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joelswritingmistress · 3 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 34

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

The night ended more lighthearted. Dr. Miller and I took advantage of the frozen lake and the scenery again, skating around and taking pictures of the winter wonderland. We had a few drinks, went out for dinner, and spent most of the night thereafter in the loft. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have left that little nook in the woods.

“We should rent this place again in the summer,” I said to him. “I bet it’s nice to kayak around.. maybe go fishing.. hike the trails. Oh, and I saw a new, little brewery is supposed to be having its grand opening in May nearby.”

Dr. Miller smiled. “I can book it now for July.”

I loved thinkin about the future, even if it was just a matter of months. For a second I daydreamed images of a tan Dr. Miller by my side, shirtless and glistening in the sun. It made me smirk.

Bidding a temporary farewell to the lakeside cabin was bittersweet, though Dr. Miller already put in a request for the summer before we took off for home.

“The good news is we have another getaway at my sister’s wedding next weekend,” Dr. Miller explained as we hit the highway. “Can you get off work for the rehearsal dinner on Friday? I may cancel Thursday’s class so we can hit the road when you get out of work on Thursday. It’s a pretty good haul up to Vermont.”

I nodded, “Of course. I can’t wait.”

When Tuesday’s class rolled around I decided to confront Trevor on the walk out. His constant stares were starting to bug me and he hadn’t spoken a word to me since the day I’d left Dr. Stevenson’s class to give a sneaky kiss to Dr. Miller in his office. A part of me wanted to ask him what he thought he knew, but I also didn’t want to accidentally rat myself out - or Dr. Miller.

Otherwise, I was very much into the class discussion, and loved how Dr. Miller smiled a certain way when he called on me to answer a question. I loved his class. On a side note, there was a certain level of sneaky amusement I felt from having this secret life with him. No one in the class had even the slightest indication that we lived together, or that we just celebrated Valentine's Day shacked up in a remote, lakeside cabin. There was a part of me that got off on our secret.

“So,” Dr. Miller clapped his hands together. “I'm going to post something for you to read and look over. You'll be able to even discuss points online if you'd like, but Thursday's class will not meet in person. My sister is getting married out of state and I'll be traveling to Vermont on Thursday in preparation for that.”

“Congratulations!” Someone's voice echoed off the walls, making a few others laugh. “To your sister,” the person added, drawing more laughter.

“Thank you,” Dr. Miller responded with a chuckle. “If there are no further questions -”

“Class dismissed,” the group said in unison.

I smiled to myself and stuffed my notebook into my bag. It was always odd to me as I left the classroom. Dr. Miller and I were so affectionate and borderline clingy everywhere else. That's the only part I hated - not being able to be ourselves during that short time frame we had together on campus.

My phone went off and I glanced down, smiling when I saw it was him.

See you at home.

I glanced toward him and our eyes briefly met as he began packing up his black bag.

And then, as I ducked out into the hallway, Trevor leaned over getting a drink of water. He was one of the only people I ever saw use the water fountain in the building.

I went to call out to him but then decided against it. Why was I about to create a conflict out of nothing? Plus, I reminded myself, he had walked with me to class when I didn't want to walk alone.

I passed by, glancing over at him. Just as he finished getting a drink our eyes met for a brief moment. I looked away and kept walking, using the stairs to get up to the main floor.

Behind me, I heard Trevor clear his throat and then his feet peppered up the stairwell behind me. I yanked open the door to enter the lobby and Trevor’s footsteps came faster.

“Could you hold that, please?” His nasally voice called out.

I sighed to myself but turned around with a half-smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” He hurried to reach for the door and held it so I could go ahead first.

“No problem.” I continued walking and Trevor cleared his throat again as he scurried up beside me.

“Have any plans for the long weekend?” He asked, gripping the straps of his backpack as we wandered toward the main doors.

“Hmm.. I might go visit my parents,” I lied, “But nothing else. You?”

He shrugged. “I may go skiing.”

So am I, I thought, even though I didn't know how. Carol’s wedding. “You ski?”

“Doesn't everyone in the Catskills area?” He snorted a laugh at himself and I smirked.

“Everyone but me.” I smiled back. “I don't know how.”

“I've been skiing since I've been five.”

“Cool.”

“I could always give you lessons. I used to give lessons before I started working for UPS.”

“I didn't know you worked for UPS.”

“For now.” He grinned and followed me out into the parking lot.

I glanced over at him as he continued to trail me out into the parking lot. I felt like he was velcroed to me. He was so close.

“Well, I'll see ya later Trevor.” I reached for the handle on my car as I approached and he cleared his throat again.

What is his deal? I wanted to blurt it out, but I wasn’t the type to be super direct like that. He wasn’t doing anything wrong - just being awkward and slightly annoying.

Trevor raised a hand to wave, almost robotically, as I pulled out of the parking space and edged my way down the rows of cars to exit the campus parking lot. When I was close to a half-a-football field away, I caught a glimpse of him waving his hands wildly in my direction. I wasn’t even sure if he was trying to flag me down, or was summoning someone else. And so, I kept driving. I didn’t see Dr. Miller exit the building.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Miller approached Trevor when he heard the commotion.

Trevor reached into the pocket of his jacket and stared down at the screen of a cell phone. He eyed the screen, reading a notification as it flashed across.

YOUR STOWE, VT LIFT TICKETS ARE NOW AVAILABLE TO PUT INTO I-WALLET. CLICK THE BANNER TO CONFIRM.

Dr. Miller’s eyes landed on the familiar phone cover. He had the urge to yank it from Trevor’s hand and demand why he had (Y/N)’s phone, but he knew he had to restrain himself.

“Who’s the phone belong to?” Dr. Miller asked, knowing damn well who it belonged to.

“I-I..” Trevor looked down at it again and spoke to himself. “She said she couldn’t ski.” He scratched his head and continued to stare at the screen.

“Trevor.” Dr. Miller closed the gap between the two of them. “Why do you have that phone?”

“One of my friends from class dropped it,” he claimed, “She just drove off. I was trying to flag her down.” Trevor slipped the phone back into his pocket and Dr. Miller extended his hand.

“I’ll turn it in to campus police.”

He kept the phone in his coat. “I can do that.”

“I insist.” Dr. Miller nodded and kept his palm facing up a few inches in front of Trevor. “I’m sticking around here anyway to do a few things.”

Trevor stared up at him, and then looked back down to his hand. He didn’t immediately hand over the phone. “Where did you say your sister’s wedding was?”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

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momijiba · 6 months

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( @erabundus ) it's a warm day — by autumn's standards, at least. the sun that shines above feels like a farewell to the summer heat. they've come across a rock that evidently seems to meet kazuha's ( reptile ) standards, and while ren has no particular preference regarding where they enjoy the weather ... he doesn't mind lounging here for a bit if it's what will make his most precious person the happiest. kasa sits on the grass beside them. he lays with his head resting against the ronin's chest, intertwining their fingers languidly as he listens to his heartbeat. it's such a calming noise. a steady rhythm. he would call it beautiful if he didn't worry the human would think him morbid for it — but how could it be anything else? it's his life, woven into song.

❝ kazuha. ❞ sometimes he likes to say his name simply because it feels nice in his mouth — yet in this case, ren blinks up at him with large eyes. ( a telltale sign he wants something. ) ❝ if i told you i wanted to find out just how quickly i could make your heart race ... would you let me? ❞ he's unsure whether his fiancé will agree — the request could become quite risqué if he's in the mood to take it that far... and while they aren't necessarily in public, there's still a sliver of a chance they may be found. frankly, that only serves to encourage ren more — but kazuha's comfort takes priority either way.

the wind surrounding them was nice, kazuha could smell and hear the sounds of nature. a part of him was really happy that both ren and he rather stay away from public places and just enjoy the outdoors. truly a pair of wanderers not being able to settle down for too long in one place. which has him thinking that the two of them have been living part-time in the inn for so many months... and somewhere along the line she has been like a grandmother to him... he should ask ren if he really wanted to have the inn-lady at their wedding.

kazuha almost missed the call of his name if it wasn't for who was calling him out of his daydream. ❝ hmm...? ❞ crimson eyes stared at a familiar indigo colour that was glowing with mischievous curiosity. the corner of his mouth rising as he listened to this very interesting request of his fiance.

❝ you make my heart race with your appearance alone my lotus flower ❞ kazuha leans forward a little bit and gives a small peek at ren's cheek before whispering in his ear. ❝ but if this is a new of asking to get frisky then by all means i'm open to play... ❞

#erabundus #tw suggestive #they are very cute but also very.... dorky and whatever this is... fkjdnsk

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antipodeanpineapplelump · 3 years

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WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

#uchiha shisui #uchiha izumi #future shisuita #new story #my art #really having fun writing this one #I'm such a sucker for adventure movies #and snarky team banter #and this combines both #aaaaand we've just been thrown into another covid lockdown #so more writing time here I come!#Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura

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sopxhiea · 4 years

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Wicked

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Enemies to Lovers!

Warnings: Large age gap.

Summary: Alfie stumbles upon a very familiar face around Birmingham and he finds his feelings to alter as he watches her.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

The weather is gentle against the lilies growing around. There are a couple kids running around under the chirpy April weather as the city moves on. The sounds of cars and footsteps fill the humid air while the smell of freshly baked bread escapes the bakery around the corner, inviting any hungry souls with a penny to spare.

The heels of your leather boots create loud thuds against the pavement’s surface while you check your pocket for the watch, eyes scanning the accessory in an attempt to stop time.

It’s a busy day.

There is a small job to be taken care of, a stubborn lad has to be threatened in exchange of some cash. It’s time to take the main road after that, visit the Shelby company to see the familiar man and get as much as you can out of him.

You look like a woman in love.

An outsider could mistake you for a foreigner to this town, your beige coat and airy summer dress compliment your skin as the heavy boots contradict the soft image created by the upper half of the outfit. You look like a kind person from the outside, someone who probably owns a cottage with her husband and lives quietly.

You’re far from that.

Your family business has shaped you into a sharper person than what you would’ve been. It’s made you a person capable of persuading just about anyone whether it’s for a murder case or some expensive jewels.

There’s no point on dwelling on it. You hadn’t chosen the live you were born into, being the only heiress of a gang was not your first choice anyway but you got on with it. You grew up learning how to conceal how you felt, learned to choke a man to death and even came close to doing it once.

An hour passes, you run your pretty mouth by a couple people in search of a name and a sweet little lady gives it to you not too long after. You don’t like to think about how all this thrills you, the reason why you’re so good at it is because you enjoy chasing men down.

Not too long after you visit to the given location, you return to the heart of the area with the information you needed and blood on your sleeve. You hide it by pulling the sleeve of the already oversized coat. You flash smiles, the way to the Shelby company is close.

Sometimes, you think of the past.

It’s a bad habit, you know. It makes you feel stuck, like there is war again and you’re the only hope the family has. There’s the horror of being young and helpless when you dwell on the past, it mostly brings doom and desperation from the painful years that cast a glassy look in your eyes.

But there are parts you don’t wish to forget.

You recall his name, Alfie. He had been a rival of your dad’s for a long time even after he’d passed away. He was relentless, stubborn and much bigger than you were. You were a teenager when you’d first seen him, he was a young man then. You had sworn to him that you’d get taller than he was, both in height and the status he upheld.

He was gentle, had been there all along while your family went through some rough patches that only left you and your little brother on the upper part of the soil that coated this earth. There was an understanding you had with the man, almost like your souls were made of the same parts.

He was the enemy.

You often told yourself that when his name came up in conversations. You didn’t have any contact left with him, the jewish community was on the far end of the city from where your business operated so there was no reason to mess with his area. It had been over four years since you’d seen him, the enemy.

You were grown now, respected and very well known. You knew the business, how the thick headed men operated and you were an expert in getting what you wanted, not the shaky small girl he knew you as.

Walking in the bet shop, you heard Tommy’s assistant call your name. You had been long lost family friends and the business benefited from an associate like the Shelbys. You were older than Finn by a couple months, making most of the people in the shop treat you like a small girl but his assistant knew better.

You were escorted to his room by a brunette woman, she seemed nice enough to let you know that he had another meeting. Her remark made you check your watch, you didn’t have that much time if you wanted to get everything done for the day. Your brother would be waiting for you in front of the factory soon.

Shaking your head, you knocked the door once and entered without the approving sound of ‘come in.

It was hard to comprehend the scene before you.

Tommy was sitting behind his desk, leaning back on the chair in a calm state. There was Finn, a smile spread on his lips when he saw you, he’d been a friend since you were kids. You didn’t return the gesture, your gaze fell on to the new blinder next. He had a similar look to John, just broader and he looked more like he was from Tommy’s mother’s side.

Then you saw him.

It took you a minute, his face was covered in the usual scruff but it was kept in a nicer shape. He hid behind his hat, you recognised the velvet fabric first and the owner of it not too long after. The sight of him with wide eyes, looking directly at you made you swallow while Tommy stood up.

“Y/N.” the Shelby spoke and you returned his gaze with a soft smile. It was half-assed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Tommy spoke once more and Alfie got up, shaking his hand and muttering something into Tommy’s ear. You ignored the rush of excitement that washed over you when he passed by, the smell of vanilla and rum evident when he stopped by to greet you with his hat.

You smiled and spoke with a low hum. “Mr. Solomons.” you murmured as he inspected you.

You were not the little girl he saw in pony tails around the mansion anymore. You had grown up to be a woman, a very beautiful one at that. You didn’t look like your family, they were all average looking people with dangerous stares whereas you were much softer to the eye, it was like inspecting a well-done painting to look at you.

His eyes pierced through yours for a few moments, hand tugging at his beard while he spoke. His voice was all the same. “Lass.” he said, making you frown in the slightest because it made you think that he didn’t remember your name.

You were his rival more than anything. Your company ruled one end of the city and he did the same to the other. There was always hunger for more, wars and murders to make sure everyone stayed in their territory but also deals made behind closed doors to make sure one business controlled all over.

But you’d play nice.

You shook his hand, didn’t reach for your gun and waited a little for him to leave before you got down to business. Your deceased father would tell you to knife his throat if it weren’t for the multiple gang wars that would arise, so you stayed put and let him leave.

Sitting down on the chair in front of Tommy’s table after greeting Finn and learning that the new blinder was indeed Pol’s son, you got to business. There was whiskey drank and deals made as you tried to ease Tommy’s tension behind Alfie’s leave. You didn’t care that the man was stressed but to get what you wanted, you’d have to be patient.

Two hours later, you bid a farewell to the familiar faces and left the building. Walking towards the factory your little brother would pick you up from, you hurried your steps, making the dress swish around your ankles while a car followed you.

You knew who it was.

When the machine stopped right next to you on the side walk, you watched Alfie get out of the soft seats. He had a cane in his hand but he looked the same he did after the war. You looked right at him when he towered above you, no words spoken because you had to be careful with him.

He was the enemy, and had been for longest time.

“Why are you following me?” you spat, feeling warmth radiate off of his body at the close proximity.

He recalled the time you’d said you’d grow taller than him, it brought a smile to his lips as he spoke.

“I remember, yeah..” he said, fingers waving through the air as he spoke. “You were just a small fuckin’ girl then..” he chuckled and you waited for him to finish, arms crossed. “Tellin’ me, yeah, that you’d be taller than me when ya’ grew up.” he said, his smile was infectious but you concealed his affect on you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” you spat back, ready to have a go at him as a look of pleasant surprise flashed across his face.

You’d always been the one with wits. He recalled the times when your teenager self would bicker with him, the playful banters would grow heated but he’d do nothing much after lewd images of you filled his mind. You were eighteen then, old enough to know what you wanted but young enough to mistake an enemy for a lover.

He knew better.

“You’re still fuckin’ fiesty, eh.” he spoke, nodding as he took the image of you as a grown woman.

“How’s business?” you ask, ready to mock him the minute he answered but he spat back another question.

“How’s Jack? he asked, seeing the slight rise of emotion in your eyes and that was enough for him. He knew your little brother well and knew what you went through to protect him.

“Jack’s fine.” you said, voice stern while amusement filled his blue orbs.

“So is business.” he spoke, answering your question and making the fire in your eyes light up once again.

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips while you uncrossed your arms. He’d seen you grow up even though he was the enemy since your parents had always been a fan of the mantra of keeping enemies closer than friends. He’d been there, casting in the shadows when they’d died, too and he was still there when the business had risen from the ashes you’d picked up.

“’s been some time, yeah?” he said, nodding at his own words while you forgot about your brother and the place you had to be

“It has.” you said, feeling yourself grow comfortable at the familiar conversations. They had been missed, he was the only man who knew how to speak to a woman around here after all, had always been that way.

“You’ve grown.

“You’ve aged.” you spoke, earning a chuckle from his lips. The sound of him was still the same.

He had aged, but like fine wine. It wasn’t the same way you’d seen man around here age, he’d just gotten better looking. He was young when you got to know him, barely had half of his might he possessed now. There were less wrinkles on his face than you’d seen a man his age have, he just looked rugged and you hated that your heart did a little flip every time he licked his lips.

“Got somewhere to be?” he spoke, realising that you had been going somewhere before he held you up.

“I do, actually.” you spoke, your voice was breathy and soft and he wondered how you would sound with his head between your legs. He nodded at your words, you looked at the road before you while he got to talking again.

“Why don’t we go for a cup of tea, yeah?” he asked, much out of the blue as you stared at him with wide eyes.

He was the enemy.

Sure he was attractive and much more pleasant to be around than your brother but your family had spent too much to be where you were. There were too many factors involved and no matter just how badly you wanted to say yes, you knew how to play this game well and that meant brushing arms with the jewish man before you.

He spoke once again before you could start speaking. “For ol’ times’ sake, right, no funny business.” he spoke, refraining from cursing every two words because frankly he wanted to impress you.

He sensed the hesitancy you had, it was only natural that you had doubts regarding the familiar face before you. You smiled first, there were too many ways this could go. He watched as you took in a deep breath, your chest rising as he tried his best to look at your eyes and only, it was amusing.

For old times sake.

“If it’s just for some old company..” you said, liking the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you. “...you won’t mind Jack being there..” you spoke, knowing very well that he would in fact mind your brother being there.

It took him a minute. Of course he minded. He couldn’t show you that though, things were still pretty fresh in his mind. He remembered the way you’d catch him looking during a business meeting and frown, it made him smile to this day. He recalled the days where you’d spend the hours around his office, trying to find a stable deal for what your father wanted. You’d been young then, smart regardless.

“That’d be fuckin’ lovely, yeah..” he said, pulling at his beard as he watched you inspect him. “Missed the lad myself.” he said, clearly lying.

Jack and Alfie didn’t get along as friends but they were compatible enough to be business partners. They’d always bicker around but the words thrown around were much different compared to when you’d mess around with Alfie. It was more aggressive, not as light-hearted.

You nodded, telling him to come meet you in this coffee shop around the corner from his place. He smiled at your words, you still knew the address. You gave him a couple quick glances, one to look at his face one last time as he blushed under the afternoon sun and one to finally say goodbye.

He watched as you walked towards the car.

-----------

In the span of two hours, you’d managed to scold your brother, score a large deal and make it to the shop. Jack, who was a couple years older than you, was being a pain as usual. He wasn’t so unpleasant to the people you were making business with but he was to you, it was the bond you’d developed after everyone in your family had passed away.

You found yourself sitting in a wooden circle table with Alfie and Jack not too long after. They were chatting about the business, the incomings and the outgoings and all that. You listened intently, realising just now that you’d missed the way Alfie said things, not only because of his accent but his charisma and charm that had been mere illusions when you were small.

Alfie’s eyes landed on you as Jack talked about some deal you’d made just an hour ago. He started speaking about the buyers and the receivers of the deal but Alfie’s focus was solely on you as you poured some milk into the coffee cup. He watched as you stirred, not looking up at anyone and purely living in your own world.

You knew when Alfie had something to ask, he would.

You’d liked that about him. He was honest and blunt, didn’t beat around the bush and said whatever was going on in his mind. You only knew a handful of people who were capable of doing that and most were women.

Your eyes met his at last after a few fidgeting moments from your part. You looked at him, thinking that he’d probably asked something but you were living too much in your head to realise that there had been a real conversation going on in the first place. Your eyes were wide open as you spoke, making him want to giggle.

“Huh?” you said, Jack stopped talking and looked at you. “You said something, Mr. Solomons?” you spoke once again, the addressing him with his surname sting him but he’d be gentle.

“’s Alfie, luv.” he spoke and watched you nod, searching for an answer to your previous question.

“I said, right, do ya’ still got the dog?” he spoke, the question was openly directed at you.

You had a large dog when you were a teenager. It was a great dane, a black creature that would follow you around all the time. Alfie had last seen him in your dad’s office, the thing used to reach above your knee level.

You smiled at the question, he patted himself in the back for seeing your beautiful smile once more after all these years before he listened.

“No. He was getting too old so we put him to rest a couple years back.” you said, a glint of sadness evident in your eyes but Alfie swore that he almost missed it.

You faced him this time, a little more confident and asked him about his dog, Cyril. He told you about how he got bigger, even though he was already impossibly large the last time you’d seen him. The dull conversation then turned into a lively one, you chatted the day up, asking about anything and everything you were curious about until you looked to your right and Jack wasn’t there.

He had excused himself to go take care of some business, even though there was none to take care of currently. You guessed it was because of how intense the talk was between you and Alfie. It ran smoothly but the speed was much harder for an outsider to pick up, so was the sarcasm and the wit.

He also didn’t quite like the way Alfie’s gaze ran along your body from head to toe every now and then.

You weren’t a little girl anymore so Jack couldn’t boss you around, that was why he’d mumbled a small excuse and left you and Alfie alone. You dismissed the thought and kept on asking him about his new home, the one he’d bought in the years of your absence.

“I got them, right, to do the walls in fuckin’ oak.” he said, smiling at the end of the sentence while you chuckled to yourself.

You had missed this.

There had been a voice at the back of your mind this whole time, it was your father’s, warning about not sleeping with the enemy. You had low intentions of maybe kissing the handsome lad who was currently speaking about his new office, you didn’t know if you wanted to take it so far as to sleep with him.

He was the enemy.

There was flour on the his shoe sloes, he smelled of vanilla and rum. His skin was rough, the experience of life gave him a tougher look than the one in his eyes that were directed at you. He made you laugh, it was silly just how giddy this bear of a man was.

You shook your head, nodding along the words he was saying but you’d missed the question and so you were met with curious eyes of the jewish gangster. This was the second time you were daydreaming about him in front of him and a low colour of pink blush rose on your cheeks.

“You’re not the listenin’ type these days, eh?” he spoke, chuckling lowly when you shook your head.

“Sorry, I just..” you breathed out, your voice was much breathier now and he casted a hungry look in your direction. One you decided to ignore.

You didn’t say anything more, the shake of your head was enough to let him know what had been on your mind. He had always been able to see right through you, more so than the people you were related to by blood. You murmured a small excuse, telling him that you needed to leave and he nodded.

You offered him a smile as he continued to talk, both of you standing up now that the night was near. It had been hours of talking and you’d lost track of time. You needed to take care of some things at home and also listen to your brother bitch about how he’d been left out of the coffee talk you had with Alfie.

“I’ll see ya?” he asked while you waited outside the shop, he’d always been the one to address things a little to quickly than the average person.

“Do you want to?” you asked, the game of push and pull was natural in between the two of you.

He chuckled wholeheartedly and you ignored the small smile on your lips formed by the action. “Do I wanna fucking see ya?” he nodded, repeating the question as if it were something he’d never heard of but you nodded like it was common. It made him shake his head and lean closer to you so that you felt his hot breath against your face.

“I would love to fuckin’ see ya, lass, right, and I know, yeah, that you know that fuckin’ well at this point.” he spoke, eyes moving up and down along your body, just enough to make you forget that he was supposed to be the enemy.

You smiled wickedly at his words, you knew that he wanted to, why else would he be looking at you the way he was?

“Well, then..I suppose you know the rule.” you whispered against his face, making him weak in the knees. He was comforted by the wicked ways your mind worked and enjoyed this game all too well.

“What fucking rule?” he spoke, almost rolling his eyes when your lips ghosted over his.

You’d been waiting for this for so long.

“Mr. Solomons, you’re the enemy..” you spoke, seductive enough to earn a grunt of extreme approval from him and he felt your small hands on his chest. “We’re supposed to be hating each other, not flirting in a public setting.” you smirked as he listened you, eyes never leaving your lips.

“Tell me the fuckin’ rule then, yeah, lass, or else I’ll end up takin’ ya’ right here.” he spoke against your lips, you hadn’t kissed him yet but he was already drowning the moment your lips ghosted over his. You pushed him down by the slightest, making sure he wouldn’t do anything funny before speaking.

“As much I like the idea..” you breathed against his face, watching his eyes glisten with want. “..here it goes.” you spoke before listing the rules almost too quietly. You felt his eyes close when he felt you speak against his lips.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” you said, earning a low chuckle from him, he wasn’t gonna have something half his size order him around, no matter how aroused the idea made him feel.

He shook his head at the idea, he couldn’t deny that you were made to love. He’d been intrigued with the idea all those years back as well but you were entirely too young, no matter just how much you toyed with him at times. The age difference was significant still but you were much older now. Certainly not the rosy cheeked eighteen year old he once found amusing.

“Luv, ya-” he stared speaking but you cut him off, taking a step towards the man twice your size as he towered above you.

“Alfie, I don’t mind all the fuss right..” you spoke, very well aware of the fact that you were on dangerous waters but that made it even more appealing. “I don’t mind the sleeping around either. We just need to keep it casual.” you spoke against his face and he swore he would kill anyone to kiss right there and then. But he didn’t.

“Casual aye?” he spoke, mumbling something under his breath that you failed to catch.

You knew it would be hard and that it was a challenge, you knew he loved to love domestically, to show his girl off and worship her. You’d heard things and while all that sounded blissful, you’d have to do it under closed doors. That was the way go when you were sleeping with the enemy.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy but if you so badly wanna do this..” you swallowed while catching a glimpse of something in his eyes. “We have to be secretive.”

You watched him as he took a good look at you, almost like he was trying to see if doing things behind everyone’s backs would be worth it. Oh, it was so worth it. He tugged at his beard, trying to make some words out without being too blunt, scared of hurting your feelings when things hadn’t even started.

So he didn’t say anything. Neither did you. For a couple minutes, you just stood there, letting the light breeze touch the soft skin of your cheeks and play with the ends of your dress. He watched you while your eyes traveled across his ginger beard, looking like beams of sunlight when the gentle rays hit his face.

A smile formed on your lips while you walked towards him, close enough so that if you whispered anything, he’d be the first one to hear. You looked around, trying to savour the last moments before the soft sounds of your voice filled his ears. You would walk to your car after speaking and he would watch.

“Let me know if you decide to do this.”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog

a/n: First piece since being back and I apologise for how long it is. Lemme know if you want another chapter!

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gingersnapwolves · 3 years

Text

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 2/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two: The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Ext, Somewhere

Lan Wangji is looking for the yin iron. Wei Wuxian catches up with him and makes some bondage jokes. Lan Wangji is clearly warming up to him, as he doesn’t punt him into the stratosphere.

Jiang Cheng, still incensed that his brother snuck off, goes to look for him. Jiang Yanli packs him a sack lunch and tells him to be careful.

Wen Qing is stuck with Wen Chao, following Lan Wangji, and looks like she wants to throw herself off a mountain.

Ext, Tanzhou [Yiling]

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run into Nie Huaisang, who apparently decided not to go home after school, presumably due to his grades. Yiling is nowhere near Qinghe. When Nie Huaisang decides to fuck around and find out, he goes for it.

In Tanzhou, there is a magic florist. She has a piece of yin iron, but they’re too late. Wen Chao has already taken it. I will forget that this happened in 90% of my fanfics.

Ext, Dafan Mountain [Yiling]

The three of them end up at a creepy village. There’s a woman mumbling something about a statue. Everyone else is missing except one creepy dude at a shrine to said statue, whose purpose is to give exposition. For some reason they decide to sleep in the weird cave with the creepy statue outside the abandoned village. Kids, amirite?

Ext, Somewhere

Jiang Cheng runs into Wen Qing. She purposefully picks a fight with him and he looks like someone kicked his puppy. But oh ho! It was just a ruse so she could tell him that his brother is in trouble at Dafan Mountain without anyone overhearing. He thanks her and takes off.

Interior, A Creepy Cave [Yiling]

The statue comes alive and attacks them! It keeps going for Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian makes a joke about it having a crush on him. They seal it to keep it from moving.

Outside, a mob of villagers who look the same as the not-a-corpse guy attack them. Nie Huaisang posits that he would like to be excluded from this narrative, of which he never asked to be a part. Wen Qing shows up and uses a magic flute to subdue the mob. She will never use this flute again despite countless times doing so might come in handy. Jiang Cheng turns up too but is too busy roasting Wei Wuxian for running off to do anything useful. Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian that the mob is powered by a shard of yin iron that Wen Chao has in his ‘dire owl’ which is a bird made out of shadow that could not possibly look less like an owl.

Wei Wuxian uses a nifty golden net spell that he will never use again despite countless times it might come in handy to protect the others while he and Lan Wangji fight Wen Chao and kill the absolutely-not-an-owl. The villagers are released from the spell.

Wen Qing tells them that this is where she and Wen Ning grew up. The statue had a piece of yin iron in it, and when Wen Ruohan came and took it, the statue went berserk and killed a bunch of people, including her parents. It also stole part of Wen Ning’s soul and that’s why he’s weak and sick. Then she goes back to Nightless City despite that this is clearly a terrible idea, because Wen Ning is there. Jiang Cheng asks her to stay, but she won’t, and Jiang Cheng is sad. Somehow nobody thinks to point out that she’s serving the man who got her parents killed.

Ext, Yueyang [Qinghe]

Somehow they’re all the way up towards Qinghe now. Please don’t ask questions about travel times. It’s my worst nightmare in my fics.

Nie Huaisang says that Meng Yao is meeting them here. Why? Who knows. My best guess is that Nie Huaisang knows he’s going to be in Big Trouble for sneaking off and thinks Meng Yao can protect him.

They stop at an inn. The waiter tells them something weird happened at the Chang house and now nobody’s there but they hear noise every night. The yin iron starts clamoring to be let out of its pouch and gives Lan Wangji heartburn.

Ext, the Chang manor [Qinghe]

Xue Yang has killed every damn person. It’s fucked up.

ENTER SUPERMAN and BATMAN, like seriously, imagine you were in a DC Comic and those two just dropped in for cameos and nobody bothered to explain who they were because they figured you would already know. Their names are Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, and by the time they show up again, you will have forgotten that.

They’ve been tracking Xue Yang for All the Crimes and want to arrest him. There’s a fight. Xue Yang loses and enjoys it way too much.

Wei Wuxian asks him questions about the yin iron. He acts like a little punk. He doesn’t have any yin iron on him even though he obviously used it for Carnage, and they can’t find it anywhere.

Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang show up. They agree to take Xue Yang back to The Unclean Realm to be tried for All the Crimes.

Xue Yang cheekily says, “Don’t forget me!” to Xiao Xingchen, who immediately forgets him.

Exeunt Superman and Batman, while Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both stare after them longingly, clearly wishing that they too could hunt monsters and criminals instead of dealing with political bullshit.

Ext, The Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

Meng Yao shows them in and tells Nie Huaisang that the Wen sect has demanded each sect send an ‘inner heir disciple’ for ‘indoctrination’. Nie Huaisang remembers that he’s the only inner heir disciple sect in the Nie sect and panics. Meng Yao laughs at his histrionics. To be fair, they are indeed funny.

ENTER THE WORLD’S MOST BADASS MUSTACHE

This is Nie Mingjue. He is the head of the Qinghe Nie sect. He carries an enormous sword and has the title ‘Red Blade Master’. Every molecule of this man exudes big dick energy.

Nie Mingjue decides to immediately execute Xue Yang. Meng Yao steps in and counsels that maybe execution shouldn’t be their go-to, being rather permanent and all. Xue Yang can give them information and they shouldn’t waste their chance to get it. Nie Mingjue agrees. The others admire the fact that Meng Yao is clever and persuasive, and Wei Wuxian makes a comment about how Meng Yao’s biological father (the head of the Lanling Jin) is an idiot for not realizing he could make use of such a talent.

Nie Mingjue orders Xue Yang put in prison and the guard strengthened. Meng Yao delivers this order to the Captain of the Guard, who decides he’s going to be a giant prick about it. He’s too good to take orders from the bastard son of a whore. Meng Yao puts on his best retail smile and says that he’ll make do.

Meanwhile, the others are discussing the yin iron and the Wen sect’s demand to send disciples. Nie Mingjue says Lan Xichen has written to him and he thinks Lan Wangji should go back to Cloud Recesses. There’s only one piece of yin iron left unlocated and Xue Yang clearly knows where it is, so they’ll take it from here. Wei Wuxian reluctantly agrees that he and Jiang Cheng should probably head home too, to see how their father wants to handle the Wen sect’s demands.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wen soldiers have showed up. It’s bad. Lan Qiren tells Lan Xichen that he should take their most precious knowledge and run away. Lan Xichen tries to argue but Lan Qiren insists.

Ext, The Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

The Captain of the Guard is still being an asshole to Meng Yao, this time while drunk.

Wei Wuxian, also drunk, has decided to sleep on Lan Wangji’s roof like any well-adjusted person would.

Lan Wangji gives him a longing stare and says ‘farewell’ under his breath like the stoic repressed gay he is, before heading back home.

ENTER MINIMUM WAGE REPRESENTATION MAN

The next morning, Wen Chao shows up with his Head Henchman, Wen Zhuliu. He’s clearly there because Wen Chao can’t find his ass with two hands and a flashlight. They demand the release of Xue Yang and grandstand a lot. Nie Mingjue tells them to fuck off.

There’s a big fight, mostly between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu.

Someone shouts that Xue Yang has escaped. Nie Mingjue makes it to the prison and finds Meng Yao standing there with a sword through the gut of the Captain of the Guard. We all take a moment to wish that we could stab the people who have bullied us. Nie Mingjue, however, does not agree, and is very upset. Meng Yao hilariously says ‘Xue Yang did it’ even though he’s literally got his hand on the hilt of the blade. Nice going, Meng Yao. I spend the next ten months wondering if that was a translation error.

Wen Chao (or maybe Wen Zhuliu? I don’t remember tbh) throws his sword at Nie Mingjue. Meng Yao leaps in front of it and gets lightly stabbed. Then Wen Chao talks a lot of shit about how much the Nie sect sucks and also the Lan sect sucks and his brother has taken men to go burn Cloud Recesses to the ground. Everyone is upset. Wen Chao gallantly agrees he’ll let them off the hook for the day, but if they fuck with the Wen sect again, they’ll regret it.

Nie Mingjue drags Meng Yao inside and they have a messy breakup. Meng Yao tries to explain that the Captain of the Guard was a big douchebag, bullied him for years, and took credit for his accomplishments. Nie Mingjue points out that this was not an excuse to murder him. Because Meng Yao just saved his life, he says he won’t execute him, but exiles him from Qinghe.

Meng Yao bids farewell to Nie Huaisang, who is upset and tries to get his brother to reconsider, but Nie Mingjue is adamant. Everyone seems to forget that Meng Yao just got fucking stabbed. He’ll walk it off.

So who released Xue Yang? This question is actually never answered! Did the captain of the guard do it for some reason, and Meng Yao stabbed him because he caught him in the act? Did Meng Yao do it? If so, why? Did he have nefarious purposes? Or did he do it because he thought it would make the Wen sect withdraw and stop attacking The Unclean Realm? Did the Wen soldiers get to him and let him out? Did Xue Yang just escape on his own? You may believe any canon that you wish. (My personal head canon is generally that Meng Yao released him to try to get the Wen soldiers to withdraw, but I’ve also written some variations.)

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are home. Yay! They reunite with Jiang Yanli. It is cute.

ENTER A PAIR OF EXTREMELY BAD PARENTS

So here’s the tea on the super dysfunctional family that basically drives this whole story. Jiang Fengmian is the head of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. His wife is Yu Ziyuan. He didn’t really want to marry her, mostly because he was in love with another woman named Cangse Sanren. However, the leaders of their two sects were pushing them to marry for alliance reasons. Jiang Fengmian kept refusing, but then Cangse Sanren married a guy named Wei Changze, who was one of Jiang Fengmian’s close friends. Since she was no longer an option, Jiang Fengmian then agreed to marry Yu Ziyuan. They hate each other.

The two of them had two kids, Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is not a strong cultivator and seems to have some health issues, although these are never detailed. Therefore all the sect responsibilities fall to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli was betrothed to Jin Zixuan (whose mother was the sect sister of Yu Ziyuan).

Meanwhile, Cangse Sanren is what we call a ‘rogue cultivator’ ie a cultivator who is not formally part of any sect. Wei Changze was a servant at Lotus Pier. They had Wei Wuxian and went to fight evil. When Wei Wuxian was four, they were killed by a monster. He lived on the streets for about three years before Jiang Fengmian found him and adopted him.

Yu Ziyuan is super pissed that Jiang Fengmian adopted the child of the woman he was in love with. She’s also super pissed because Wei Wuxian happens to be a more powerful cultivator than Jiang Cheng. Jiang Fengmian is very indulgent of Wei Wuxian’s behavior because, you know, his parents died, and Jiang Fengmian loved his mother and was friends with his father. Yu Ziyuan constantly accuses Jiang Fengmian of loving Wei Wuxian more than he loves their own son, constantly abuses Wei Wuxian for having the audacity to exist in her home and be a good cultivator, and constantly berates Jiang Cheng for not being as strong as Wei Wuxian and says he’s not going to be a good sect leader. Meanwhile Jiang Fengmian can’t be arsed to reassure Jiang Cheng that yes, he does love him very much. Jiang Yanli basically raised both the brothers which is probably the only reason they turned out as well as they did.

tl;dr this is a super toxic environment for everyone involved

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A MAN WHOSE POSITION IMPLIES HE SHOULD BE IMPORTANT YET PLAYS LITTLE ROLE IN THE STORY

Wen Xu, the first son of Wen Ruohan, is coordinating the attack on Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji arrives in time to find most of his sect rushing to shelter in the magic cave because the Wen troops are slaughtering everyone there.

A bunch of disciples are trapped outside because only members of the Lan bloodline can get in. Wen Xu starts murdering them all until one will tell him how to get in.

ENTER A 2 WHO THINKS HE IS A 10

A disciple named Su She, who incidentally is the guy who lost his sword in the lake like a dumbass while fighting the water demon, tells Wen Xu that only members of the Lan bloodline can get in and he could do it if he had one of the Magic Ribbons.

Lan Wangji emerges from the cave to try to fight off Wen Xu and a zillion guys single-handedly. Unsurprisingly, this does not work and he is captured. Since he’s got the yin iron, Wen Xu decides that’s good enough and they take off. Everyone left behind presumably calls Su She a jerk.

Int, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

They’ve received the demands from the Wen sect. Jiang Cheng is the inner heir disciple and he has to go. Wei Wuxian says he’ll go too. Yu Ziyuan tells him nobody gives a shit what the son of a servant does.

Ext, The Indoctrination Bureau, which may or may not be in Nightless City. It sure seems like it is but then later it sure seems like it isn’t [Qishan]

Wen Chao has lined all the disciples up outside so he can insult them and brag about how great he is. Wei Wuxian is worried because Lan Wangji isn’t there at first, but then he’s escorted in, clearly injured and trying not to show it.

Wen Chao forces them all to surrender their swords. Surprisingly it’s Jin Zixuan who picks a fight about this.

ENTER A WOMAN WHO IS NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT

Jin Zixuan’s retainer, a woman named Luo Qingyang but who everyone calls Mianmian because of how cute she is, calms him down and reminds him that Jin Zixuan’s father told them not to make trouble. He’s pissed but hands his sword over. So does everyone else.

(A note on swords: there are strong implications that the swords are semi-sentient and connected to their bearers on a spiritual level. I’m sure I would know more about this if I was more familiar with xianxia. But the long and the short of it is that taking their swords is a Big Fucking Deal.)

Wen Chao tells them all to memorize ‘The Quintessence of Wen’, basically the rules of their sect.

Ext, somewhere nearby [Qishan]

Wen Ning is excited that Wei Wuxian is in Qishan and asks Wen Qing if he can go outside and play. Wen Qing says no because Wei Wuxian is supposed to be their enemy. Wen Ning uses sad puppy eyes. It has no effect.

Ext, The Indoctrination Bureau [Qishan]

Wen Chao tells them to recite the Wen stuff. Lan Wangji refuses. Jin Zixuan refuses.

Wei Wuxian eagerly volunteers, and then like the chaos gremlin he is, starts reciting the Lan principles instead. Wen Chao is pissed. Lan Wangji is smitten. Even Jin Zixuan thinks it’s funny. Jiang Cheng is upset that Wei Wuxian is causing trouble but he also thinks it’s funny and just won’t admit it.

Wen Chao punishes Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Jin Zixuan by making them do some menial labor involving buckets of dung. Jin ‘never done a day of actual labor in his life’ Zixuan is the most upset about this.

Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to try to talk to Lan Wangji about the yin iron and what happened at Cloud Recesses and why he’s injured. Wen Chao gets even more pissy and throws Wei Wuxian in a dungeon with a terrible CGI wolf monster. Wei Wuxian nearly gets eaten but Wen Qing intervenes by using long distance acupuncture to knock the monster out with throwing needles. Wen Ning brings him some medicine to stop the bleeding from his multiple wounds.

The next day, they’re still reciting the stupid Wen stuff, or at least pretending to. Nie Huaisang either falls asleep on his feet, passes out, or decides this is bullshit and pretends to pass out, and is dragged back to his guest house.

The rest of them go on a field trip.

ENTER THE HUMAN VERSION OF PERIOD CRAMPS

Wen Chao has a girlfriend, somehow. Her name is Jiaojiao and she is the absolute worst.

They head off to a mountain where bad mojo is going around. Wen Chao is clearly planning to use all these cultivators as cannon fodder, because he’s a fucking asshole. Wen Zhuliu accompanies them, presumably because Wen Chao will trip over his own sword and die if left to his own devices. Wen Qing also comes along, even though she’d clearly rather not. Wen Chao keeps hitting on Mianmian and it makes Jiaojiao jealous.

Lan Wangji is limping badly. Wei Wuxian wants to help him. Jiang Cheng tells him they’ve got their own problems and they shouldn’t get involved in other people’s business. Wei Wuxian says, ‘but consider: I do what I want’. He offers to carry Lan Wangji, who refuses. So instead Wei Wuxian uses a little paper talisman to ask Wen Qing if she can help them out. She calls for a break so they can get some water.

Wen Chao tells her she’s too soft-hearted. She tells him he thinks too much, which seems vastly inaccurate.

Int, Muxi Mountain [Qishan]

They find a cave and go inside. There’s a steep drop off and nobody wants to go see what’s at the bottom, so Wen Chao pushes Wei Wuxian over the edge. Everyone is pissed about this, and they all have to climb down.

They’ve discovered an underground lake and the home of the monster! But it’s nowhere to be found. Wen Chao wants to string someone up and cut them to attract it. Jiaojiao suggests Mianmian. Wen Chao clearly doesn’t want to because he has the hots for her. Jin Zixuan tells him to get his grubby eyeballs off his friend. For the first time in the show, we feel a jot of respect for Jin Zixuan.

One of the other disciples tries to grab Mianmian anyway, Jin Zixuan intervenes, and there’s a big fight.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao that using his position to bully others means he should be executed, using the words they had to memorize from the Quintessence of Wen. Wen Chao doesn’t recognize their own principles. Everyone laughs at him, and Wen Zhuliu looks like he’d rather be flipping burgers at McDonald’s than have this stupid job.

While Wen Zhuliu is distracted mentally updating his resume, Wei Wuxian grabs Wen Chao, puts a sword to his throat, and jumps to a rock in the middle of the lake. He tells Wen Chao to make all his guys lower their blades. But then, uh oh! Turns out the rock he jumped to is in fact the monster, which is a terrible CGI turtle snake thing.

There’s another big fight. Jiaojiao decides that this is an ideal time to punish Mianmian for being pretty near other people, and tries to burn her with a hot iron. Wei Wuxian jumps in between them and gets hit with it.

At some point, Wen Chao decides fuck this. The Wen soldiers all retreat, dragging Wen Qing with them, cut the ropes to the bottom of the cliff, and seal the entrance.

They find an underwater exit from the cave. While Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian fight the monster and keep it distracted, the other cultivators escape. But they don’t manage to make it out themselves. They’re now trapped in a cave together, soaking wet and wounded. Thank you, Untamed.

Wei Wuxian teases Lan Wangji and is too stupid to realize he’s flirting. Lan Wangji prays for patience. He tells Wei Wuxian that he went back to Cloud Recesses and that his uncle is injured and his brother is missing. Wei Wuxian covers Lan Wangji with his robe while he sleeps. We all swoon.

In order to get out, they have to kill the monster. Wei Wuxian goes inside it and we all very studiously do not ask which entrance he went through.

The inside of this monster is very gross. There’s a black sword inside it which emanates evil energy. Wei Wuxian grabs it because he is sixteen and stupid. He hears lots of screaming ghosts and such, but hangs onto it anyway because he is sixteen and stupid. They kill the terrible CGI turtle snake thing but it collapses on top of the exit so they still can’t get out. Wei Wuxian is badly injured. Lan Wangji sings to him and there is a montage of their significant moments together up to this point, because the Chinese censors apparently weren’t looking.

Ext, Muxi Mountain [Qishan]

Wei Wuxian wakes up to find he is outside. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng have rescued him. Lan Wangji has already left to go back to Cloud Recesses to look for his brother. Wei Wuxian is still holding onto the creepy sword. They awkwardly thank Jin Zixuan for helping out with the rescue. Jin Zixuan awkwardly accepts their thanks and then bounces. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng head back to Lotus Pier.

Nobody ever mentions how Nie Huaisang gets out of Qishan, and for some reason I find this very funny.

~end part 2~

#the untamed #liveblog

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

Text

Childhood love MC - ikesen headcanons (Ieyasu & Masamune)

Ieyasu

Ieyasu was 4 years old when he got sent to the Imagawa clan as a hostage, leaving his parents and homeland behind. His captors barely ever paid him any attention, and when they did it was only to rage on him. The little boy spent his childhood being treated as an insect, a nobody and a burden, he couldn't trust anyone but himself. Or at least, that was how the story was until he met you, the daughter of an Imagawa vassal

Approaching him the first times was a very difficult task as you had to do it in secret and Ieyasu surely wasn't down to cooperate. As the days passed by your smiles started working their ways into his heart, melting the ice in his eyes just a little and occasionally inspiring him to mimic your actions. You were the only one in the whole castle that he could dare label as a genuinely nice person, and perhaps his only source of light and happiness

Despite the countless scoldings for your actions, you started visiting his room on a daily basis, and when your father forced you to stay away you stopped eating, refusing to touch your food unless you were with Ieyasu. Seeing the determination in your eyes and fearing you might actually die, it was decided to let you meet him once a week. After you updated the boy about everything that happened, he flicked you hard on the forehead while calling you a dummy as a deep blush spread across his features. No one had ever gone to such lengths for him, and at this point he was more sure than ever that you didn't do it out of pity, but because you truly enjoyed his company. He was so touched he had to fight back the tears, suddenly realizing how much you meant to him

And so your friendship continued until Ieyasu turned 17 years old and was allowed to go back to his clan. His 13 years long stay was the most horrible experience of his life and it filled his soul with hatred and a strong wish for vengeance, but you were a different matter. He didn't even consider you a part of the Imagawa clan. You were just you, his first friend, his first love, his only ally and weakness. But he was obsessed by the idea of strength, since being strong would have prevented people from treating him however they pleased, and after endless reflections, he convinced himself that he had to shut you out of his heart or else his soft spot for you would've caused his doom. It was a self-defense mechanism and as the months turned to years, he repeated to himself it countless times like a mantra, probably trying to convince that tiny little part of his heart that was still yours to let you go

The first time he met you again though, his resolve crumbled away, his heart stirring at the sight he so longed for. Following Nobunaga during an inspection in one of his domains that were property of the now fallen Imagawa clan, they arrived at a village not so far from where the blonde man used to be kept as an hostage. There, hosted at the mansion of an ex vassal, he saw you tending to the plants in the garden. Just like the flowers you were so focused on, your beauty had blossomed into a delicate yet breathtaking mix of features, all singular on their own; your eyes were as transparent and clear as the morning dew, your delicate lips as red as plump raspberries, your rosy cheeks framing your face in a perfect picture, supported by an elegant neck that emerged from a pink kimono. Shocked by the sight he had stopped walking, gaining a glare from Nobunaga, who on its part received a curt invitation to reach the chambers on its own as Ieyasu had now more important things to deal with

As the others warlords' footsteps grew distant, the head of the Tokugawa clan hurriedly made his way to where you were crouching down, stopping right in front of your figure. When you looked up and locked eyes with him, a confused wave of emotions took ahold of your heart, and before you knew it you had thrown your arms around his neck, trapping him in a tight embrace while breathing in his scent. Your love for him had never wavered but you would've never thought you'd get the chance to meet him again. Unable to resist the addiction to the other's presence, you offered as a guide for the warriors to travel across the land, therefore never leaving Ieyasu's side. The night before his departure, you went to his room to bid him farewell, but what you had least expected was for him to confess the feelings that were burning in his chest and then, after you accepted his confession with a fiery blush on your pretty face, he gently cupped your cheek with his warm hand and kissed you as the moonlight surrounded your fervent bodies

He had tried erasing you from his life and denying a love that was undeniable from the start. So now realizing the big mistake he had made, he had no intention of letting you go ever again, even if it meant marrying you the next morning or kidnapping you and taking you back to Azuchi with him. He wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of what he truly wanted. You.

Masamune

As the daughter of one of Date Terumune's most loyal vassals (Masamune's dad), it wasn't rare for you to stay at the castle while your father was out doing errands, battles and even wars. You don't remember the first time you had met the blue eyed little boy, and yet of one thing you were sure: you two became immediately friends. Despite his sometimes cocky behavior and his recklessness, you couldn't help but be attracted to him as he was born a leader. On the other hand your father always encouraged your friendship, though he always reproached you for using such a confidential tone with the future heir of the clan, when in truth you couldn't help it; you had been around him ever since you remember, and he was the one that actually asked you to drop the formalities around him

You two spent a lot of time together, whenever he wasn't practicing or studying he could be found dragging you along to join one of his wild shenanigans that, at a certain point, became just an excuse for him to show off as a way to express his obvious feelings for the much oblivious you. Everyone decided to let the two of you be since your family had been serving the clan for many generations already, so a potential union between the two would be well accepted

Though weird it may seem, your relationship truly blossomed after Terumune's death. It was a heavy blow to the boy's pride and psyche, sending him into a loop of guilt and regret. You stood by him during a dark moment of his life, and helped him go through the preparations for his succession. As the two of you grew closer and your feelings for each other got stronger, holding everything in eventually became impossible, causing you to share your first kiss only a month after his ascension as heir. It was very spontaneous and the day was just like any other. You sat by his side as you ate your lunch, then smiled at him for a comment he had made, and suddenly he met your lips with his in a painfully sweet kiss

Being just a pair of young teenagers, he decided to put off asking your hand in marriage until you were finally used to being together as a couple. You were more than fine with this, but as head of the Date clan Masamune had responsibilities to take care of, and after certain events he formed an alliance with the Oda clan, meaning he had to temporarily move to Azuchi

Despite not wanting to put any pressure on you, he preferred taking you as his wife before leaving for an undefined period of time, so one summer day he proposed to you, pouring his entire heart in what was one of the most nerve-wrecking moments of his life. Many year had already passed from your first meeting, and though your eyes were always the same beautiful glass beads as ever, your body went through a considerable amount of changes; you had gotten taller, your face became more mature while keeping its usual soft features, your voice grew more stable and delicate, your chest got bigger, and so many other things he could fill a thousand books by listing them all. The moment the words left his lips he saw such a pure joy painting your features that he was stunned into silence, barely hearing your answer. You were perhaps the best thing he could've ever wished for, and the thought of finally being bound to you for eternity made his heart tremble with anticipation. The official proposal was happily handled by him because everything he did was just a step closer to the fateful day. Nothing could stop him from making you his, and after you become husband and wife, he'll make sure you'll never live a boring day as long as he's around

#my writing #ikemen sengoku #ikesen headcanons #ikesen imagines #ikesen scenarios #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen masamune #tokugawa ieyasu #date masamune

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barsformars · 4 years

Text

The Sun’s Out

g - scifi, fluff

p - mingi × reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - none

c - the sun only shines for one hour every 22 years; you accompany your friend for his first experience.

a.n - inspired by 'all summer in a day' by ray bradbury. this was an unexpectedly quick writing, only took me about 2 hours (yes i usually take very long) and i really like it so i hope yall enjoy it too <3

playlist 🚀

- the day after tomorrow by frantz langdon

- levitate by rizik

“What's the sun like?”

This was the very first time he had ever asked you about it, knowing that he would only be jealous if he heard about how amazing it is from someone his age who had actually experienced it. If it was just the textbooks or the adults talking, he could at least pretend they were making things up. But now that the both of you were here, sitting on a wet grass field, awaiting the arrival of the sun for the first time in 22 years, he's ready to hear it from you.

There's a mix of excitement and curiosity in his voice as he asked eagerly, only for his face to dim when you leaned back on your arms, looking up at the gloomy skies instead of him.

“If you can even recall it, that is.” You've never heard him sound this small throughout the 6 years of friendship.

But how do you even start describing the sun to someone who has never seen it? It's blinding, but the artificial sun lamps are too. It's hot, but so are the ovens, fireplaces and heated blankets here. It's the same but also very different. How do you even start describing the feeling of basking in the warmth of the sun rays to someone who has never felt it?

“The sun is like…” you paused for a moment, wondering if it would be right to say, “you?” That was the best way you could put it without having to talk about the sun in the ways your dear friend already knew well.

“Like me?” He asked, in disbelief. You were the one the adults always compared the sun to — something about your smile, they say.

“Yeah,” you replied, turning your head to face him as you flashed him the grin everyone gushes about, “just like you.”

In fact, you think Mingi is way more deserving to be compared to the sun than you were. All you had was a dazzling smile and tanned skin — though now very much faded, still evidence that you lived under the sun nevertheless — but the boy had optimism, hope and energy that could rival the sun's. But you get why they never tell him that, you think it would fuel his curiosity so much more it would cause a gaping hole in his heart — makes the long wait even longer.

“What? You don't trust me?” Mingi didn't seem to buy your words, his eyebrows still raised and eyes wide open like a sad puppy begging for affection.

“I just-” he sighs, from what emotions, you don't know but you bet there's a lot he has to process. “Is it time yet?”

You gave your wristwatch two little taps on the smooth black screen and the time pops up on it in mustard yellow. “Almost,” you say, slightly breathless now that your heart was racing at the thought of seeing the sun again. If the scientists were accurate about the time, Mingi would be experiencing the sun at its strongest. You used to detest it, always complaining about how unbearable the heat was. To be fair, it really was, and you think there's a chance you might feel the same even now after years of craving the sharp burning sensation.

Mingi pulls out a polaroid camera from his bag, ready to snap a few shots as evidence that he did actually see the sun, that it wasn't just a hallucination or a dream anymore. You advised him not to get too caught up with taking pictures that he missed the chance to appreciate the sun for real. He agreed, but still insisted on taking a picture of you, and also asked for you to take one of him later on. A few minutes were precious when you only have a mere hour, but two pictures wouldn't hurt so you nodded.

When the sun finally starts to peek out from behind the grey clouds — much like a shy child meeting his mother's friends for the very first time — Mingi’s eyes widened. He could not believe his eyes, everything he had been hearing and learning about has been true all along.

“That's it, that's the sun!” When the sun revealed itself in full, Mingi hopped up from the ground as he pointed at the sun, exclaiming. “It's so,” he gasps, studying the rays of sun that landed on his arms, “it burns, so hot….but I like it. Tell me how that makes sense.” It's not like anything he has felt before, the artificial sun lamps couldn't compare.

You've never seen him smile so bright throughout the 6 years of friendship. But seeing him now, he truly is the epitome of the sun.

You let him indulge in the sunshine in private as you turned your eyes away from him, looking up towards the sky instead. Like you always used to, despite knowing how damaging it could be for your eyes, you held your hand up in front of your face. You opened up a small gap between your index and middle finger and looked right at the sun with squinted eyes. For a moment it feels like you're back on Earth, your home planet. You can't help but let the corners of your lips curl upwards, everything feels so bad but so good.

Mingi watches as you relive your moments back home and he imitates you, only that he was too unfamiliar to the sun to be able to tolerate it as long as you could. He envies you, right at this moment, more than any other time. The sun was pleasurable and exciting for a first timer like him, but that's all it was. He envies that you have such an extensive and deep connection to something so special.

Mingi rolls his sleeves and pants up, wanting every inch of his being to feel the skin piercing burn of the sun. He was always one to enjoy the heat, sometimes a little too much. You laugh, telling him to roll them back down if he wants the full experience and a souvenir to keep for the next few weeks, or even months.

“Getting ugly tan lines is a must, Mingi.”

“You should have told me that earlier,” he pouted as he unfolds his clothes, slightly embarrassed, an amateur he was.

“I forgot tan lines were a thing since mine faded,” you said softly, your heart aching a little.

The both of you sipped on the lemonade you had brought from home (the ice had melted by then) as you bid farewell to the sun. The drink was a nice touch, Mingi said. You explained that it was what people back on Earth do, especially during summer when the sun is relentless.

“See you in 22 years,” Mingi muttered under his breath as the sun went back into hiding, the grey clouds he grew up seeing everyday replacing the ball of fire. The field is no longer a golden yellow, it slowly turns back into its usual hue of grey and blue, as if God was playing with filters on a photo editing app.

Everything gradually returns back to normal, and Mingi doesn't know whether the familiar feels more comfortable. After all, you were foreign when you first touched down on this planet. Yet you were the one who brought him the most joy and the most comfort. In his eyes, you're even brighter than the sun. The sun may show him a part of the universe he may never be familiar with, but you show him a whole new world. And maybe that's why he's so fond of you, because you remind him of the sun, only more intense and warmer.

Or maybe he should say, he loves the sun so much because he's reminded of you.

#kwritersworldnet #kpopuniversenet #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez oneshots #ateez fics #ateez blurbs #ateez drabbles #ateez #ateez fluff #mingi fluff #mingi sci fi #mingi #ateez x reader

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dansnaturepictures · 3 years

Photo

3rd October 2021: Beetles, birds of prey and more at Ibsley Common and Blashford Lakes

I enjoyed seeing another Grey Silverfish in my en suite last night, and admired a hanging basket with yellow flowers in the garden this morning which I took the first picture in this photoset of. I took the second of a view out the back with the sun shining nicely on dark clouds and some trees visible with bits of red autumnal colour which looked nice.

This afternoon we walked at Ibsley Common in the New Forest, the first time I had been here since Boxing Day 2019 and it was nice to be greeted by a cheery Grey Wagtail flying up the stretch of Dockens Water here on arrival. I took the seventh picture in this photoset of this stream. Getting out of the nice woodland and onto the beautiful hilly moor and heathland walk it looked really nice carpeted in the nice brown colour turning orange as the heaths always go in autumn largely stepping away from the purple heather that I saw this common covered in when viewing it from Rockford Common the opposite side of the road when we walked there last month. With showers and bright bursts of sun today the area looked exceptional with dark and lighter fluffy clouds strewn across the sky creating some breathtaking scenes of great scale its a brilliant walk for just taking in the sense of space. I took the third, fourth and fifth pictures in this photoset on the walk.

Bird wise there were many sweet coloured Meadow Pipits bounding about which was lovely to see. It did become a bit of a raptor fest with two or three Buzzards soaring high over the heath and Kestrel characteristically hovering and circling overhead nicely too. I also caught sight of a Hobby quickly which was nice I have had another great year for them.

On the heath also beetles very much stole the day with a pretty quirky long devil’s coach horse beetle which was lovely to see. And in for me what will go down as one of the most impressive wildlife moments I have witnessed this year a blue tinted dor beetle which I got the sixth picture in this photoset of was just visible in some manure I believe pony. And it was exceptional as we saw it push the piece of dung attempting to roll it. This piece of dung was quite big so we didn’t see it fully roll it over like the dung beetles which this one is a type of is famous for doing and it then took interest in more broken up bits possibly of its making. But this felt so inspiring and joyous to see this key part of nature and witness why these beautiful beetles are so important to this ecosystem with breaking down the waste. What a moment.

What we believe were two hornets joined together and tormentil which still continues to do so well in the forest, gorse, little bits of purple heather still which looked great and ragwort in the woods as a list of wildflowers added to the strong small and important things of nature vibes to the walk. As did a nice big and shiny mushroom something I had wanted to look for here today in the woods on the way back out as I drunk in a delicious scene of sun re-emerging to illuminate the heath behind a marshy type area which I took and tweeted a photo of tonight I tweeted one of the mushrooms too. I took the eighth picture in this photoset on the way out. A great walk.

We then called into Blashford Lakes’ Tern hide where my Mum’s partner had been the whole time to see if the Grey Phalarope that had been around lately was about. It wasn’t but as a shower dramatically moved across the large body of water that is Ibsley Water which the hide overlooks which is always special to watch as I have done before here I took the ninth picture in this photoset showing this, I also very much valued seeing streams of House Martins flitting over the water getting some exceptional binocular views of their sweet blue and white plumage as they swerved around. As someone else in the hide acknowledged too these won’t be around for long as they migrant back to Africa so it was good to make the most of them. A precious species that I have had a brilliant year for.

Soon it will be time to bid them farewell, we won’t know it’s goodbye for now of course it’ll just be when I stop noticing them that I know they’re gone all of a sudden like the Swifts before them and that may too have already happened with Swallows for me this year. Whenever it is, it will bring feelings of the gradual shutting down of another year and hope for their return in the blossoming of spring next year.

I took the tenth and final picture in this photoset of another colourful hanging basket in the garden which I saw when home this evening, seeing nice sky scenes as well tonight in a very relaxing evening where I enjoyed a lot of natural history TV. The end to the brilliant ‘Chris and Meg’s Wild Summer’ series which I have loved seeing on Sunday evenings such relaxing viewing showcasing some of the greatest wildlife and locations the UK has to offer including so many I know, and also showing their wonderful bond with each other presenting many funny and down to earth moments. And the dawn of a new Sir David Attenborough narrated series ‘The Mating Game’ which looks set be another epic and splendid celebration of nature. This was another great weekend in the New Forest and at home, I hope you all had a nice one and have a good new week.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: (Ibsley Common) One of my favourite birds the Buzzard, Kestrel, Hobby, Meadow Pipit, House Martins there too, Long-tailed Tit, Chiffchaff, Grey Wagtail, Blackbird, a decent few Carrion Crows, Woodpigeon, dor beetle, devil’s coach horse beetle, hornet and an interesting caterpillar too. (Blashford Lakes) Another of my favourite birds the Great Crested Grebe, Tufted Duck, Wigeon, Mute Swan, a line of nice Lapwings on a shingle island, Grey Heron well on one of those too, Cormorants, a nice array of gulls including large Herring Gulls, Lesser Black-backed Gull and Black-headed Gull and House Martins.

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llendrinall · 3 years

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I got a prompt idea. What if Severus was Harry's biological father? And he somehow finds out in Harry's first year and actually decided to do something about it and tells him and then they have this Gaint secret going for YEARS until the end of the war. Could you write them from 1st year to the end of the war where Harry is sitting at the bedside of Severus' bed and looks at his friends and goes "Because he's my Biological Father"?

There is a very obvious wat the story would go and it wouldn’t be nice. Severus finds out, he tells Harry, but somehow they are still locked in a cycle of trying to break away from Hogwarts and the Dursleys but never being able to. There is always something else more important and urgent that stops Severus from revealing the truth and claiming Harry’s guardianship. So things are pretty much the same. They learn to trust each other but they never get to really know each other, let alone like or love each other. At the end, when the time of the big battle comes, Severus sacrifices himself to give Harry a chance and Harry will mourn him briefly, because there is no time for tears during a battle; or maybe Severus will hang on to life long enough to see Harry alive and learn that Voldemort is dead before succumbing to his own wounds. He will have done his part, he will have saved Harry, but somehow Harry will be even more of an orphan by the end of the war.

This is how it should go. The easy way, the big obvious path for the story to take.

Except… How comes Severus is Harry’s father? How did that happen?

I don’t think he and Lily were having an affair or even a relationship. At most, it was the beginning of one. Seven good conversations, three dates that they didn’t call dates, two kisses and a one-night stand that served as a locking point. A night together that was a farewell for Snape, about to infiltrate the inner circle of the Dark Lord, and a promise that they would pick things up again after the war and see where they lead them.

They were so innocent, so stupid.

Snape was risking a lot acting as a spy, so he only made contact sporadically with Alice Longbottom and Albus Dumbledore. Lily was working together with James in muggle protection operations and neither of them bothered correcting people’s assumptions about them because their supposed marriage offered them a good cover story.

Lily wanted to tell Severus about the baby, but she had no way to contact him and wasn’t about to risk his cover. She thought she could wait. The war wouldn’t last, they would win, and she would tell Severus everything. In the meantime, James was happy to give Lily’s kid his surname to avoid unwanted questions. They couldn’t risk the Dark Lord suspecting he had a traitor near him and Lily was his friend.

And Severus… he heard about Lily marrying and having a baby and he was hurt and betrayed but he understood because James had always been a charmer and James was there when Severus was not. It was asking too much, to wait for someone who wasn’t there, wait for a may be.

The war ends. Harry is the Boy Who Lived. Severus spends the next decade grieving and not doing very well with all the trauma from the war and being undercover. He can’t believe how much time has passed when he sees Lily’s soon walk into Hogwarts. It feels as if it was just yesterday when Severus was a student.

Severus discovers the truth by accident and it takes three months for him to begin to understand. Harry has a slight reaction to fairy dust when he touches it during Potions class. Nothing too bad, Severus himself has a similar reaction and doesn’t usually bother using the pure silver alternative. It’s just a reddening of the skin, very common in northern wizarding families like the Childermass and the Princes. Lily didn’t have it and neither did Potter (or the Blacks or the Malfoys, but Severus has seen it in the Diggorys funnily enough). Harry has it and so does Severus and for the next three months Severus keep noticing an increasing number of odd similarities and funny coincidences and keeps dismissing them as such until a week before Christmas when Harry, absolutely apropos of nothing, looks at Draco Malfoy and says “the way you keep mentioning your father, I’m glad to be an orphan.” Severus knows then. He might take five points from Gryffindor and tell Harry he is an arrogant bully like his father, but what he means is “James Potter never got the hand of aggressive self-deprecating humor. I can’t deny it anymore, you are my son.”

Severus goes through a period of shock, acceptance, shock again, grief and, finally, worry which is the default state of parenthood.

He tells Harry the truth just before summer break. He does a pretty good job, all things considered. He is unnaturally stiff, accidentally implies that he doesn’t want Harry when he says that he, of course, will keep living with his family (Severus thought that’s what Harry would prefer! He lived with them from the age of one, he must love them! How was he to know?) and looks very pained by the whole ordeal.

Harry, being Harry, and just coming from a very unsatisfying conversation with Dumbledore, asks Severus why did Voldemort try to kill him when he was merely a baby and of course Severus tells him everything. He is new at this parenthood thing and didn’t know you are supposed to shield children from distasteful truths. He tells Harry all: the prophecy, the choice the Dark Lord made, Sirius’ betrayal. Everything. Harry cries and Severus has no idea what to do, but manages to do all right. There is a stiff hug and a handkerchief.

Harry’s second year of school is spent with Severus taking points from Gryffindor (“Even if you were the Heir of Slytherin, inbreeding is nothing to brag about, Malfoy” says Harry, costing Gryffidnor 20 points) and desperately trying to convince Harry that there is nothing wrong with him being a parselmouth or hearing voices in the walls. Harry is equally desperate to convince Severus to please take him from the Dursleys he will even apologize to Malfoy if he has to.

Harry wins and Severus goes to Dumbledore to reveal the truth and ask that Harry’s guardianship is transferred to him. Dumbledore gives and hour-long impromptu speech about how that’s a very bad idea and how Severus is most likely mistaken about Harry’s parentage and is being deceived by his affection towards Lily. However, just yesterday Severus was explaining in class that Longbottom’s current mistake was perfectly innocuous despite all the whistling and colourful sparks and Harry whispered “this is otherwise known as a Lockhart” so at this point Severus doesn’t care about blood. Harry is his.

(No, seriously, he lost control of the class for ten minutes and afterwards he didn’t even take points from Gryffindor).

Severus is resolved to go over Dumbledore and get Harry from the Dursleys. He realizes it will be difficult with his Death Eater past, but he will do it. The wizarding world is ridiculously biased towards blood relations, he has a good chance.

So of course that’s when freaking Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban.

They don’t have a close relationship, Harry and he. Severus doesn’t kid himself, Harry only asked him to take him in because life with Petunia is miserable. Harry doesn’t even like Severus. However, it seems that Severus has managed to earn Harry’s respect and even his trust. Not only Harry, but his little group of friends seem to be thawing towards Severus.

To be fair, it is not by any virtue or merit on Severus’ part, but rather the failings of everyone else. You see, no one, (Severus can’t stress this enough) no one has told Harry the truth about Sirius Black. Harry and his friends have even made a little game of it and by the time Harry returns to Hogwarts Severus is informed that only Arthur and Percival Weasley passed the test. Out of over thirty adults they have asked, only two told Harry something close to the truth. Severus is surprised that Percival talked, but apparently the poor boy has been very stressed with the incoming NEWTS and takes every opportunity to quiz his knowledge so it could be said he was tricked.

Still, Harry appreciates that Severus doesn’t lie or patronize him. The bar is abysmally low, but Severus will take it. He is already doing much better that his own father.

He spends the year tutoring Harry in everything that may be useful for his continuing survival and antagonizing Lupin. Unfortunately, Severus doesn’t have much time to prepare his case for Harry’s guardianship and he briefly considers offering the task to Granger or Weasley (Percival, not Ronald) for extra credit, but he thinks better of it.

The end of the year is…weird. There is relief, shock, fear and regret, quite a lot of regret. Severus should have ignored the threat and worked on asserting Harry’s parentage. There will always be another threat coming, he should just take Harry now.

He is proved right just a few months later when Harry is entered in the Triwizard tournament. To make things worse, the mark is itching in his forearm and Karkaroff is extremely tetchy.

And here it is, the moment where Severus Snape refuses to repeat the cycle, the moment when he avoids making the same mistake.

Severus goes to the cave in Hogsmeade and tells Sirius the truth. Never again he will assume that people know or that there will be time to talk. If only he had tried to contact Lily, if he had merely written to congratulate her about her marriage even if he said nothing else, Severus is sure she would have found the way to tell him. So, for her sake if nothing else, this time he is not keeping the truth to himself. He realizes that by telling Sirius he might be robbing Harry of an ally, but if Sirius decides he does not want anything to do with Harry because he is not James’ son, so be it. Severus would rather know now than a few months down the line when they inevitably have an emergency.

Sirius is surprised, retroactively hurt that James didn’t tell him anything and very offended at the idea that he would stop being Harry’s godfather simply because his biological dad is a git. If anything, it’s all the more reason to give the kid some positive influence. Plus, he is still Lily’s son and Lily was Sirius’ friend too.

Severus and Sirius argue quite a bit over who exactly can be considered a good influence. They exchange insults, point each other’s flaws, and, in general, act worryingly immaturely. However, something good emerges from this fight, because during the many reproaches and accusations it becomes evident that Sirius believes that Severus refused to testify on Sirius’ behalf before the Minister, something that is untrue.

“I… what?” Severus says. “What did you say?”

“You heard me!”

“No, but, Black. If I didn’t speak it was because Dumbledore insisted that the Ministry wouldn’t listen to an ex-Death Eater. I was going to tell Fudge everything!”

“…Harry said you were mad you lost your Order of Merlin…”

“Wha-? I don’t care about the stupid order. You are innocent! Do you think me so petty that I would send an innocent man back to Azkaban?”

“I…”

Snape is so glad he decided to have this talk. They had been fighting for two hours, he is thirsty and has a tension headache, but the relief he feels in immense. The misunderstanding could have proved fatal. They spend the rest of the day airing everything: revealing Lupin’s lycanthropy to kickstart the curse on the DADA position rather than waiting for Lupin to have an accident, Sirius apologizing about the admittedly mental prank, promising that they will both disappoint Harry but they won’t spare Pettigrew’s life. It takes a lot of time, but it’s good. There is so much to discuss they don’t even talk about how exactly the misunderstanding about Severus testifying for Sirius came to be. Not until their third meeting at least.

Harry enters the maze for the third trial at the end of the year and between one dark corner and a blind spot, he vanishes. Although maybe he wasn’t Harry at all. Maybe it was a Polyjuiced Sirius who then proceeded to transform into a dog and pretend he was one of the monsters in the maze. Maybe Harry had quietly left under Polyjuice a few hours earlier and is currently boarding the train in Hogsmeade with Lupin.

Of course, as soon as they realize that one of the Champions is missing they stop everything to look for him. Karkaroff complains, Diggory threatens to withdraw that instant, Delacour casts a surreptitious hex or two because she is still very angry about the second task and using her little sister, and in the ensuing chaos Professor Moody’s Polyjuice wears off and he is revealed as Barty Crouch Jr, formed Death Eater presumed deceased, so Severus feels pretty well with his plan to just take Harry away and worry about legal guardianship later.

Also, since the press is there he takes the opportunity to openly declare that Sirius Black is an innocent man, perfectly innocent, Pettigrew is the one to look for.

Merely eight weeks later the mark on Severus’ arm burns. Voldemort is back and looking pretty well considering he was dead. Severus is asked about his arduous defense of Sirius’ innocence in the newspapers, and he quite reasonably explains that he couldn’t risk any loyalist mistakenly helping Sirius and there was no other way to let people know Pettigrew needed help instead. It is flawless logic and Voldemort approves, so Pettigrew doesn’t dare say anything about the absolutely murderous glint he had seen in Severus’ eye back when everything was revealed. Pettigrew understand that if says anything about it, Severus will make sure to kill him gruesomely before Voldemort can do anything else about Severus being a spy.

The Ministry of course refuses to believe Voldemort is back. He also refuses to believe in Sirius’ innocence and is convinced that it is some weird ploy on Dumbledore’s part. The press attacks Severus non-stop, it’s sickening. Umbridge comes to Hogwarts and is absolutely horrid, as expected, and the moment she has enough power she fires Snape. Not even Malfoy can do anything to avoid it.

Snape disappears. It hadn’t occurred to anyone that maybe he was waiting for the opportunity to leave Hogwarts without arising immediate suspicion. He is nowhere to be found and now that they think about it neither is professor Lupin.

And they are never seen again.

People know they must be around because it’s very obvious they intervene in the war. Sirius kills Voldemort in a very public way. But, other than that, they are not officially seen which drives many people crazy.

Harry keeps in touch with his friends, he is Ron’s best man in his wedding, he is there to clap and support Neville when he gets a doctorate in Herbology, helps build Luna’s cottage, and yet he is never seen by a Ministry official or a proper adult ever again. (Never mind that Harry and his friends are all adults now, they are not adults like real Moody or professor McGonagall are). It is most infuriating, which is the reason why Harry keeps doing it well into his thirties, when he is elected to the House of Wands and becomes an Honorable MP, so he has to let himself be seen then.

They (the wizarding society) realise their mistake about a week later. The Honourable Member Harry James Potter (never bothered to change his surname) is very much Severus Snape’ son and has spent a lot of time around Sirius Black. He is an absolute nightmare for the chamber: witty and insulting and all around absolutely brilliant and exasperating. The press loves him. A year in, there is already a small book published with “The Best MP Potter’s quotes”.

#asks #severus snape #harry potter #long #Anonymous #verse: dad severus #textpost

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Text

A/N: Cointens violence and mentions of injuries, war and blood. Also swearing and drinking. Smut in future parts, nothing in this.

“It seemed like a nice neighbourhood to have bad habits in.”

― Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep

When Tom’s grandfather passes away, he inherits an office in the middle of a buzzling London. He has no idea what to do with it.

The year is 1947 and Tom is restless after the war. After a chance meeting with his old comrade Harrison and a drunken lunch at the local pub they decide to open up a detective agency. After finding you huddled up in a library while chasing an unwilling witness Tom decides to hire you as the agency’s secretary. You, reluctantly, take up the offer from the charming stranger.

Together the three of you face some of London’s most hard-boiled criminals and lethal femme fatales.

You have to navigate your way through adulthood, life after war and your growing feelings for your boss.

***

The pub was unusually crammed with people, workers meeting up with each other for a pint before heading home to their families. He could see them through the muted windows, cheering and laughing, pints of beer clutched in their hands. Now, it certainly wasn’t the nicest pub in London, a thick cover of mud covered the floor, the walls were so dirty that it was hard to tell what the original wallpaper had looked like. But then again, it was the Bugle, a pub well hidden in the Shafto Mews in London. It was not a pub you just happened to stroll in to, looking for a place to eat or a friendly place to catch up with a long-lost comrade in. It was a seedy and dirty place, where the beers came cheap and the brawls started easy.

The barman, a Mr. Eric Brew, was a brusque and quick-tempered elderly man with a beer belly so large it made it hard for him to steer his way through the many bottles and glasses behind the bar. Luckily for him it was unusual for anyone to ordered anything other than a pint or perhaps a glass of cheap and watered-down whiskey.

Tom loved this place, because no one ever bothered him here. This was not a place to talk to strangers in.

On this particular autumn afternoon the air outside was crisp and full of the smell of pavement after rain, it smelled of London. Currently though the sky was bluer than it had been all summer and the leaves on the trees had just started to change their colours. There was a distinct chill in the air. Tom shivered in his dress shirt, thinking to himself that this was sure to be the last time that year he’d get away with not wearing a jacket.

As he stepped inside, he exchanged the almost impossible fresh autumn air for a cigarette smoke fog. It was unusually busy for a Tuesday afternoon, and the sound of loud voices and clinking glasses filled the air. Tom gathered it must be payday. It was long ago that he stopped to bother about the days of the week or when pay was due. Not because of an abundance of money but for the lack of a steady job.

Walking up the bar he told Eric to pour the usual and handed him a coin. Eric grunted and started to pour into a glass that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months.

“Busy today, mate” Tom stated. Eric grunted again and handed him his drink.

As Tom sat down in the far, and well hidden, corner of the pub he thought to himself that his so-called conversation with the barman had been his longest conversation in days. After the war had ended, he’d stayed out in France, despite his mother’s letters begging him to come home he hadn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss his family, on the contrary, being apart from them felt more torturous than anything he’d lived through during the war.

Still, he thought as he gulped down on his drink, he had been through war, and that does change a person. He wasn’t the same care-free boy who’d so gladly enlisted, desperate for some preconceived idea that the war would satisfy his deep-rooted need for adventure, to please his longing for glory. He’d happily waved his younger brothers and his parents goodbye on the platform, surrounded by sad looking boys saying farewells to their loved ones.

The war had not given him what he wanted. There had been no glory or sense of adventure. And even though the worst injury he’d suffer was a broken nose that had more to do with his own stupidity than actual fighting he had still seen the suffering of others. Walked through villages so bombed there was nothing, no human nor animal left. Nothing but ruin and corpses left to rot. He’d seen the torn apart remains of what had once been children on the street. He had had to breath trough the smell of decaying flesh as they walked by. He had lost friends and comrades.

The war had changed him, and he still wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse. All he knew was that he couldn’t face his father, or his mother. Not yet. He thought of his little brothers, how much five years must have changed them. He quietly wondered if he’d recognise them if he passed them on the streets today. He tried to convince himself that he would, and only after half a bottle of whiskey did he feel brave enough to admit it to himself that he probably wouldn’t. Too long had passed.

The only reason he had come back to England at all was for a surprise visit from a solicitor, who had tracked him down somewhere outside of Cannes, informing him of the passing of his grandfather. Tom had few memories of said grandfather What he could recall was a fearsome and stern figure, Victorian in his manner. Tom could remember looking up to the damn near giant as he looked down at Tom with disapproval written all over his face as Tom stood in front of a broken vase, he’d accidentally shattered while chasing the cat. It certainly had not been a man fond of children. Tom had always kept his distance from the man whenever they had visited, scared of the scolding the older man was more than capable of.

Therefore, it had been, to say the least, a great surprise when said grandfather had left his entire inheritance to his oldest grandson.

Sure, there hadn’t been a lot of actual money, not after all the death-duties and inheritance taxes had gone through, but he’d gotten his office and the apartment above it, placed bang on one of the busiest streets of London. What his grandfather had used the office for he had no idea, and the solicitors refused to tell him anything about is grandfathers’ dealings, but judging by the state of the place it must have been an awfully long time since anyone sat their foot in the place, probably not since before the war, the first one. The entire place was, like this very pub, filled with dirt and dust and long abandoned forgotten things. Most of which was nothing more than trash, a chair that surely would break as soon as anyone sat down on it, a desk with one broken leg and a filing cabinet full of mouldy documents.

The only distinctive feature was a rather well-made painting. Not only was the portrait of the young lady striking, but the gold frame surrounding it was solid gold. Something that had chocked Tom greatly. For he had never seen anything look quite so out of place than that gold framed picture of a young, beautiful women with seemingly shining eyes –

“Surely it can’t be – Tom Holland, OI! Tom!”

Tom instinctively looked up, only to meet the eyes of a dearly beloved friend.

“Mate! As I live and breathe!”

“Where have you been, buddy?” Harrison happily exclaimed, pulling out the chair opposite of Tom and before pretty much falling down on it, a pint of beer in hand and a massive grin on his face.

“I haven’t seen you since Monte Cassino– ” he silenced himself. Maybe because of the look in Tom’s eyes, maybe because of memories of his own.

(I haven’t seen you since the war, I haven’t seen you since we were crying in the bunkers, thinking we would die. Hoping that we would. Hoping that we wouldn’t.)

“Yeah” is all Tom can manage to get out, lungs suddenly feeling too tight.

They both take large gulps from their glasses, avoiding the others eye.

“So how you’ve been, mate?” Harrison asks, sounding more mellow now, less cheerful.

“It’s been good, bud” Tom says, trying to sound happy, trying to raise the mood a little. He can see the dark clouds of the war in Harrisons eyes, can see it clear as day even in this smoke-filled, god forsaken pub. It’s still haunting him. And he doesn’t quite know what else to say, doesn’t know how to voice the fact that he himself is hardly sleeping anymore, that he spent two years in France living as a wanderer and picking up odd jobs wherever he could find them, not even trying to pick up the pieces from the past. Not knowing where to begin

(At home, the part of him that’s braver than the rest seem to always whisper. Start at home and build from there.)

“Yeah?” There’s a note of hope in Harrison’s voice and as he looks at him the clouds in his eyes seem to clear, if only a little, and Tom’s heart breaks for his old friend. He knows that desperation, saw it all over France in the soldier's eyes. A desperate longing for proof that there was something good in the world, even after everything that had been done.

“Yes, mate! It’s been grand. I came into an inheritance and all!” And upon seeing the look of pure surprise in Harrisons now cloud-free face Tom bursts into genuine laughter, not caring to think about how long ago it had been since he had made a whole-hearted, genuine laughter.

“Alright, let’s order some food and then let’s catch up, yeah?”

And they did. The food at The Bugle was awful. Tom knew this, since coming back to London he’d drink away his consciousness in this pub and once or twice he had given in and ordered what The Bugle’s chef referred to as food. He knew this but did not care, for the company was excellent.

It turned out Harrison had come home immediately after the war. Had tried to pick up the pieces from before. He met up with his old friends (the ones that’d survived), he dated a different girl every week, unable to settle and now lived in his parent’s townhouse in Belgravia while they spent most of their time on the family estate out in Norfolk. He too was currently out of a job, however the difference was that Harrison had no need for work, the allowance his parents gave him and his own grandparents inheritance (which, although Tom never asked, but presumed) far exceeded his own.

Tom sensed that Harrison, just like himself, felt a deeply-rooted restlessness since coming home. It was in the way his left leg wouldn’t stop tapping, his regular glances around the room, in the way he just shovelled the food around his plate, not eating much.

Tom in return told him, although with far less detail than his friend had given, of staying out in France, of a surprise visit by the solicitors. He told him of the abandoned office and apartment he now was the owner of. He even told him of the portrait hanging above the broken desk.

They talked about old times, of old friends and past lovers, and every time the name of one of those comrades that didn’t make it to the end of the war was mentioned an awkward silence spread between them before the other one quickly started a new story.

(Harrison noticed that Tom never mentioned his parents, or his brothers. Not once. But he doesn’t say anything. He think they’ll get to that eventually.)

A loud crashing breaks their conversation and both Harrison and Tom are on their feet before either one of them has even registered where the sound came from.

“YOU FUCKING SWINE, I’LL GIVE YOU NOTHING!” The screeching, and surprisingly high-pitched voice, comes from Eric the barman, who’s standing arms raised above his head behind the bar. A young man, not even wearing anything to mask his face, is holding a revolver and pointing it right at Eric’s chest.

Before he’s even fully comprehended what he’s doing he’s halfway across the pub, people scattering out of his way, and out of the robbers aim. He can sense Harrison’s presence right behind him and then they’ve both tackled the young man to the ground. All Tom can think about is to get his hands on the man’s revolver, so that he can secure it. He sees how Harrison tries to get a hold of the young robbers’ arms as he’s waving them around, trying to fight them both at once. Unfortunately, he gets in a lucky swing that hits Tom right over his nose, a nose that’s already been broken once, and blood gushes out. The man looks surprised by this, partly because of the sudden stream of blood falling over him and partly because he actually just hit someone. Tom quickly uses this for his advantage and dives down for the revolver as Harrison secures the burglar’s arms behind his back.

They manage to hold him down until the police comes. They give them a quick rundown of what happened. Eric, furious and face alarmingly red, fills in when he manages to find words, shaking from fury. One of the policemen offer to drive Tom to the hospital to have his nose looked at but he refuses. Then they ask if he’d like to press charges. Tom takes one quick look at the young man now sitting in a police car and shakes his head. The boy, for on closer inspection he’s nothing more than a boy, looks terrified, and honestly, he’s already in enough trouble with the law. During the past few years crime in London has been on the rise. Young and restless men all coming home from the war, looking for jobs where there are none and haunted from memories from the battlefields. It’s no wonder there’s desperation in the air.

So, Tom and Haz walks away, leaving the two police cars and its officers, a furious pub owner with an unexpectedly high-pitched voice, and an entire pub of people with their noses pressed up against its foggy windows.

As they walk, without discussing where they’re going, Tom suddenly bursts out in laughter. He doesn’t know why, but the restlessness that’s done nothing short but haunted him for years now has suddenly vanished. There’s a pause and then Harrison joins in and Tom knows, knows that he feels the same. That this sudden rush of adrenalin was just what he needed too.

They practically double over with laughter, leaning on the other to keep upright and when they finally stop a comfortable silence fill the quiet as they walk on.

Before long, and before having reflected on where his feet are leading him, they’re standing outside of 15 Sloane street.

“Is this it?” Harrison asks, voice filled with curiosity as he looks up at the red-bricked building.

“Yeah” is all Tom manage to get out as an answer. Because suddenly he feels almost shy, like he’s showing Harrison some long kept secret. And for a moment they just stand and admire the building. “Can I look inside?” Haz asks, curiosity colouring his every word. So, Tom unlocks the door and they step inside.

Inside the air feels heavy, not like in the pub where it had been full of smoke, but instead it feels old, and if it hadn’t been so damn cold outside Tom would have opened up the windows.

The ground is as covered in mud and dust and dirt as the pubs floor. The walls look dull too. But the space is good, a large foyer to receive visitors, a guest bathroom, an office, a kitchen and a staff bathroom too.

“So” Harrison finally says, having taken in the place in silence. “What are you going to do with it?”

And Tom doesn’t know what to say because honestly – is that not just the question that’s frequently been on his mind since he first got here. “Dunno” ha answers lamely. “I suppose,” he starts but stops himself, feeling too embarrassed at his childish idea.

“What?” Haz encourages.

“Well” Tom begins, and then before he loses his gut he rambles out “It would be cool to be a detective though, wouldn’t it?” He doesn’t look at his old friend as he says this. He should though, because he misses out on the massive grin spreading across Harrison’s face.

“Oh totally!” He all but yells. “Like Sherlock Holmes, or Phillip Marlowe?”

“Phillip Marlowe, surely!” Tom responds, finally looking at his old comrade. He feels light as air, having finally put words on a wish that’s long been on his mind.

But now Haz looks awkwardly down, down on his well-polished, hand-made shoes and the muddy ground. “What?” Tom asks, worry threatening to blow his happy bubble.

“Look, you don’t have to, it’s just, like if you don’t want it or you find me lacking you could just sack me bu–“

“Of course, you’ll join me” Tom interrupts Harrisons awkward attempt at asking to work with him. “Really?” He asks, eyes gleaming with happiness. “You, ‘course mate, wouldn’t wanna do it without you”.

***

And so, it begins.

They start with trying to make the place habitable. After all, the office space needs to be a presentable enough environment for clients to feel comfortable to share their troubles with them and preferably the apartment above needs to be clean enough for Tom to live in without contracting a disease. It’s hard work, and Harrison loudly complains and gruntles and questions why they can’t hire someone to do it. Tom just laughs and tells him to shut his over-privileged mouth and keep mopping.

The truth is they could easily get someone in to do the cleaning for them, it’s just that Tom doesn’t want to, feels like they really ought to do this by hand, by themselves. To build the business from the ground up. And quite frankly, some real, good hard work is just what he needs. For the first time in ages he’s so physically exhausted by the time he goes to bed that he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He still has nightmares, but he gets in a couple more hours sleep every night and that makes it worth it.

Even though Harrison loudly grumbles about the rough labour he is a hard worker. Tom teases him a lot about it. Telling him he didn’t expect to end up doing this when he was sent to that posh public school as a child. Telling him that this is what good honest works feels like. Informing him that the pain he had in his knees from scrubbing the floors is what heavy labour feels like. It’s all jokes thought, for even they grew up worlds apart on the social scale they still fought on the same battlefield and as children they fought the same imaginary dragons.

In the end aid comes in the form of Lady Lauren Osterfield herself.

Tall and lean and dressed from top to toe in fine silk and fur in soft colours and with hair, the same shade as her son, in soft waves. She sways into the office one day, unannounced, as Tom’s trying to scrub the dirt from the walls and Harrison’s sprawled out on the floor, fighting a particularly stubborn piece of dirt. A hard a look of deepest disapproval is written all over her face as she takes in the scene.

“Darling” she drags out the word and make the endearment sound like a loving, but stern warning. “You simply cannot do this on your own”

“But mommy we-” Harrison begin but she stops him with a raised hand. “I will hear none of it, sweetie. If there is one thing I know it’s potential, and this place has got spades of it. However, I will not see my darling boys like this” she huffs, then adds “also, the rate you two are going at you’ll be in your 50’s before you even had your first client.”

She walks over to where Tom stands, now leaning against the broken desk, hands in pockets and covered in dust and sweat. “Sweetheart, it is wonderful to see you again” And she strokes his cheek with a satin gloved hand and Tom can’t help but to lean into the touch.

He had spent many a school holiday at the Osterfield house. Although, house wasn’t the right word. Technically it was a manor house – Osterfield manor was in fact its name. It had been built by Lord Ashley Osterfield in the early 1600th and had stood proudly on its green fields ever since. Tom had lived in the village, in a small cottage with his mother, father, three brothers and a half-blind cook/nanny named Cully. Harrison, since it was the family tradition, had been sent away to Eton whereas Tom had gone to the village school. But whenever summer holiday rolled around, they’d play on the grounds to the manor and in the forest surrounding it. They had played thief’s and robbers, Robin Hood and Peter Pan. Life had been blissful and full of light. He can still remember how the last month before summer break had seemed endless, how he’d counted down the days until his best friend would return, staring out of the window during class, not listening to whatever Ms Frank was going on about. They sent each other letters of course. About what was going on at home, what tricks each had played on their friends, or on their teachers, how awful school was or about the latest mystery novel they’d read.

His memories of the Osterfield family were many and fond. Lady Osterfield, with her loving but stern ways, never looking anything less than perfection, bringing them meringues and freshly made lemonade to the treehouse where they sat people-watching, spying on the garden parties going on below. Memories of Lord Osterfield, reading his newspaper outside in the warm summer sun, dressed in linen suits and with a great moustache covering his upper lip, teaching Tom tennis and playing croquet with them. And then little Charlotte Osterfield, Harrisons little sister. With her long, blonde hair neatly combed and braided, always carrying around a teddy bear, following them wherever they went. Harrison would get rather annoyed with her for that, but Tom had always said that she could join them if she wanted to.

He remembers Christmas eve at their house. A ginormous three in the hall, neatly decorated by Lady Osterfield herself. Countless of cousins and great-aunts and uncles coming over. The staff running around cleaning every corner. The chef, Mary her name had been, yelling orders and shouting herself blue in the face. The end result had been incredible though, and as snow covered the entire manor and its grounds there was a fire lit in every room, the smell of ham and turkey in the air, glitter and light and mistletoe and presents in overload. He remembers still, being sent home in the horse driven carriage on Christmas eve, belly full of delicious food and sweets, and presents from Lord and Lady Osterfield to every member of his family, including one to Cully, surrounding him as he watched the snow fall over the pretty little village outside the carriage window.

“Hello, Lady Osterfield, it’s been a while” he manages to get out. Because this is, has always been, his second mother. And it hurts even more to see her now, despite the fact that war doesn’t seem to have aged her a day. But seeing her reminds him so much of his own mommy, and his stomach seems to revolt.

“That” she says, and he thinks her eyes are wet with unshed tears “it certainly has been”. She doesn’t ask how his war had been, why he hadn’t return sooner, or sent them letters. Probably understands that he cannot give her those answers. Not yet at least. She lowers her hand and take a step back.

“So” she announces and there’s a level of authority to her voice that makes both Harrison and Tom stand up straighter. “I will send Georgina over, hopefully she can start tomorrow already, because this really is urgent”. She looks around her surrounding, the broken furniture, the floors and ceiling that refuse to give up the dirt they’ve been holding onto for years, despite Tom and Harrisons desperate scrubbing.

“Sorry? Mommy, who.... who on earth is Georgina?”

Tom smiles, for he can almost hear the curse word Harrison so nearly lets out.

“Oh darling, it’s Georgina Brewster, she is simply marvellous and really the only one who can save this place. I shall call on her immediately, she will work wonders, just you see”.

Georgina Brewster, as it turns out, would have put fear of the devil into any and every one of the generals Tom had met during the war. She practically comes in as a steamroller into the office the very next day and before either Tom or Harrison know what’s going on they’ve been thrown out of their office with strict orders to “keep out of the way, for gods sake, and don’t come back until next Friday at least!”

And because neither Tom nor Harrison dare to contradict her, even though Tom’s apartment is above the office and he now has nowhere to sleep, they listen and keep out of her way, spending their time at Harrisons, or rather Harrisons parents, place in Belgravia.

There they plan out and strategize, trying to agree on what exactly their business should be and how they should conduct it.

Their first hurdle is the name of the agency.

“So”

They’re at ‘The Bugle’ again and Tom is swirling the liquid in his glass back and forth, holding a lit cigarette in his other hand. Around them the air is filled with smoke and conversations. Tom had, rather cheekily, asked the barman if they shouldn’t get their drinks for free, seeing as they did save his ass just the other night. The barman had done his usual ritual of mumbles and grumbles before pouring them some watered down Irish whiskey.

“So?” he asks, implying that Harrison should continue his unfinished statement.

“What should we name it, mate?” Harrison is leaning back against the wall, his long legs sprawled out. He looks as exhausted as Tom feels.

“Name what?” Tom dumbly inquires, only half his mind on the conversation, the other on the gorgeous woman at the bar. She looks strangely out of place, wearing a respectably coat, dark hair neatly organised in curls and a soft smile on face as she’s conversation with the infamously grumpy barman, who – and Tom can hardly believe his eyes – is smiling back at her.

Harrison snorts and with a voice practically dripping in sarcasm he answers “Oh the golden retriever puppy we’re adopting! The fuck you think, mate? The detective agency of course!”

Tom gives his friend a kick on his sprawled-out legs.

“Holland Detective Services” he then states.

Harrison goes quiet for a second, rubbing the aching spot on his leg where Tom managed to get in a perfect hit, the bastard had always been good and noting soft spots. “Not Holland & Osterfield?” he asks, only half joking.

“Nah, too posh mate, we’ll sound like some solicitors’ firm, you know, like ‘Bundle & Alfredson & Alfredson & Bundle”, too ridiculous. Plus, no one trusts solicitors with their secrets, they’re too posh and proper. We need people to feel like they can come to us with things they can’t go to the police with.”

He looks over to the bar again, but the beatiful lady is nowhere to be seen.

And so, Harrison Detective Service is founded. The office (the apartment miss Brewster luckily left him handle himself) is revealed to them.

It’s perfect. There’s no other word for it. It’s looks professional but not over styled. The two large desks made from oak, the bar table with its whiskey decanter, the filing cabinets strategely placed in the little backroom, the lamps giving the office an almost golden and mysterious lightning, and on the wall hanging above his own desk, the painting of the woman that his grandfather left him. The only thing remaining from the original office.

It doesn’t take long until their first client arrives. He’s a perhaps not the ideal client, Tom notes. The man is in his late 50’s, wearing an ill fitted suit and smelling distinctly of B.O. He is however willing to pay.

Thus, this is how Tom ends up chasing a, to say the least, unwilling witness all down Euston Road. The man he’s chasing is fast, and Tom’s side is hurting and he feels out of form. He really should have had something other than whiskey for lunch. The man does a quick turn left, right over the road and Tom’s right at his heel.

A car horn blows and there’s a blinding light and for a moment Tom’s back on the battlefield in France, he throws up his arms, trying to shield himself for whatever is coming at him. His entire body tenses up and he waits for the inventible crash. But it doesn’t come, and there’s shouting but he can’t hear what they’re saying, the blood rushing through his head too loud for anything else to sound real. His lungs feel too tight and his breaths are shallow.

Slowly he regains control of himself, as he tries to take the world around him in.

The shouting is coming from a very angry driver, half hanging out of his window telling Tom to get out of the way, waving his arms in fuming gestures. People on the pavement have stopped what they’re doing, some mid conversation or mid walk, all just staring at him. He jumps into action again, desperately trying to push down the part of his brain that’s still in France. He can’t see his witness, but there’s only one place he really can have gone.

He runs up the marble stairs, ignoring the glaring stares around him.

The foyer is impressive to say the least. It’s a large circular room, marble from floor to ceiling. Right in front of him, but all across the room, is a reception and an elderly woman sitting behind it.

“Excuse me sir, we close in twenty minutes,” she calls after him, but it’s all she manages to get out before he’s gone, having made his way all across the hall and into the large oak doors with a sign simply stating ‘Main Library’.

The doors slam behind him and the sound eco in the silence. At first he’s taken aback, for this is nothing like the marble mausoleum he’s left behind, and if he thought the reception area had been large then this room is massive. It’s nothing short of a labyrinth of oak bookshelves, reaching from top to ceiling and filled with large volumes of books that look as if they must be older than queen Victoria.

He can only assume that this is where his witness is hiding, somewhere in this maze he has taken cover, wrongly assuming that Tom will just give up and leave. His witness is in no such luck. Tom does however remember noting the lineament of a revolver inside the other man’s jacket, and by now he’s had more than enough time to take it out, perhaps just waiting for Tom to be close enough not to miss.

The library looks empty and surely it must be this late. On slow but quiet feet he makes his way to the left side of the room, deciding to start there. Careful not to make a sound he removes his own revolver from its holster. Slowly he starts to make his way down the aisles, every time he turns a corner he knows it’s about whoever is the quickest with their trigger that will win.

By the time he’s made it down aisle three he can feel his heart beat so hard in his chest he finds himself wondering if it’s going to leave a bruise on his skin with its violent beating. Adrenaline has been running in his veins since the near contact with the automobile outside.

And then he hears it, a sound, what might be the noise of shuffling, and he starts to move with even higher awareness of the danger of the situation. Any second now he could stare down the barrel of a gun.

Before he can be a coward about it, he jumps around the corner of the shelf, gun in hand and pointing it straight at the witness.

Except it’s not him.

It most certainly is not him.

A pair of enormous and breathtakingly beautiful - but also terrified - eyes stare at him and for a second the whole world seems to stop, or crash, and Tom can’t help but feel like he’s a planet that completely unexpectedly has gotten knocked of its axis. He goes still, not just his body but his mind too. Everything just seems to stop, and Tom can not remember anytime that has ever happened to him before. All he sees is a pair of hauntingly beautiful, and vert familiar, eyes.

“I’m sorry sir, but weapons are not allowed inside the library.” Her voice is soft and even, but Tom can hear the slight tremble behind them, he can tell she’s playing braver than she feels. He knows that trick all too well. So, he lowers his revolver, but doesn’t unload it, still ready for his hostile witness to pop up, and if he does Tom will be ready for him.

“I beg your pardon, miss” he says and looks her up and down, trying to take in the rest of the woman in front of him. He’s pretty sure she is the same woman he saw at the Bugle the other night. She’s only a few centimetres shorter than he is, but then she’s wearing a pair of kitten heels. Her black pencil skirt and white blouse practically scream out respectability and woman. Around her neck hangs a thin, golden necklace with a little golden heart attached to it. A fleeting question of who has given her this pass his brain. And then there’s her hair, brown and styled in and fashionable curls.

“Sir” she says, and she sounds sterner now, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows “could you please pu-“ but before she can finish the sentence, before she can even finish her though Tom’s pushed her down on the ground, trying to cover her with his body as bullets fly around him. He swears under his breath, and he feels the librarians still body under him and he can practically feel her heartbeat. He tries very hard not to react to how close their bodies are to each other. His hyper focused mind hears her hitched breathing even above the sound of a firing gun and he sends a silence prayer to whatever god might be listening that she’ll get out of this unharmed.

The witness is far away from them, all across the hall and if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t want to leave this woman unprotected he would just hope for the best and rush against him, firing as many bullets as he had and if he survived this, and if Harrison found out he would just have to take his scolding later. Still trying to cover the women underneath him he raises his gun and fires. He knows the chances of him aiming right are damn near zero from here, but he wants to make it clear to the other man that he sure is not going to give in without a fight.

Still keeping his eyes on the bookshelf the witness has hidden behind he whispers to the librarian, “when I move off you, go hide behind the bookshelf, do not run for the main entrance whatever you do, but if there’s another way out, and you get a chance to leave, I suggest you fucking take it miss”. He hears a hiss of breath and then, a quiet “alright” and that is all he needs.

Springing to his feet he rushes seven meters ahead and then throws himself down behind another bookshelf. Daring to cast a look behind him he just about manages to see the secretary hide behind another bookshelf. Good, he thinks to himself, at least he doesn’t have to worry about her. And so he sprints out from the bookshelf and runs for all his might straight against the bookshelf the witness is hiding behind. It doesn’t fall, but he can hear countless of books falling, hopefully all over the man with the gun. He hears a shout of surprise and despite the situation he can’t help but smiling, the all too familiar rush of adrenalin runs through him and he jumps around the corner. However, before he can even raise his weapon something hard hits his temple and the world goes white for a moment as he stumbles over.

The other man is above him, throwing punches, hitting different places of Tom’s face with every hit. Tom tries kicking and luckily enough the stupid idiot above him has mounted him at chest level and haven’t taken his legs in consideration. One of Tom’s kicks hits the shelf and as he grabs the man's arms with his, stopping the flow of punches he sees a thick book (Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, he notices with glee) fall down and hit the man straight on the head. This time it’s his turn to stumble and Tom shake him off him with ease, but the other man quickly recovers, and lunches over him again, arms stretched out to grasp around his throat. Before he can even try to fight the bigger man off him, the loud sound of the shot of a gun echoes against the walls of the library and he stills. Then he feels it. A bright burning in his side and then, another shot.

He manages to turn around trying to make sense of the situation. On the floor lays the hostile witness, clutching his leg, where he’s clearly just been shot, and above him stands the librarian. Arms shaking as she’s clasping the gun in her hands.

For a moment Tom forgets about everything else. The mess they’ve made. The fact the police must be on their way. The bleeding man beside him. The fact that he’s bleeding too. All he sees is he terrified but impossibly brave woman in front of him.

Slowly, trying to ignore the pain in the side of his stomach, he gets up and walks over to her, arms stretched up in a gesture to show that he means her no harm, for she looks terrified to the point where she’s trembling all over. Her eyes are still fixed on the man on the ground, who’s shouting in agony.

“Look at me” he says, and his voice is firm and calm “Hey, miss, look at me”. She does, and something in his stomach churns. Once in the woods he and Harrison had all but stumbled over an injured deer, it had had the same look upon its face then as the woman had upon hers now. But he doesn’t flinch, don’t want her to lose focus but keep it on him and not the bleeding bastard on the floor.

When he finally reaches her, he takes the gun from her still clasped hands, unloads it, and put it in its folder by his chest.

“You’ll be alright, yeah? I promise you’ll be alright” he tries to reassure her but she keeps looking at him with that utterly terrified look on her face.

“Just hang on for a second, alright?” He doesn’t want take his eyes off of her, but he knows he has to, so he turns away from her and walks over to the injured man. Leaning down over him he whispers in his ear “mate, the police and probably the ambulance are on their way. They will be here any moment. Now, listen up, alright, ‘cause I’m only saying this once. You will be a fucking gentleman about this and when the police ask what happened here you’ll tell them it was some randy bugger trying to nick your stuff, yeah? You defended yourself, ‘cause you’re a lad and all that bullocks. They won’t believe you, but they can’t prove anything else.” His voice is low and threatening and he knows he has the witness full attention. “And in return” he continues “in return, I’ll stop hunting you over this Faulcon business, yeah? I’ll go after someone else, and when I finally have enough to turn that bastard over to the police, your name won’t be mentioned anywhere, yeah?” The man looks up at him with bloodshot eyes and nods.

Moving away from him he swiftly walks over to where the other mans’ revolver got lost in the fight and he takes it, places it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then he walks over to the librarian, who, apart from her shaking hands has not moved a muscle. She’s staring at him, but not at his face this time, but eyes fixed on the wound at his right side. It’s pretty much only graced him. It still hurts though, and a bloodstain is growing ever larger and larger, staining his white button ups to the point where he doubts he’ll ever get the red out.

“Miss, look at me, yeah?” He tried to get eye-contact with her again, because even if she’s been incredible brave so far, she looks as if she’s about to pass out “Just focus on me, I’ve got to get us out of here thought, do you know any other way then the main entrance? Some back door?”

As he’s talking he buttons up the suit jacket, effectively hiding the wound. He sees her eyes flicker down for a brief second as he does so. Then, as if she suddenly wakes up she takes a breath so deep he can’t help but to wonder if her lungs had been empty. “Yes” she then says, and he feels the immense relief over the fact that her voice sounds clear and controlled again. “It leads straight out into a back alley and then out on Gordon Street.”

He stares at her, taking her in again. Her dark hair still in perfect curls framing her, perhaps somewhat paler, face. Her back is straight, her hands still somewhat shaking. He notices her red fingertips, and no gold ring to be seen. At least he doesn’t have to deal with some unknown husband, who probably wouldn’t be too happy with him if he’d heard what Tom dragged her into.

“What’s your name?” he asks, because he has to know.

“Laura” she breath out.

Just a first name then.

“Well Laura” he says “let’s leave”.

He takes one of her shaking hands in his, and she leads the way out of the chaotic scene, leaving behind them a massive hall and a labyrinth of bookshelves and in that labyrinth an injured man slowly losing consciousness.

***

A/N - Harrisons family is of course entirely fictionalised. As is everyone in this story.

Also, my sort of face claim for Laura in this story is Gene Tierney, but imagine it as whoever you like.

#tom holland #tom holland headcanon #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x oc #tom holland au #tom holland x you

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patagucci34 · 4 years

Text

Chicken

Here is another one of my poorly written pieces...same deal here, the timeline doesn’t totally make sense, but I really don’t care that much. There is also a lot of Brady in this piece, because who doesn’t love Brady?

Anyway, there might be some swearing...

Word count: 7200ish

Enjoy :)

Brett and Y/N met his first season playing for the Rangers. Y/N had grown up with Brady Skjei, so when she moved out to NYC for college, she ended up spending a lot of time with the Rangers.

When Y/N first met Brett she was really smitten. She thought he was really attractive and didn't really think he would ever go for a girl like her. Brady had introduced them at a party, and although Brett had been very nice to Y/N, she was so awkward that she avoided him for the rest of the night.

The next time Y/N ran into Brett was outside of the arena. She was waiting for Brady by his car so they could go to lunch. She was so engrossed in her Twitter feed that she hadn't noticed the man standing to her right until he cleared his throat. Y/N looked up startled by the noise and her cheeks went red when she saw who it was.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, uh, no problem, I guess I should be more aware of my surroundings…"

"What are you doing here?" He inquired.

"Oh, I'm waiting for Brady. We're grabbing some food."

"Ohh, nice. He might be a little bit…he was just getting into the locker room when I was leaving."

Y/N chuckled a little, "yeah, I'm used to his tardiness…"

"So, you guys are close?"

"Yeah, we grew up together in Michigan, our families are good friends."

"Oh, well that's nice to have someone here in the city. Have you lived here long?"

"Yeah, this is my fourth year, I'm a senior at NYU."

"Ohh, that's awesome, what are you studying?"

"English.…"

Brett grinned at her tone, "why do you say it like that?"

"I usually get some shit for it, it's not a good 'money-making' career."

"Yeah, but if you're really good at it, it is…"

Y/N smiled, "yeah, I guess you're right. Hopefully I am…"

"I'm sure you are…and I guess as long as you enjoy what you do it's worth it."

"Says the guy who gets paid big bucks to play the sport he loves…" Y/N said with a smirk.

Brett laughed at her comment and before he could reply they were interrupted by Brady.

"What's so funny?" He asked walking up to the pair.

"Your face." Y/N said as she walked past both of them and climbed into Brady's car. Brett had started laughing even harder and Brady glared at Y/N before bidding farewell to his teammate.

Y/N had put on some music for their drive to the restaurant and they both sang along. Once they got to their table they studied the menu with little chit chat so they could order when their server came by.

"So, Brett…" Brady asked suggestively as their waitress walked away.

Y/N blushed but rolled her eyes staying silent hoping if she just doesn't respond to him he'll drop it.

"I know you have a hard on for him…" Brady pushed.

"Oh my god, Brady. Don't be gross. I barely know the guy anyway."

"Oh stop, you were so awkward after I introduced you to him the other night at the party."

"I wasn't awkward this time…"

"No, but you were red as a tomato…"

"I was not!"

"Were too!"

Y/N dramatically sighed, "okay, maybe I think he's really attractive…but it's not like anything is ever going to happen…"

Brady smiled triumphantly, "I knew it."

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw her straw wrapper at him. He giggled a little before changing the subject knowing he put her through enough torture already.

~~~~~

It had been a few weeks since Y/N and Brett's exchange outside of the arena. She had seen Brady a few times but the time was busy with training camp and pre-season and Y/N was getting into the groove of her classes. The team was having a party to celebrate having made it through training and of course, Brady invited Y/N. Y/N and her roommate Jess were at their apartment getting ready. Y/N had changed about twenty times, knowing Brett would be there. Y/N definitely wasn't the skinniest girl in the world and she knew it. Most of the time she was okay with her body, except for when she hung around with Brady's friends. Although his closer friends didn't tend to intimidate her as much, she tried extra hard to look good when she would be around the whole team and their wives and girlfriends. Even Brady's girlfriend, who Y/N absolutely adored made her feel a little insecure.

Jess walked into Y/N's room to hurry her along.

"Come on, Y/n/N. You look amazing, stop changing."

"Are you sure? You can see my stomach in this."

"Y/N. You look hot. Now let's go."

Y/N rolled her eyes but put her earrings in and shoes on and they were out the door.

Brady was hosting, which made Y/N feel more comfortable already. Y/N didn't bother knocking, instead opened the door right up and they said hi to people as they made their way to the kitchen to grab a drink.

"Y/N, Jess! Glad you made it." Y/N turned around at the familiar voice and gave Brady a hug. "How was your week?" He asked.

"Stressful, I'm ready to get drunk."

Brady chuckled a bit but made his concern known, "okay, but I better not find you hugging my toilet again…"

Y/N blushed at the memory from a few months ago over the summer. Y/N had just been dumped, if you can even call it that, by some dumb guy she would hook up with over the summer when she went home. Brady had been throwing a 4th of July party and by the end of the night, Y/N was puking in Brady's bathroom.

Y/N and Jess mingled for a bit before parting ways when Jess started talking to some guy who was friends with Brady and Trouba. Y/N had been in the corner talking with Gracia and a few of her friends when they were interrupted by Brendan grabbing Y/N to be his pong partner. Y/N quickly said goodbye and walked over with Brendan.

Y/N was excited to play, especially with Brendan, they had been partners for as long as she could remember and they always ended up winning. However, when she saw who they were playing against, she got a bit flustered. Standing across the table were Brett and Brady. Brady shot her a smile and she glared at him, but he just laughed as they began playing.

"Come on, Y/N, what's your deal tonight?" Brendan asked after she missed the 4th cup in a row.

"I'm sorry, I don't really know…"

"Well, figure it out, I can't lose to Skjei and Howden." Y/N rolled her eyes when Brendan slapped her ass and handed her the pong ball. He shot her a smile and a wink. Luckily, this one went in so she was free of his criticism for another round. Although, she didn't miss the confused look Brett's face when he saw their exchange. She shook her thoughts away and refocused on the game.

Thankfully, they pulled out the win, Y/N improving a little throughout the game, but Brendan really carried their team.

"I'm gonna take a little break." Y/N said to Brendan, giving him an apologetic smile and before he could protest she walked down the hall to Brady's room.

Y/N downed the rest of her drink and flopped back on Brady's bed and sighed. She closed her eyes for a few minutes. She sat up quickly as she heard the door opening, hoping it wasn’t Brady and Gracia coming in for the night. She relaxed a little bit when she realized it wasn't them, but grew anxious again when she realized it was Brett.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you…again." He said a smirk.

Y/N smiled, "it's okay, I scare easily…"

"What are you doing in here?"

"Just need a breather, what about you?"

"Same. I love the guys already, but they're a lot."

Y/N chuckled at Brett and agreed, "yeah, they're kind of crazy."

Y/N scooched over on the bed signaling for him to sit down. He took the hint and sat down next to Y/N and lied back just as she was before.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your alone time."

"It's all good, I should probably be getting back anyway…" She said as she went to stand up.

"Wait," Brett called just as she opened the door. Y/N stopped and turned around expectantly, "what's the deal with you and Brendan?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh a little, "what do you mean?"

"Well, when we were playing pong earlier, I saw him, um, slap your ass…"

"Ohh, yeah, it's okay. He's just like that…I guess." Y/N responded not really knowing how else to put it. "But it's okay, really."

"So, you two aren't like hooking up or anything?"

"Oh god, no."

Brett smiled at your insistence. "Good to know…have a good night Y/N."

Y/N burrowed her eyebrows when she left the room not really knowing what that meant. Of course, she had butterflies from the whole exchange but she couldn't help but think about what he said for the rest of the night.

Jess had left with that guy she had been with all night, so Y/N decided she would head home too. She made her way around the party to find Brady.

"Hey," she said walking up to him, "I'm heading home."

"Where's Jess?"

"Oh she went home with that Miles guy."

"Why don't you just stay here?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't want you going home alone."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Brady it's not that far. I'm going to take an Uber, I'll be fine."

"No, you can just stay here."

"Brady, I want to go home."

"I realize that, but even an Uber alone can be unsafe."

"Brady, please."

"Sorry, Y/n/N."

Y/N sighed and walked away annoyed. She decided since Brady wouldn't let her leave, she would get a little more drunk.

A little while later, Y/N found herself on the couch, the party had significantly died down, but there were still a few people there. Just as she finished the last of her drink, she went to stand up and get another one, but as soon as she stood up she stumbled a little bit and she felt a hand on her back to steady her. She looked up and blushed when she saw that it was Brett.

"Easy there killer." He said making sure she was steady before letting go. "You've had a few since I last saw you…"

"Yes...and need another…" she said as she started to walk away. He quickly followed her and steadied her again as she tripped into the kitchen.

Brett was relieved when he saw that Brady was in the kitchen, he didn't really think it was a good idea for Y/N to keep drinking but didn't think he had the authority to say anything.

Brady looked up and saw Brett steady Y/N as she tried to grab another drink. He grabbed the liquor bottle from her hands and put it down. "That's enough, Y/N."

Y/N glared at Brady, "I'm fine, Brady. Give it back."

"Yeah right, you just about fell over trying to pour yourself a drink. You're done."

"Come on, Brady, you're no fun." Y/N pouted.

"Remember what I said? No puking in my toilet tonight."

"Well, it would be in mine if you had just let me go home…" Y/N mumbled.

Brady raised his eyebrows and Y/N conceded and put the cup down. Brett had to keep from laughing at how comical the whole exchange was. They really were like brother and sister.

Brett took this as his chance to say goodbye.

"I'm headed out man, thanks for hosting."

"Yeah, no problem, thanks for helping this one…" Brady responded pointing over to Y/N as she glared back at him.

Brett chuckled a little bit, "no problem. Have a good night, Y/N."

Y/N seemed to forget all about her issues with Brady and blushed as she waved goodbye to Brett.

Brady was the one to roll his eyes this time and turned Y/N around and led her to his guest room. Once Y/N was all tucked into bed Brady turned to leave the room.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Brady. Sorry I was acting like a brat." Brady turned back around and walked back over to Y/N and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"No problem, Y/n/N. Next time I'll just embarrass you in front of your boyfriend…" He said giggling at himself.

"Very funny."

Brady ruffled Y/N's hair and left the room. Y/N sighed and rolled over to grab her phone. She hadn't really looked at it much throughout the night, but when she opened Instagram she saw that she had a follower request from none other than Brett Howden. She smiled to herself and passed out before she could even accept it.

~~~~~~

A week later, Y/N found herself getting ready for the Rangers first home opener. She had rushed home from class to give herself as much time as possible because she wanted to look good. Although Brett had followed her on Instagram, she tried not to read into it, because a lot of the guys followed her on Instagram and she didn't want to get her hopes up.

Once she got to the arena she texted Gracia to see where she was at and then met up with her and some of the other WAGS.

"Are you coming out after, Y/N?" Gracia asked as they walked to their seats with drinks in their hands.

"I'm not sure yet… I was going to meet a few of my friends out, but we'll see."

"Why don't you have them meet up with us?"

"Yeah, I guess I could do that."

The Rangers ended up with a win, which was very exciting and meant the guys would be in a good mood. Y/N decided to text Brady after the game instead of going down to the locker room so she could go home and get ready.

She had gone out with her friends and decided she would meet up with the guys later in the night. Y/N tried to take it slow tonight because this guy from school, Connor, she had been talking to was out with them and she was hoping they would be going home together.

When they got to the club where the guys were, she found them at their usual booth and introduced everyone to each other. Y/N tried to keep it casual with Connor, although Brady was usually chill around guys with her, she was worried he would go into overprotective mode and ruin things for her. However, that only lasted a little longer as Y/N had a few more drinks in her and they went to dance.

Y/N had lost herself in Connor, they were making out and having a great time dancing together.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom." Y/N yelled into his ear as the song changed.

"You wanna get out of here after?" He asked.

Y/N nodded and headed towards the bathroom. He followed her off the dance floor but walked towards the booth where his friends were to tell them that they were leaving.

Brady's ears perked up when he heard Y/N's name being mentioned in the same sentence as 'going home with.' He looked over at the guy and studied him trying to determine if he would let it happen or not. He looked around trying to spot Y/N and noticed that Brett looked annoyed.

Brady nudged him, getting his attention, "what's up, man?"

"Nothing." Brett huffed glaring at Connor.

Brady grinned a little, "you have a problem with him?"

"What? No." Brett replied a little quickly.

Brady laughed out loud this time, "go stop it."

Brett looked over a Brady confused.

"Go stop him from taking her home…."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because, that would be mean."

"I mean, I was just trying to figure out if I should let it happen myself, but if you really think so, I guess I'll let it be."

Brett contemplated a little more, but sat back and sighed. Brady shook his head at the rookie and took another drink.

Just a few minutes later, Y/N made her way over to Brady to say goodbye.

"Hey! I'm headed home." She said giving Brady a quick hug then turning to leave hoping to dodge his questioning.

"With who?" Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back around to talk to Brady.

"My friend."

"Which friend?"

"Connor."

"That guy?" Brady asked, pointing over at him, knowing full well who it was.

"Yes, that guy. I know him from school, he's fine. Any other questions, dad?"

"Where are you going?"

"My place."

"Okay, be safe."

Y/N smiled at Brady and looked over at Brett.

"Night, Brett!" She said cheerily as she walked back to Connor and they headed outside to their Uber.

~~~~

The guys had the next day off so a group of them went to brunch. Y/N met them there and gave Brady a hug before she sat down.

"How was your night?" Brady asked, not so nonchalantly.

"It was good. He was very nice to me…"

Brady smiled at her admission. "Good, I don't want to beat anyone up on my day off."

Y/N laughed at Brady before asking how the rest of his night was.

"It was good, we didn't stay too much longer after you…you should ask that one how his night was…" Brady replied, pointing over to Brett. Brett was in the middle of the conversation and hadn't noticed Brady pointing towards him. Y/N looked at Brady with a puzzled look but Brady just shrugged it off.

Y/N kept stealing glances at Brett the whole brunch. She of course, was still smitten with him, but had come to terms with admiring from afar. A few times he caught her looking and she tried to avert her eyes but it was probably pretty obvious.

After everyone had finished, they all went their separate ways. Y/N had walked to the restaurant because it was only a few blocks away, so she started her walk back home.

"Y/N, wait up!" She heard from behind her, she was startled at first, but then relaxed when she remembered the voice.

"You really like scaring me, huh?" She asked with a smile on her face.

He blushed a bit, "I'm sorry, I really don't mean to."

"It's okay, I'm just messing with you…what's up?"

"I just saw you walking this way and figured we could walk together."

"Oh, yeah sure, do you live this way?"

"Yeah, just a few blocks down."

"Oh really? Me too."

Brett smiled and they continued walking.

"So, how was your night last night?" Y/N decided to ask, Brady's comment unable to leave her mind.

"Oh, it was okay, how about yours?"

"It was good."

Y/N noticed that Brett had started acting a little weird when she brought last night up. But she still wasn't sure why Brady told her to ask him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Brett spoke up. "So, um, that guy you were with…is he your boyfriend?"

"No, um, just a friend from school."

"Oh, do you hang out with him a lot?"

"Um, I mean, I guess kind of…we have most of our classes together."

"He seems nice."

"Yeah he is." Things had gotten very awkward and Y/N was starting to wonder if Brett was upset about Connor. She had a hard time entertaining that idea because she didn't think Brett was attracted to her.

Thankfully, Y/N’s place was coming up so this could come to an end.

"Well, this is me. Thanks for walking with me, Brett."

"Have a good day, Y/N." He said as he waited for her to get inside, she waved once punched in the code and he waved back as he walked down the street.

Y/N immediately called Brady.

"Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

"What do you know?"

"I'm sorry???"

"What do you know about Brett."

Y/N heard Brady chuckle on the other end of the line and she grew impatient.

"Seriously, Brady. Why did you tell me to ask him about his night?"

"Did you?"

"Yes and it was super weird."

Brady laughed some more.

"Brady!!"

"Okay, okay, sorry. He hasn't actually said anything to me, but I think he was jealous of your boy last night."

"What? Why?"

"Really, Y/N?"

"What?"

"Because he likes you ding dong."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Why? And don't you dare say because of what you look like."

"Well, it's true."

"Clearly not, he was all annoyed when that guy came over and said you guys were leaving."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I told him to do something about it but he didn't want to because he didn't think it was fair to you."

"Hmm..true, but interesting."

"When did you ask him?"

"Just now, we walked home together."

"He lives near you?"

"Apparently, we got to my place before his…"

"Y/N, he definitely has the hots for you."

"I don't know, Brady…"

"I'll dig around some more, but I'm pretty sure…"

"Okay fine, just don't be obvious."

"Am I ever?"

Y/N rolled her eyes even though Brady couldn't see her, "yeah, kind of. Anyway, I gotta do some work. I'll talk to you later."

"Later, kid."

~~~~~

The guys had been gone on a road trip for a few days, but Gracia invited Y/N over for dinner the night Brady was supposed to be getting back. Y/N went over early to help her make dinner so it would be ready when Brady got home.

Gracia received a text from Brady and smirked at Y/N when she read it.

"What?" Y/N asked.

"Nothing, Brady just texted, he's on his way from the airport now." She said conveniently leaving out the part that someone else would be joining them.

Y/N started setting the table while Gracia finished cooking.

"Oh, we need one more place setting." Gracia grinned as she saw Y/N setting the table for three.

"Who else is coming?" Y/N asked just as the door opened and revealed Brady and Brett following behind him.

Y/N immediately blushed and raced back into the kitchen to grab another place setting. Brady followed her in and gave Gracia a kiss, then turning to Y/N to give her a hug.

"I could kill you." Y/N said as Brady squeezed her tight.

"You love me." He said letting go, grabbing the plate and silverware from her hand. "Don't be rude, go say hello to our guest."

Y/N followed Brady to the table and looked over at Brett.

Brett smiled at Y/N and greeted her with a hug.

Y/N was shocked as he had never touched her like that.

"Hi, Brett. Congrats on the goal…"

"Thank you. Were you watching?"

"Of course."

Brett smiled again as Gracia and Brady brought the food to the table. They all sat down and talked about the road trip and the guys asked the girls what they were up to while they were gone.

Y/N and Brett had actually really hit it off and it wasn't awkward like it usually was. When it came time to leave, Y/N was actually kind of bummed. Brady could sense that Y/N was having a good time, so he tried to get them to ride home together.

"You taking an Uber home, Y/N?"

"That was my plan."

"Are you going home Brett?" Brady asked, turning towards the rookie.

"I was planning on it."

"You guys should share and Uber, you live near each other right?"

Brett and Y/N looked at each other and shrugged.

"Works for me." Y/N said.

"I'll order an Uber."

"Thank you so much for dinner!!" Y/N said giving Brady and Gracia hugs.

"Thanks for helping, Y/n/N. You know you're welcome anytime!"

"Dinner was delicious, thank you." Brett said, giving Gracia a hug. He then waved at Brady, "see you tomorrow, man."

With that, Y/N and Brett were headed down to their Uber.

"That dinner really was amazing, do you cook like that often?" Brett asked once in the Uber.

"Not really that much, my kitchen isn't as nice as theirs. But I like to cook."

"I wish I could cook, I usually eat at the rink or do take out."

"Well, I’ll make sure to invite you the next time I make a meal.” “I’d really like that.” Brett said smiling at Y/N.

Y/N blushed at how Brett was looking at her, she didn’t want things to turn awkward but she didn’t really know what else to say.

They ended up just making small talk until they approached Y/N’s place.

“Thanks for letting me share an Uber with you…” She said, stepping out of the car.

“Anytime, have a good night!” He called after her.

“Thanks, you too!” She said, waving as the car started moving again.

~~~~~

Once inside, Y/N did a little dance, she was so happy Brady had invited him over for dinner. She already started thinking about when she would cook next.

She sat down at her desk to do some work when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Brady.

Is he there?

Is who where?

Is Brett at your apartment?

What? No, why would he?

Are you kidding me, I sent you two home together for a reason.

Oh my god, Brady. We had a nice talk in the Uber…

Well I was hoping you would invite him inside.

Why would I do that?

Seriously? You guys were having a good time.

Yeah but that would have been weird if I invited him in, and my place is a mess right now.

Well clean it up, sister.

I’m rolling my eyes at you right now. I have work to do, goodnight!

I’m not done talking about this....he likes you, but he’s too chicken to do anything about it.

Once she saw the last text Brady sent, she decided to skip the texting and call him instead.

“Yes?” Brady said, picking up the phone.

“Wait, he likes me?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said on the roadie. That’s why I invited him over for dinner...but I guess you’re both too chicken to do anything.” “Well, excuse me, he’s like really hot, it’s intimidating.”

“You’re ridiculous, he’s not that attractive.”

“Speak for yourself!!”

“Just get over it and make a move.”

“I mean I told him I would invite him over the next time I cooked…” “Perfect. We’ve got Friday night off, have him over.” “Doesn’t that seem a little soon?” “You’re overthinking this. Just invite him over Friday night, I’ll text you his number.”

Y/N sighed, “okay, fine. Thanks, Brady.” “Anytime, kid. Have a good night.”

~~~~~~

The next day, Y/N mustered up the nerve to text Brett. She typed, deleted, and re-typed about 15 messages before she finally pressed send.

Hey Brett! It’s Y/N, Brady gave me your number...I was wondering if you were free Friday night? I’ve got Chicken Parmesan on the menu…

Y/N had sent the text a few minutes before class began hoping that being in class would be a good distraction. She started to overthink things though because she hadn’t felt her phone vibrate. She was bummed when she got out of class and saw that he still hadn’t responded. She told herself it was because he was at practice, so she went to the library to distract herself more. She had gotten into writing an essay and by the time she was done, she was happy to see a text from Brett.

Hey, Y/N :) I would love to have dinner Friday night...is there anything I can bring?

Y/N smiled to herself at his response. She put her phone down and made some final edits on her essay and printed it out before she texted him back because she didn’t want to seem eager.

Just yourself...and maybe some wine? ;)

Y/N was surprised when her phone dinged just a minute later.

I can definitely do that...I’m very excited to see you again.

Y/N blushed at his responde and debated what to say back… she decided on a simple ‘I can’t wait to see you either :)’ and figured the conversation would be over. When her phone buzzed a few minutes later she figured it was one of her friends, but was surprised again when she saw that it was Brett.

How is your day going?

It's not so bad, I'm done classes for the day, but I have a lot of work to do :( How is your day?

I'm sorry you have a lot of work to do, that's unfortunate…my day is alright, practice was good, I'm just hanging out for the rest of the day. Although I feel kind of guilty when you have a lot of work to do…

That's very sweet of you…it's okay. It's not actually that bad, it's just work I really don't want to do and have put off until now…

I'm a big procrastinator too…it's my downfall.

It's the worst…I really need to break that habit.

I guess I'm probably not helping right now…I'll let you get to it. I'll see you Friday night ;)

Have a good day, Brett :)

Y/N put her phone in her pocket as she walked down the street to her apartment and couldn't stop smiling. Just as she approached her apartment she got a call from Brady.

"Hey Brady, what's up?"

"Nice to see you made your move…"

Y/N rolled her eyes, "does he tell you everything???"

"Well, not everything, but I've been trying to help him out with this so he let me know as soon as he saw your text…"

"I guess I owe you a thank you…"

Y/N could sense Brady's smug look on his face through the phone.

"Yes, you do, and you're very welcome."

"Is this the only reason you called?"

"Mostly, I was gonna ask if you wanted to get lunch too?"

"Yeah, sure. Where are you?"

"I'm at the apartment, I'll meet you in 30?"

"Yeah, just text me where."

~~~~~~~~

The next two days went by pretty quick and Y/N found herself scrambling around the apartment cleaning up and preparing dinner. Her roommate was staying at a boy’s place for the night and she was glad to have the place to themselves if everything went well…

Once she had things mostly put together she hopped in the shower and put some light makeup on. Her stomach was in knots as she finished putting her mascara on and looked at the time. Brett would be getting there any minute now, so she quickened her pace and went back into the kitchen to finish up dinner.

Just as she was taking the chicken out there was a knock on her door. Y/N set the chicken down and walked over to the door where she took a deep breath and tried her best to compose herself before opening the door. She smiled as she took in his appearance. He had nice dark jeans on with a very well fitted button up. He was also holding flowers in one hand and wine in the other. Y/N blushed and stepped back so he could come in.

"You look beautiful." He said kissing her cheek.

Y/N's cheeks flushed at his compliment, "thank you."

Brett looked around the apartment for a minute, "this is really nice."

"Thank you, it's a bit small, but we made it pretty cozy."

"Yeah, it's very homey."

Y/N chuckled at his comment and took the flowers from him as she led him into the kitchen and grabbed a vase.

"These are beautiful, thank you."

Brett smiled and put the wine on the counter.

"Dinner is almost ready, sorry, I was hoping it would be done by the time you got here…"

"No worries, is there anything I can do to help?"

"I think I'm all set…thank you though." Y/N said with a smile as she grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard. Brett opened the bottle and poured them each a glass as Y/N finished up with dinner.

Just a few minutes later they were sitting at the table enjoying dinner.

"This is amazing…"

Y/N blushed, "thank you."

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"I guess, just my mom? I used to love helping her in the kitchen, she taught me a lot."

"That's really cool. You've got me hooked. I'm glad I live just down the street…" he said winking at Y/N.

Y/N blushed yet again, her face basically a constant shade of pink.

They fell into a comfortable conversation, talking about their families and talking a bit more about your relationship with Brady.

"Were you always this close with Brady?"

"I guess not really, he was always around, but him and my brother used to torment me…"

Brett chuckled a bit, "I can definitely see that…"

"Yeah, but as we grew older, Brady obviously left home for hockey and stuff, so we didn't see him as much. We really kind of reconnected here in New York."

"Did your brother play hockey?"

"Yeah, he just played locally though, he was more into baseball."

"Did he play in college?"

"Yeah, he played for Michigan."

"That's cool, did you play any sports?"

"Yeah, I played soccer, hockey, and lacrosse."

"Oh, wow, 3 sports huh?"

"Yeah, I mean, I wasn't super serious about any of them…I guess hockey more than the others, but I decided against pursuing it in college so I could come here."

"You were gonna play in college?"

"Just for a d3 school…but I really wanted to be here at NYU, my family was pretty upset, but they got over it."

"I guess we'll have to go skating soon, I'd like to see what you got…"

Y/N laughed at that, "not much right now, I haven't really skated much recently, I haven't even been at all this season."

"We'll definitely have to change that…"

As the conversation lulled they took their dishes to the kitchen and cleaned up a bit before making their way to the couch to watch a movie. However, they didn't really watch much of the movie. They just kept talking and talking and eventually ended up cozying up to each other.

Brett had reached over Y/N to refill their wine glasses and as he sat back they found their faces very close to each other. Y/N looked into his eyes and they stayed like that for a few moments before Brett made a move.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked softly.

Y/N had barely nodded her head before Brett's lips crashed into hers. It was the most passionate kiss she had had in a long time and she found herself melting into his touch. They made out on the couch a bit before they decided to take things into the bedroom.

Y/N had the most fun with Brett than she had with another guy in a long time. They finished the night off cuddling in bed. Y/N always felt awkward after…not knowing how to have the conversation of if they were staying or not, but Brett seemed to think a conversation wasn't needed. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom, Y/N got up as well putting a shirt on, assuming when he got back he would get dressed and leave. But much to Y/N's surprise, he climbed right back in bed and looked at her expectantly.

"I'll be right back." She said as she made her way to the bathroom and took off her makeup and brushed her teeth. She hurried back to bed where Brett was waiting. They soon fell asleep and Y/N slept the best she had in a long time.

The next morning, Y/N stirred as she felt the warm body separate from her. She whined a bit which Brett returned with a chuckle.

"I've got to get to morning skate. I'll see you at the game tonight?"

Y/N sat up a bit and took in his appearance. He was slipping into his jeans but was still shirtless. Y/N bit her lip as she admired his chiseled chest.

"Yeah, I'll be there." She said sleepily. Brett smiled at her pleasantly then leaned over to kiss her goodbye.

"Good luck!" Y/N called after him and then fell back asleep.

~~~~~

Brett realized as he left her apartment he really didn't have much time to get to the rink. He reluctantly decided to just go straight to his car and drive to the rink, although he knew he would get chirped for his appearance.

He turned out to be right. As soon as he got out of his car he met a few of his teammates going into the arena and they immediately started laughing.

"Walk of shame into the arena, man? That's rough…" Brendan Lemieux joked as they walked the halls to grab some food.

Brett however, kept walking so he could change into some sweats, hoping to avoid further embarrassment.

Much to his dismay, when he went back to grab some food, more guys had arrived and everyone started laughing and cheering him on. His face grew red and he tried to ignore most of the comments. He sat down at an empty table and ate in silence. However, Brady made his way over and clapped his shoulder.

"So, dinner was good?" He asked, smirking at the young player.

Brett smiled a bit, "yeah, it was really good."

"Good, but now I feel like I need to have the talk with you…"

"The talk?"

"If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Ah, that one…I don't think I could, man. She's amazing."

"Yeah, she really is. Treat her right…and maybe next time get up a little earlier…"

Brett scoffed, "yeah, believe me, I will never be doing this again…"

Brady chuckled a bit, and they ate in silence.

~~~~~

Y/N slept in pretty late, but woke up with a smile on her face as she remembered last night's events. She checked her phone and saw a text from Brady.

Way to go, Y/n/N. You managed to get Brett chirped for the rest of his life…

What?!

He showed up looking a little rough in his clothes from last night…

Oh my god…why didn't he change?

He didn't have time…

Oh no, it wasn't too bad was it?

Nah, the guys just keep laughing at him and they probably won’t let him live it down for a little…but he'll be fine. Did you have a good time?

Yes, a very good time. Thanks for helping me out Brady.

Anytime…just be careful, okay?

I will. I'll see you after the game tonight?

You bet!

Good luck, Brady!! <3

~~~~~

The Rangers ended up with a win tonight, Y/N found herself waiting down by the locker rooms with Gracia as she usually would. They were talking with a few of the other wags while waiting for the guys to come out.

When Gracia spotted Brady, she gave him a hug and kiss. Once they were done Y/N gave Brady a hug too and congratulated him on the win.

"Your boy should be out soon." He teased.

Y/N blushed a bit but rolled her eyes trying to ignore the butterflies she felt in her stomach. She hadn't talked to him after he left this morning and she was a little nervous. Although he left after giving her a kiss, she was nervous about how he was feeling, especially after running late to the rink this morning.

Her nerves quickly subsided as she spotted him approaching them with a big smile on his face. She stepped forward and he gave her a hug.

"Great job, tonight." She said in his ear.

He thanked her while letting her go and he greeted the other Wags around him.

"Are you going out tonight?" He asked, turning his attention back to Y/N.

"I think so…are you?"

"I am if you are…" he said with a smirk. Y/N smiled but before she could say anything back to Brett, Brady ruffled her hair to get her attention. She rolled her eyes and tried her best to fix her hair.

"We're gonna head out, you want a ride?" He asked.

"I can bring her home…" Brett offered as he looked over at Y/N to get her approval.

Y/N smiled and nodded her head in agreement.

"Alright then, I'll see you guys later." Brady said as they walked off.

Brett turned back to Y/N, "you ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

They talked a bit about the game on the drive to their apartments and as they approached Y/N's apartment she started to thank him for the ride.

"Do you want to share an Uber out tonight?" Brett asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Cool, I'll come over around 11?"

"Sounds good, see you soon." Y/N said as she stepped out of his car and made her way inside.

~~~~~

Just a little while later, Brett found himself at Y/N's apartment again and they went out and met some of the other guys. Y/N always had fun with the guys, but she was having even more fun with Brett at her side. As the night went on and people started trickling out, Brett and Y/N decided to leave too. This time, returning to Brett's place where they spent another amazing night together.

The next morning, Y/N woke up next to a sleeping Brett. They had the morning off, so he didn't have to jet off to practice. She got up quietly and went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit before Brett woke up. When she returned, Brett was sitting up in bed looking at his phone. He looked up when he heard her come in and smiled as he put his phone down and patted the spot next to him. Y/N climbed back into bed, they cuddled a little before things got a bit heated and they went for another round.

"I'm starving." Brett exclaimed as he moved off of Y/N and laid back down on the bed.

"Do you have stuff here? I can make us breakfast…" Y/N offered.

"That would be amazing."

"Alright, then. Let's go, you're helping me this time." Y/N said getting out of bed and putting a shirt on. Brett followed in suit and they made their way to the kitchen.

After they ate, they hung out on the couch all day watching TV until Brett had to go to a team meeting.

When Y/N finally got home, she laid in bed and thought about how great life was right now.

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #brett howden #brett howden imagine

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

Text

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 12)

Bakugo X Reader

Make it Blue! Make it Pink!

Words: 2418

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

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

You looked in the mirror with frustrated tears in your eyes. Today was the first day of school after summer vacation and it was your first official day as a teacher. Most teachers wore their hero outfits to work but given the fact you were 4 months pregnant there was no way you were going to fit in your skin tight costume. Yet here you stood anyways trying to get it to stretch like the idiot you were.

You hadn’t even noticed Katsuki walk up behind you until he was wrapping his arms around you. He kissed your bare shoulder, “Hey I thought we talked about this. No tears over something this silly. You are gorgeous. Fuck that stupid costume. I like the dress you picked out last night. It shows off that adorable bump you’re rocking.”

You chuckled as you dried your tears on the back of your hand, “I know, I know. I just didn't think I’d be rocking such a big bump so soon. I wasn’t ready.”

He turned you around to face him rather than the mean mirror that seemed to mock you. “Hey you’re literally growing a human right now. Kids likely going to be the next number one hero. Of course he’s going to need a little extra room.” He knelt down and gave your belly a quick kiss. “I think you're beautiful.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, “You seem so sure it’s going to be a boy, but I still think it’s going to be a girl. I don’t know why but I just have this gut feeling.”

He stood up now to continue getting ready for his own work day, “Gut feeling huh? You sure its not just gas? You’ve had a lot of tha-” You threw your show at him, “OI! Relax its just a joke!”

You had already pulled on your new dress. “It better be a joke! I may be pregnant but I’ll still kick your ass!” You sat down on the edge of the bed and gave him puppy dog eyes, “Now can you please help me with my shoes?” You were already so short that even the smallest baby bump made you look round and awkward. You wiggled your foot in his direction.

“Tck, you mean the shoe you just threw at me?”

You nodded with those big puppy dog eyes you had learned from Kitty, “I mean I’d say it was more of a toss than a throw. Pleaaaase my back is already killing me and I don’t want to lean over.”

He sighed before kneeling down to help pull your shoes on, “You are so lucky I love you. Last time you threw something at me it ended up a little differently.”

You blushed as you remembered all those months ago and the snowball that started it all. “Hey but if I hadn't thrown that snowball who knows if we’d be here now.”

He simply shrugged as he stood up, “Maybe not exactly here, you know in a new house with a dog and expecting a kid, but I think we’d be together.” He smiled at you, “We’re both too stubborn to have waited much longer.”

You smiled back at him and ran a lazy hand over your stomach, “I just hope she doesn't inherit that. Last thing we need is a hard headed female Bakugo.”

He squinted, “Oi, it could still be a boy!”

“Well I guess we’ll find out today won't we?”

He kissed you're forehead, “Yes we will. I’ll pick you up after school and we’ll go together alright?”

You hummed in response already feeling the anxiety of the day start to bubble up. First day as a teacher, finding out the gender of your baby, it was going to be an eventful day.

You hooked Zuko up to his leash and locked the door behind you. It was the only special request that Katsuki had made. You’re close enough to UA to walk but you had to take Zuko with you. The doctor said that walking was great exercise and you intended to stick to it as long as you could.

The walk probably took you no longer than twenty minutes and before you knew it you were at your desk staring into the faces of a bunch of scared first years. Zuko was minding his business laying in a dog bed next to your desk. You could see a few students cut their eyes to him every so often almost like they were waiting for him to do something.

“Good morning class! I am Miss. Y/L/N. Some of you may know me as Adsum. I am going to be your teacher for this semester. This here is my dog Zuko. He goes everywhere I go. He’s not mean but I also wouldn't try to sneak up on him. He’s a friendly dog but he's also been trained by Ground Zero himself. Do you have any questions for me before we get started with orientation?”

Everyones hands shot straight up, “Let me rephrase that.. Any questions that are school related and have nothing to do with my personal life.” And just like that all the hands went down. “Great well let’s get started then shall we.”

You couldn’t help but feel right at home as you were teaching. It was almost like this was what you were meant to do. You still loved and missed hero work dearly but you felt like a natural when it came to teaching. Plenty of the teachers here still did hero work on the side, maybe you could too after the baby was born.

You’d like to think you made a good impression on the students. Most of them seemed to like you. There was one boy though who sat in the back and liked to challenge everything you said. His name was Yuuto and he had an attitude but it wasn’t anything you couldn't crack. He was very mild in comparison to how Katsuki was at his age.

Your first day went by in a blur and now you were waiting outside the front of the school with Zuko making small talk with Aizawa when Bakugo pulled up in an SUV you didn’t recognize. As soon as he stepped out of the car kids started swarming to him, “Oi! Fuck out of the way would you?”

You rolled your eyes and bid farewell to Aizawa as you went to save your boyfriend, “Everyone back up unless you want detention!” Your students immediately took a step back making room for you, all but one. The one troublesome boy from the back of the class, Yuuto. He didn't budge. He stood there with his hands in his pockets staring down Katsuki. That was not a good idea by any means because Katsuki automatically assumed this kid was sizing him up and being the over protective alpha male he was he wasn’t having any of that.

“Oi! You! Runt with his hands in his pockets come here!” Yuuto strolled over to Katsuki maintaining eye contact the whole time, “You got a problem with me kid?”

Yuuto was silent for a few moments before he sharply bowed, “Not at all sir, I just wanted to personally let you know that I will be keeping a close eye out for your wife while she is my teacher to make sure that no harm comes to her sir.”

You thought Katsuki would be irritated that this kid just called you his wife but instead he just smirked, “I’m pretty sure she could kick your ass but I like the enthusiasm. You got a name?”

“Yes sir. Yuuto sir.”

“Yuuto huh? Well Yuuto you can be my official point of contact how about that?”

His eyes lit up with pride, “Of course sir. Thank you sir.”

Aizawa strolled over to you, “That went better than expected. Bakugo has grown so much in the past year alone. He’s turning into a more patient and level headed version of his already passionate self.”

You smiled, “He really is something special. Yuuto proved to be a bit difficult in class today but I’m glad to see he has good intentions”

Aizawa chuckled, “Just so you know Yuuto is UA’s first student with Autism. He’s very bright and very determined. His quirk is tactical processing. He can analyze any situation and figure out a way to win. It’s very impressive, he’s almost like a human computer. His memory is amazing as well. He can recall exact words or scenarios from things that happened years ago. I think given enough guidance he could be one of the big three someday. You're lucky to have him in your class.”

It made sense now. Yuuto didn't have an attitude at all. He just lacked the same social cohesion that his fellow classmates had. You smiled at him as you walked over to your boyfriend who was now holding the car door open for you. “Thank you Yuuto, you know I’m not his wife yet but I too like your enthusiasm.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, “Just get in the car women we’re going to be late!”

You giggled and hopped into the passenger seat. Taking a look around, it looked to be brand new. Katsuki was now in the driver seat and speeding off. “Is this a rental or....?”

He took your hand in his without taking his eyes off the road, “Huh? Oh! The Car! I almost forgot... Surprise! Y/n meet your new mommy mobile. I didn't think you’d want a mini van and I’m not ready to trade in my two seater yet so here we are, now a two car family.”

“OH MY GOD! BABY! YOU DIDNT!”

He gave you a weird look, “Y/n don’t look so surprised we’ve literally been talking about this for weeks. It’s not like we couldn't afford it, and with the baby coming we needed a new car.”

“Yeah but it’s like NEW new! I was expecting like a newish car you know?”

“Eh” He waved it off, “I totally didn't get you anything for your birthday so consider this a late present..”

You brought his hand up and gave it a quick kiss, “Thank you. And thank you for being nice to Yuuto earlier. He means well.”

He put his hand on you thigh, “Yeah, I could tell he was just trying to be helpful. In a weird way he kind of reminded me of Deku and it felt like a good opportunity to try and make up for the years I was a dick to him.”

*****

You were laying on the table getting freezing cold gel smeared onto your belly. Bakugo was sitting next to you hand squeezing yours as his knee bounced up and down. “I just know it’s going to be a boy.”

“Oh yeah? Well I just know it’s going to be a girl”

The ultra sound technician just laughed at us. “Well at this time I am able to determine the gender and I’m assuming you would both like to know?”

In unison you both yelled yes.

She smiled at you, “Alright well congratulations! You’re going to have a baby boy!”

Katsuki jumped up and started running around the room! “YES! I KNEW IT!” You smiled at your silly boyfriend. Sure you may have guessed wrong but you didn't care. You were going to have a sweet little mini Katsuki and you couldn’t be happier.

his celebration was cut short when the ultrasound machine made a weird noise started and the screen started to go black. You froze and clamped your hand down on Bakugo’s, “What was that?”

The technician gave the machine a perplexed look. I dont know. That’s odd. The machine malfunctioned. Its a new machine it shouldn't be having any problems.” She shrugged, “I guess I’ll just have to turn it in to IT and see if they can fix it.”

But that wasnt the last time that happened to you. Every time you went in for a check up after that the ultrasound machine would malfunction. It was really freaking you out and Katsuki was about to have a fit. “WHAT KIND OF FUCKING HOSPITAL DOSENT HAVE MACHINES THAT ACTUALLY FUCKING WORK!”

The nurse had to remind him that you were in the maternity ward and that yelling could be stressful for the other mothers. But of course that didn't stop his rampage.

Finally a doctor pulled you into his office to try and put your worries to rest. “So I checked into the ultrasound footage for your past three check ups. And it seems the ultrasound machine is always fine but it always cuts out exactly six and a half minutes in. Your technician brings them to our IT department and they can never find anything wrong with the machines.”

Bakugo gave him an incredulous look, “Well something isn't right, and unless you figure it out we’ll be finding another hospital. This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Rest assured I believe I know what the problem may be. The fact the machines work for everyone else except you and it always cuts out after six and a half minutes... well thats a pattern and it leads me to believe that your child, while still being in the womb, may be showing signs of some kind of quirk. It is very rare but it does happen from time to time. Kids are starting to develop quirks younger and younger every year. If this is the case it’s likely their quirk will be very strong by the time they reach maturity. You’ll likely have your hands full.”

Your heart was racing. Your little baby was developing a quirk early? What if he blew you up.. fuck what if he teleported out of you and.... “No!”

Both the doctor and Bakugo’s snapped to you with worry. “I don’t want him to develop early! What if he hurts himself?”

You were shaking now and Bakugo was pulling you into his chest. His eyes narrowed at the doctor, “Is that possible? Could something happen to him?”

The doctor took a deep sigh, “Well I dont like making promises but from what I can tell whatever the child’s quirk may be it doesn't seem destructive. Its somehow messing with the machines so I would say its more psychologically based. Something he can control with his mind, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it right now.”

Bakugo blinked a few times, “.... well that’s just badass...”

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

So my sister and my nephew just moved in with us and my nephew has autism. Hes 8 and he was bullied so bad in school he tried to commit suicide. He’s doing better now and has developed a love for super heros. He and I love to watch anything super hero related together. He’s a tad too young for MHA right now but he honestly does remind me of Midoriya sometimes. He asked me the other day why there was no super heros like him and it made me kind of sad. The character Yuuto is lightly based off of him. Everyone deserves the right to be a hero.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo imagine #bhna #bhna bakugou #bhna imagine #bhna x reader #mha bakugou #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia

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bat-besties · 4 years

Text

Rain towards morning

AO3

Chapter One

Platonic Roman and Virgil

A friendship grows between Roman, a lonely farmer, and a mysterious stranger. But when Virgil's past catches up with both of them, Roman digs himself in farther than he imagined as his heroism is cruelly tested.

Edited by the lovely @mariniacipher!

5.5k

Roman met Virgil in the gentle mist of morning, dew bejewelling every blade of grass and drooping flower in the meadow sloping down from his farm. He occasionally found people sleeping under the hedgerows, most of them travelling for work, but usually they made an effort to shelter themselves from the elements.

This man lay in the middle of the field, droplets of dew clinging to his eyelashes and fingers dug into the earth at his sides. He was pale as the fog over the hills in the distance, and his thin white shirt fluttered in the breeze. Deep eyebags shadowed his eyes.

"Hello!" Roman called over to him, hurrying down the slope to get to him.

The man startled awake and scrambled back.

"And what the fuck do you want?" he snapped, wide eyes darting back and forth between the gate and Roman.

Roman halted. "Nothing! Nothing!" He laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. "You looked like a corpse."

"Thanks."

"No, like..." Roman cut himself off with a shake of his head. "I was concerned! You're not dressed for the weather."

The man ducked his head as he snickered, damp hair hanging into his face.

Roman was thoroughly confused but, well, there was no use getting hung up on that. "Do you want breakfast?"

"What?"

"Breakfast!" Roman said brightly. "My farm is just up on the ridge. Come and have breakfast with me."

"For...what?"

"Free?" Roman tried.

The man unfolded, rising onto his feet with an airy grace. He was taller than Roman, but looked thin enough to be blown away with a strong breeze. "Free," he repeated warily. "Just as a gift?"

"I promise," Roman said, raising up his right hand. "On my honour!"

"I'll settle on wagering your farm instead."

Roman wasn't entirely sure whether that was a joke but, well, he wasn't planning to play any mind games over eggs. "On my farm, you'll owe me nothing."

"Okay," the stranger said. He wrapped an arm over his chest. "Thank you."

"No problem," Roman said, setting back home. "Where did you come from?"

"The, uh, road. Just trying to make the next town." Roman glanced at the man's hands, delicate and pale as though he'd never done a day's work in his life.

"Which town?"

"Do you usually ask so many questions?" The stranger complained, though he didn't sound too annoyed.

"Just making conversation," Roman said lightly.

"Huh. Alright."

He led him back up the hill, to his home. Roman's house was comfortable and cosy, a haven of well-fitted logs and patterned curtains, and had smoke drifting from the chimney. With a flourish, he opened the door. "Come on in and dry off."

At that, the stranger flinched back. "Oh, I- I don't really- wouldn't that be- I don't want to impose."

"Sir, I think you need to calm down just slightly," Roman said. "It's alright!"

The stranger bristled like a cat, drawing his shoulders up to his ears. "Maybe I should go."

"I’m confused," Roman admitted.

"I'll go," the stranger repeated more firmly. He turned away from Roman, looking at the misty mountains in the distance. "Sorry."

"Can you...tell me what’s wrong?"

"I won't sit down and join you for a meal."

"At least get dry?" Roman offered. "You're soaking wet."

The man rubbed the back of his neck with an earth-stained hand. "I'm fine out here."

Roman closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for the strength to not insult the man, even though he badly wanted to. But, he did not have that luck. "I came to give you breakfast, not play cryptic-crossword puzzles with someone as pale as the paper they’re printed on."

The stranger let out a huff of laughter. "Fine. Whatever. It's the house. I don't want to be in it."

"What's wrong with my house?" Roman asked indignantly.

"Nothing!" the stranger assured him. "Nothing. I just...prefer not to have a roof over my head; dumb, I know."

"A little," Roman admitted, "but nothing I can't work with. Is that why you were...sleeping under the stars?"

The stranger made a sound of assent.

Roman shrugged. "You could’ve just said so. Sit! Sit down on the doorstep and I'll get you something!"

The stranger folded down to sit cross-legged a few steps away from the doorway. "Thank you. I do appreciate it."

"Chivalry is my middle name! Well, it's really Patton, after my dad, but we don't need to quibble about particulars."

That made the stranger laugh again, and Roman felt a rush of excitement at the sound. Maybe knighthood was out of bounds, but he liked to romanticise his father's hospitality. Now that he was an adult he was finally free to help others in the most dramatic way he could.

Roman crouched to stoke the fire, keeping the door open to talk to the stranger. "So, where are you hailing from?"

"Here and there."

"How about your family?"

"All over. Yours?"

"A few valleys over, actually," Roman said, cracking an egg into a pan with a pleasant sizzle. "We came over to stake this land for me when I was twenty."

"Anyone else here?"

"No, no-" Roman carefully put in a second egg. "I would have liked to live out here with friends, but everyone else had their own plans: marriage, town jobs, helping their families."

The stranger shrugged. "Eh, friends are overrated anyhow.”

“What’s better? Romance?” Roman scoffed.

“Spirits, no.” The stranger pulled a face. “Not my thing either. Friends are nice; being alone is nicer.”

“How stoic and standoffish off you.”

The stranger laughed. “I’ll be your friend here, then, for a little while.”

“That might be nice,” Roman said softly.

A playful breeze blew through the grass. He sneezed as it tumbled inside and tickled his face. He reached for a plate and piled it with the eggs, some bread, and cheese.

"Do you have a name?" the stranger asked him.

"Roman- unless I misremember."

"I'll remember."

"That's a little ominous," Roman said with a laugh.

"No, it's not," the stranger said simply. "Hospitality is not a bad thing to be remembered for." He stood up to take his plate from Roman, then settled back across from him.

"How about your name?" Roman asked.

"What begins with the end and ends with the beginning?" the stranger said.

"What?" Roman said slowly. "I don't know."

"Figure it out," the stranger said with a smirk, tearing off a hunk of his bread and popping it in his mouth. "Fuck," he breathed out, face suddenly losing about ten layers of cryptic protection and instead devoting itself to staring lovingly at the bread.

The shift in behaviour startled a laugh out of Roman. "It's still warm from baking."

"It's not bad," the stranger said, tearing off another piece and dipping it into the yolk of his egg with one hand while feeding himself some cheese with the other.

Roman decided to leave him free to eat, puzzling over what in the world began with the end and ended with the beginning. An ouroboros?

By the time the stranger had wolfed down the whole plate -which admittedly didn’t take very long - and regained a bit of colour in his face, Roman was as stumped as he had been in the beginning.

"So? What is your name? A...full stop, maybe?"

"Fucked if I know," the stranger said cheerfully. "I just didn't want you to bother me while I was eating. You can call me Virgil."

"You could have just asked me not to talk to you! You said you would be a friend!"

The stranger shrugged, almost embarrassed. "Thought you liked the cryptic thing." He answered after a beat too long.

"You could be more polite since I home-cooked that meal for you," Roman said indignantly.

"I don't owe you anything for the meal," Virgil said coolly. "That includes manners."

Roman rolled his eyes. "My deepest apologies."

"Don't need 'em." Virgil got to his feet and handed Roman his plate back. "Thank you very much for the meal. Genuinely."

"Well, keep the windows open for luck to blow in," Roman said. "Or the, uh, metaphorical windows anyhow."

"And open to let it take its leave again," Virgil finished the traditional farewell. "Literal windows for you."

"Do you want anything for the road?" Roman asked. "I could pack something?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Virgil replied. He tugged the edges of his shirt over his wrists and slouched before he gave Roman a parting salute. "Bye, Roman."

Roman watched Virgil's back disappear down the road as he washed up, then threw open his windows to air his home as he began his day in earnest.

Roman did not expect to see Virgil again, as was the way of these things.

But a month or so later, as he dragged his chair outside to watch the sunset, a figure in white made its way up to his farm from the road. The evening was still and heavy, no clouds in the sky to block the oppressive heat.

The figure stopped just in front of him. "Hey Roman," he said, cupping the back of his neck. "I'm Virgil. Again."

"I remember you," Roman said, surprised. "No rooves, no manners, no cloak- if I'm not wrong?"

Virgil laughed through his nose. "And I still haven’t got any of those."

"What brings you here?"

"You do, I guess-" Virgil was still just wearing his white shirt, but he lifted it up to reveal a hidden leather pouch he'd tied around his middle. He opened it up and pulled out a handful of shining silver, which he tipped into Roman's palms. "A gift."

"Shrieking spirits, that's a lot!" Roman said. "I can't take that just for breakfast!"

"It's not a payment." Virgil folded his arms in offence. "I just said it's a gift."

Roman frowned. "But why?"

"Good things should come to good people," he said simply.

"Don't you want to keep that?" Roman's brow furrowed. "At least buy a cloak, dude, it won't be summer forever. You could even buy land-"

"I don't want land, or a cloak." Virgil put a clammy hand over Roman's and closed the farmer's fingers over the silver. "Good things for good people, that's the only aim."

"...you're a good people."

It wasn't clear if Virgil was shaking his head to dispel his laughter or because he disagreed."Just take it. Okay?"

Roman did. "How did you come by it?"

"It’s a gift.” Virgil looked at Roman as though that settled the matter completely.

How would a vagabond know someone giving gifts like that? “From whom?” “A friend.”

"Is it stolen?" Roman said nervously. "I don't want to get in trouble with the law. That would not be a good thing."

"Promise you won't," Virgil said breezily.

"Okay," Roman said. "Okay." He turned over the smooth pieces of silver in his hand. "Luck blew in, I suppose..."

"It blew in for you, because I let it go out," Virgil said, as easily as he finished the farewell before. "That's the way to go."Overhead, there was a slight movement in the sky; an unreliable promise of rain and reprieve from the heat. "How's your farm?" Virgil asked.

"Alright," Roman said. "The soil is a little dry for the time of year, but I'll manage if it's back to normal soon. Hoping they bring me rain."

"It's all we can do," Virgil said with a nod. "Well, use the silver for whatever."

"Stay a little while?" Roman asked him. "Come on! We should celebrate! I have food leftover from dinner- I should thank you!"

Virgil wavered, then moved to tiptoe to reach the windows near Roman’s head. Time and food, presumably, had flushed his skin the same pink of the distant sunset against his white shirt- bang.

He jumped as Virgil opened his shutters.

Without a word, he then set out to the other side of Roman's house, and there was a corresponding bang as he opened the shutters on that side too.

Virgil made a full circuit to where Roman was sitting in thorough confusion. "For the spirits," he said simply. "You need rain, don't you? Silver won't buy you that."

"I must admit, Virgil," Roman said. "that you are beginning to worry me somewhat. Luck is a superstition. I do love a good story, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around just giving people things."

"Why not?" Virgil shrugged. "I could eat, if there’s food going. And your meadow is nice."

"I can keep the doors open," Roman offered. "And just drag my mattress to the doorway for you to have a decent rest, at least."

"No rooves," Virgil said.

"...can I at least ask why that is? Or how long you've done that?"

"No and no," Virgil said, crossing wrapping his arms over his chest.

"Maybe it's an avoidance thing," Roman posited. "If you tried a little bit of a roof-"

"No rooves," Virgil repeated firmly. "No rooves, no walls."

Roman got up from his chair and went into his kitchen for food. "No manners," he added, in a teasing tone. "And no cloak. Got it, got it-"

"Took you long enough." But Virgil was mollified.

By the time Roman came out, Virgil was sitting on the chair watching the sunset, the light of it reflecting against his skin.

"Seat-hog," Roman said, handing him the plate.

Virgil sat cross-legged and rested the plate in the middle of his legs. There was some spicy sausage, leftover cold potatoes, and a pile of preserved fruit with a little wall of bread crust around it so he could save it for dessert.

Virgil happily dipped a potato in the fruit, eliciting a pained noise from Roman.

"Why would you mix those?" he cried.

"Why not?"

"But why?"

"Why not?" Virgil repeated, carefully sandwiching some fruit between a piece of sausage and potato.

"But you're- it's all wrong-"

"Don't knock it till you try it."

"But I made a little battlement to keep the fruit separate-"

"I just gave you silver, don't tell me what to do."

"I tried so hard to make it nice-" Roman said with a melodramatic sigh.

"But I don’t care," Virgil said with a mischievous grin. "Fuck you." He popped his stack of food in his mouth, seeming to relish the clashing flavours and teasing Roman in equal measure.

Roman threw his hand to his chest with a dramatic noise of offence.

Virgil laughed, leaving off the fruit and tucking in properly. He had the same single-minded focus on this meal as he had the last one, an unabashed joy in it which, like anything else about him, was just to the left of normal.

"Have you been having enough to eat?" Roman couldn't help but ask.

"Me? Oh, sure," Virgil said. "I've been travelling here and there; don't worry about me."

"Any plans?" Roman asked, settling on the doorstep since it seemed Virgil wouldn't move from his chair. "Future dreams? For me- I want to set up an orchard! And long term...I don't know, I want to do something big and grand and heroic. It varies on the day, really."

There was quiet for a moment as Virgil finished his mouthful, then he stretched his arms upwards and held it for a moment, content. "I might head up the mountains, tomorrow. See what's there."

"Nothing else? Really?"

A breeze brushed against Roman's ankles, although the rest of the night was still, and it wound upwards to ruffle Virgil's hair before it disappeared again. "Maybe I'll find more good things for good people. Can't promise anything, though."

"How old are you, even?"

"Why's it matter?"

"Well, you won't be young forever," Roman pointed out. "I'm all for great and noble journeys! But- I see people in old age sleeping outside like you with no money, no savings, nowhere to go-"

"Great," Virgil interrupted him. "Maybe I'll meet some more of them and find some silver for them."

"Not my point." Roman was uncharacteristically serious.

Virgil ignored him and returned his focus to the food.

Roman was beginning to feel distinctly guilty for the silver in his pockets. "Even if you don't want to get tied down, at least get… get a horse, or something-"

"I'm happy," Virgil said firmly. "Okay?"

"On your own head be it," Roman grumbled.

"Which it is."

"You're insufferable," Roman said lightly.

"I know."

Roman waited until Virgil had finished up before he broached conversation again. "How far away have you gone? I've not been beyond these few valleys, I was hoping to travel more, but," He shrugged. "the farm needs me."

It was the right question. Virgil tilted his head and considered it. "I've been to the sea on both sides. Up to the mountains in the West. Didn't like the desert. Don't do cities anymore, but I went to as many as I could before now."

"The capital?"

"Yup."

"You have to tell me about it!" Roman said, excited. "The theatres and museums and...all of it."

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I'm- what do you want to know? I can't tell you anything a book wouldn't. Less, probably."

"What's your opinion?"

"I, uh- I liked the marketplaces. The people and the colours, and the more exotic goods...the theatre was alright too. I like tragedies, war stories, that kind of thing."

"Have a favourite?"

"...I dunno."

"What do you like about them?"

"Sad and scary stuff can be interesting, cathartic, you know- I think that you can do more with them, I guess."

"I can see that!" Roman said. "I like a happy ending though."

"I think they're overrated."

"Do you have a favourite sad ending?"

Virgil began to talk more about a famous love tragedy and its subversions of genre, and Roman, genuinely interested, drew him out on the subject until it was exhausted. Just as it seemed they were done, Virgil ventured a story about an incident on the Northern Road of his own accord, and the flow of the conversation continued.

Once the sun had well and truly fallen down from the sky, Roman began to yawn. "I might have to turn in; there's work tomorrow. Sleep over, let's have breakfast together tomorrow."

"Sure," the vagrant said, pushing himself to his feet with a fluid movement. "I'll see you then."

Roman resisted the urge to offer a blanket, and waved Virgil goodnight. He closed his door but not his shutters, figuring he might as well invite in the spirits of luck and rain. When he was younger he’d wanted to believe in them, leaving the shutters open and sometimes waking up with his dad’s homemade candy under the pillow. But now he knew that if they weren’t kids’ fairy stories they were at most metaphors about opportunity and the vagaries of fortune.

Roman woke up to gentle pattering on his roof and the wind spitting raindrops onto his face through the windows. He stumbled up to bang the windows shut before tucking himself back in.

He felt like he was forgetting something. Had he fed the chickens...

Virgil! Oh, that was it. He tugged his bedclothes into a cloak as he opened up the door and peeked out at his fields.

There was still a pale figure lying in the middle of the meadow.

"Fool," Roman said, between fond and exasperated, and checked the sky for what the pattern of rain would be that day. Not long; it seemed. The clouds were already mostly centred above the farm; the distant sky was blue and clear.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Virgil!" he yelled over the pattering rain. "Oh, Virgil!"

The figure startled up, throwing his hands over his head as if the rain would beat him.

"Virgil!" Roman yelled again. "At least find a tree?"

After a moment, Virgil uncurled and looked over to where Roman was.

"What?" he snapped.

"It's raining!" Roman called, a little redundantly. "Find a tree!"

"Find your own bloody tree!" Virgil threw himself back onto the ground, pointedly turning away from Roman.

"I am going to murder him," Roman muttered to himself. "The art of chivalry! The gratitude of a guest! Oh, but these things are so passé..."

He closed the door and started getting ready for the day. Pulling on his cloak, Roman headed out to feed his chickens. He went through his morning chores, trying to focus on the smell of petrichor and damp earth as well as the hiss of rain in the way his father had taught him. Simply paying attention to his senses helped him to dispel anger or anxiety.

He had just scattered the feed when- "Rabid roosters!" Roman screamed as Virgil appeared at his elbow.

"I've not got time for breakfast," Virgil said. He looked like the victim of a poorly-executed drowning. "I'm leaving."

"All because I woke you up?" Roman asked, pressing a hand over his racing heart. "No need to try and shock me!"

"Didn't try, I succeeded," Virgil said with a small smile. "And no, I do actually have to leave."

"For what?"

"For nothing; I'll go for free," Virgil quipped. He turned and walked away. No wonder he had surprised Roman; he made barely any noise as he walked.

"I think you quite like being dramatic," Roman said. "And I think that you could do quite well in one of your tragedies, you have a talent for theatrics."

"Oh really?"

"I'm sorry I woke you up- I just didn't want you to be soaked through. Is that so evil?"

Virgil spread his arms. "Because I wasn't soaked through before."

"Just stay for breakfast," Roman asked. "Why are you making such a big deal of it?"

Virgil's eyes narrowed. "I'm not; you are."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the meadow," Roman said, sotto voce.

Virgil mimicked his tone, widening his eyes for emphasis. "Someone woke up being yelled at."

"Fine!" Roman said. "Keep the windows open for luck to blow in."

Virgil folded his arms. "And open to let it leave again."

So Virgil left in anger, and Roman was left to mull over it as he startled the chickens with a handful of violently thrown feed.

The third time Virgil came was only three weeks later.

It was a day where the sky seemed higher than usual, wide and blowsy with scudding clouds in patchwork colours. Wind rippled an ocean of grass into rolling waves.

Roman was pacing the perimeter of his property, checking the fences for damage, when a distinctive white-shirted figure came into view on the road from the mountains.

"Hey." Virgil saluted Roman with two fingers as he reached him, leaning over his fence. "Are we good now?"

Roman blew out a breath with a laugh, waving a hand. "That was ages ago, ages and ages and ages."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound that good."

"I admit, I was somewhat...perturbed."

"Sorry.” Roman figured that was as much of an apology as he’d get, but at least it sounded sincere. “I was passing this way and I figured...might as well say hi."

Well, it wasn't like Roman got a lot of visitors. "Hi," he said, "I'm a little busy for now, but you can come around with me."

Virgil hopped over the fence with ease. "Okay."

Roman carried on his stroll. "So- did you see those mountains?"

"I did," Virgil said, "The sunrise was pretty from up there, but I don't know if all the climbing was worth it."

"I guess you have to do the climbing to know."

Virgil looked at Roman properly. "Smart."

"Oh. Thank you." Roman grinned. "And I used your silver to plant my orchard. I'm starting with apples."

"Nice."

That time, Roman didn't so much as offer for Virgil to come inside, and he let Virgil sleep in as long as he liked out in the meadow.

It rained after Virgil left, and Roman began to wonder.

A few months later, Virgil came back. He gave Roman sticks of cinnamon from distant markets for his apples, and wouldn't take a blanket for the night although his skin was freezing to the touch.

Maybe if they had to spend more time together then Virgil's contrary ways and Roman's short fuse would spark fights of more consequence. As it was, if Virgil left after a fight then both were over it by the time he returned for a plate of food and some conversation. They both liked theatre, they could bicker like anything, and friendship grew easily between them.

It was an autumn day, and Roman was picking apples when he heard the lightest of footsteps behind him.

"They look good."

Roman turned with a grin and tossed an apple down to Virgil. "All thanks to you. How are you?"

"Alright." Virgil bit into the apple and gave Roman a thumbs up. "Not bad."

"Not bad? Rubies are not redder! The grass is not more green! Honey not swee-" The ladder wobbled as Roman threw his hand out, and Virgil rushed forward to grab the base. Roman teetered in the air for a moment, until he grabbed onto a branch.

"Idiot," Virgil snapped, though Roman could hear the worry in his voice.

"Honey," Roman repeated breathlessly, "is not more sweet."

"Idiot." Virgil picked his apple off the ground and brushed the dirt off on his shirt.

"Let me guess," Roman said, climbing down the ladder, "you've already hit no manners."

"I never left no manners," Virgil said through a mouth full of apple.

"Charming."

Virgil grinned at him. "You know it."

Up close, Virgil looked exhausted. His permanent eye bags were dark as rain clouds, and he seemed to have lost the colour in his face that summer had given him. But there was nothing Roman's stranger hated more than a direct line of questioning. "What have you been up to?"

"This and that," Virgil said. "Trying...new things."

"What kind of new things?"

Virgil shrugged. "Helping more people in a bigger way."

"But I'm your favourite person you help?" Roman teased with a grin.

"Shut up," Virgil said, ducking under his overgrown fringe, and that was more of a confirmation than a yes would have been.

Roman laughed triumphantly. "Ah! You do love me!"

Virgil scowled. "You just have food."

"That's what they say about stray cats, but I chose to believe I can speak in feline whispers."

Virgil laughed through his nose. "So you can cat-whisper me?"

"When you hiss it means 'fuck off'," Roman said solemnly.

Virgil laughed again. "That it does."

"Who are the other people that are feeding you throughout the land?" Roman asked.

"There's an innkeeper in the West," Virgil said. "She always says I'm too skinny, and she collects little figurines so I bring them to her from all over. And, uh, if I need to buy things there's a pie shop I like who'll take shiny rocks for their kid. And anyone who lets their trees grow over into the road is kind of giving the fruit. Sometimes I offer to help out people and they offer food."

"But spirits forbid they pay you with it."

Virgil shrugged. "I don't mind jobs. I just prefer not to get stuck places."

"See? Cat."

"Maybe so." Virgil tugged another apple off Roman's tree without asking, then tossed it into the basket. "Can I stay tonight?"

"Of course."

Virgil smiled at Roman, eyes scrunching up.

Roman gave him a slow blink back in cat-smile, before breaking off with a laugh. "You know, you can help me out here or keep on talking from where you are, I don't mind."

"I'll help, as long as I get to go up the ladder."

"Sure."

Virgil scaled the ladder easily, and the leaves murmured contentedly among themselves as he began to stretch for the fruit Roman had missed. They worked together through the golden afternoon, chatting easily and piling the basket with apples.

As they reached the final tree, Roman moved around to the back of it, showing Virgil where a crack in the bark had begun to let in rot. "I tried everything," Roman said. "I think it might just become a glorious martyr for the others, so the rot doesn't spread."

Virgil tilted his head as he looked at the tree. "It's still mostly good...maybe it will go away by itself."

"You really think so?"

"I mean, I'm not sure, but maybe." Virgil nodded his head in consideration before turning back to Roman. "If that's us done, let's get dinner."

"Let's make Roman make you dinner, you mean," Roman teased.

"Or that," Virgil said. "I have, uh-" He opened up his hidden pouch and pulled out some twists of paper. "More spices for you. Also-" He pulled out a little sparkly rock. "Cool rock!"

"Thank you! It is cool!" Roman said, accepting the gifts. "Come on, you can sit outside and peel potatoes with me. Earn your keep."

"I don't have a keep to earn," Virgil said sharply. A shadow fell over his face. "Not even as a joke."

"Fine, fine." Roman rolled his eyes at Virgil’s touchiness. "I'll do all of the potatoes, again-"

"I didn't say I wouldn't help you, just- forget it." Virgil set the apple-basket on his hip and started back to the house ahead of Roman. "How's your dad doing these days?"

"He's well." Roman chose to take the obvious diversion. "The family dog had puppies, so he's delighted at that."

Roman brought out a low stool for Virgil and they worked through the pile of potatoes together.

Roman liked to be neat, but Virgil was almost obsessive, carefully scraping off the thinnest layer of skin he could and digging out eyes with the very tip of his knife.

"You have done three in the time it took me to finish my pile."

Virgil looked up, as if surprised Roman was still there. "I'm just doing it right!"

"I thought you were hungry."

"I can do them quicker if you like, jeez." Virgil took off a more reasonable strip of skin. "Look, you lose half the potato."

"Must you argue about everything?"

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirked up. "It takes two to argue, Roman."

"You argue enough for two people," Roman teased back, standing up and going over to the fire. "I'm going to start or the sun will start setting by dinner-time."

"Alright, alright!" Virgil said."I'm speeding up."

The afternoon began to slip away into a cool evening as they settled down to eat. Roman sat near the fire, leaving Virgil to balance his plate on the doorstep.

"Where are the spices from?"

"One from a peddler, one from a shop, one...I think was a gift?"

"You'd better not be poisoning me," Roman said, giving Virgil a mock-stern look.

Virgil laughed. "I make no promises."

The fire snapped and danced with the wind. Roman shifted closer to the fire and started on his potatoes. "So- where next?"

"I don't know," Virgil said. "Maybe the coast again, before winter sets in."

Roman met Virgil’s eyes, voice softening with his concern so as not to spook his stranger. "Do you have somewhere to stay when it snows?"

Virgil shrugged. "No, but I'll figure things out."

"You could stay here," Roman offered. "Not for long, just so that I know you're not freezing somewhere."

"I'll be fine, Roman," Virgil said, meeting his eyes. "I appreciate it, I really do, but I'll be fine."

Roman had a few snarky responses to that lined up, but he didn’t want the conversation to be carried away into bickering. He needed Virgil to know he was serious. "I worry about you."

"I worry about myself; I don't need you to. I always come back here in one piece, don't I?"

"I suppose so." Roman took Virgil's empty plate in for washing. "Still, you also come back hungry and cold, so forgive me for not being entirely convinced."

Virgil shrugged. "Not that hungry and not that cold. I'm going to go and sleep for now, if that's okay?"

Roman sighed. "Sure, but we'll finish talking in the morning."

Virgil rolled his eyes.

"All I offer is to help you!" Roman protested.

"And I appreciate it," Virgil replied earnestly before he got up. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight.”

Roman woke up to the sound of rain and banging on his door.

He stumbled out of bed, tugging open the door to see Virgil, silhouetted by the darkness. "Roman! Roman- something's happening-" Virgil broke off as if the air had been pulled from his lungs and he reached out a hand to grab Roman's as he fought for breath. "I- you need to get me out of here, you need to try and move me and I can't- no time to explain just-"

The instant Roman stepped forward to take Virgil's hands his vision flashed white.

#ts fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #platonic prinxiety #sanders sides #hurt/comfort

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eurydicum · 5 years

Text

road trip — s.h

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson! Reader

Category: fluff

Summary: You and Dustin planned a little road trip to go see Suzie in Utah, and of course Steve was gonna come along for the ride.

Requested by: @ofrosesandteacups !

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: This is best read on the website rather than the mobile app, the app flubs up the formatting of it all

I really really liked this concept hehe :)

Honestly, I liked it so much that I’m going to be doing a few spin-offs for this :)

(I have five in mind!)

Also! This takes place during an alternate universe proceeding season three, but all the demogorgon stuff didn’t happen, Mews is alive, Starcourt Mall and The Palace are present, the Byers (and El) didn’t move away, and pretty much Hawkins is very normal but all beloved characters are thriving and here.

Lastly, this is kinda bad now that I’m re-reading it lmao sorry :(

—

harrington master list

“Got everything packed, dears?”

Your mom asked for the millionth time, checking over all of your belongings alongside Dustin’s things. You and Dustin both nodded, going over everything necessary once more from the list for your mother’s sake. Two weeks of planning and packing and so many long, extra nights of putting up with Keith at The Palace finally led to this fateful day — and would actually lead up to a whole month of rest and recreation.

To put it simply, you and Dustin were very eager to go on another summer get-away. As much as you both loved Hawkins, it was nice to get a breath of fresh air from the insanity at home. On the plus side to everything going on, you’d get to spend your month with your favorite boys and finally meet the girl that stole your brother’s heart nearly a year ago.

Dustin helped you pack everything into your minivan, placing the cooler in the middle and the bags on the chair that Dustin wasn’t going to be sitting in. You ran to your mom and gave her the tightest hug, Dustin joining soon after calling ‘group hug!’.

“Take care of Mews for us okay?” Dustin nodded at his mom, giving that concerned parental look to her. Your mom laughed, obviously agreeing to take care of the poor kitty for you both. Mews was your precious baby and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

After long minutes of smothering hugs and kisses, you and Dustin drove over to The Palace to say your good-byes to all of Dustin’s friends. The car ride there was full of you two discussing ideas of what to do while you were in Utah and the like, Dustin scribbling ideas down on the backside of your checklist.

Roughly five minutes later, you pulled up to The Palace and hastily parked the van. You looked to Dustin for a moment as he grinned at the sight of the arcade, and you could tell straight away that he wanted to get a couple of games in before ultimately leaving.

“You can play,” You murmured in your silence, tossing a bag to him as he sat in the passenger’s seat. Dustin smiled wider than before, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. “Now go! — I didn’t put up with Keith’s shit for extra hours for nothing,” You jested, shoving your little brother out of the car.

The quiet buzz of fuzzy arcade static, cheering of kids, and intro start-ups on replay rang in your ears. In a way, it felt peaceful to walk in here without having to reprimand kids for beating up the machines when they got angry. You walked around the carpeted floors for a little while longer, eventually spotting Dustin with the rest of the gang. You chuckled softly to yourself, quietly reminiscing of your middle school days with all your friends.

“So you’re finally leaving, huh?” Keith questioned, bursting you out of your slight daze. He slowly chomped on Cheetos, eyes narrowing at you. You smiled sheepishly, nodding as you met his gaze.

“Yep. You’re gonna have to hold up fort without me, bud,” You joked, raising a fist up to Keith. He rolled his eyes, giving a small smile before returning your fist-bump. “Gonna miss you,” You added in softly, snickering lightly. While Keith was a creepy piece of shit, you guys became really good friends over time and you were quite pleased with that.

“No you won’t,” Keith laughed, making you snort and shrug. “Have fun in Utah,” Keith finalized before you saluted him and departed from him and join your brother.

“Ready to jet?” You asked, swinging your arm around your little brother.

“Do you guys really have to leave again?” Will frowned, walking over to give you and Dustin hugs.

“It’s only for a month,” You reminded as you were hugging Will. “We’ll be back before you know it,” You smiled.

“And you could help me with my new campaign?” Will asked with hopeful eyes, and you smiled at the charming boy’s question.

“I wouldn’t trade it up for the world,”

There were numerous farewells exchanged between Dustin and the gang, and of course, you said your good-byes to the children that stole your heart. Before leaving, you gave Keith one last smile and wave — and of course, this caught Dustin’s attention.

“Since when did you get along with Keith?” Dustin asked as he slid into the passenger’s seat.

“I said he was creepy, never said I didn’t like him,” You chuckled, buckling up. “The guy is weird with single girls, but he’s … decent … enough with me,” You carefully chose, backing up out of The Palace parking lot and toward the Starcourt Mall.

—

You and Dustin luckily found Robin’s car in the parking lot of the Starcourt, and you took the convenient spot beside her. You snagged your wallet with you and gave a quick glance at your brother.

“Wanna buy ice cream before we head out?” You asked with a grin, and of course, he nodded. The both of you hastily walked into the mall and toward Scoops Ahoy with a determined stride. The two of you were so goddamn excited and were minutes away from heading out on your day-long trip and month-long vacation.

“Robin!” You cheered when you saw the pretty face of your favorite worker. She smiled and glanced over her shoulder to yell at Steve.

“Hey dingus! Your wife and kid are here!” Robin drawled with a teasing tone, and you’ve never seen the guy stumble out from behind the backroom faster. He had already changed out of his uniform, dressed in a thin sweater and jeans.

“You forgot something,” You teased, striding over to him to pluck the hat off of his head. Steve chuckled and gave you a little kiss on the cheek, taking the hat from your hands and tossing it onto the back counter. Robin rolled her eyes endearingly at the two of you — honestly finding you two disgustingly adorable.

“Let’s hurry up and go,” Dustin exaggeratedly said, causing a short laugh to come from Robin.

“Yeah, come on, lovebirds,” Robin teased. “Little Henderson’s gotta see his girl too,” You laughed, parting from Steve before leaning against the counter. You tapped the silver bell and gave a cheeky grin at Robin.

“Mind if we grab some ice cream first?”

—

In less than thirty minutes the three of you had left Hawkins with bubbling thrill in your stomachs and smiles on your faces. Steve took care of the driving duties while you were his not-so-alert passenger. You were hunched over on the dash, the list from earlier and a pencil in hand. Thus far, you three had hiking, ice cream, and museums vaguely written down.

“How about the movies?” Steve suggested. “If memory serves me right, ‘Ferris Bueller’ should be coming out,”

“Oh! ‘Aliens’ is coming out too!” Dustin reminded, and you hastily wrote down their suggestions. Steve glanced over to you for just a moment, quietly admiring you and silently doting on how cute you were. You were sat cross-legged on the seat and your face was hard with concentration as you attempted to write as legibly as possible.

“Eyes on the road, Harrington,” You called him out with a little smile playing on your lips. His eyes shot back to the road, a light blush across his cheeks. After writing down the lists, you looked back over to Steve and quickly left a short kiss on his cheek. Steve blushed a little more and giggled lowly, reaching over to hold your hand without taking his eyes off the road.

Dustin smiled to himself when he noticed Steve holding your hand daintily. Honestly, Dustin was insanely happy that you and Steve were dating. More often than not, you were full of bright grins around him. It was obvious that Steve made you happy, and that much made your brother elated.

He loved you both in his own way, and he couldn’t imagine a better summer than the one he was about to have. He was going to be surrounded by some of the most important people in his life and soon come back to see the rest.

—

By the time it was 8:00 PM, you all reached a mostly empty campsite. Sunset would come by nine and it was best to get yourselves situated sooner rather than later. Steve parked the van and you hastily popped open the trunk, crawling inside to grab the giant blankets and pillows you instructed for them to bring.

Steve began to set up a little campfire while you and Dustin set up the sleeping space — one thin blanket laid across the surface of the van as a make-shift comforter and the numerous pillows scattered where your heads would be. While Dustin worked on setting up the radio and numerous snacks for the lot of you, you fumbled with stringing up the back end of the van with the numerous set of fairy lights that you purchased from the shop.

“Good job, campers,” Steve proudly appraised, a cheesy grin on his face.

“Wow, Eagle Scout Harrington — look at you,” You jested, gesturing over to his campfire set-up. Surprisingly, he did rather well with the whole thing. Dustin applauded him and the fool bowed as if it were some performance. You chuckled at their silliness and gathered together the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate. Steve lurched inside the van and grabbed the metal hangers he brought along for this particular moment.

The three of you sat in the comfy back of the van, at ease with the world and one another. The night was quiet, save for the occasional bustle of the trees due to the wind or the howl of distant creatures. You head was leaning against Steve’s shoulder and your hands were intertwined while you toasted your marshmallows.

Not even a few hours into the day and the moment was already perfect. Dustin and Steve shot jokes at one another — one of which included Dustin turning into a gummy-mouth monster with the melted mallow. Music was softly playing in the front of the van and the fire warmed your shivering forms.

The meal eventually subsided, and all the laughter came to a gradual halt as you all felt sleep creep behind you. Steve held you in his arms, and you were facing your brother. While both of your boys had been asleep, you were still awake. You brushed a stray curl away from Dustin’s face and smiled to yourself, peaceful as can be.

—

Back on the road and only a few miles away from Suzie’s house. Dustin could barely contain himself as he practically bouncing in his seat, entirely fidgety and restless as the destination came closer and closer. Steve checked out Dustin through the rearview mirror and laughed.

“C’mon, bud,” Steve smiled. “Don’t get all hyper now, we’re almost there,” You smiled at the little comment and lulled your head against the seat, staring out at the barren land before you. Hawkins was filled with trees and yet here in Utah it was deserted and you could feel the heat radiating from outside. It was definitely a lot hotter than Indiana.

Before you knew it, Suzie’s house came into view and Steve parked as excruciatingly slow as possible — obviously to torment Dustin. Before Steve could even drive up to the house, Dustin was already unbuckled and literally ready to hop out of the van.

“Fuck this!” Dustin complained as Steve joked to adjust the parking one more time, and leaped out of the van. He hastily ran up to Suzie’s house and knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waited for the door to open.

“Should we go too?” You asked Steve as he set the van on park, and he nodded in your direction with a grin. You both stepped out of the car and by the time you approached the house, Dustin and Suzie were wrapped up in one another’s arms.

“So she is real,” Steve hummed in amusement — causing you to chuckle and slap him square in his chest.

“Of course she’s real, idiot,” You laughed, rolling your eyes. Dustin and Suzie began with the cute, but cringey nicknames and that alone almost made Steve burst out laughing. You had to cover his mouth and suppress your own laugh too, both you just grinning stupidly at one another before Suzie interrupted you two.

“Hi! You must be Dustin’s sister,” Suzie addressed you first, beaming sweetly at you with her hand extended.

“[Y/N] Henderson,” You grinned as equally bright as her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally,” You shook her hand firmly. Suzie returned the gesture, her smile practically never ceasing.

“I’ve heard only good things,” You added on with a little wink, your gaze flickering over to Dustin for a moment.

“I sure hope so,” Suzie giggled, giving her boy a playful glare.

“It’s nice to meet you, Suzie,” Steve then cut in, offering his hand out to the young girl.

“You must be Steve,” Suzie said as she adjusted her glasses for a moment, reaching to shake his hand immediately after. “Dustin talks a lot about you as well,” She mentioned.

“I’ve heard only good things,” Suzie mimicked, smiling in your direction as she said this. You chuckled lightly at the repeat, your cheeks flushing a light red.

“Come in,” Suzie motioned, leading the lot of you inside. Once past the living room, you were met with a gorgeous dining room with plates of food waiting for you all to devour.

“Did you make this?” Dustin asked with a surprised smile. Suzie nodded with a proud grin, quickly asking for your preferred drinks before heading out to the kitchen.

—

During the lovely lunch, the lot of you were chatting among yourselves — telling embarrassing stories and teasing one another. You told Suzie all about the embarrassing moments of his and he did the same for you, but this was all in good fun. The room was filled with the beautiful sound of absolute bliss.

Suzie asked all about Hawkins and what it was like out there. She was grinning at the prospect of endless miles of trees and having snow fall on your tongue during winter.

Midway through the dinner, you felt Steve’s hand reach for yours under the table. You happily took hold of his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. While you continued to eat and listen about Suzie and Dustin’s adventures during summer camp, Steve stared at you lovingly — and back again toward the children. While you were listening, Steve leaned over and whispered sweetly into your ear.

His comment raised heat to your cheeks and your hold on his hand tightened just a little bit more. You looked at him with a soft gaze, lowly resisting the urge to kiss him right then and there. Dustin picked up on this new exchange and gave a curious look to the pair of you, narrowing his eyes and suspiciously looking to you both.

“What did you tell her?” Dustin asked slowly, assuming that he said something promiscuous or something of the sort. You shook your head and dismissed his question, waving your brother off. Dustin rolled his eyes and picked up from where he left off.

The entire lunch was lovely, and the rest of the entire month was even better. Every moment shared between you four was filled with laughter and smiles, practically emitting the personification of summer and love. Honestly, you didn’t want to go home and miss out on more of this.

Throughout the entire vacation, you couldn’t help but ponder on Steve’s whisper from the first day. They were the words that kept you attached to Utah truthfully. And you entirely believed it was true.

“We’re like a cute little family,”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #steve stranger things

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

Akshkshd any chance you’d be willing to write Indruck with prompt 8 (sfw)?

Quite willing! I decided to make it a continuation of this fill, but it can also be read as a standalone.

8. Where’s your enemy when you just watched a sad movie and need a hug?

This is simply nonsensical.

Indrid is a supervillain, a mastermind, a force to be reckoned with.

He is not supposed to be sitting here, weepy-eyed, on his couch on Tuesday night.

After his casual phone conversation with his arch-nemesis that accidentally gave away his location, he’d assumed Duck would arrive at his hideout within twenty-four hours. That they’d banter, perhaps trade blows, before Indrid made his escape.

Instead, he waited a full two days before receiving a vision of Duck arriving with the rest of the Pine Guard. That would not do, and so he took what he needed and blew hideout #12 to smithereens, taking up residence in hideout #33 (contingency plans are his strong suit).

The next two times Duck foiled him, he did so with at least one other hero. The banter ceased, as did any feelings of, well, pleasure Indrid derived from the encounter. Now it was all business. He let Duck know as much by knocking him out with a special smoke bomb designed to circumvent his powers.

Tonight was his night off, and he settled in with snacks and blankets to watch a movie. He Foolishly opted for the second film in a favorite series. It was supposed to be a western love story, but because it’s a middle film it ends with a tearful farewell between the lovers. And the third part doesn’t come out until next summer.

He could research the studio, flit off to Los Angeles and steal the third film for himself.

Or he could roll over, hugging his round, squishy mothman pillow, and feel sorry for himself.

Everything will be alright. In the movie, he means. The heroes will be reunited, the once-villainous one of the pair will be redeemed, and they will live happily ever after.

That must be nice.

It would be nice.

Nice to have someone kind and brave in love with him, someone who would see him as his whole self, hold him tight and touch him. Hug him when he does silly things like watch sad movies.

When was the last time someone hugged him? Or touched him at all, for that matter? As he thinks, his mind supplies only “Duck” as an answer. It’s true, the hero touches him often enough when they fight, trying to use his strength hinder Indrid’s agility.

Duck probably gives amazing hugs.

Indrid wants Duck to hug him.

No, absolutely not, he is not going down that mental path again. It will just make him frustrated at all the wrong things.

Instead, he picks up his communication pad.

The Moth: The Richardsons are hosting a gala. Anyone care to crash it? Might be some nice jewels worth stealing.

The Englishman: You git, they tapped this channel remember? That’s why the last message is from six months ago.

He groans, whacks his forehead with the pad. How is he getting so careless? Is he losing his touch?

“That settles it.” He says to the empty living room. Holding his head high, he strides into the bedroom, wall of gadgets and disguises glinting in the dark.

Then he bellyflops onto the bed, intending to stay there until the weekend.

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

Duck is worried about Indrid. And not in the “what the fuck is he planning” way. The Moth was always a careful, elusive villain. But lately he’s gotten so sloppy Duck wonders if this was another cloning or mind-control scheme gone awry.

Not to mention he’s never had to thwart Indrid on a Tuesday. Minerva and the others insisted he had to take Indrid’s comment in the monitored villain channel seriously. And so he once again tracked his location, and is now standing in the entryway, alarm system blaring. No booby traps activate, and Indrid doesn’t appear.

There’s a faint groan followed by a silhouette in a room at the end of the hall jabbing a control panel angrily before laying back down.

It has all the marks of a trap, except for a bad feeling in his gut.

He makes it to the room with no issues, finds Indrid rolled on his side on a large, black bed, his back to Duck. He’s cuddling a pillow, face pressed into it.

“Cold?”

“Go’way.”

“Indrid, you threatened to rob the D.A’s party. I’m not goin anywhere. Plus, I’m still kinda pissed about that gas you used on me. Had a cough for a week after.”

“Oh dear, that was the least likely outcome. My apolog-” Indrid stops talking when Duck uses his SmartRope to tie him up from a distance. He glowers over his shoulder, then sighs.

“C’mon, you ain’t even gonna try to get free?”

Indrid rolls halfheartedly, over and over, until he falls off the bed, disappearing from view.

Duck circles the foot of the bed, ready to settle into their usual rhythm. Indrid will have gotten out of the rope, be ready to spring, quip on his lips, as soon as Duck sees him…

….Or he could be still tied up, laying on the floor.

Okay, apparently he’s captured the Moth for real.

“Off the floor, let’s go.”

“No.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” He bends down, hoisting Indrid easily into a standing position, arms around him to steady him as he gets his balance. Indrid stiffens, bracing for a roughness Duck has zero interest in showing.

Then he sighs, so softly that Duck might have imagined it.

Duck wraps him in his arms more firmly, draws a hand across Indrids back checking the rope.

The same noise, so quick it’s almost a chirp.

“Indrid?” He doesn’t move his arms, inhales sharply when the villain drops his forehead to his shoulder, hiding his face against the neck of his suit, “You, uh, you okay there bud?”

“No.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I watched a sad movie. Now I am sad as a result. You can either leave me to my shame, or take me to your hideout that I can easily escape from.”

Duck snaps his fingers, and the rope drops to the ground. Indrid stays huddled against him.

“You know my identity, right?”

A nod. Duck unclips his mask, makes Indrid step back as pulls off the top half of his costume, leaving him in a white undershirt.

When he opens his arms again, he watches Indrid pause, no doubt contemplating if he ought to strike now. Then the villain turns away, embarrassed.

“This is absurd.”

“Nothin wrong with wantin a hug. ‘Specially not from me, I’m a hug master.”

Indrid sits down with a huff, rolling so his back is once again to Duck. A hunch paws at his mind, and he gets onto the bed, lays facing Indrid. Leaves space between them, but reaches out a hand and runs it along a strip of exposed skin, Indrid’s shirt riding up from his moth-patterned pajama pants.

Indrid whimpers, not with pain but with longing, and so Duck scoots closer, keeps stroking his side. This time when he rolls over there’s no pause, no pretending. He presses as close to Duck as he can, hands knotted in his shirt and face hiding in his neck.

He’s crying, soundlessly, the only tell the drops hitting Duck’s skin.

“Jesus, must’ve been some movie.”

A weak laugh, “It’s not even a tragedy. But regardless, I do no wish to talk about it.”

“Don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want. I can keep quiet too.”

“No, that’s ah, that’s not necessary. In fact, I would like very much to hear you talk more. About whatever you please. I lo-, ah, I am fond of your voice.”

It should bother him, how easy it is to hold Indrid like this. How natural it feels to talk about his plants, his cat, harmless adventures from his youth. How badly he wants to apologize for whatever it is that’s making the thinner man so sad.

The bigger storm of feeling swirling in his chest dampens any sparks of worry. The ways Indrig sighs contentedly and nestles closer sending protective, terrifyingly sharp affection prickling across his skin.

When the villain is sound asleep, Duck slips from the bed, tucks a blanket around those narrow shoulders, and pulls his mask back on. But before all that, he plants the most covert kiss possible on Indrid’s forehead.

The next time they meet as hero and villain, neither says a word about that night.

But neither has forgotten it.

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #superhero au #prompt fill

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