes for a few moments. The day full of Christmas planning, meals, and now church finally caught up with her. She remembered Cosima's remarks before they left, though, and her promise to get Cosima back for them. That getting back part would have to wait until she had more energy, but she still had a question.

“You said that Catholic boarding school both did, and did not, explain a lot,” she said.

“Oh, shit.” Cosima giggled and settled into the blankets with her so they lay side by side. “Yes, I did.”

“What does it not explain?”

“Well, the first thing that came to mind when I said that was your mom, actually. You said your mom took you to church, right?”

“Along with my grandparents, yes.”

“But you also told me, a little while back, that your mom was on birth control, yeah?”

“Also yes.”

“I thought birth control was a big no no for Catholics.”

Delphine snorted, and almost wanted Cosima to meet her mother just then. No one else called out bullshit quite like Cosima could. “My mother is what I like to call an a la carte Catholic. She takes the parts she likes – the routines, the social connections, the schooling for me – and leaves the parts she doesn't like. It's very convenient for her. I'd be shocked if she even believed in God, to be honest with you.”

“Well, I know that you don't.”

“Not most of the time.”

Cosima propped herself up on one elbow. “Most of the time? Does that mean that you do believe in God some of the time?”

She closed her eyes again and rubbed her forehead. “If that's what you want to call it, yes. Maybe. I believe in something, a little bit. Or maybe it's better to say, I do not disbelieve in something all the time.”

“That sounds convoluted, but okay. What's changed, then? You used to be pretty emphatically against spirituality in general.”

Delphine rubbed her face some more, not really wanting to get into it at the moment. What she wanted was to lay in bed with Cosima and let the saccharine evening of wholesome family happiness and children dressed as livestock dissipate a little before tomorrow, when they would dive head-on into a full day of Clone Club Family Christmas.

“What happened?” Delphine repeated. “I got shot in the abdomen and I was almost shot in the head, but instead of dying, I'm laying here talking to you. Or should I say I'm lying here? I can never remember.”

Cosima wrapped her arm around Delphine's midsection and nuzzled her shoulder. “Laying, lying, who gives a shit? You're here. That's all I care about.” She kissed Delphine's collarbone and the soft skin just above it a few times. “I will never not be thankful for that. And you can believe in whatever you want. I'm just a little surprised, that's all.”

Delphine kissed her forehead, then her lips when Cosima tilted her head up. “We can talk more about it later if you'd like. I'm not really up for it now, though.”

“Not a problem. Sleep well, my love.”

She kissed her again, a little longer this time. “You too.”

#cophine christmas #orphan black fanfiction #cophine fanfiction #continuing travels of cophine

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frostedpuffs · 7 years

Text

Broken Hearts Club - Ch.6

Broken Hearts Club Summary: Upon confessing to their crushes, Marinette and Chat Noir both find out the hard way that those who hold the key to their hearts have affections for another. Rejected and blue, the pair find themselves in an odd sort of friendship, all while hiding the fact that they’d been the one to break the other’s heart. When feelings that hadn’t initially been within them begin to rise, they both have to come to terms with the fact that maybe the person they’d rejected means more to them than they had originally expected… Rated: T Pairings: Marinette/Chat Noir, Adrien/Marinette

Chapter 6 - Catnap Word Count: 4,194 Read on: ao3 | fanfiction.net

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"What do you think would happen if I told Ladybug my real feelings?"

Plagg slowly rolled open an eye and gazed at his Chosen, ear twitching in mild disinterest. He had been busy taking a nap on the windowsill and soaking in the morning sunrays that streamed through the glass, and Adrien noted the brief glint of annoyance that flashed through his eyes. He knew his kwami didn't like being woken during a catnap, especially when said nap was in a warm patch of sunshine...but the question had been eating at him for days now, and he wanted some advice.

Plagg stretched, his mouth opening in a wide, drawn-out yawn. "What do you think would happen?"

Adrien shrugged. "I don't know. Part of me hopes that she'd sweep me off my feet and profess her undying love for me, then we'd run off and elope and live a fulfilling life together."

"Allow me to be blunt," Plagg said, floating over from his perch on the windowsill and settling himself on Adrien's shoulder. "You and I both know that isn't going to happen. What you want and what she'll do are two entirely different things."

"I know that." Adrien sat on the edge of his bed and slipped his shoes on. Distracted, he struggled with the laces for a moment before he threw himself back onto his mattress and sighed."But the other part of me is scared that she'll flat-out reject me. Or laugh at me or call me dumb or something."

"Do you really think she would react so coldly?"

Adrien shook his head. "No. No, I don't. But I'm still scared."

"Well, don't be," Plagg yawned. Licking a tiny paw, he began to clean his whiskers. "I don't know Ladybug like you do, but from past experiences...just do what you think is right. Whatever happens, happens. That's how I look at life, anyways."

Adrien's expression flattened. "Dive in without thinking of consequences?"

Plagg snorted in response. "Well, that's one way to put it. But what I mean is don't worry too much over it. Just let things take their own course and if something bad happens, you two will get through it." Stretching, Plagg floated back over to his resting spot upon the windowsill and curled up into a little black ball, sliding his eyes closed to signal that the conversation was over. "You two weren't chosen to be a team for nothing. Now let me sleep."

Maybe Plagg was right. Maybe he should just go with his gut.

But what if his gut was wrong?

Frowning, Adrien shook his head and sat up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Decision making wasn't really his thing. He usually had Nathalie to make most decisions for him.

He allowed himself a moment's pause as he considered the pros and cons of confessing to Ladybug. On one hand, he'd feel much better knowing that he didn't have to carry the burden of a secret anymore. On the other, if she rejected him…

He didn't want to think about it.

(Correction: he didn't want to think about how much of a mess it would make him.)

"Being in love kind of sucks," Adrien mused as he pulled on a light jacket and peeked out his window at the trees to see how strong the wind was. "Don't you think so, Plagg?"

Plagg grumbled, unmoving. "Heck if I know. Love is a gross human thing."

Adrien chuckled, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Don't you love cheese, though?"

"Cheese is something you don't entirely understand."

"Right," Adrien laughed. "Cheese is an enigma. Let's go, cheese cat."

Plagg sat up and regarded him with an expression so sour it almost made Adrien take a step backwards. "I am a god that has lived for over five thousand years. That's Monsieur Cheese Cat to you."

Giving a playful roll of his eyes, Adrien patted his backpack and opened the flap for Plagg to fly inside. He didn't want to be late for class, after all, and he still had to make a pitstop by the kitchen to swipe some Camembert for his hungry companion.

The morning was starting off pretty well. The outside air was cool and the leaves on the trees were at their peak, decorating the streets of Paris with an array of orange and red. As he bid a goodbye to his empty house and stepped out into the sunshine, Adrien took a deep breath and sighed, relishing in how nice the breeze felt against his skin.

It was a cool autumn morning. The weather was changing. Soon, it'd be cold—winter—the only time of year Adrien didn't mind being cooped up inside all that much. While he definitely wasn't fond of being trapped in his room, he was much less partial to the drop in temperature that came with the season.

Not even Ladybug enjoyed winter. She seemed slower, less focused. Usually on especially cold days—well, as cold as it gets in Paris—patrol would be cancelled lest they freeze to death, meaning it would be another day gone by without Adrien seeing his Lady.

His Lady...

(As if.)

Blinking at a gust of wind that blew against his eyelashes, Adrien adjusted his scarf and walked down the steps to the silver sedan awaiting him. He grabbed the handle and opened the door, stepping one foot inside and-

"Akuma," Plagg hissed from his backpack. His nose stuck out of the flap of Adrien's backpack, sniffing the air with a twitch of his whiskers. "Coming this way."

-and was promptly showered in a cloud of golden dust.

An aching exhaustion began to seep into Adrien's bones. Bracing himself against the side of the car, he shook his head, trying to clear the sleep that clung to his eyelids. One glance to his bodyguard slumped over in the driver's seat confirmed that it wasn't only Adrien who was feeling a tad weary.

(The fact that Gorilla's head was resting against the horn would have been funny if Adrien wasn't so tired.)

"Yep, definitely an Akuma," he grunted. Shutting the car door, he ducked down behind the vehicle and gave Plagg a determined grin as the black kwami zipped out from his backpack, tail curling in anticipation. "Plagg, transforme-moi!"

Chat Noir dropped down onto the asphalt with a roll, his heart pounding in his ears as he righted his position and stood up straight, baton in hand.

Today's akuma was a tricky one. While Adrien didn't mind waking up early for school, he didn't exactly enjoy the prospect of having his morning interrupted. He'd even taken the time to style his hair, damn it...and it would probably look like a complete mess by the time he made it to school.

Vaulting himself to the top of a building, Adrien paused. He could see Dreamscape floating down the road on his puffy mode of transport, no doubt in search for innocent people to bore with a drawling monologue until they were begging for an early rest. Most citizens were smart and ducked into hiding spots, like alleyways or bathrooms in small shops, but others went about their business without even batting an eye. Adrien supposed it was because the people of Paris were nearly desensitized to Papillon's villains by now. After all, the guy had been attacking the city for two years—battles were beginning to become old news. Every now and then even Adrien found the fights to be a tad boring.

Except for Ladybug, of course. He could never get bored of fighting by Ladybug's side.

He huffed as Dreamscape went to corner an innocent shopkeeper against the front of a deli and slid down the side of the building to the ground, the heels of his boots clicking against the sidewalk. The villain was droning along about his inconsiderate neighbors and how he wanted to make the entirety of the world sleep forever, blah, blah, blah...

Adrien could sympathize slightly. He knew how annoying it could be to have his sleep consistently interrupted. But instead of crappy neighbors, it was more like a kwami who could snore as loudly as a full grown man.

Still, Adrien did find the akuma's motivations interesting now and then. Some even had hilarious intentions, like the time someone had become akumatized because they'd stepped in chewing gum and wanted to cover the entire city in it.

It was all so silly.

Extending his baton, Adrien gave Dreamscape's back a few taps to get his attention before resting his hands upon his hips. "Wow," he began. "I guess somebody's upset they didn't get their catnap today, huh?"

"Chat Noir!" The villain bellowed. As he leaned in, Adrien took note of the purple bags underneath his eyes and the stink of his morning breath. His dated sleeping cap swung in his face. "Give me your Miraculous or the whole city of Paris never wakes again!"

"I have a better plan." Adrien clasped his clawed hands together with a grin. "How about you tell me where your little butterfly is located, and I take the item to Ladybug so she can purify it and you can go back to bed, okay?"

Dreamscape's face immediately contorted into an expression of rage, and his eyes glowed red. "No! They must learn! I won't be bothered during my sleep any longer!"

"Right, well." Adrien's brow quirked as he crossed his arms. "I guess not everyone can be civil."

He shielded his eyes with his arm as a cloud of gold dusted his suit. Holding his breath, he resisted the urge to cough as the sickeningly sweet scent of honeyed sand caused his eyelids to feel droopy.

Twice. That was twice now he'd been hit with the sleep dust.

Fighting a yawn that begged to rise from his throat, Adrien stood his ground on unsteady legs, splitting his baton to spin it in both hands. He would not fall asleep on the job—he would wait until Ladybug arrived and this guy was dealt with. Then he could go to school, see his friends, and go home where his bed awaited.

Speaking of Ladybug, where was she?

He hoped she wasn't too far behind, or worse—that she'd fallen asleep somewhere. But the sound of wire zipping across the sky made Adrien's heart jump in his chest, and he beamed as he caught sight of his Lady, her scarlet form glinting in the sunshine.

(His Lady, his Lady, she was not his Lady-)

She paused atop the awning of an ice cream shop and frowned at the scene of sleeping people, eyes searching for her partner.

"Down here, LB!" he called, giving her a wave.

Ladybug responded with a grin and landed next to him. Her legs wobbled as she hit the ground, and her hand fell to his arm for support. On instinct Adrien grabbed hold of her shoulders, steadying her, studying her features.

Wow.

He'd never in his life seen Ladybug look so...so tired.

"Got caught in a gold shower, 'Bug?" Adrien chuckled. His lips quirked upwards into a smirk as she shot him with a glare.

"Three times," she sighed, bracing her hands on her knees. "I'm so tired, kitty."

"You and me both." A yawn rose from Adrien's mouth. "Twice for me, now. My bed sounds wonderfur at the moment."

Ladybug rolled her eyes at his pun. "Then let's get this over with."

When Ladybug had arrived Dreamscape began hovering down the street, flicking the glittery substance at any civilian he passed. Now, Adrien watched as one by one bystanders toppled over onto the sidewalk, causing others to flee in all sorts of directions. At least most of them had the right sense to hide.

"Ready, my Lady?" Adrien asked, leaning on his baton and twirling his tail. He had to keep himself moving—he was afraid if he stopped, he'd fall right over into a heap of sleeping Chat.

Adrien silently thanked Plagg for whatever magic was keeping him on his feet. He had a bad feeling that if he wasn't transformed, he'd be curled up in the middle of the street taking a well-deserved nap.

Ladybug nodded, casting out her yo-yo and hooking it on a lamppost. "Ready, Chat."

"Let's get 'em."

They chased after Dreamscape on sleepy legs, Ladybug on the right side of the street and Chat Noir on the left. It didn't take long to catch up with the akuma; he was moving a slow speed. While Adrien stayed close, Ladybug hung a bit behind, seemingly having a tad more trouble bearing with the fatigue than Adrien was.

But she didn't let it get to her, not one bit. He admired her dedication.

"Chat Noir," Ladybug said as she landed by his side, running in step with him. "Can you use Cataclysm on his cloud and bring him to the ground? I'll use my yo-yo to tie him up and immobilize him."

Adrien nodded. "Perfect plan as always, my Lady," he purred. "There isn't a day that goes by where you don't ameowze me."

Ladybug clicked her tongue and zipped back to the other side of the street.

(Adrien could have sworn that, just for a moment, he'd caught a hint of a grin on her face.)

As they flanked Dreamscape's sides, the duo kept their speed, waiting for him to pause to put another civilian under his sleeping spell. Adrien's brow furrowed as the villain picked up his pace. Hunkering down to all fours, he ran like his namesake, bolting after the speeding akuma victim. He and Ladybug followed him as he turned a sharp corner, Adrien hissing as he slid into a parked car and scraped his shoulder.

Yep. He'd be feeling that later.

Dreamscape was getting faster. He was trailing down the street like a madman, flinging sleeping sand in all directions and cackling as he flew quicker, quicker, quicker-

-and then he stopped, hand raised to deploy his dust to a large group of citizens that huddled around a TV shop, most likely watching the attack on the news.

The world seemed as if it was moving in slow motion.

"Now!" Ladybug shouted, Adrien responding automatically with a leap. He pushed himself up into the air with his back legs, using his baton to gain altitude and sinking his claws into the soft, plush material of the villain's cloud. But as he hauled himself up on top of it, Dreamscape was waiting, ready with outstretched palms.

"Lights out, kitty!"

Golden sand assaulted his eyes, and Adrien growled, scrubbing at his mask. His vision was bleary and he was almost certain that he'd been hit with more than one dose that time, yet wasted not a moment more, shouting, "Cataclysm!" at the top of lungs before plunging his hand deep into the swollen cloud.

It cracked, shuddered, and then disappeared into black mist.

The sound of Ladybug's yo-yo barely registered in Adrien's mind as he hit the ground and rolled, letting out a puff of dust once his body came to a stop. It didn't hurt, of course—his suit protected him from that—but the fog of sleep that clouded his mind left him feeling groggy and heavy.

He heard Ladybug crack somethingopen, shout her cure, and his droopy eyes were drawn to the sky as a swarm of ladybugs purified the city in a gleam of pink light.

He watched as Ladybug assisted the victim up. It was a round older man, clad in plaid pajamas and looking miserably embarrassed.

Adrien shook his head and pushed himself up from the ground. His muscles felt worn, and his head spun.

How in the hell was he supposed to go to school like this?

"Chat?"

Was someone calling him?

"Chat Noir?"

Ladybug.

"This cat's fine, my Lady," he slurred, leaning against a lamppost to keep himself upright. "All fine. Good. Fine. I am...I am one-hundred percent perfect."

Ladybug frowned, blinking sleepy eyes up at him. "You're about to destransform."

"Am I?" Adrien spared a glance at his ring. Three pawprints flashed back at him with a beep. "Oh, would you look at that."

"I'll see you later, Chat, okay?" Ladybug laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a small, tired smile. "You gonna be okay?"

"Fine!" he said a little too loudly. "So fine! I am definitely not about to fall asleep!"

With a playful roll of her eyes, Ladybug patted his back and whizzed off.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief once she was out of sight and slid down the lamppost, his rear plopping to the floor. Why hadn't Ladybug's cure gotten rid of his exhaustion? Didn't that usually fix akuma-related inconveniences? Or was it that he'd been hit with the sleep dust too many times for it to go away? Could it be that deeply rooted?

Something in the back of his mind, most likely Plagg, urged him to get off the street and find somewhere safe to destransform. He idly wondered where Ladybug was off to and if she was about to lose her transformation...but then again, she hadn't used her lucky charm, so…

Go, the voice in his head screeched, get off the street, you idiot!

"I'm going." Adrien bit back a cranky snarl at his kwami's insistence. He knew Plagg was right; he couldn't just sit in the middle of the sidewalk and let his transformation drop. Dragging himself up the lamppost, Adrien groaned, squishing his cheek against the side of the cool metal.

(Metal that was probably unsanitary.)

With a last bout of energy he vaulted himself over several streets and rooftops before landing in a cramped alleyway. Above him was a clothesline stretching from a window with a few garments drying, and a dumpster sat to his left, but nobody seemed to be meandering about. Adrien took that as permission to allow his transformation to fall.

What he didn't expect, however, was the wave of exhaustion to hit him ten times as strong once Plagg had fled from his ring.

"Woah," he groaned, pressing his hands against the brick wall before toppling onto the ground. "Woah, woah…"

Woah was right.

Concrete flooring had no business being that comfortable.

The leftover dust seemed to have affected Plagg as well, because the kwami was curled up in the pocket of his Chosen's jacket, back rising and falling with each breath he took. His eyes were closed and a small snore rose from his nose, whiskers twitching in his sleep.

Plagg had the right idea. A nap sounded wonderful.

"Just gotta get home," Marinette told herself as she zipped across the city. Her arms felt like limp noodles and her head felt heavy. "Get home, get home, get home…"

She was a block from her house when a blur of blonde caught her attention as she leaped over an alleyway, and she had to backtrack to make sure she hadn't been seeing things, or...

...or dreaming.

Marinette's eyes widened comically.

There was no way in hell she was awake right now if she was seeing Adrien Agreste curled up in an alleyway about ten steps from their old collége.

To check her sanity, she pinched herself.

Ow, okay, nope, definitely awake. That meant there was no doubt that a sleeping Adrien was curled up fifteen feet below her. A sleeping Adrien who was definitely not safe taking a nap on the floor.

He must have been hit with the sleeping dust, but...why hadn't Tikki's magic rid the exhaustion? It had for other civilians. Why not Adrien?

Was it because she hadn't used a Lucky Charm to cleanse the city?

"Adrien?" she called, lowering herself to the ground with her yo-yo. "A-Adrien? Oh gosh, Adrien, are you okay?"

He didn't stir. Panic began to flare up within Marinette's chest.

What if he was hurt? What if he was injured or bleeding internally or shit, what if he was dead!? She couldn't deal with that!

"Adrien!" Marinette practically squawked as she gave his shoulder a gentle nudge with her hand. "Hey, answer me!"

The boy in question grunted, and Marinette breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her heart thrumming in her chest. She had to resist the urge to coo over how cute he looked when he nuzzled his face against his arm, or how his wonderfully long eyelashes brushed his cheeks. He looked so peaceful like that...so adorable...did she really have the heart to wake him?

What are you saying, Marinette?! her mind retorted. He's passed out in an alley! Take him somewhere safe!

Somewhere safe. Yes. She needed to bring Adrien somewhere safe.

The bakery was just across the street. She could slip him in through her trapdoor and let him rest in her bed.

In...her bed.

In her bed, in her bed, IN HER BED-

No. Nope. That wasn't happening.

Besides, Adrien would probably be really weirded out to wake up in her house. He might think she was creepy, and the excuse that Ladybug had brought him to her wouldn't be very convincing considering that Ladybug had been to Adrien's house before.

Marinette sighed. She combed her fingers through her friend's bangs, brushing his hair out of his eyes and smiling down at his sleeping form. Nobody had any business being that cute. Not even a model.

(And to her, he was the most beautiful model out of them all.)

Adrien's lips parted slightly and a soft breath blew from his mouth, drawing a smile to Marinette's own.

"Let's get you home," she whispered, lifting him into her arms. It would be tricky to carry him in one arm and use her yo-yo with the other, but she'd manage. She was Ladybug, after all.

Marinette ignored the shouts of her name as she zipped across the rooftops, as well as the sounds of phone cameras snapping pictures and the surprised gasps of civilians. She didn't have time for an interview, especially when she had precious cargo in her grasp. Adrien's need to get home and rest in a safe room was more important than any reporter's invasive questions.

She did, however, feel momentarily guilty that Adrien would probably end up on the Ladyblog later that evening.

As she arrived at the Agreste household and attached her yo-yo to the roof, Marinette silently thanked the universe that one of Adrien's windows had been left ajar. Using her foot, she pushed the window open and swung inside, making sure to hold on to the boy in her arms as she landed on his bedroom floor.

"Okay," she said to nobody in particular. "Okay, we're here. Bed time."

It felt odd to be in Adrien's room as Ladybug. She'd been over plenty of times as Marinette, but every one of those visits had also included Alya and Nino. Being in his room with him alone caused a slightly uncomfortable (yet exciting) feeling to rise within her stomach, and she had to mentally contain herself from squealing.

She was not fourteen years old anymore. She could keep her composure around her crush.

Her crush who she was definitely, completely over-

Adrien stirred in her arms, and Marinette gently rested him atop his mattress. The sheets wrinkled under his weight, his hair ruffled against his pillow, and Marinette almost swore she'd heard him let out a contented little sigh.

It was barely even ten-thirty in the morning, and she had already written this day off as a long one.

It wasn't a bad day, though. Not a bad one by a long shot.

Smiling at her friend, Marinette allowed herself a moment to sit on the edge of his bed and regain her strength. She hadn't even realized she'd been blushing until she brushed her palms against her face when she went to rub her drooping eyes. She wished she could will herself to do something other than sit there with heated cheeks. Like leave Adrien's room. That was the next logical step.

But she felt...stuck. Drawn to him.

It was probably just the sleep in her head.

She couldn't stay.

True, her Miraculous was not about to power down since she hadn't needed her Lucky Charm, but there was no feasible reason for her to stick around. This was Adrien's room, and he was asleep. She needed to leave and go home and go to bed and just forget about things for a while.

If his father came in and saw Ladybug sitting on his son's bed…

Marinette let out a soft chuckle at that.

She breathed in, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing in time with her breath. Wobbling slightly, Marinette pressed a hand to her forehead and fought to keep her eyes open. They were too heavy. They were just too heavy.

She needed to go home...this was Adrien's room…and Adrien was right behind her, sleeping soundly.

Tikki buzzed at her in the back of her mind, but Marinette was too tired to care. She opened her eyes one last time, slumped backwards, and collapsed onto something soft.

Sleep was quick to overtake her.

#ladynoir #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #broken hearts club #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #bhc #ml fic #my fics #long post

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buckybarnesappreciationsociety · 7 years

Text

Winter Soldier 2.0-Dad On A Mission

Word Count: 2K+ (Yep it’s long)

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, distress

Characters: Bucky x Reader

OFC: Izzy, Steven, Rayna, Maddie, Rodney and Caleb Baretti

A/N: A keyboard translating English to Russian was used for the conversation between Nat and Bucky. (www.masterrussian.com)

Bucky, Y/N, Izzy and Steven fell into a peaceful existence. After her 2 month grounding, 16 year old Izzy enjoyed hanging out with her 9 year old brother, Aunt Nat and Wanda and bff’s Kayla and Maddie. Truth be told, Maddie had a serious “crush” on Sam! He thought it was cute!

SOMEONE’S LURKING IN THE DARKNESS

Izzy sat at the table with her friends, picking over her food. Bucky noticed and consoled his daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart, why the long face?” Sighing heavy, Izzy sounded broken, “Dad, it was my fault we lost. I let the team down.” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Returning to Y/N’s side, Bucky noticed a look of terror on his wife’s face. “Doll, what’s wrong? Looks like ya seen a ghost?”

Trying to clear her head, Y/N replied, “I think I did babe. That man who as across the street looked like Rodney.” Bucky craned his neck, looking out of the large window.

“Doll there’s no one out there. Are you sure it was him?” Bucky’s forehead creased.

Visibly shaken, Y/N responded. “I guess not my love. Everyone’s leaving, guess we should too.”

Mrs Barnes’ intuition was correct. Rodney slithered from a distance, watching Izzy. He knew the school she attended, her place of residence and favorite hangouts. His twisted mind devised a plan to kidnap her for ransom. With the IQ of a gnat, the doofus forgot who her real dad is, James Buchanan Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier.

Nat, Wanda, Tony, Sam and Steve walked back to the Tower since it was only 3 blocks. Izzy and Steven wanted to join them, but Y/N balked at the idea.

“Hey mom. I’m gonna walk back to the Tower with….” Y/N cut Izzy off. “No you’re not. We’re taking the car! Bucky and his puzzled daughter stood silent after the outburst. Draping his arm over Y/N’s shoulder, Bucky tried to calm his nervous wife. “Angel, what’s gotten into ya? You’ve been jumpy all night.”

Y/N’s hands shook as she apologized to her daughter. “I’m so sorry Izzy. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Listen, let’s just take the car home, okay?”

Steven and Izzy nodded ‘yes.’ Exiting the restaurant, Y/N was on high alert. Obviously something or someone frightened her.

Once home, the kids showered and went to the theatre for movie night. Y/N opted to stay in the apartment and read. She felt the bed dip and gazed into her husband’s worried eyes.

“Hey, are ya okay?” Y/N closed her book and replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about earlier, kinda tired,” pecking Bucky on the cheek, she grabbed her book and continued reading. If there’s one thing James Buchanan could spot and that’s a liar. Right now, Y/N was lying!

Joining his kids, Bucky settled down, watching “John Wick 2”. Izzy tucked under his right arm, Steven under the other. Bucky tried to enjoy the movie but his thoughts were on Y/N.

HANGING OUT

No missions on the weekend ushered in much needed downtime. Izzy, Kayla, Maddie, and Steven were enjoying a lazy Saturday morning in the common room with Sam, Nat, Thor and Tony.

APPREHENSION

“Hey mom, dad! Where are ya?” Bucky heard his son bellowing and came to see what all the fuss is about. “Hey champ, why all the racket?”

Trying to catch his breath, Steven informed his dad they were leaving for the park. To his dismay, Y/N vetoed the idea.

“Steven James Barnes, you’re not going to the park!”

Steven bristled at his mom’s harsh tone. “But mom, we wanna go to the park and kick the soccer ball around. PLEASE?”

Standing before Bucky and his wife were 3 adorable teens, with puppy dog eyes. Izzy batted her long, curled eyelashes, “Mom, dad I love you. We’ll be home before dark and I’ll take good care of the rugrat.” Izzy gently nudged her brother.

“Doll, what d’ya think?, “Bucky replied, quirking an eyebrow at Y/N. Breathing a deep sigh, Y/N gave the kids permission to go out. “Just be careful and Izzy, watch your brother.”

Steven grabbed the soccer ball and the merry band rode the elevator down and out of the Tower.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Rodney didn’t want to be a father and Y/N was excited about that. At least Izzy wouldn’t come in contact with his family’s toxic behavior.

The plan to kidnap Izzy was devised by Rodney and his parents. Caleb tried to distance himself from the fiendish plot, but Rodney enticed him with money and drugs.

PLAN A

Lay the foundation. Fill Izzy’s head with lies so she’ll turn on her mother.

PLAN B

Caleb slithered around watching while Izzy played in the park. He bought chloroform and a getaway van. Wait for the opportunity and pounce!

SURREAL

Steven and Maddie teamed up against Izzy and Kayla in a mini soccer match. Caleb kept a safe distance, not drawing attention to himself.

“IZZYYYYYYY, NOOOOOOOO!!!!! SOMEBODY HELP US PLEASE!!!” Steven emitted a blood curdling scream.

The ice cream vendor called police, but when they arrived, Izzy was gone.

“STOOOOP…..STOOOOOP!!!! IZZZYYYYYYY, OH MY GOD….PLEASE HELP US.” Kayla let out a high-pitched wail, while her body shook.

During the maylay,Maddie scrapped her knee on the sidewalk and needed medical attention. Kayla held Steven close as she dialed Bucky’s phone.

“Hey Kayla, hey. Wha……? Bucky sounded surprised.

Hollering in the phone, Kayla replied, “MR. BARNES...MR. BARNES PLEASE COME QUICK. THEY, THEY TOOK IZZY

Steven was in the background shouting for his sister. “DAAAAD….DAAAAD….DAAAAD! IZZZYYYYY….I WANT MY SISTER!”

Bucky swore this was a terrible nightmare. His military instincts went into overdrive.

“STEVE, TONY, WANDA, NAT!!! SOMEONE’S SNATCHED IZZY. WE GOTTA GET THERE NOW!!!!”

Tony summoned his suit and flew out of the Tower. Nat, Bucky and Steve ran fast as possible. The kids were only 3 blocks from home.

First on the scene, Tony. He made certain Maddie and Kayla received medical attention as well as calling their parents. Once their parents arrived, the police filled them in on what occurred.

Bucky bolted to his son’s side. “NO NO NO NO!!” Desperation dripped from his raw throat. “THIS CAN’T BE...IT’S..IT’S A NIGHTMARE….M’NOT AWAKE!

Kneeling down, Steve scooped up Steven, who was unresponsive, and cradled his namesake; placing a blanket around his rattled shoulders. ‘This is unbelievable! I..I can’t…Oh geez, Izzy.”

Meanwhile, Y/N slumped down on the floor of their apartment and sobbed uncontrollably, yelling for her baby girl. “IZZZZYYYY….IZZZZYYYY!!!” Wanda rocked her back and forth. “Shh...shh I’ve got you. They’ll find her….they’ll find her.”

Standing, Bucky’s eyes were blank; devoid of any emotion. The metal plates in his arm shifted loudly. Nat tried to speak to him, but there was no response.

Bucky’s movements were robotic, calculated. Tony and Steve watched closely as he strode back to the Tower.

“He..hey Buck?” Steve stuttered, holding little Steven in his massive arms.

Natasha informed him, “Shit Steve, that’s not Bucky.’

Steve gingerly carried little Stevie to Dr. Cho, where Y/N and Wanda were waiting.

“OH MY SWEET SWEET SON. WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? WHY ISN’T HE TALKING?” Y/N was visibly distraught, running her hand through his har.

Dr. Cho examined Steven. “He’s in shock. I’ll keep him here overnight and monitor his vitals. Y/N you may want to stay as well.’

Through a deluge of tears, shoulders shaking, “I’ll be here.” Wanda stayed with Y/N.

Nat and Bucky were in the corridor leading to his apartment. He turned to her and spoke Russian:

ЬЩМУ ТФЕФДШФ

(MOVE NATALIA)

“ФКУ НЩГ ЫГКУ НЩГ ЦФТЕ ЕЩ ПЩ ВЩЦТ ЕРШВЫКЩФВ ФПФШТ?”

(ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GO DOWN THIS ROAD AGAIN?)

ШЬ ТЩЕ РФМШТП ЕРШЫ ВШЫСГЫЫШЩТ ЦШЕР НЩГ

(I’M NOT HAVING THIS DISCUSSION WITH YOU)

ЦРФЕ ЫРЩГДВ Ш ЕУДД НТ?

(WHAT SHOULD I TELL Y/N?)

ЕРУ ЕКГЕР!

(THE TRUTH!)

Tony analyzed the blood and found it to be Caleb Baretti’s. His records were easy accessible.

“I need to get to Bucky before he does something stupid, Steve deadpanned.

Tony cautioned the blonde super soldier to wait before approaching Bucky. The rest of the team was contacted. Sam, Clint, Scott, Thor, Rhodey, and Steve convened in the conference room. When Bucky arrived in the room, Sam nudged Clint, looking at their friend.

The gray sweats and t-shirt had been shed for black tactical gear; loaded to the hilt with weapons. Bucky stood quietly in the back of the room, arms folded across his chest and icy stare.

James Buchanan Barnes no longer existed, nor the Winter Soldier. He was someone more dangerous ….a father on a mission. Rescue his daughter and end the lives of those who took her.

TAGGING: @pegasusdragontiger

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #all hell is about to break loose #don't mess with bucky's family #uh ohhh

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