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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

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For Day 29 of Rowaelin Month

“A song fic-“

The song- “Always Been You” by Quinn XCII

CW- Mentions of miscarriage and divorce

"I can't believe you right now."

Rowan looks at his wife in frustration. She's sitting at the end of their bed, staring listlessly at the wall. The skirt of the red dress she's wearing is wrinkled, and his heart aches when he notices the mascara marks on her cheeks.

"Aelin," Rowan tries again to reach for her, but she leans away from his grasp.

"No, Rowan. I'm done."

Rowan takes a long swing from the beer in front of him. The time on his phone alerts him that he's spent most of the evening sulking at his bar.

The guys had invited him to dinner, but Rowan hadn't felt like going in light of his current situation. Instead, choosing to meander to the shady little pub they'd passed by coming from the airport.

His lawyer had sent him numerous emails. Documents to sign, agreements to approve, and papers he needed to read through before sending them to the judge.

Divorce was a pain, and Aelin wasn't making it easy.

"Hey, bud. I thought I might find you here." Fenrys slides onto the barstool next to his.

Rowan sighs and rubs the lines forming on his forehead. "Well, I thought it was obvious I didn't want company."

"Too bad. Drinking alone isn't a good look on you." Fenrys raises a hand and motions for another round of beers. "How are things going with ya know?"

"Shitty. She's never paid a dime of rent on that apartment, but she wants the lease signed into her name and for me to front the first four months of rent." Rowan cracks a peanut between his finger. He has no intent to eat the growing pile in front of him. He just craved the satisfaction of breaking something.

"Well, have you talked to her about that?" Fenrys frowns in sympathy, knowing how equally attached both parties were to the little rental.

Rowan laughs mirthlessly. "No, she said that it was better if our conversations were mediated. I always knew Aelin was catty, but she's acting like such a-"

"Don't." Fenrys gives Rowan a severe look. "I know you are upset, but don't start saying shit you'll regret."

Rowan pauses and reluctantly nods his agreement. It's the alcohol talking. He knew the problems that had festered his marriage were predominantly his responsibility.

He takes a deep breath, but a heaviness seems to keep the air from reaching his lungs fully. The weight was slowly becoming too familiar, starting the day Aelin had presented him with the papers.

Rowan wishes he'd done more. Wishes he'd paid more attention and seen the signs of Aelin's unhappiness.

The day Aelin had broken down in their bedroom had been a cold wake-up call but by then? It was already too late.

"You missed our anniversary Rowan." Aelin shouts and pulls her heels off angrily.

Rowan picks up a shoe and tries to hand it back to her. "I know. I'm sorry. It's not too late, though. We can still go out? There's still time to salvage-"

Aelin turns away from him and seems to fold in on herself. Rowan wants to reach out. He wants to hold her, but something dark is building in the air.

"I don't want your leftovers, Rowan," Aelin whispers. "That's all I get anymore—your leftover time. Your leftover attention. Whatever leftover resentment you bring home from work."

"Aelin-" he tries to cut off her depressive spiral, but she's not finished.

"You used to call me during the day." Aelin's voice cracks, and he realizes she's crying. "Every day, you would call me on your break. Now you don't even call when you leave town."

"Baby, just listen to me." He puts his hands on her shoulders, but Aelin breaks his grasp to turn around and look at him.

"Is there someone else?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. So unlike his regular Aelin."

"What?" His brain is struggling even to formulate a reply. Rowan's lack of response only causes Aelin to worry more.

Something in her cracks. There's a quiver to her lips, and her face drains of color. "Oh. Oh no."

"Aelin. I swear there is no one else." Rowan finally says, but it's too late.

"Is," Aelin presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Is it because I lost the baby?" She sucks in a hiccupping breath. "You've always wanted kids. So did I, but my fucking body doesn't work."

Aelin closes her eyes, and Rowan knows she's speaking more to herself than him, but her words gut him just the same. "My body doesn't work right. I keep giving us false hopes and wasting money on pregnancy tests. Of course, you would look for a woman who can give you what you want."

He's surprised by the sudden flare of anger in him. "Don't put words in my mouth. That will never be your fault."

They'd known right from the start their journey to parenthood would be a long one. Aelin had a family history of complicated fertility. It had seemed so trivial when they got married. Yet even knowing there could be issues, nothing quite prepared them for the pain of a miscarriage.

Aelin sniffles, unable to force back her grief, "But you resent me. Don't you?"

Rowan doesn't reply.

"It's rough," Rowan admits out loud. "I let a lot get left unsaid. I was hurt and pushed her away. Now she won't even speak to me without a lawyer present."

Fenrys nods, "It's all probably for the best. Once this is over, you guys can put this drama behind you."

"I wish it were that easy," Rowan knocks back the rest of his beer. He grimaces at the drink. It's not taking hold quickly enough.

Fenrys raises an eyebrow. "You both will be able to shut the book on this chapter of your lives and move on? Considering how bloody you two have been fighting, it sounds ideal."

They sit in silence. Fenrys takes the peanut basket away from Rowan and picks at the shells. The bartender comes by, and disgruntledly eyes Rowan's pile of crumbs as he orders a whiskey neat.

Fen was like his little brother, but Rowan found it hard to admit his real problem to him aloud. "I still love her."

The basket goes flying over the side of the counter, and Fenrys chokes on his beer. "What?"

Rowan can't look him in the eye, "We lost a baby. It was early. Aelin didn't want to tell everyone. Three years we tried to get pregnant, and finally, a test comes back positive. She was so happy."

"Shit," Fenrys says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"It was there, and then it was gone. I thought Aelin was fine. She cried for a week, but then it was like a switch flipped, and she was back to normal." Rowan clenches a napkin in his fist. "I was devastated. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to send her back into a depression." Rowan shakes his head at how stupid he'd been. "So I put some distance between us. I didn't want her to think I was upset with her."

"I didn't feel better," Rowan sips the whiskey, relishing the warmth. "It made me mad that she got over it so quickly, and I couldn't. I didn't realize that I was growing that space between us. I didn't understand how much guilt she harbored and that she tried to be strong for me. Not until she broke."

"We fought. I said all the wrong things. Aelin couldn't take it anymore, she left, and I didn't stop her." Rowan leans his head on his hands and elbows against the counter. "She's the love of my life, and I watched her walk out the door."

Fenrys sucks in a breath and sighs. "You are my best friend, and I mean this in the most loving way possible. Why the hell are you here?"

"What?" Rowan looks at Fenrys annoyed face.

"Get out of here. Go. I'll tell the boss you have ebola or some shit." Fenrys fishes his wallet out and throws cash on the bar. "I'll even cover the tab. Just leave. Now."

"What? I don't understand?"

Fenrys looks at Rowan like he's stupid. "No offense, but you are about as interesting as a brick wall. The fact you caught a girl like Aelin is astonishing. If you love her, are you honestly going to let her go on being miserable?"

"She's not miserable," Rowan scoffs.

Fenrys laughs bitterly. "You forget I'm pals with Aedion too? Aelin winds up at his house almost every evening crying her eyes out. You two are still hopelessly in love. You're just dumb and badly in need of a good conversation."

"Aelin is upset?" A sense of disbelief washes over him.

"Yes! She misses you, but she's under the impression you are off sleeping around." His face saddens. "I told Aedion you weren't. He knows I go on all of these trips with you. Aelin's just upset you're gone and needs to believe in something that can help her let go."

Rowan stands up, swaying. "I have to go."

"Hell yeah, you do. Give Aelin my love," Fenrys waves as Rowan vates the bar like a hawk out of hell.

Aelin sets the stack of papers in front of him.

Rowan had been camping out in his office ever since there disaster of an anniversary. He'd texted a few times, but every time they talked, it was like relighting a fuze. Things weren't getting better.

"What are these?" Rowan asks without looking up from his screen.

"Your ticket to freedom," Aelin sits in the chair across from him.

She looks thin, thinner than she did when Arobynn was her foster father. It physically hurts Rowan that he's causing her that kind of stress. Glancing at the papers, she slapped in front of him. His blood becomes like an ice river through his body. "Aelin-"

"I'm not the one for you. That's apparent now. I won't hold you hostage in a marriage that you aren't happy in." Aelin blinks, and a tear slides down her face. He wants to wipe it away, but he's beyond angry. She was giving up on them.

"If this is what you want," Rowan slides the papers towards him and pulls out a pen.

Rowan is racing the familiar paths to their apartment. He doesn't care that it's almost four in the morning. The plane ride between Perranth and Ornyth is mercifully short, but he can't force himself to wait another minute.

"Aelin," he yells through their door. "Baby, answer me. Open the door."

Rowan's fists tap a consistent rhythm on the door, and his heart skips a beat when a bedraggled Aelin finally appears. "Rowan, do you know what time it is?"

She's in a pair of grey flannel pajamas, not one of her usual silky numbers. Aelin's eyes are red around the edges, and her face is still dewy from the excessive amount of lotion he knows she loves to put on. Rowan knows all of her routines. All of her favorite outfits, comfort movies, and best memories. He knows the scar she has on her left hand from an abusive foster father. Rowan remembers how the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she's upset in the same spot her cousin's does.

He knows everything about her, because not only were they husband and wife, they were best friends.

How could he have let that go?

Before Aelin can ask any more questions, Rowan has swept her into his arms. "I missed you so damn much."

"Rowan, have you been drinking?" Aelin asks in a voice cracked with emotion.

His hands are running up her back, and his knows burrows into her hair. He's always loved the smell of her jasmine shampoo. "Fireheart, I never resented you for losing the baby."

"Rowan, I don't want to talk about this," Aelin tries to push him away, but he squeezes her into his chest, and she melts.

That had been his mistake. He should have held Aelik like this and never let her go on pretending to be happy. How could he know everything about this woman and not have seen past her facade? She'd suffered. His own pain had blinded him.

"Aelin, I've made so many mistakes lately." Rowan rubs the back of Aelin's neck the way she likes, and he can feel the sobs starting to build up inside of her. "But the greatest shame of my life is not being there for you when you needed me. I was stupid, Fireheart. I'm not going to be stupid any longer. This separation can't go on, we aren't any happier for it, and I can't live knowing I'm away from the other half of my soul."

Aelin cracks, and he can feel the tears wetting the front of his shoulder. "You were never home. I thought there was someone else, someone who could give you the things you wanted because I can't."

Her whole form is shuddering his arms, and Rowan squeezes tighter as if he can hold her broken pieces together. "It's always been you. I don't care if we adopt or never have any kids at all. All I need is you, baby. You are all I've ever needed."

Suddenly, hands are in Rowan's hair as Aelin crushes their lips together. The kiss is frantic, a relief of the stress they'd carried upon their shoulders.

"I missed you too," Aelin whispers in between kisses. “Gods I mussed you so much.”

The rest of their night is filled with soothing words, frantic kissing, and murmured apologies. Rowan kisses the tears from her cheeks and Aelin looks into his eyes like she’s home. Nail dig into skin as they promise never to be apart again.

For the first time in months they sleep in the same bed. Rowan sinks into a deep restful sleep with his wife in his arms once more. He loves the way her cold toes search out his heat. How Aelin fits so perfectly against his chest. When he wakes up and she’s still there, his heart nearly features from relief.

After months of pain, it's the beginning of their walk towards healing.

The days after aren't perfect. They had legal issues to sort back out, more problems to lay bare to the sunlight. There was arguing, but it lacked actual heat, and they didn't walk away feeling unloved at the end. No longer did they fight to land barbs. Their bickering now served to work towards solutions and to express needs.

Between struggles, the love began to grow back. Rowan kept his job at work, and when he was home, it was about them. He started calling her on his breaks again, and it always astonished him how much he missed the sound of her voice. They both strived to communicate their feelings better and actually listen instead of reacting.

Aelin surprised him with romantic dates, and Rowan read pages of her favorite books to her at night. They danced in the kitchen and laughed at their favorite shows.

Fixing their marriage was hard work, but Rowan and Aelin didn't mind. The separation proved that neither of them wanted a life without the other. It was to whatever end, and they wouldn't accept anything less for them.

On one Sunday morning, Rowan opens his eyes and realizes that Aelin isn't on her side of the bed. Panic surges in him, and he looks around to make sure her things are still there.

They are, and the tension eases from his shoulders until he hears soft crying from the bathroom. Darting out of bed, he grabs Aelin's bathrobe and knocks on their bathroom door. "Aelin, what's wrong?"

Had he screwed something up? Was she sick?

The lock clicks, granting him silent permission for him to come inside. Rowan pushes the door open and finds Aelin crying on the side of the tup. With gentle hands, he wraps her robe around her and throws an arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Aelin looks up at him, a radiant smile on her face. "Look."

Rowan glances down to her clenched fists and-

He blinks, once, twice. Aelin laughs at his dumbfounded face, and it breaks his paralysis. Rowan grabs her around the waist and spins her around the cramped bathroom, the positive pregnancy test clattering to the floor.

Aelin's arms wrap around his neck. The emotion in the room is raw and bittersweet, but there's a hopefulness that can't be denied. Rowan holds her tight as they process the news. When they break apart, the love between them is palpable. They had another shot at this, a fresh start.

Hards times would come and go, but good days were never far behind for them. Because for Aelin and Rowan, it's always been them.

And that's all they needed.

#throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelinmonth #angst #tog #sjmaas #throne of glass fanfiction #song fic #rowan x aelin #fenrys #day 29

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oreomonsterhunter · 3 years

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Life Sucks

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Word Count: 10K (I know.....this was a surprise for me, too)

Genre: fluff, romantic comedy

Warnings: language (our characters have a tendency to curse, apparently)

Summary: Sunshine reader is in love with love, but hasn’t had much luck with it herself. When she meets Minho, a self-proclaimed cynic and disbeliever of “true love”, she’s determined to change his life. If she can’t find the love of her life, she’s going to try to find his.

This fic was inspired by a tag game once upon a time. It was supposed to be a short drabble, but apparently I can’t hold back with Minho. Tag game featured this specific Lee Know and just kinda spiraled from there lol

Nearing the end of January, winter sometimes seemed endless. Yet when you stepped out into the morning chill, you were pleasantly surprised to find the snow banks melting a bit. Your boots splashed through small puddles as you strode down the street, and you smiled softly at the lavender sky. It was still early enough—for a Saturday—that the sidewalks weren’t too packed yet, so you indulged in a more leisurely walk than usual, dancing along to the music from your headphones. You caught a few odd looks, but you simply smiled and waved at everyone you passed. They could judge your happiness all they wanted, nothing could possibly spoil your day when it was off to such a good start—

“Shit,” you gasped, jumping back onto the curb as a car barrelled through a red light. Had you been a second slower, you would’ve been a vehicular manslaughter case. “Asshole,” you hollered after them, flipping two middle fingers in the air.

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose, attempting to banish the exasperation and get back into your music again. More careful this time, you double checked both ways down the street before entering the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, your streak of bad luck continued. Just as you hopped off the street, a truck passed by behind you, tires bumping through a pothole. And with the recent snowmelt, this resulted in a spray of cold water hitting the backs of your legs.

You froze, mind stuttering as you tried to comprehend how the morning had taken such a turn, all within your first five minutes outside. Pursing your lips, you twisted around to inspect the damage. The dirty water might stain your jeans, but the most pressing matter was the cold and wet denim now plastered to your legs from your calves to the backs of your knees. You bit your lip, contemplating just turning back and spending the whole day in your apartment. Pajamas, a blanket, hot coffee and tea readily available. Maybe a movie, just because you could.

Then you shook your head, determined to make the best of the day. You wanted a cappuccino, dammit. And chocolate babka from the cafe. No homicidal drivers or puddles could stop you. It was a Saturday, just past sunrise, and you had a whole day ahead of you. No need to wallow a few minutes in. And besides, who knew what would happen.

You set off for the cafe, determination heavy in each step. You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it was thinner than before. You switched to a different playlist so that your boots could thump the concrete in time. And you breathed, spooling calmness back into yourself.

It was a Saturday. You might meet the love of your life today. And nothing could stop you from finding out.

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and you softened a little further, relaxing into the familiar surroundings. You hardly even noticed the damp denim chafing your legs as you skipped up to the counter.

Ruth, currently manning the register, chuckled as she rang up another customer. “Well would you look at that, the sun came shining right in our front door,” she said.

“Good morning,” you giggled. You waved to Jonathan, Ruth’s husband, in the back. The couple had been running the little cafe and bakery for years, and you were a faithful customer, coming by at least once a week since you first moved to the neighborhood.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he called, hands busy kneading dough for what would doubtless become something delicious. You hummed thoughtfully, considering the baked goods in the glass case before you.

“Your usual?”

You tapped a finger on your chin, “You know, the poppy seed muffins look awfully tempting. I might just have to switch it up today.”

Ruth nodded, tapping on the register. You handed over the requisite bills and she shooed you off, sliding the muffin over the counter. “Go on now, a table opened up by the window, perfect spot. I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you said, but Ruth was already fussing over the espresso machine. Shaking your head, you weave through the maze of tables and chairs, dodging patrons on your way to the window seat.

You had your eyes on the prize, and you were only a few feet from the chair when you pulled up short. A stranger, their back to you, plopped down in your chair. You blinked, suddenly and painfully aware of your wet pants, the muffin growing cool in your hand, the fact that you could give up now and walk home but perhaps you’d just get hit by a car and never get a chance to enjoy your breakfast. You sighed deeply, breathing out through your nose as you closed your eyes, seeking inner peace or something.

“Can I help you?”

The voice knocked you out of your momentary meditation, and you looked at the table thief in surprise. He loosened the fluffy scarf around his neck before sliding his arms out of his winter coat. A beret, of all things, tilted dangerously to the side before he adjusted it on his head. He looked like some kind of absent-minded professor, but for the youthful features that peered up at you. A sharp nose, tinted red from the cold, and a soft mouth. Dark and depthless eyes, paired with high cheekbones and a cutting jawline.

You realized you were staring when he waved at you, eyes widened. “Hello?”

“Um, sorry, I just,” you stammered, lost for words.

“Do you want to sit or something?”

You stopped again, mouth dropping open. You checked the time—you had fifteen minutes or so, enough time for another table to open up. “Uh, sure, if that’s ok with you. I was hoping for a table, I’m meeting someone,” you said, beginning to ramble.

“No problem, I don’t need all this space, and I’ll head out soon,” he cut you off, raising one brow at you when you continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.

Ruth’s arrival with your cappuccino was what ultimately forced your hand. You sat down, gratefully accepting the drink, your smile less shaky with a taste of the familiar.

“I didn’t think they did table service,” the stranger mused.

“They don’t, I just know the owners,” you shook your head, cutting yourself off when you saw his disinterest. “Sorry, I should introduce myself,” you switched tacks, giving your name with a bright grin. So what if it was forced?

The stranger looked at you, and his lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk. “Minho,” he responded.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward, and you found yourself leaning forward desperately. “So how’s your day so far?”

Minho snorted, reaching for his own drink—an iced americano, you guessed, despite it being the middle of winter. “Probably better than yours.”

“What?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

He gestured to your legs with one hand. “Unfortunate accident this morning?”

Your lips tightened, holding back a frown, “Puddles, you know.”

Minho sighed, sounding sympathetic now, rather than snarky. “Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?” And there was the sarcasm again.

“One or two bad things doesn’t mean life sucks,” you countered, sipping your coffee. “I’m excited about the rest of the day, it’s not even eight in the morning! And it’s the weekend, and it’s sunny and warm, and I have hot coffee and a delicious muffin, and the world is out there and ready to be enjoyed,” you finished, lips curling up as you looked out the window at the sunrise, the horizon flaming golden.

“Sounds like you’ve never had a job,” a harsh voice cut into your admiration. Your smile faltered as you looked back at Minho. You gaped at him, brain processing the way this soft-looking boy sounded like the king of cynics. The last thing you expected from someone wearing a fuzzy beret and looking like a sly teddy bear was this blunt conversation. “No one’s that excited when they have to work fifty plus hour weeks to pay the bills. Trust fund baby?” he inquired, sipping calmly.

Yep, there was no fighting the frown now. “No, and I don’t appreciate the judgement. Why can’t I just be happy?”

Minho smirked, “Never said you can’t. I just wanted to see if you had a personality beyond being Positive Polly.”

Your eyes flamed, but your phone buzzed, distracting you before you could smite the snarky boy. You fumbled at your coat pocket, whipping out the device to check for a new message. You slumped—just a spam email.

“Waiting for something important?” Minho asked, tilting his head.

You huffed, shoving the device back in your pocket. “As a matter of fact, yes,” you sassed, tossing your hair over one shoulder. “I’m waiting for a date.”

He hummed at you, expression unreadable. “You’re too excited.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the cafe.

“You’re significantly early, watching the clock like a hawk, and they haven’t even texted you an update.” He took a long sip. “What time is your date anyway? Eight in the morning? They’re not coming.”

Your smile faltered again. Damn him, why was a total stranger dimming your joy? You shoved your chair back, even though no tables had opened up yet. You’d wait by the counter and chat with Ruth. Anything was better than this asshole.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock himself. “Five past, and still nothing,” he commented.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

A spark appeared in his eyes, and he grinned. “Good to see you have some backbone,” he commented.

You could’ve sworn steam was coming out of your ears, but your phone vibrated again. You checked the lock screen, seeing a new text pop up from Jay: hey I can’t make it. You swiped on the message, but nothing followed it. Seriously? That was it? No explanation, and not even a half-assed apology?

“Told you so.”

You spun to face Minho, glare renewed. “And what makes you so sure of yourself and my date?” you demanded.

He snorted, “Life sucks; so does dating. The only thing you’re guaranteed is disappointment.”

Your anger faded slightly as you watched the boy sip his iced coffee, his silhouette stark against the snow outside. When you took a breath to get past your own mingled frustration—both at Jay and your new snarky companion—you saw the tense lines of his face. You wondered what disappointment had left Minho so defensive.

“Alright, enlighten me,” you said, throwing yourself back in the chair. This time, you settled in, sliding out of your coat and leaning forward with your coffee. “Who broke your heart?”

A look of disgust slid over those pretty features. “No one broke anything,” he scoffed, turning to the window and giving you another dose of his sharp profile. You rested your chin on your hand thoughtfully, just watching him and waiting. “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered. “You’re not my therapist.”

“But I am a perfectly kind stranger. And strangers are the easiest people to talk to,” you said sunnily.

“And don’t sound so happy.”

“No can do, people call me Sunshine for a reason.”

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not calling you that.”

Now you were the one with a cocky smirk, “Why, does it hurt your delicate masculinity?”

A beat of silence, and then, “One of my best friends is called Sunshine.” Minho looked at you sharply. “I’m not calling you that,” he said again.

You waved him off, oddly touched in spite of his gruff tone. This human version of grumpy cat had a best friend named Sunshine? Incredible, and surprisingly soft of him. “Ok fine, no arguments from me. Tell me about her. Or him, whoever it is,” you stumbled over your words.

Minho didn’t seem to notice your blundering. He stared somewhere beyond your shoulder, “No one broke my heart.” Then his eyes focused on you again as he asserted, “I’ve just experienced enough to know better than to hope blindly. The world isn’t looking out for you.”

Humming, you folded your arms as you considered his statements. “Well, I believe in true love,” you started.

“Why am I not surprised?” Minho groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I also believe in the power of positive thinking,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Ignoring his dramatic moaning, you steamrolled ahead. “Yeah, my morning turned out pretty shitty, but if I just go crawl back in bed, I’ll have wasted a whole day over something as silly as wet jeans.”

“Wet jeans and being stood up.”

“And being stood up,” you allowed, gritting your teeth to maintain a smile. “But if I let that stop me from living my life, then I’ve let the negative win. If I go check out a new dating app or two and keep trying, one day I’ll have something good.”

Minho put his coffee down, resting one hand on the table as he met your eyes, gaze hard. “Listen, nothing good comes out of a dating app. You’re wasting your time. And didn’t you say you hate doing that?”

You wanted to argue, but your friends had told you much of the same. Minho was just less polite in his delivery. But you hadn’t had any luck with real life men, either. Case in point: your irritating argument with the perfectly attractive guy in front of you. So that left apps, even if the pickings were regrettably slim. And only growing slimmer, if the ghost date was any indication. You didn’t have the guts to tell Minho that this wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up.

Then you had an idea. Your grin widened, and Minho’s irritated expression faded into apprehension. “Well if I’m doomed to never find love,” you started, batting your eyelashes teasingly. “Why don’t I look for the love of your life instead?”

Minho blanched, recoiling with enough force that his chair rocked back on two legs. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” you beamed at him. “I’ve been a successful matchmaker for a bunch of my friends, too. I’ve just had trouble finding my own love interest.”

“What is this, a rom com?” he hissed.

You clapped your hands, overcome with excitement for the first time since the puddle. “Oh, a romance, I wish,” you nearly swooned at the thought. “I promise I’ll do my best. You’d get along great with one of my friends, they’re just as irritable as you.”

Minho exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead with one hand. He closed his eyes, muttering, “What am I doing here?”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. No matchmaking until I know you better,” you amended, whipping out a notebook and pen from your bag. You had just about everything in there—you never knew what emergency might pop up, like brainstorming a match for a stranger. “What are some of your hobbies? Favorite color? Ooh, what about first date activities you love? Oh my goodness, wait, are you looking for men or women?”

Part of you expected Minho to shove his chair back and leave. You wouldn’t be too upset, that just meant you’d have the table to yourself, even if you weren’t waiting on a date anymore. But you didn’t totally hate this guy. And another part of you kind of felt bad for him. He’d never experienced love! Not that you’d had a taste of true love, either, but you knew what was out there. And it was a shame that he didn’t see that too. It was like...someone hating your favorite holiday—unacceptable, if only because you wanted everyone to enjoy it as much as you did.

You begrudgingly admitted that another teeny tiny part of you thought he was too attractive to be so cynical of love. Some lucky girl out there was waiting for Minho, and you were gonna help her out, even if it meant dragging the man kicking and screaming towards her.

But Minho didn’t do what you expected. He didn’t storm off, coffee in hand, scarf flapping in the wind dramatically. He sighed and stood up, but made no move for his coat. “If we’re doing this, I need more coffee,” he said, then turned and made a beeline for the counter without any further explanation.

You blinked after him, more than a bit surprised. He was...going along with this? You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully, watching his shoulders flex beneath his turtleneck as he talked to Ruth. His head turned slightly, and you caught a glimpse of his smile—a real one—taking your breath away.

Now, if only you could get him to smile like that for any potential dates. You clicked your pen with renewed vigor, laughing when Minho approached with a new coffee, exasperation written into every line of his face.

* * * * *

It was a lovely Thursday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your comfiest pajamas. Your only companions were a blanket, a mug of tea, and your phone, which you checked every fifteen seconds. The first time all week that Minho hadn’t answered your messages, and it was the night of his first date. You were buzzing with anticipation, practically vibrating as you waited for news, not caring who it came from first.

Finally, you gave up waiting, throwing the blanket as you went to reheat your tea, since you’d let it grow cold while refreshing your messages. The second you reached the kitchen, however, you heard a buzz. You dashed to the couch, scrambling for your phone to find a text from Mari:

He had to dip early, lame date

You nearly screeched. He left? Your fingers pounded the screen:

What!?!?!! Did he say whyyy?

Mari’s response was short and to the point:

An “emergency”

You could read between the lines. Mari was irritated, to say the least, since the blind date had been your brilliant idea. But what on earth had happened with Minho? Your stomach dropped, considering that he might have an actual emergency. You quickly tapped out a message to him to check in, gnawing your lip in worry.

Hey, Mari said you had an emergency, is everything ok?

You waited what felt like ten thousand years before finally seeing the little bubbles appear. His message, however, was not worth the wait:

Didn’t get on with her

You fumed, pressing dial on his contact with enough force, you were amazed your screen didn’t crack. “You left because you didn’t like her?” you screeched as soon as he picked up.

“Yes.”

Gaping like a fish, you fumbled for words to explain how bad that was. “You can’t just—”

“But I did,” Minho cut you off.

“But you can’t,” you said, exasperated. “Jeez, I thought you knew what you were doing. Obviously not. You need a practice date or something so my friends don’t murder you.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to squawk indignantly. “I do not need practice,” he started.

“Yes, obviously you do. You might look like a player but you’ve obviously never talked to a girl for more than ten minutes,” you scolded him. “Who leaves in the middle of a date? With that bad of an excuse?”

“I hate wasting my time. Didn’t we discuss how we should avoid doing that with our love lives,” he snarked.

You groaned, “There’s a difference between not wasting your time and being rude as heck.”

“So what? She was abrasive, rude, cynical, and had a terrible sense of humor,” Minho said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “I can’t believe you’re friends.”

“That’s a pretty great description of you, too,” you sassed back, irritation taking over. “We might not be that close, but you can’t just insult everyone I set you up with.”

“Who said I wanted you to set me up with anyone?”

“I assumed you did, otherwise why are you going along with this?” you tried your best to calm down, lower your voice. But something about Minho just put your back up.

“Uh,” Minho actually seemed lost for words. Your ears perked up, eager to catch his answer. “My mom wants to set me up with her friends’ daughters,” he tossed out at last.

Seemed a bit too easy. “Sure,” you drawled, leaning back on the couch.

“Yes, really,” he sneered, and you giggled, picturing the exact expression on his face.

“Ok, whatever you say,” you allowed, laughing slightly. “But you’re still going on a practice date. Tomorrow night, six o’clock. Meet me at the cafe. If you’re not there, I’m gonna find your mom and help her out.”

You hung up on him before he could argue with you, grinning madly as you concocted your plan.

* * * * *

You half expected to wait for Minho to show up, much like your friend did, but much to your surprise, he was waiting for you under the awning when you arrived. “You’re late,” Minho accused, and you grinned sheepishly. You may or may not have lied about the time. Just in case.

“The queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early,” you quipped. Minho rolled his eyes—absolutely what you expected. You giggled, linking your arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk with you.

“Woah,” Minho yanked at his arm, trying to free himself. “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have asked.”

“You’re too much of a grinch, you’d just say no.”

“Exactly. It’s called consent, sweetheart.”

He nearly fell at the sudden freedom when you released him, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets to escape the chill. “Alright, follow me then, you unromantic dork.” He muttered under his breath as you skipped away, having fun despite his attitude. Time to show him what a real date looked like.

Five seconds later, and not even two blocks from the cafe, Minho groaned, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

A pause, then, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you told him, not for the first time. He’d texted you all night, demanding to know, but your lips were sealed.

Except a certain someone seemed determined to annoy the answers out of you. “Are we there yet?”

You sighed, your skip feeling a little less peppy. “No.”

“Are we—”

“Minho,” you ground out. “If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking you to get your nails done.”

“Ok, sure. I could use a bit of pampering,” he said, the epitome of casual.

You stared at him. “This feels like a trick,” you said slowly.

A grin flashed, “That’s because it is. It’s after six, they’re all closed by now.” But then he frowned slightly. “Now you have me wanting a manicure though, I’ve never gotten one.”

Your brows were practically in your hairline but you just nodded. “Ok, another time, then,” you agreed. You caught sight of a familiar street sign and quickened your steps. “Almost there,” you were nearly vibrating in excitement. You felt Minho’s eyes on you, your skin prickling with awareness, but you ignored him in favor of racing around the street corner. And there it was—the zoo! All lit up...all lit…...not lit up at all. Your feet stumbled to a halt.

“So the zoo is open at night now?” Minho inquired at your shoulder.

You gaped at the dark expanse before you. “But where are the lights?” Because indeed, not a single light was on in the zoo. You’d just visited, not too long ago, and they had been open for night visits, so guests could walk around and see the trees all lit up, and wave hello to a few animals in the enclosures.

“Lights?”

“The Christmas lights,” you cried out, frantic. “They were up the last time I was here.”

“You mean a month ago? For Christmas? Back when it was still December?” Minho questioned you. You nearly snapped back before you realized. It was January. February next week. Of course the lights were down, what kind of idiot were you?

You groaned in defeat, slumping against the wall and sliding down to a crouch. You threw your arms over your head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, then. I’m sorry I made you walk all this way,” you mumbled into your knees, wishing you could disappear into the sidewalk. Gosh, and you’d really dragged him along, hadn’t you? He obviously hadn’t been that excited, and all of your mysterious “it’s a surprise” nonsense only made this a bigger disappointment.

“It’s a Friday night, things are still open, you know,” Minho pointed out. “So what if you somehow forgot a whole month happened. I forget the year sometimes.”

“What are you, an old man?” you tried to perk up, but the tease fell flat.

“I’m only twenty-two. You must be ancient.” You picked up your head to look at him. A faint smile curled on his lips as he played along.

“Oh my gosh, I’m your noona. If you’re a grandpa, then I’m practically in the grave,” you forced out a chuckle.

Minho’s smile grew, and he extended a hand. “Come on, get up. Night’s still young.”

For a moment, you simply stared at his hand. Then you met his dark gaze, “You aren’t going to take advantage of this? I thought you hated the whole practice date idea.”

He sighed, wiggling his fingers at you. “I don’t hate spending time with you, alright? Now get up or I’m leaving you here.”

Your mouth twitched, a true smile threatening to form, and not just a cover-up. You slid your hand in his gratefully, and Minho pulled you to your feet with more strength than you thought he had. You blinked at him, realizing he hadn’t let your hand go yet. But the second his eyes followed your gaze, he dropped it, sliding his hands into his pants pockets instead.

“So where to?” Minho asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, remembering a pretty little outdoor skating rink, but the skies cracked open, interrupting you with a sudden deluge. You gasped as the first fat raindrops splattered on your forehead, eyes widening before you made a mad dash for the nearest storefront, Minho already a few steps ahead of you.

You’d barely been in the rain for a minute, but the icy water had your teeth chattering already. Had it been any colder, this would’ve been pretty snow. Instead, you got an arctic firehose.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you peered down the street. Beside you, Minho checked a weather app, hissing through his teeth. “Looks like rain all night,” he muttered.

You groaned again, wanting to cry. You’d completely messed up the evening, first with the lights, and now by not checking the weather. You’d planned an outdoor date, why hadn’t you checked?

A hand brushed your shoulder lightly, barely detectable through your coat. “Um, this might not be what you had planned, but my apartment is actually on this street. Wanna just order pizza?”

Your first instinct was a vehement “no”, but you stopped that answer on the tip of your tongue. Minho wasn’t one of the sleazy guys you’d gone out with in the past, the ones who’d thought an apartment invite was more than that. Plus, this wasn’t a real date or anything. It was a practice date, just pals, nothing crazy about that. So why couldn’t you grab pizza at his place? Especially with the monsoon and a long walk back to your own place. And no umbrella.

You found yourself nodding, shivers wracking your body. Minho’s teeth flashed in another fierce grin, “Alright, sweetheart, let’s make a run for it. In three, two, one—”

The two of you raced down the slick sidewalks, dodging lampposts and puddles alike. You skidded to a stop at one of the apartment buildings, nearly slamming into Minho’s back as he yanked the door open, and the two of you tumbled into the warm lobby. Once out of the wet, Minho shook his head like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere, and you shrieked, hands coming up to protect yourself.

“Sorry,” Minho laughed, not sounding apologetic in the least. “I’m on the sixth floor, so we can take the elevator,” he said, pointing you in the right direction.

The ride up was awkward; the only sound was your jacket zipper rattling from the force of your shivers. Minho unlocked the door to his apartment, waving a hand dramatically. You stepped inside tentatively, toeing off your boots by the door. You watched Minho follow suit, then pad over to a closet along one wall. Your confusion abated when he emerged with towels, passing one to you with raised brows. The two of you were still soaking wet, and you didn’t want to track rainwater all over his apartment.

Minho was already drying his head off one-handed. When he stopped, letting the towel slip down to rest on his shoulders, you giggled at the sight of his hair. He made a face, only adding to the comic effect of his hair standing on end.

“I know you drink coffee, but what about hot tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen while you continued to dab at your clothes.

You nodded enthusiastically, eyeing the space from where you stood in the entryway. It was pretty minimal, not a ton of color or anything, but cozy. Black couch, gray curtains, some photos on the wall. Fairly tidy, but definitely nothing out of a magazine. A meow at your feet interrupted your train of thought, and you looked down to coo at the cats that were slowly approaching. “Well aren’t you gorgeous,” you complimented the bravest of the three, who nosed at your hand gingerly.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho said, pointing at each cat in turn. He leaned on the counter while waiting for the water to boil.

“They’re adorable,” you beamed at him. “And much more friendly.”

“Hey,” he narrowed his eyes. “I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed at him. Your mirth was interrupted by a fierce shiver, reminding you that you might not be dripping wet, but your clothes were still icy cold.

Minho eyed you as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I have sweats you can borrow.”

You started to protest, but the next shudder of cold made you change your mind. Besides, you didn’t want to get his furniture soaking wet. So you nodded and waited while Minho disappeared into the bedroom. You shuffled awkwardly to the kitchen, toes curling in your socks.

Minho reappeared. “Here,” he said, voice gruff. He pressed a pair of sweatpants into your hands, along with a fuzzy looking sweatshirt. Your turtleneck wasn’t too wet, just a little damp along the neckline, but you slid the extra layer over your head gratefully. Before you had to ask him, Minho pointed to a half-open door. “The bathroom. I’m going to get something dry on, too,” he added.

You smiled in relief, escaping to the small bathroom gratefully. As soon as the door was shut, you were scrabbling at the soaking wet denim, peeling it down your legs. You grimaced, not missing this experience at all after the last time. Minho’s sweatpants were soft and oh so warm by comparison. And fleece-lined, too. You slung your jeans over the shower rod to dry, rolled the ankles of your borrowed pants—just enough so you wouldn’t be drowning in excess material—and went in search of that promised hot tea.

You found Minho on the phone in the kitchen. When he noticed you, he waved you closer. “Do you like anything on your pizza?” he asked.

“Um,” you scrambled to collect your thoughts. “Cheese?”

Minho cracked a smile. “Cheese it is then. And peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil,” he rattled off what sounded like an entire grocery list. When he noticed you staring, Minho raised his brows in confusion. You shook your head with a small laugh, leaving him to it. On the counter behind him, you found two mugs, tea bags already steeping. You wrapped your cold fingers around one, humming in contentment. Finally, the shivers stopped.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” Minho asked, but then he froze, grimacing. “Oh shit, sorry. I mean, you can go home if you want. I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t want to stay. I have an umbrella, and you can keep the sweats I guess—”

“Sure how about a romance?” you interrupted him, grabbing your tea and making your way to the couch. You plopped down, eyeing Minho, who was still stiff as a board by the counter. You giggled at him, “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from Mr. Darcy.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor. An indignant expression wiped away any trace of sheepishness, and he stomped over to find the remote. “Yeah right,” he scoffed. “I’m not watching a romance.”

“A romantic comedy then,” you decided, snatching the remote out of his hands.

He grabbed it back, lightning quick. “Action.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Drama. Fight me and I’ll demand a Hallmark movie.”

Minho smirked, “Fight me and I’ll make it a horror movie.”

You groaned in disgust, glaring at him. “Ok, fine, let’s fight over it. Rock, paper, scissors?”

He rolled his eyes, but ended up on the couch beside you, holding one fist out to meet yours. “Best out of three,” he smirked. “Get ready for a zombie fest.”

After a crushing defeat, Minho slumped on the couch, moaning dramatically when you selected Pride and Prejudice. You giggled at the grumpy man beside you, and his similarity to Mr. Darcy. Most notably their matching pouts.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t interrupt the movie once. Sure, he grumbled at first, but when you snuck a peek at him after about half an hour, you caught him watching intently.

You’d seen the movie at least a dozen times by now, but you still couldn’t resist the pull, and your heart fluttered at the brush of hands the way it did every time. Your breath caught at every interaction, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away to save your life. Until the pizza arrived, at least. You were about to press play, two slices at the ready, when Minho looked over at you. “Why are you so in love with the idea of love?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a moment, taken aback. “What?”

“Not just the movie, but real life,” he said, twisting to face you fully. “Why are you so determined to find Mr. Right? Or to set me up on the perfect date?”

“Don’t you want to find someone?” you questioned him, backing away from the question. “You can’t possibly be putting up with me just to avoid your mom playing matchmaker. I’m literally no better than that.”

He scoffed, “You haven’t met my mother.”

“Maybe I should team up with her.”

“Oh please no.”

You grinned, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Oh please yes,” you teased. “Two matchmakers are better than one.”

Minho shot you an unimpressed look. “I told her I already have a girlfriend, but I felt bad lying to her, so I’m hanging out with you instead.”

You nearly choked on your pizza. So you were a pity friend, great. Or worse, you weren’t even real friends, you were just a convenient excuse to alleviate Minho’s guilt complex. You set the slice back down, no longer hungry.

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right? That was a joke. I’m sarcastic all the time, remember?” Minho nudged you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Minho sighed, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours. “I might not love the matchmaking, or this dumb movie, but I guess I’m glad we bumped into each other so I could tell you to dump ghost boy from Tinder.” You snorted, biting back a small smile. Noticing this, Minho forged ahead, “And this better not be part of the act to get me to forget my first question, because you still haven’t answered.”

“Minho,” you whined. “Why does it matter?”

“Pretend it’s girls night. We’re practically having a sleepover, minus the nail polish and braids. This is the part where we talk about boys,” he smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Do we need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You next?”

Your brows rose. “I thought you didn’t like romance, how do you even know that movie?”

“.....No reason. Now answer the question already,” he huffed.

You sighed, curling up on your end of the couch. “I guess it’s just something I’m not good at, so I can’t help wanting it to fall in my lap,” you said. “I can’t pull all nighters to find love, that’s not how it works.”

“Well no, studying isn’t the answer,” Minho agreed.

“My parents have the kind of love I want. I’m not rosy-eyed or anything, I know it’s hard work and commitment. But the friendship—that’s what I love the most.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, Minho chewing on your words. And you mused on your recent attempts to find a partner. Perhaps dating apps weren’t the way to go, you admitted. Not to Minho, though. He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Maybe,” Minho started. “You should look for new friends instead of new boyfriends.”

“What do you think this is?” you laughed. “I’ve been setting you up, not looking on Tinder or whatever for myself.”

“Good, you’ve wasted enough time on those trash apps already,” he groused.

You grinned at him, “So I guess you don’t want me to start looking for Bumble girls, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

You giggled, but Minho pressed play on the movie before you could tease him any more. To your surprise, he looked as interested in the ending as you were. You doubted he was misty-eyed like you, though.

A yawn snuck up on you, and you glanced at the clock in surprise. How had it gotten so late? “I should probably be going,” you started.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” Minho grabbed your dishes to bring to the sink, snatching them right out of your hands. You blinked after him, then shrugged, making your way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, your jeans were still damp, but they’d be fine for the walk home. You squeezed yourself back into the denim, emerging with the borrowed sweatpants. “Laundry?” you asked, since Minho was busy with the dishes.

“Just inside the bedroom, next to the door,” he gestured with his chin, hands still sudsy.

You slid the sweatshirt off as well, placing both in the hamper by the door. Despite your curiosity, you didn’t linger, but you caught a glimpse of an equally tidy bedroom. And a large bed with dark sheets. Why was your heart pounding? Mr. Darcy hadn’t been that distracting. You shook your head, hurrying out of the room. Only then you came face-to-face with Minho, and you had to fight a blush. What on earth was wrong with you?

The awkwardness continued, and you felt strange and itchy the whole walk home with Minho. You were hyper aware of how close you were under the umbrella, of the way your elbows brushed every few steps. Minho was surprisingly quiet, as well. Ordinarily, he’d be making fun of you by now.

As you walked the last block together, you tilted your head to look at him. “So tonight was a fail,” you said.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“The practice date?” you giggled at his expression. “Total failure.”

Minho’s frown deepened, “I thought it was fun. Even if you made me watch a period drama.”

“Oh no, it was wonderful, but the date part of it was a bust. We need to do another, since tonight doesn’t count,” you told him, slowing to a stop in front of your building’s entrance.

“Well what does count?” Minho asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

“Hmm, something in public. No one ever does a private first date, and obviously that’s what you need the most help with,” you sassed. “Maybe I’ll kick your ass in laser tag or something.”

“Maybe I should beat you in bowling,” Minho retorted.

You hummed, tapping a finger off your chin. “You might be onto something, actually. How about you come up with our next practice date. That’s your homework.”

“Since when is this a class? With homework assignments?” Minho demanded.

“Oh shut it, or I’m making profiles for you on every dating app I know.”

* * * * *

You looked over at Minho, suspicion tugging at you. “So when you said you should beat me at bowling, did you mean it?”

“I’m going to try and win at whatever we do, I’m competitive like that,” Minho said, holding the door open for you.

“No, I mean, are you secretly a professional bowler or something?” you corrected, making your way towards the shoe rental.

Minho chuckled, “I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say.”

You opened your mouth to object, but decided he was right. “You better not be hustling me,” you threatened, slapping cash down on the counter.

“Pay per game or pay per hour?” the attendant asked.

Minho cheekily slid a few bills beside yours. “Best out of three?”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, watching as the attendant took his money instead of yours.

At least Minho looked just as goofy as you did. The brightly colored bowling shoes looked very out of place against his “cool guy” outfit. You’d already poked fun at him. Who showed up to a date wearing sweats? Not that he looked bad in them, but you had at least dressed up a bit. Then again, you might not have worn a dress if you had known that bowling was on the agenda. You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater dress, feeling a bit out of place as you looked at all of the other couples. Jeans, slacks, more jeans...why had you decided to dress up? You should’ve known Minho would pick something casual.

“Hey, you wanna go first, or should I?” Minho’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you shook the negativity away gratefully.

“You go ahead,” you called over to him, trying to find a smile. What were you so worked up about? It’s not like this was a real date. You could have shown up in a potato sack if you wanted, you weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all Minho. On that thought, maybe he had the better idea after all. You eyed his sweatpants enviously. You knew how comfy they were, and they’d doubtless be better than the tights you were terrified of ripping.

“Ok sweetheart, prepare for a thrashing,” Minho joked, selecting a bowling ball from the rack.

“You prepare for a thrashing,” you countered, despite knowing it was an empty threat. You probably needed the bumpers if you wanted anything but gutter balls. Then you caught sight of the names on the board. “Did you seriously make my nickname ‘Loser’? What are we, five?”

Minho smirked as he passed you. “We’ve been over this, I’m a grandpa, you’ve got one foot in the grave. Childish antics are beneath us,” he said with a laugh.

“So you’re ‘Lee Know’?” you inquired, curious about his chosen nickname.

Minho turned to face you, tilting his head. “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

“...Am I supposed to call you that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Call me whatever you want. Just not ‘asshole’,” he joked. Your heart warmed, and a true smile found its way to your lips. You watched as Minho wiggled a little, eyeing the pins at the end of the lane. Then, to your utmost surprise, he turned around and rolled the ball between his legs.

“What?” you choked on a laugh, nearly falling over at the sight. Minho backed up, and you both watched as the ball rolled down the lane, painfully slow. It ended up knocking down half of the pins, much to your surprise. Minho just looked proud as he picked up another ball. Miracle of miracles, he wound up with a spare.

You had no words, didn’t even bother trying to explain how his technique had any sort of success. Your own attempt was...pitiful by comparison. Your form looked good, but both balls wound up in the gutter in a matter of seconds.

Minho didn’t waste the opportunity to gloat. “Told you I’d beat you at bowling,” he said with a wink.

You grumbled, flopping down onto the bench next to him. “I didn’t expect you to be successful at the toddler technique.”

“Give it a go, maybe we’ll change your nickname if you win,” he laughed, getting up for his turn.

Halfway through the game, you even tried the ‘toddler technique’. This was also a fail, made worse with the mortifying realization that your underwear would be visible if you bent over too far. When your attempt ended up in the gutter, you resolved to get bumpers for the next game.

But Minho had other plans. You had just approached the lane when you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Keep your wrist straight, you keep twisting it at the last second,” he said.

You turned to face him, finding him close behind you. “Anything else, wise one?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he smiled at you. This close, you could swear his eyes were twinkling. “We can both go get bumpers next round, I need them almost as much as you. I’m amazed at my own streak of luck tonight.”

“I’m terrible at bowling,” you whined, looking away from him. Your cheeks felt warm. Gosh, it was embarrassing to be this bad.

“We can go do something else, we don’t even need to finish this game, let alone all three. As long as you’re having fun, I’m happy.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but looked away quickly. He was watching you so intently, the flush burned hotter, threatening to run down your neck. “I’m sorry you paid for so many games. We can definitely finish them, it’s fine—”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Minho murmured. You looked at him in surprise, surprised to hear him sounding sincere rather than snarky. “Otherwise, I’d be a shitty friend, wouldn’t I?”

“Right, yeah. An asshole friend,” you agreed, nearly stumbling over the words.

“Ok, I’ll let you focus on your first strike of the night. Don’t overthink it,” he reminded you, walking back to the bench.

You nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in your stomach that reminded you of disappointment. And you sank another one right into the gutter.

Minho’s solution to the bowling fiasco was consolation ice cream. Somewhat surprising, since a part of you had expected him to gloat. Instead, he talked about anything and everything but bowling, entertaining you while you both sat at the window of the local shop. You simply watched him, enraptured. He had hardly opened up at all to you at first. Visiting his apartment felt like the first peek into the real Minho. The happy memories captured in picture frames, the handmade mementos here and there on shelves, all hints as to the soft interior of your once-prickly friend. Now he was regaling you with stories of his best friends—brothers, by the sound of it. Loving rivalry, playful banter, sibling torment. And the look on his face...pride. He was proud of them, his family.

Then you paused, tilted your head to look at him anew. When had Minho stopped being prickly? Where was the cynical, negative, angsty boy you’d befriended, partly out of spite? When had he stopped trying to hold you back with barbed wire edges?

When Minho caught your gaze, he lifted one brow, mouth twitching into a crooked smile. “See something you like?” he sassed you. But his remark was devoid of bitterness. It wasn’t mocking, it was warm, inviting. It was asking you to join in on the joke.

“Yeah,” you said softly. Then you turned up the wattage on your smile, grinning widely at him. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Minho rolled his eyes at your antics, spinning his ice cream cone between his fingers. But hidden behind your grin was more than a little truth.

* * * * *

You knocked on the door, stepping back tentatively. You could hear raucous laughter on the other side, which would ordinarily have you curious, maybe a little excited to join in. Not tonight. Right now, standing in the hallway outside Minho’s apartment, you were nervous as hell. And on top of it all, you were nearly an hour late, having dragged your feet the whole way there.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, shifting from foot to foot. It felt like meeting the parents, which was dumb. Firstly, you and Minho were not dating. Secondly, these were his best friends, not his parents. And thirdly, you and Minho were good friends. You had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.

Which was why you were currently worrying all over the place about meeting Minho’s best friends. What if they hated you? Or worse, what if they pitied you? You thought you’d disappear into a crack in the earth if that happened.

Before you could spend too long contemplating your inevitable end, the door swung open, and a boy came rushing out at you. You gasped, jumping back before he could run into you.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” he blurted, skidding to a stop, then immediately taking off running down the hallway.

You blinked in confusion, but your eyes only widened when a second boy came barrelling out of the apartment after the first. “Minho?”

Minho paused briefly, eyes alighting on your stiff figure. “Hi! Um, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be right back. Go on in,” he waved at you, breaking into a jog, and then a sprint.

Immensely confused, you peered into the apartment, now that the door was wide open. Now or never, you told yourself firmly. Easing through the doorway, you caught sight of six more boys in various states of chaos. Upon noticing your entrance, they all froze. “Uh, hello there,” came a voice on your right. You looked over to see two boys in the kitchen, appearing to be mid-struggle with a bag of popcorn. “You must be Minho’s friend, he said you’d be coming.”

You gave a tiny wave, pasting on a sunshine smile. “Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you, I think? Should I be concerned about the escapee?”

Popcorn boy number two laughed, arms bulging as he ripped open the bag. “Oh no, Hyunjin will be fine. Minho hasn’t made him eat toilet paper in years, he’s above that now.” You must have looked concerned, because the boy chuckled again, waving you off. “It’s all empty threats with that one. Mostly. I’m Changbin, by the way.”

Popcorn boy number one stepped forward, extending a hand to shake. “I’m Chan, and this is our menagerie of chaos. Let me introduce you to everyone,” he offered. You grinned at him, relieved.

By the time Minho returned, practically dragging Hyunjin with him, you were giggling on the couch with the rest of the boys, embroiled in a fierce MarioKart race. With Hyunjin still trapped in a headlock, Minho paused to watch. You just barely caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, too focused on staying on the track. Jeongin had chosen Rainbow Road for your first match, and you were determined to crush them in the dust. Even if it had been several years since you last played.

You watched as your character was knocked off the edge, a cry of dismay falling from your lips. “Dang it, I wasn’t even in first place, what gives?”

Han grinned victoriously, only to cry out when he accidentally drove over the edge as well. “Friends fall together?” he joked.

“You made me go ziplining. Alone,” Minho said, announcing his presence at last.

“Uhhhh,” Han fumbled for an excuse. “You love me anyway, though, right?”

Before Minho could retort, Seungmin stood up. “You can play next, if you want,” he offered.

The rest of you blinked at him in surprise, before looking at his screen and realizing he’d already won the race. Jeongin groaned dramatically, flailing on the couch as he came in second. You and Han just gave up entirely, letting your characters fall off the track once more. Meanwhile, Minho finally decided to release Hyunjin, and the blonde escaped to the other end of the couch, diving into a bowl of chips like nothing had happened.

Felix looked excited, so you tossed him your remote for the next round. “I believe I was promised food,” you said, arching an eyebrow in Minho’s direction.

“I believe I told you to arrive at six,” he fired back, stalking towards you. He finally stopped a foot away, looming over you.

You smirked at him, “What did I tell you on our first date?”

The room went silent, and you froze, realizing your mistake. “You guys are dating and you didn’t tell us?” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Oh yeah, real fancy dates, too. We had dinner at the Eiffel tower last week,” Minho drawled. “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?” The cherry on top was when he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek.

A stranger might have mistaken his dry tone for sincerity, but everyone in the room knew Minho’s humor well. Half of the group dissolved into giggles. Changbin rolled his eyes and threw a pillow, but Minho caught it before it could smack into you. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” Changbin joked.

“All those promises and no follow through,” Han clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval, then ducked when Minho tossed the pillow at him next.

Your cheeks threatened to catch on fire again. The situation only worsened when you met Minho’s dark gaze, his eyes ensnaring you. “So,” you threw out desperately, clapping your hands together. “The food? Or am I going to starve? Not very boyfriend-like,” you tried to laugh. The joke must have been convincing, because the boys merely chuckled, going back to their game.

Minho still hadn’t moved from where he stood over you. Instead of moving back so you could get up, he extended a hand. You bit your lip, teeth digging in, but you placed your hand in his rather than make a scene. The last thing you wanted was more attention, especially with your cheeks warming up past their usual temperature.

Fortunately, he released you as soon as you regained your footing. Your fingers flexed lightly, hand falling back to your side. You kept your chin high as you followed Minho to the kitchen, ignoring the prickling feeling that the boys were still watching you.

“Pizza?” you blurted out, incredulous. “Don’t you eat anything else?”

Minho snorted, leaning against the counter. “For the record, I do know how to cook.”

You snooped in the fridge, disbelieving. “Of course, all evidence points to you being a five star chef,” you said, casting a pointed look at the empty shelves within.

He chuckled, folding his arms while he watched you investigate. “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to cook for you, all you had to do was ask.”

You hummed, closing the refrigerator once more. “I’m kinda afraid you’ll burn something, to be honest,” you teased, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and selecting a slice of now-cold pizza. You popped the pizza in the microwave, then relaxed against the counter opposite Minho. He was still watching you intently, and you frowned. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked him.

Minho shook his head wordlessly. Self-consciousness took hold, and you looked down awkwardly, brushing your hair behind one ear. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said. I totally didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half smile.

You tipped your chin again, unable to look at him for long. Even if Minho seemed to forgive your blunder, you still couldn’t believe you’d blurted that out. Your hair fell in front of your face again, and you let it, happy to hide behind the locks.

Then another pair of feet appeared a few inches from yours. Plain black socks next to your patterned ones, covered in cartoon rainbows. Then a butterfly touch along the side of your face, soft enough that you almost doubted the sensation. You lifted your gaze, but this time, Minho’s eyes weren’t on yours. Instead, his laser focus was directed on the hair he was gently situating behind your ear again.

You realized you had forgotten to breathe when he finally took a step back, and your lungs remembered to inflate.

“For the record, you’re right,” Minho said softly. “The queen is never late.”

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Minho’s friends started leaving. You eyed the clock, then went to grab your shoes as well. “I better get going, I want to get home sometime before dawn,” you joked.

“How close do you live? Are you taking the bus?” Chan asked, worry evident in his tone.

You waved him off, “I’m just a few blocks away, not too long of a walk. Bus doesn’t run after ten or so, anyway.”

Chan frowned, but Minho cut him off before he could say anything. “I was going to walk her home, it’s pretty late.”

That was a surprise to you, but seemed to alleviate Chan’s concern. The others waved goodbye on their way out, Chan following them. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shooting you a quick grin before closing the door behind him.

“You really don’t have to,” you started.

“I want to. It’s late,” Minho reminded you.

“I didn’t argue last time, but I didn’t want to steal your umbrella.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not some little girl in need of protection. It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”

Minho didn’t look up, busy tying his shoes. “I like walking.”

“At midnight?”

“Any time of day, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you walk Jeongin home, too?”

“Sure did. He moved in with Han, though, so I don’t anymore,” he said simply. “You don’t have a roommate. If no one’s there to make sure you get home safe, I want to walk with you.”

You gaped at him, unable to fault his logic. And not really wanting to. “Thanks,” you murmured, scuffing one shoe into the floor.

Minho stood up again, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t mention it,” he said, snagging his keys. “After you.”

Walking home with Minho, you were reminded of the first time. Then, you’d been so awkward, quiet. Unsure of yourself. You’d been worried that you were some kind of pity friend at first, but after getting to know Minho, you knew that wasn’t the case. And now that you’d grown comfortable around each other, you could hardly get him to shut up. Even now, he was talking about his dance team’s newest choreo, his words running together from excitement.

You smiled, just listening. This was all you really wanted, if you let yourself admit it. The Tinder dates were just a shit attempt at finding someone to sit and listen to for hours. You wanted movie nights and quiet mornings with someone who cared about you. You wanted a cute little house and kids and a dog. Maybe a cat. Maybe three.

Shit.

You were so wrapped up in your realization that you didn’t realize you’d reached your apartment building until Minho snagged your elbow to pull you to a stop. “This isn’t a midnight hike, where do you think you’re going?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed nervously, “Oh, sorry, I was pretty lost in thought.”

“Apparently. Were you listening to a word I said? Some friend you are,” he snorted.

Friend. Right. Your realization didn’t mean much. Why were you surprised? You hadn’t had luck in the romantic department in years, why would that change now? Minho was your friend, and it was obvious that his opinion of you wasn’t going to change. Why would it? He was way out of your league.

Gosh, now you felt like a fool. You’d really just daydreamed about a happily ever after with him. Why did you ever bother getting your hopes up? You were always bound for disappointment. Hadn’t your crappy dates taught you anything?

Minho called your name, bringing you back down to reality. “Sorry,” you muttered, fumbling in your bag to find your keys.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Shoot, now he sounded concerned.

You pasted a sunny smile on your face, “Totally fine. Thank you for walking me back. I won’t keep you any longer.”

You turned away to walk up the steps, but the smile fell as soon as he was out of sight. How were you only just coming to the realization that you were halfway—or perhaps all the way—in love with him? His face was burned into your mind’s eye. Brows furrowed in confusion, slight pout, and those damned eyes. You’d probably been in love with his eyes from the beginning.

“I only agreed to let you play matchmaker so I could see you again.”

You stopped at the top of the steps, not quite believing your ears. Turning slightly, you looked at Minho over your shoulder.

Once he had your attention, he continued, “I bailed on the date with your friend because I knew you’d yell at me.”

Lips parting in surprise, you turned to face him fully. Minho put a foot on the first step, gaze locked on yours. You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his mouth softened into a slight smile.

“I was going to do the classic move of teaching you to bowl, but I chickened out,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“What are you...why are you telling me this?” you asked, fingers curling nervously.

He ascended another step, “You only smile like that when you’re sad. When you start getting in your own head about what you deserve.” Another step, “And I’m tired of hiding.”

Now he was only two steps away. Close enough to touch, if you dared to reach out. You didn’t. “We’re friends,” you said, voice small.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed. Then he bit his lip, drawing your attention like bees to honey. You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes firmly. When you opened them, Minho was on the step just below you. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low. You didn’t.

Your breath stuttered to a stop, your whole body stilling at the electric shock of his lips on yours. For a moment, you were frozen, utterly focused on the whisper of a touch. Then Minho pulled away, and you could breathe again, gasping for air. But you didn’t want it to be over. Your eyes fluttered open, finding his dark gaze melting into you.

This time, you let yourself fall into him, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said this was a fantasy. He caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming to your jawline. He ascended that final step, pulling your body into his. His lips were plush, a little dry. Real. Minho was here, warm under your fingertips.

His hand slid up into your hair, slowly enough to make you shiver. You sighed into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your arms as his fingers gently tugged the strands. And then his mouth opened beneath you, and you let yourself tumble into sensation, drowning in him.

You don’t know how long you kissed, but your heart was racing when you finally came up for air. Minho panted, little breaths puffing against your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, the weight somehow grounding you.

“Do you understand now?” Minho’s voice was hoarse, deeper than before. You shivered, just a bit, and the corner of his lips twitched up.

You couldn’t find words, unable to string any coherent thoughts together. And you didn’t really want to, happy to have your mind all to yourself, no doubts in sight. You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose. He scrunched his face up, making you giggle. But you needed to know one thing. “Are we—are things different now?”

“We’re dating. Unless you don’t want that,” he backtracked, eyes wide.

You grinned at him. “I do.”

He heaved out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I thought I really fucked up there.”

Now you really laughed, head falling forward to rest on his chest. Minho’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer than you thought was possible. You could hear his heartbeat, thudding just as fast as yours.

“You said the friendship was your favorite part of love,” Minho mused. You hummed in agreement, nodding against him. “Well I hope you don’t get sick of me. I hear I’m pretty annoying.”

“Minho,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you just rolled your eyes at me,” he teased.

“Well, you are annoying. But I suppose it’s a part of your charm.”

He chuckled, “So that means you like my jokes?”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t push it.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#skz fanfic #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #lee know #skz minho #skz lee know #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #skz minho x reader #minho x reader #lee know fic #skz fic #skz one shot

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ghost-party · 3 years

Text

It’s important that all new hires attend training. Meet your coworkers, learn the ins and outs of camp life, and participate in valuable team-building activities. At the end of training, you can choose who you’ll work alongside this summer.

This post details your first week at Camp Paradis, including your initial interactions with your fellow counselors and support staff members. 😁

Warnings: swearing, Ymir jokingly threatens arson, mention of hazing, Porco terrorizes the youths, a big bowl of condoms, Miche’s abs

⬅️ Back to Camp Paradis

GIRLS’ CABIN

When you arrive for staff training and walk into the cabin you’ll be sharing with the other female counselors, you’re not exactly sure what to expect. But your worries are eased when you’re enthusiastically welcomed, and you quickly find yourself warming up to everyone.

Sasha Braus is energetic and quick to laugh, and she seems to have an endless supply of snacks and candy in her duffel bag. (She swears you to secrecy, eyes wide and mouth full of potato chips.) Junk food is one of her biggest weaknesses, but her dream is to become a chef at a high-end restaurant and impress her whole family with her renowned culinary skills. Mikasa Ackerman is quiet but kind, and she wears her camp name tag and keys on a bright red lanyard that hangs around her neck. She asks where you’re from and what your major is, and you find that she’s a very attentive listener. She tells you that her two best friends, Eren and Armin, are counselors here, too. Sasha interjects and informs you that her cousin is the archery and high ropes instructor, and Mikasa merely sighs and clarifies, “My second cousin...”

Annie Leonhart is also quiet, and from what you can tell, she mostly keeps to herself, nose stuck in a book. But when Sasha reveals that she’s the current reigning tetherball champion, and that she nearly broke one of the boys’ noses earlier this morning, she smiles and tucks her blonde bangs behind her ear. You learn that she teaches self-defense classes at the local rec center and volunteers at the animal shelter every other weekend. The blanket on top of her sleeping bag is patterned with tiny goldfish, and she wears a silver ring on her right hand — a gift from her father, who’s often out of town for work.

Historia Reiss and Ymir Lenz are, at first glance, nothing but contrasts. While Historia’s plastic storage drawers are full of pastel t-shirts and pressed khaki shorts, Ymir’s suitcase is spilling over with dark clothes and ripped denim. The petite blonde has fairy lights strung up around her bottom bunk, and the freckled brunette’s bed is barely made — a red sleeping bag thrown on top of the bare twin mattress. But Historia is quick to show off the lovely engagement ring on her finger and introduce her fiancée, Ymir’s arms easily sliding around her shoulders in a casually possessive gesture.

After you’ve unpacked, the Head of Girls, Petra Ral, pokes her head in and asks if there’s anything you need. She’s cheerful and upbeat, with a wide smile and glossy auburn hair. But when a young man with an undercut and a cocky grin saunters past on the path outside, teasing her with some inside joke you don’t understand, her eyes narrow and she leans halfway off the porch, calling after him, “Fuck off, Galliard!”

This only elicits a chorus of faux-offended shouts from the boys’ cabin, including, “My innocence has been ruined!” and, “These girls and their foul language! FOR SHAME.” Ymir casually suggests that you all steal their clothes in the dead of night and light their cabin on fire. When she’s met with awkward silence, she shrugs and says, “I’m kidding... Obviously.”

BOYS’ CABIN

When you visit the boys’ cabin later in the afternoon, encouraged by Petra to introduce yourself since you’re a first-year counselor, you’re met with seven curious stares. The first to speak up and say hello is a blond boy named Armin Arlert. He’s unfailingly polite, has a youthful face, and is very well-spoken. It’s unsurprising to learn that he’s the president of the speech and debate club at Eldia University. He elbows his bunkmate, Eren Jaeger, who’s listening to music, his hands busy trying to tie back his long brown hair. He gives you a crooked smile, says hey, and looks back down at his phone. Armin sighs apologetically.

In the next bunk over, you meet Jean Kirschstein and Connie Springer, who have known each other since they were 10-year-old campers. Jean lounges on the top bunk, so tall that his feet dangle off the edge. His handsome face splits into a grin as he asks how old you are and where you go to school. Connie, who’s still unpacking, throws a flip-flop at his face and tells him to “pack it up, Casanova.” This leads to a brief but intense trading of insults, during which you learn that kids used to call Jean “Horse Face,” and up until he was 12, Connie sleepwalked around camp, occasionally ending up pantsless in the dining hall, mumbling incoherently about birthday cake.

Bertholdt Hoover is even taller than Jean, but you don’t realize it until he stands and offers to shake your hand. He’s friendly but shy, and he stammers over his words as he tells you he’s a student at Marley Private College. It’s his best friend and bunkmate, Reiner Braun, who reveals that they’re both English majors, and that Bertholdt runs the campus literary journal. The taller boy turns pink and shoots Reiner a bewildered look before busying himself with a pile of clothes. Reiner is built like an athlete, with muscles that strain the sleeves of his old high school football t-shirt. But you notice that he’s writing in a spiral-bound notebook, short lines that look an awful lot like poetry.

You caught a glimpse of Porco Galliard earlier, as he teased Petra. Up close, he’s even better looking, like some magazine model — or at least an Abercrombie employee. He reclines on a flannel-patterned beanbag chair under the window and asks how your first day is going, his eyes not-so-subtlely looking you up and down. He tells you about tonight’s campfire and assures you that no one believes in hazing here at Camp Paradis. “We’re above that bullshit.”

But despite this, in the early hours of the morning, you hear the newbie counselors next door — Armin, Bertholdt, and Reiner — running around their cabin, Porco chasing after them with a blaring bullhorn. Ymir peers out the window, cackles, and reports that they’ve all been forced to strip down to their boxers. Your cheeks heat up and you resist the urge to tiptoe to the window to sneak a peek.

DAY CAMP & RESIDENT CAMP

On your first official day of training, you meet Erwin Smith and Zeke Jaeger. They’re both tall and blond, accomplished graduate students at local universities, and former championship-winning athletes — soccer and baseball, respectively. But while Erwin is warm and charismatic, with a charming (some might say panty-dropping) smile, Zeke seems more detached, with a sarcastic sense of humor and a more flexible approach to the rules.

They explain that counselors will typically be assigned to day camp or resident camp groups depending on how many registrants there are in a given week. But all counselors will stay in cabins with resident campers, to keep an eye on them and offer guidance and support. The only exceptions are those who volunteer to be their aides. Those select counselors will instead bunk in either Erwin or Zeke’s dual-occupancy cabin, in the empty room opposite theirs.

After being given the rundown of each program, you’re split into two groups for icebreaker activities with each director, giving them an opportunity to get to know their staff. Erwin sets up a hoop relay, during which you end up holding his large, calloused hand and laughing as he attempts to work the neon blue hula hoop up and over his shoulders. Afterwards, your group participates in a memory circle, reciting and memorizing each other’s favorite subjects, ice cream flavors, animals, and places you want to travel. Without you really noticing, Erwin’s answers — history, butter pecan, dogs (more specifically, golden retrievers), and Australia — stay with you, even after the game is over.

When your groups switch and you join Zeke on the other side of the wide open field, you end up doing trust falls, one of the most dreaded get-to-know-you activities. Before you know it, you find yourself with your arms crossed tightly over your chest, tipping backwards, losing more and more of your balance, until he catches you in his strong arms. He grins down at you, wire-rimmed glasses glinting in the morning sunlight, before he gently lifts you into a standing position.

You then sit in a circle and play a simple game of two truths and a lie. Zeke never fails to guess someone’s lie, and you’re struck by how perceptive he is, despite the impression he gives that he doesn’t really care. Everyone else is less fortunate, stumbling through guesses like they’re walking in the dark, while he observes with a knowing smirk. The lunch bell rings before anyone — his half-brother, Eren, included — can correctly guess his own lie. You have your own guess. But it will have to wait for another time.

WATERFRONT

You and the other counselors sit on the grassy hill overlooking the waterfront while Miche Zacharias — who’s somehow even taller than Bertholdt and always seems to be without a shirt — instructs you on swim time procedures and safety protocols. He mostly reads from the camp handbook, occasionally regaling you with a cautionary tale. Some of them sound too wild and crazy to be true, but his expression remains so serious, you’re not sure what to believe.

You’re called down in groups of four to take your swim tests, after which Miche determines whether you’re qualified to be a lifeguard or better off monitoring the shallow end. When it’s their turn, Jean dares Connie to do a cannonball right next to the waterfront director, which he does with zero hesitation. This directly contributes to them being stuck on buddy board duty for the foreseeable future, sitting around and checking campers in and out of the swim area, despite the fact that they’re both skilled enough to be lifeguards. Sasha laughs so hard at their disappointed faces that she nearly falls back into the lake, while the fourth member of their group, Armin, tries to give them some words of encouragement.

After each test, Miche hands out plastic wristbands with designated colors — red for lifeguards and blue for monitors — and makes all of you line up so that he can mark your board tag, a cheap plastic keychain, with your name and designation. When it’s your turn, you try to keep your eyes on his face. You really do. But it’s hard when you have to crane your neck to do so, whereas his perfect abs are right there in front of you. His pale green eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at you with clear amusement, placing your tag on an empty nail and dismissing you back to your cabin.

HEALTH LODGE

The camp medic, Pieck Finger, leads everyone through CPR and first aid training at the health lodge. The large building contains a room full of sterile-looking cots, a kitchen, a private bathroom, and Pieck’s bedroom. The basement, accessible through a separate back door, serves as a lounge for the counselors. There, they can do laundry, play foosball or darts (or try to revive the broken pinball machine), relax on the threadbare, thrift store sofa, or attempt to check their email on the circa early-2000s PC in the corner.

You practice your CPR skills in pairs on faceless plastic dummies. Your partner, Bertholdt, seems reluctant to push too hard on its chest, and Pieck gently reminds him that he has to push hard in order for it to actually work. He glances up at you, cheeks reddening when you give him a reassuring smile and tell him he’s doing a great job.

Connie takes several ridiculous Snaps with his dummy, whom he’s affectionately named Archibald. (”Look! He’s bald. Get it?”) Historia patiently sits across from him, her French braids neat and tidy, and Ymir glares daggers at Connie from across the room, where Armin is trying to refocus her attention — and keep her from inadvertently popping the head off their dummy.

Sasha keeps darting looks into the kitchen, convinced that Pieck must have a secret snack stash. The focal point of her envy is the full-sized refrigerator. She’s practically salivating at the prospect of what might be hidden inside, away from prying eyes. Meanwhile, Reiner does most of the work on their dummy, his strong arms easily pumping down on its stiff chest. Beside them, Mikasa patiently guides Eren through each step — sometimes two or three times — and Jean watches, wide-eyed, as Annie flawlessly performs every step, as if she’s been doing it for years.

First aid training is similarly chaotic, but Pieck takes it all in stride, her airy, pleasant voice somehow managing to cut through the noise and laughter. She then walks the group through various health-related scenarios — bed-wetting, allergic reactions, ticks, bee stings, dehydration... When she ends the conversation by telling everyone there’s a punch bowl full of condoms under the bathroom sink, hidden behind the extra toilet paper, “just in case,” reactions range from snickering to furious blushing to a surprised fit of coughing. She simply smiles and shoos you all outside, determined to squeeze in an afternoon nap.

ARCHERY & HIGH ROPES

When you and the other counselors notice that an entire day of your training schedule has been set aside for archery and high ropes, there’s initial excitement. But it quickly devolves into trepidation when you meet your instructor, Levi Ackerman. He’s on the shorter side, with slate gray eyes that seem to pierce straight through you. And when he looks away after you introduce yourself, saying nothing at all, you’re convinced that he already hates you.

As each of you spends the morning learning how to string a bow, shoot an arrow, and set up and tear down the archery range for group sessions, Levi is quick to call out mistakes. He sighs heavily when Eren’s aim is off. He makes a face when Sasha struggles to pull the loop of her bowstring over the notch, her arms trembling. And he swears under his breath when Armin can’t find one of his arrows.

But there’s a peculiar patience to him, as well. Gruffness aside, he gives fair critiques that are easy to understand and seems to genuinely care about everyone’s safety and wellbeing. When he notices that your bow is angled too low, you prepare yourself for a sarcastic remark or an exasperated huff. Instead, he places gentle yet firm hands on your arms and guides them into position, his chest nearly pressed against your back. He tells you when to loose your arrow and just barely smiles when he sees how excited you are to have hit the bullseye.

The high ropes course, however, is a much bigger challenge. Everyone spends the afternoon tightening and fastening harnesses, tying both simple and complex knots, learning terms like “belay” and “pitch,” and overcoming any fear of heights they might have — or at least trying to. But Levi doesn’t force anyone to climb to the top of the wooden tower. He tells you all to take it at your own pace, and that the fundamentals are what’s most important. Later in the summer, he’ll lead small training sessions on the zipline. Until then, it’s basic climbing and rappelling.

Most of the counselors take to it quickly, seeming at home off the ground. Others struggle to keep their balance or shake off their nerves enough to make it even halfway up the tower. You can’t help but be impressed by Levi’s skills, both as he belays and as he climbs. He’s much stronger than he looks, easily belaying for larger men like Reiner and Jean. And when he climbs, there’s a fluid grace to his movements that leaves you staring — perhaps a little too long, as he catches you once or twice, brows furrowing.

ARTS AND CRAFTS

After an intense day spent at the archery range and the high ropes course, everyone is eager for a more relaxed morning in the arts and crafts room. Set up in the basement of the lakeside lodge, it’s stocked with the typical colorful paints, all kinds of paper, markers, crayons, and colored pencils, friendship bracelet and lanyard-making supplies, and plastic containers of glitter, beads, and kids’ scissors. There are also tubs of clay, perler beads, stencils, and an old iron, flower pressing kits, and three wax-caked slow cookers used for dipping candles.

Moblit Berner, a friendly young man with a gentle smile, gives you a quick tour of the space and then encourages each of you to find something creative to try. Historia convinces Ymir to sit outside with her and paint landscapes of the lake, though Ymir spends the majority of her time gazing lovingly at her fiancée. Sasha and Mikasa make friendship bracelets while Annie watches, looping plastic lacing cords through intricate patterns to make what Moblit calls a “boondoggle keychain.”

You’re surprised when Reiner joins you at the flower pressing station, a handful of small purple blossoms held carefully in his hand. Bertholdt sits across the table, moving on from die cutting to dropping tiny perler beads onto a plastic pegboard in the shape of a dolphin. Eren and Jean are having a competition to see who can sculpt the best clay animal. (Jean’s cat is a little more detailed with its tabby stripes. But Eren perks up when Mikasa compliments his monkey.) And Armin is desperately trying to keep Connie from burning himself as he dips multiple wicks into the now-hot slow cookers full of bubbling wax. When he fails and Connie lets out a surprised yelp, Moblit nearly has a heart attack.

NATURE CENTER & GREENHOUSE

The nature center and its attached greenhouse are set back in the woods, just off the main trail and not far from the waterfront. The small, wooden building that looks like a leftover from the 1970s functions as a classroom, with laminated posters, hordes of dioramas, shelves overflowing with books for all age groups, and tables laden with bundles of plants, tiny rodent skulls, field guides to mushrooms and edible plants, and discarded bird feathers that have been carefully cleaned.

You’re greeted by a very excited Hange Zoë, who takes you on a whirlwind tour of the facility while holding the center’s two resident rabbits, Sawney and Bean. They live in a spacious hutch outside that Hange built, with Moblit’s assistance. But Hange admits they have grown attached to the little furballs, sometimes letting them ride in the basket of the bicycle they ride across camp every day.

In the greenhouse, Hange shows your group how to differentiate between certain plants, what to look for when checking an area for poison ivy, and which plants have medicinal properties. They wave their hands wildly as they talk, the two rabbits tucked safely inside the wide pockets of their dirt-stained gardening apron. You notice a few stray smudges of dirt on Hange’s face as they crouch on the ground, beaming at your mention of aloe vera. “An evergreen perennial!” they happily shout, startling everyone.

EQUESTRIAN CENTER

The first thing you learn at your equestrian training session is that riding a horse is harder than it looks. You and your fellow counselors sit on rows of sun-heated metal bleachers set up next to an outdoor arena, where the director of the facility, Nile Dok, shows you how to properly tack a horse, mount and dismount, use the reins, and tack up. His staff members handle grooming the mounts and cleaning their stalls. But he emphasizes the importance of keeping a careful eye on your campers, ensuring that they don’t inadvertently endanger themselves.

He takes volunteers and brings them inside the fence, where they can choose a horse and practice the skills he just demonstrated, as well as learn how to trot and canter. You end up with a mount that’s a little taller than you would have preferred, and when Nile sees you struggling to swing up and into the saddle, he steps in and assists. His hands are warm and rough, and the harsh angles of his face seem to soften when he smiles. The moment is fleeting, however, as he notices Jean struggling to untangle his reins and jogs over to help.

By the end of the session, you’ve grown much closer to your horse — a somewhat mischievous spotted mare named Circe. After you’ve dismounted, Nile offers you an apple, which your steed promptly snatches from your hand, long tongue tickling your palm. When you ask Nile if her namesake is the enchantress from Homer’s Odyssey, you’re surprised when he blushes and nods, admitting that he’s always liked Greek mythology. As you’re leaving, he tells you that you’re welcome to stop by anytime, preferably with an apple of your own.

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lihikainanea · 3 years

Note

tiger getting small while on vacation and she suddenly becomes paranoid that everyone can hear her (throwback to an old blurb of yours when she wasn’t getting that small yet) so she is panicking everytime they’re intimate, which bill is not going to let slide. he just wants her to let it out, but the poor bean is so anxious, she shuts down. it gets to the point where she can’t even enjoy herself in other aspects, like a dark cloud, so bill secretly switches them to a cute little cottage in the middle of nowhere and fucks her real good. she tries to hold back, but he coaxes her, and when she lets it out? bill thinks he’ll just pass out. her moans this time are those soft high pitched one because she’s just so small. she probably starts crying. i’m such a needy bitch lately idk what’s wrong with me.

Bish I am so here for this.

I think tiger is pretty vocal most of the time, just because her Big Dude hits it so good that she can't even hold it back, and most times she's so small for him and so spaced out that she doesn't even register how loud she's being, the moans she can't stop, the guttural sounds as she's blissed out. And like, for his part Bill loves it. It's his favourite sound in the world, when she whines for him, when he knows he's making her feel good. Bill wants all of it, wants her to yell and scream if she has to, cry, hell she can make goat sounds for all he cares--it's all good.

And while I am absolutely here for the times tiger has had to be real quiet when they're at his family's house, just to switch things up a little, what if this is like....a friend's vacation again? And there are so many elements to this.

Their friends don't know about them, so maybe tiger and Bill are still booking separate rooms like idiots. And maybe Bill always kind of speaks to the resort ahead of time, asks for two rooms to be conveniently located waaaaaayyyyy the hell on the other side of the complex so they don't have to worry so much and can sneak around a bit easier. It usually works like a charm--except this time. This time, somehow, all of the friends end up getting rooms that are side by side down a long hallway.

So there's this added factor that Bill can't be seen coming and going from her room, especially in partial states of undress, because that's weird. They can't have sex snuggle on the balcony, which is like their favourite thing to do in the wee hours of the night and into the break of dawn.

So not only is tiger worried about making noise--oh no no friend, we're taking it a step further here--she's worried about getting caught so she is like, flat out dead bolting her door so Bill can't even come in. And he's getting pissed because she keeps wearing those sundresses and she's covered in tanlines and he's going crazy, she's getting pent up because god he's just so bronzed and so golden and his eyes are so clear and green.

He finally manages to talk some sense into her, no doubt vaguely threatening, and he promises her that he'll be careful. He promises her that no one will see him sneak into her room. Maybe he even does it real casual like, steps out into the outdoor hallway at 1AM, leans on the post, has a smoke--and then just conveniently walks into tiger's room two doors down, instead of his own.

And god, it feels good. It's been too long and this whole forbidden element really gets her going but now she has another problem--she's worried someone is going to hear. Their friends are on either side and the walls at this resort are paper thin, and tiger is focusing so hard on staying quiet that nothing else is working for her. She's frustrated, her eyes are clenched so tight she has tears coming from them, and the only thing she can focus on is just...not making a sound. She's can't focus on how good he smells. She can't focus on how soft his lips are, how warm his tongue is, how blond his hair looks in the glow of the moonlight. She can't focus on it, because if she does she'll lose control and she's terrified someone will hear her.

"You can let go sweet girl," he tries to reassure her, tries to get her to release all those moans he loves to hear so much, "It's okay if they hear you. They know you're here. I'll be quiet."

But tiger just shakes her head. And god the poor girl needs a release so bad, but she just can't get there because she's so worried. And Bill has a rule that like, if tiger doesn't get there--then he doesn't, either. Because that's not fair. So he begrudgingly puts an end to their night, still hard as a rock, and just takes her in his arms for cuddles instead. And tiger feels even more terrible because she knows he needs a release, she wants to give him that, but he won't let her.

And I think the final straw for Bill is when he wakes up at 4AM to tiger's feet pushing on his butt, telling him to get out of bed and that he needs to leave and go back to his own room. Bill is pissed, and he gives her the stank eye the whole day.

He is absolutely unwilling to go this entire vacation without some good lovin', and without being able to wake up with tiger snug in his arms, sucking softly on his thumb. It's just not going to happen. Bill doesn't care if he has to pack up his shit and fly to another fucking resort--it's happening.

He bristles at her the whole day, like a petulant child. He tones is down a lot when he can see that she's actually getting small on him, when he can tell that she's spiralling a bit and really thinking that she did something wrong. He puts his hand on her back as they head to the bar for another round of drinks, rubbing softly.

"You're good for me sweet girl," he coos in her ear, "You're so good for me."

"You're mad," she mumbles, "...at me."

"I'm not mad at you kid," he reassures, "I just need you so bad."

She bites her lip, hiding a shaky sigh and he crowds her space a bit more.

"Are you going to let me fix it?" he asks, "Let me take care of it, so I can have you?"

She looks at him with those big eyes, and his heart fucking stops.

"I need to have you," he murmurs to her, "Will you let me fix it?"

She nods, subtly, and he smiles gently at her.

"Good girl," he says, "My good girl."

And he disappears for a little while that afternoon, reappearing only around dinner time. He finds tiger at the beach bar, playing cards with a few from the group.

"There you are," he says, "I've been looking for you, kid."

He plops a kiss on her head, and nobody flinches--that's pretty normal for them.

"What's up, bud?" she asks.

"We have that excursion in 30 minutes. You didn't forget, did you?"

Tiger catches on real quick.

"Oh shit, I totally did," she says as she stands, " Sorry bud. Let me go uh...grab my stuff."

Bill extends his hand to her, helps her climb over a few legs and over the table.

"See you guys in a bit," he waves a hasty goodbye to the group, and starts walking with her back to the lobby.

"Lobby in 15 minutes. An overnight bag, sunscreen, that bikini I love," he tells her lowly as she takes a mental note of what she needs, "Oh, and tiger?"

She looks up at him, a little thrill running down her spine.

"No panties."

She has to stop the little giggle from escaping, has to physically refrain from skipping to her room to grab her things. And for his part, Bill barely just catches his own hand as it was on its way to a firm smack on her ass.

She meets him as instructed, and he's leaning against a powder blue car from the 1950s that is so typical in these small tropical towns.

"M'lady," he opens the car door for her, helping her into it before going to the other side. He looks comically large in the car, more so than usual, and tiger chuckles.

"Can you even drive here?" she asks. He gives her a mischievous smirk.

"Let's find out."

it takes about 20 minutes. Tiger holds his phone up and dictates the directions--but eventually the little car starts chugging up a hill, and tiger is trying to ignore how turned on she's getting watching Bill expertly switch gears, manipulate the stick shift, get the car up that goddamn hill like a boss--and the she sees it. This beautiful villa, sprawling, she can already see the infinity pool and humongous outdoor deck and the floor to ceiling windows, but most of all--she can't see anything, or anybody else. The villa stands alone, at the top of a mountain.

"Bill--" she starts, but it's cut off abruptly when his big hand covers her mouth. He doesn't say anything, just leans over and kisses her deeply. So deeply that they get a bit lost in it because goddamn it feels good to be able to do that again, but he snaps to his senses when tiger starts trying to crawl over the console and straddle his lap.

"Inside," he says breathlessly, "Let's go inside."

It's a hasty entrance. The bags are thrown by the entryway. The champagne that Bill had chilling on ice since the afternoon is ignored. Food will be delivered later, and he purposely chose a time where he knew they'd be able to get a few rounds in before they were disturbed. He shakes out his shoulders, trying to reel in his desire for just a second, and right as he's about to tell tiger to get on her knees he turns and sees that she's already kneeling for him.

"Good girl," he praises, walking over to her. He looms over her, snapping his fingers so she meets his eyes, and he takes her chin in his hand.

"Tiger, I have rules tonight."

"Yes," she murmurs, "Okay."

She mouths at his thumb, tries to close her lips around it, and he gives it to her. Her shoulders relax as she all but deflates.

"No panties for the next 24 hours. If I see them on you, I'm ripping them off," he says, "Understand?"

"Yes," she sighs breathily.

"You get everything you want tonight sweet girl, but if it's too much, then you tell me," he says, "Understand?"

"Yes."

"What are your words?"

"Yellow," she murmurs around his thumb, "Or pineapple."

He nods curtly.

"Last rule, and the most important one," he pulls his thumb from her mouth so that he has her full attention, shushing her harshly when she whines.

"If you're quiet for longer than 3 seconds, if the walls don't fucking shake with your moans for me, I'll fucking stop," he snarls, "Do you understand me?"

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #sub tiger #vacation bill

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Five Words

I’m back again ... this time with a requested ‘Leonard Betts’ follow-up ...

this tried to kill me a little bit ... not lying ...

@laurenclare88 @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

No surprise to either Mulder or Scully, he was awake when she called, “hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, me, you okay?” Twisting his head back to see the clock behind him, “it’s almost midnight.”

“Feel like getting some hot chocolate? Coffee? Platter of waffles the size of your head?”

He heard something in her voice, and not sure if she’d been crying or sound asleep until five seconds before she called, he sat up, “well, Waffles and Stuff is open and in the middle so we can meet there, if you’d like, or if we hit Rolls and Holes, I’ll come pick you up.”

It was actually called Benny’s Café but they specialized in homemade cinnamon rolls and peanut butter donut holes, hence Mulder’s highly inappropriate, yet completely fitting, nickname.

She didn’t laugh like she normally did, juvenile as the nickname was, and he headed towards his shoes, wondering what could have happened since he left her yawning, at her front door, two hours ago, “Waffles and Stuff is fine. See you in ten.”

She must already be in the car because it took ten minutes to get there. Hurrying now, he tossed on a sweatshirt, then his jacket, heading out the door a minute later, turning left for the stairs instead of right to the elevator because hoofing it would be faster. The car ride there was quiet, traffic light, pavement dry.

Waffles and Stuff was empty this time of night, and as he parked, he spotted her already in their booth in the corner, having graduated from the counter a year or so back. Waving to both the cook and lone waitress, Max and Catherine as they had learned some time ago, he slid into the bench across from his partner, “fancy meeting you here.”

She didn’t feel like banter tonight, heavy burden weighing but not forming concrete thoughts able to be spoken out loud just yet. Instead, “you want to split the waffles or fly solo?”

“Scully.”

Hands on the table, she raised one in his direction, fingers waving absently, wrist bobbing in a ‘give me some time’ gesture, “I think I’d like to split a set of Belgian with extra butter and get bacon and sausage on the side. How’s that sound?”

Now she was just freaking him out. Stopping her flopping hand, “Scully? What happened? Is it your mom? Bill? Talk to me, please?”

She jerked her hand away from him, nearly taking out her water glass in the process, “just … they’re fine … I just …” frustration made her words stutter, nostrils flare, jaw tighten for a moment, “I haven’t …”

Not pushing in the moment, he leaned forward, holding his pointer finger up to stop Catherine’s approach, “do you want to eat here or get it to go? We can share in the car if you want.”

Eyes shutting, she took a deep breath, palms flat on Formica. Exhaling slowly, she found her center for a brief second, “just some hot chocolate for now.”

Mulder called the order to Catherine, adding a ‘thanks’ before returning to Scully, speaking slowly again, “are you okay?”

Her head shook a ‘no’, eyes glued to the table, fingers white. Mulder’s stomach tightened but venturing a guess that she’d had a nightmare about Betts and couldn’t form the words yet, he nodded, trying again to touch her, tracing his fingers over the cold knuckles on the back of her hand, “you’re fine here, okay? We can stay as long as you like.”

Caught between crying and screaming, she let him run his fingers over her for another moment before sliding back, hands dropping to lap as eyes bounced from his chin, then to his chest before landing on his still extended hand, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She knew damn well she didn’t wake him up, but both realized she needed to steer them back to middle ground, neutral conversation, “you didn’t. I was watching ‘Golden Girls’.”

Not knowing this particular vice, she met his green eyes, almost smiling, “who’s your favorite?”

“Um, Sophia. What kind of asinine question is that?”

Hot chocolate arrived amidst the debate of Sophia vs. Rose and ordering their smorgasbord, things stayed light through another side of bacon and a second helping of hot chocolate. Stuffed by 1:15am, Mulder saw her drifting away again, heaviness settling where frivolity had been moments earlier. Tapping her ankle with his shoe lightly, she didn’t startle but refocused on him, “that better be you.”

Continuing, “it is.”

“Good. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to come here again.”

Catherine somehow managed to clean their table without disturbance, in, out, feeling the odd pall over them. Neither so much as glanced her way.

Subtly lifting his leg, he set his foot on the booth beside her, preventing any escape from his next questions, “what happened? Did you have a nightmare about Betts? Did you see something? Hear something?” He felt microscopic pressure against his ankle as her thigh muscles tensed to move but he held steady, not letting her leave. Voice dropping to a whisper, he leaned forward, “you’re starting to freak me out.”

Her face crumbled for a moment, then snapped back to normal 1 am, shifting gears a third time when her eyebrows crashed together, lip curling, chin wobbling in an instant, then back to normal. The gambit of emotions that crossed her face in under four seconds was heart-wrenching and Mulder followed along, panic about to overrun control.

Moving his foot, he shifted in beside her, arm around her shoulder, fear growing exponentially, his voice wobbling quietly in her ear, “what happened?”

“Betts told me I had something he needed.”

With the speed of a fucking bullet, realization froze his heart, and his other arm completed the circle around her, pulling her into his shoulder, burying his face in her hair, “Betts in a psychopathic fucker.” She couldn’t quite find words to tell him about the bloody nose that had sent her spiraling so she tried to move closer instead, wishing for a way to crawl into his lap without rebuke or reprisal. Ice still coursing through his veins, he choose denial mode as opposed to depths of despair, comfort instead of chaos, “he’s certifiable, Scully, why would you give him a second thought? A first thought, even?”

When she didn’t respond, he let go of her, standing, tossing money on the table and taking her hand, “come on.”

When he pulled away from her, she nearly sobbed, missing him in that second more than she’d missed him in … well … possibly ever. Seeing his extended hand started the roller coaster all over again and shifting, she followed in silence, little hand wrapped in big, not waving goodnight to their hosts, not seeing anything but his jacket inches from her nose.

Her nose.

And the slightest headache thrumming behind it.

She stumbled over the curb, running into his back, catching herself before hitting the ground. Her control was gone, her walls blown to hell, her mind focused on five words, four years, three drops of blood, two people, one soul and the suddenly ticking timebomb of a six-letter word.

She couldn’t say it.

Mulder had her face in his hands, trying to comprehend the unimaginable, eyes darting between hers, betraying any kind of cool exterior both knew he didn’t have, “you’re fine, Scully. You are going to be fine. Betts is … was … and ever shall be … nothing to us. He wanted to get under your skin and he knew how and he did it and he’s burning in hell right now and you can’t listen to anything he said. Do you hear me?”

Held still by large palms and calloused fingers, she let the tears escape, her voice reaching his ears in a wet, spitty, stilted stutter, “you … you didn’t hear … how he said it … Mulder. He … he had sympathy in his words, the look …” eyes closed for a moment, swallowing hard, “he looked genuinely sorry.” Choking inhale in, one sob shook both to their core, “he wasn’t saying it to be cruel. He was saying it … to be kind … and he’s dead and he can’t … he could have …”

Shaking his head, he finally pulled her into a hug, most of her upper body disappearing into his embrace, “he couldn’t have done anything, Scully. He removed tumors because he needed them. Doctors do the same thing. He didn’t cure, Scully,” he kept saying her name, needing to hear it out loud, prove she was still standing in front of him, his denial in place but his fear still winning, “he removed. Doctors cure, he mangled, he cut, he … he couldn’t have helped you but Leonard Betts doesn’t matter anymore because your fine and he’s gone and he was just fucking with your head because he could. He would have said the same thing to me had I been in the ambulance with you. I know enough about these people to know it would have ended with that phrase regardless of who was in the truck.”

Neither was sure who he was trying harder to convince and neither dwelled on it.

Instead, she stayed up on the curb while Mulder was one notch below in the gutter, hug evened out, height difference conquered with concrete and asphalt. A cone of silence enveloped them, traffic noise, barking dogs, airplanes overhead, all fading away, until, Scully, mess of emotions somewhat in check, spoke quietly into his chest, “will you take me home?”

“Of course.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Leaving his car behind, he drove hers to her apartment, both climbing stairs and locking doors behind. Her microwave clock now read 2:09am as she held out her hand to take his coat, walls still down, mind and heart exhausted, “would you mind sleeping in with me tonight? I wouldn’t normally ask but …” sentence running off to nowhere, she waited, eyes pleading in that Scully way.

“You got any sweats for me?”

Once in bed, not as awkwardly as either expected, they remained a civil distance apart but facing each other, eyes tired, eyes burning, eyes not breaking contact for fear the other would disappear in the time of a blink. Mulder, desperate to reach out to her, kept his hands to himself, “you’re fine. You will always be fine. You’ll go to the doctor if you need to tomorrow and he’ll tell you there’s nothing to worry about and then we’ll go ride roller coaster somewhere or run through the fountains of DC naked in celebration that I was right and you were wrong.”

She had already planned the following morning in her head but staying silent about that, she instead flashed him a small smile, trying her best to make it look genuine, to force her eyes to sparkle in amusement just enough to allow him to fall asleep in peace, “naked, huh?”

He saw through her bullshit like she was a plate glass window, “not on the roller coasters.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not on the roller coasters.”

Trying to keep his voice steady, “you’re going to be fine.”

Finally reaching towards him, his hand met hers halfway, “I know.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Sleep eluded him, preferring to listen to her stuffy inhale than to drift into slumber but even the great Fox Mulder eventually had to give in to sleep, drifting off around 4:15. Scully, faking until 3:30, woke at 5:45, slipping out of bed, five-minute shower, out the door by 6:30, leaving her partner behind.

Three favors later, she was trying to hold herself together in the MRI tube, magnets banging, head aching, muscles tensing with each new sound. How could that machine capture anything when her mind was racing so fast the images should just be a blur of thoughts, smudged terror captured in black and white, brought to you by the marvels of science?

She wished he was there so she could hold his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder could fake a few things as well. He woke when she left the bed, stayed still, eyes shut, while he listened to her shower. He heard her come back in, sort through her closet, open dresser drawers, felt the air in the room change as she did, donning armor for her day ahead. She was at the foot of the bed so not in his possible waking view but to know she was comfortable enough to do her routine with him asleep five feet away made him quake inside. He held it together, even as she returned to the room, keys lightly clinking in hand, to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, to brush his hair back as her thumb ran over his forehead.

He waited five minutes after he heard the front door lock before rolling over, stretching, missing her beating heart and radiating heat. Staring at the ceiling when done, he refused to ponder, instead, two grunts and a back crack later, he was up, standing, heading to the shower.

Problem was, the warm water, the smell of her soap, the view of damp towel on rack and dry one beside, just for him, caught him off-guard. Halfway through soaping up, he broke down, standing under the water, sobbing tears covered by loud water pinging off the walls. He gave himself what felt like five minutes before straightening back up, finishing his shampoo and wash, ending with a steamy-mirrored pep talk during which he convinced himself Scully would be just fine.

Making the bed, he headed out, calling a cab to get him to the diner, then driving himself home, waiting impatiently for a phone call he knew was inevitable. He could have heading to the basement, he could have taken a nap, he could have stared at the wall and had a panic attack the size of Montana but instead, he read his email, his phone never far from his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully saw the mass, a bright white spot of dread in her sinus cavity, doctor explaining, in the background, diagnosis and treatment options, but most of her attention was filled with it.

It.

IT.

That thing settled comfortably next to her brain.

IT.

Mesmerized, she nodded when they asked if she’d like to be alone for a minute; if she would like to call someone.

And then it was quiet, the snick of the shutting door the only noise in the room.

Leaving just her and the bright white mass on the light board.

“Mulder. Could you come down to the hospital, please?”

She could hear it in his voice as he said, “which area?”

“Oncology.”

The sound of a fight building. The sound of defiance taking root.

Or denial.

“I’m on my way.”

#msr #MulderNScully #leonard betts #x-files fanfic #My writing #five words #four years #three drops of blood #two people #one soul #and the sudden ticking timebomb of a six-letter word

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lady-charinette · 4 years

Text

Pro-Hero!Tamaki Amajiki X F!Reader (aged up characters)

Rated: NSFW

Tags: Body worship, Gentle Love Making, Rough sex, Biting, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom!Tamaki

Heart of a Lion

“Come on Amajiki, you need to have the heart of a lion, not a kitten!”

Nejire’s words had haunted him to this day, despite already working full time at Fatgum’s agency, Tamaki still felt like he was falling short behind the other pros.

Even if Fatgum always tried to…lecture him.

“Straighten up Amajiki! You’re one of our best horses!”

“I’m not a horse…”

“So, stand stall and proud and show ‘em what you got!”

Still, no matter how supportive his teammates and friends were, there were always heroes out there who thought little of him.

“That guy? Will he handle this on his own? What was Fatgum thinking hiring that kid? My five year old son looks tougher!”

“I wonder if his quirk’s as strong as people say, I guess you need to have a strong quirk to make up for that weak spirit.”

Tamaki’s thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper into a dark void, until a gentle hand began running a soothing path through his hair and the voice of an angel reached his ears. “Tama?”

Opening his eyes, the pro-hero glanced up at Y/N, his girlfriend of three years, and smiled wrily. She blinked down at him in concern. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted, dear.” her hand never stopped its ministration on his hair and Tamaki expelled a sigh of relief, body sagging deeper into the bed and the soft suppleness of her thighs.

“….I…I was just…” her other hand sought his own on his chest and squeezed gently, her eyes looking down at him meaningfully.

“It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk about it, you know.” she offered him that soft smile that never failed to breach his defenses and make him feel like what he really was, a skilled pro-hero and a good man.

He wished he could pocket her precious smile, so he would always have it with him when faced with doubts.

With a quickly spreading redness, Tamaki nuzzled his head closer to her stomach and thighs. “I…I just had a rough day. I was…I was made fun of on the field….”

The hand in his hair stopped and Tamaki froze, quickly wrapping his arms around his girlfriend’s middle to stop her from rising off their bed. “W-Wait, Y-Y/N!”

The look she fixated him with spelled of death and torture. “Who were those assholes, dear?” her smile was deceptively sweet, but he’d long since learned not to be fooled by its saccharine quality when the eyes just above spoke of ice and fire.

He shook his head, sitting up to lay his hands on her shoulders and calm her down. “It’s f-fine…They were pro’s I normally don’t work with.” he already knew, as soon as she’d wedge the truth out of Fatgum or Kirishima, there would be a news headline of a woman tearing down two hero agencies and beating up the pro’s who had coincidentally humiliated her boyfriend.

Quirkless.

She sighed, her hands moving to cup his cheeks softly. “No, it’s not fine Tamaki. You’re a pro just like them, I bet you’re even a much better one than them too! Don’t listen to such jerks, they’re just jealous of your talent and your looks and your sunshine personality!” she pouted cutely, a sight that made his heart skip a beat.

Tamaki tried to avert his gaze in fear of his heart bursting, but he couldn’t tear it away no matter how hard he tried.

Still, he relaxed at her words, his hands still resting on her shoulders beginning to rub them gently. The tightly coiled string in his stomach coming loose and relaxing. “M-My looks? S-Sun-Sunshine personality? But Mirio is-”

Y/N shook her head, thumbs affectionately rubbing his cheeks. “Mirio may be the most obvious sunny boy out there, but your beauty lies in its subtlety.”

Subtlety?

At his adorably confused look, his girlfriend smiled softly and giggled. “Mhm. Your sun comes out when you’re out there helping people and fighting off the bad guys, it comes out whenever you’re surrounded by your friends and smiling and laughing. And it comes out when you’re with me and we spend time together. You may be Suneater, but to me, you’ll always be the most beautiful sun out there!” she grinned sheepishly, a shy blush dusting her cheeks.

Tamaki’s face outdid the redness of the crabs he was known to eat before fights, it was even redder than the traffic lights. The indescribable urge to suddenly kiss his girlfriend senseless for saying all these beautiful things about him washed over him and his body shook, trying to suppress it desperately.

She noticed it, eyes glancing at his shaking arms. “Huh? Tama-”

His voice came out more breathless than he thought, an octave or two deeper that made the blush on her own cheeks darken. She rarely heard her boyfriend’s voice go lower than it already was. “W-…Wh-What about…my looks?”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore, but his girlfriend was clever.

The redness of his entire face and ears, the twitching of his whole body, the large hands on her shoulders massaging her gave her a very good idea what her previously innocent praises did to her precious boyfriend.

A small smile curved her lips but she quickly hid it when his intense stare bounced back to her.

Y/N pretended to think, tongue sticking out in thought, smiling internally when his ears looking as red as a clown’s nose. “Hmmm… your looks…let’s see…”

She shifted closer to her boyfriend, her thighs touching his and she noted the small jump with underlying glee. “Well, for starters. You have beautiful hair, dear.” her hand moved back into the messy mane, purposefully scratching her nails along his scalp and brushing it back from his face.

His cheeks glowed.

“Did I mention those cute ears?” she playfully but gently flicked one of the appendages, a startled yelp leaving his trembling lips. Tamaki crossed his legs tightly.

Y/N smiled. “And that adorable nose?” she leaned in to give it a quick peck and to nuzzle her own nose with his, a gesture of affectionate they often traded with each-other whenever her beloved was too shy for a kiss. She giggled, “And those beautiful, intense eyes that just lure me into a trance.” she batted her eyelashes at him and she saw the moment something clicked in her boyfriend’s brain when said eyes finally met her gaze head on.

He swallowed with difficulty, voice thick with an emotion that sent a thrill down her spine. “W-What else?” he squirmed on the spot and her smile widened.

Her finger ran over his lips but she refused to kiss him, only riling him up further. “Those soft sweet lips that always steal my breath.” she smiled adoringly and Tamaki’s gaze softened with affection.

She leaned in again, fingers caressing his face and jaw with a feathery touch. “That strong jaw of yours…” she felt it clench beneath her fingertips and resisted the urge to giggle. They moved lower, caressing his rapidly heating skin.

Her fingers moved over his neck, corded muscles shivering with strain, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not to forget that neck of yours I have a weakness for…” she couldn’t fight off the grin when she traced his rapid pulse and Tamaki experienced a full body shiver.

She had to give her boyfriend credit, even after three years of being in a relationship, he still sometimes acted as if they were about to experience their first time. But now, his gaze was more focused, startlingly…intense and sharp.

Right at her.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N focused back on her mission. “Did I mention your broad shoulders?” her hands danced over the material of the black bodysuit he still wore from his hero costume, squeezing the iron hard muscles appreciatively. “So strong…” she caught herself, a blush blooming on her face, her hands slowly sliding down his arms, which twitched on her own shoulders still.

They almost had a death grip on her, but not painful, just the nervous, or excited, twitching of his hands. She hummed when her fingers ran over the hard bumps of muscle lining his toned arms, hidden beneath his suit. “Arms that could make any women turn and look twice.” she felt giddy at the nearly panicked look on his face and laughed. “They can look, but none of them can touch like I can.”

That certainly forced a more vocal reaction from him, a strained noise in the back of his throat, a small, short grunt.

His face was burning, throat working overtime and heart beating like a caged hummingbird, the sound of his own blood rushed in his ears that almost drowned out her voice. Almost, but her voice was too sweet to ignore, too entrancing to not fall into its honeyed charm.

Her eyes were knowing, but they turned to look at his torso instead, the definition of hard ridges and bumps outlined by the tight suit shooting heat down her stomach. “The muscles too…” she licked her lips when her fingers greedily ran along the sculpted pecs and abs of her beloved hero, trembling violently beneath her touch.

“Y-Y/N…” his tone was low, strained and if she had given it a second thought, could’ve been a warning.

Her eyes were alight with something mischievous when she spied the reaction she’d gotten from him, her hands running down his firm quivering thighs. “I always liked your legs too, nice and firm.” she flashed a feral smile when her hand dived down and squeezed the firm flesh of his ass, making Tamaki yelp and his face to erupt in a fresh wave of blazing redness. “Mhmm, definitely this too.”

Tamaki’s breath caught in his throat, now impatiently squirming in his spot at being touched that way again after so long. “Y-Y/N, you-you-”

She hummed, her hands moving dangerously close to the bulging tent on his pelvis. “Mhmm, how could I forget…” her hands danced around the area, refusing to touch him yet and Tamaki bit his lips and his hips bucked at the heat her touch sent through his body.

“Y/N….” his voice turned guttural, arms shaking from trying to restrain himself.

Something within him finally snapped when her hand cupped him firmly over the tight material of his bodysuit, his length straining painfully. “Your beautiful thick co-woah!”

Y/N’s eyes flew open when she was suddenly airborne, but giggled when her back met the soft mattress and her highly sensitive, overly worked up boyfriend towered over her with such intense, burning eyes that it made tingles erupt all over her body.

Even when he looked ready to eat her alive he was still patient and considerate to always ask. “Is it ok if-” she answered by pulling his face down to hers and it seemed like Tamaki’s last restraints finally snapped.

Strong arms wound around her immediately, nearly crushing her against his firm chest, erection pressed tightly against her clothed pelvis and the action made her mewl, his cock rubbing over her already leaking cunt.

His kiss was soft before it gained in intensity and her eyes nearly rolled back when he smashed his mouth against hers, stealing her breath and swallowing any moans she had as his hands shakily tried unbuttoning her flannel shirt.

Seeing his hand morph into something not human-like, she narrowed her eyes in warning. “Don’t. You. Dare.” the man above her swallowed, his quirk subsiding before his fingers continued their path down her torso. “You destroyed enough of my clothes that way! Do you know how many panties I-mpfh!”

Her boyfriend’s eagerness seemed to cloud his normal thoughts, he’d have been a cowering mess by now had he not been so turned on by her earlier teasing.

Even if it had been a game to reassure him, to maybe rile him up a bit, she’d meant every single world.

She released a sigh of relief when the first layer of clothes was stripped from both of them, Tamaki’s suit pushed down to his hips, naked skin now in full view to her hungry gaze.

She licked her lips and Tamaki caught the action, leaning back down to kiss her passionately again. Y/N moaned and tugged on his hair, leaning her head back to pant harshly and try to breathe. “T-Tama, you’re-you’re really eager today.” not that she minded, not at all. “Ohhh, dear, yes, just like that Tamaki…mmm…” she moaned when his large hands gently kneaded her breasts, her bra safely discarded onto the floor, thankfully remaining whole.

After the crab claw incident she’d banned him from eating seafood for a whole week.

Fatgum’s suspicious questioning of not eating their daily dose of takoyaki after work was only met by a very red faced stuttering Tamaki.

She squeaked when his fingers lightly pinched her nipple and her face flushed red all the way to her neck at the intense look he leveled her with. “How can I not be, with…with such a b-beautiful girlfriend…” he ran the flat of his tongue around her perked bud, before sucking on it, growling when her fingers tangled into his hair and pulled.

Tamaki tore himself away from her breasts and gave them a gentle, appreciative squeeze, before moving down over her stomach, squeezing the flesh almost possesively.

He suckled on the skin of her hips, leaving behind wet red marks, his fingers quickly worked to remove her pants, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head when her strong musk finally hit him.

Tamaki inhaled deeply, leaning close to her core and Y/N flushed in embarrassment, he didn’t think to-? “T-Tama? W-What are-ahh!” she gasped, body drawn taut and face half buried in the pillow when she felt her boyfriend bury his face against her soaking panties.

The clothing did little to curb his advances, his tongue dipping against the material almost insistently. “Off…” his voice sent shivers down her spine.

“T-Tamaki!” she jumped when he slipped her panties down her legs, discarding them somewhere behind them.

He leaned down and spread her legs, calloused hands roving over them appreciatively with a gentle, caring touch.

Then, he dived in.

Straight for his meal.

A choked cry filled the air and Y/N immediately fisted the bed sheets to keep herself grounded from the way her boyfriend’s tongue plunged into her messy cunt, fingers spreading her folds embarrassingly wide to shove the wet muscle in properly.

Y/N slapped a hand against her mouth, panting harshly into it and trying to tone down her moans. “T-Ta-Tamaaa-k-KI!” her voice squeaked when the tip of his tongue flicked at her clit, making her whole body jump at the sensitive touch.

Her boyfriend did it again, the tips of his ears glowing a bright red, but that didn’t stop him from eating her out like a starved man.

And finally, after her body stopped quaking and shaking violently on the soft mattress, her boyfriend rose from his comfortable perch between her legs, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

His fingers were still slick from her arousal and she covered her eyes when he licked them absentmindedly, as if forgetting to clean the spoon after eating ice-cream.

“How…h-how was that?” his voice was low, breathless, chest heaving with deep breaths.

She peeked up at him from between her fingers, face still red, but her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “That was great Tama!! I loved it!” she grinned cheekily, until she suddenly felt his hands settle on her thighs.

Her eyes shot to his face faster than the speed of light and she froze at the intense look he leveled her with. “R-Really?” she could see his previously shattered confidence slowly building back up and mentally gave herself a pat on the back.

Until his hands gently spread her legs apart. “Is…is this okay?” blushing to the roots of his hair, Tamaki swallowed thickly, his own arousal throbbing painfully in need.

Y/N wrapped her legs loosely around his hips, further opening herself up to him, her eyes hooded and dark when they leveled him with a look that could bring him to his knees if he hadn’t been already. “More than okay.”

He exhaled shakily, fingers trembling atop her warm skin and Y/N’s hands covered his shaky ones trying to unbuckle his belt. She smiled impishly at him. “Let me sweetie. Why don’t you…lie down?” at the hint of nervousness and doubt that came creeping back onto his face, she leaned in close to his ear, biting the pointed appendage gently. “Suneater.”

Her voice was molten honey and early mornings with laughter and cuddles, it was dripping with want and love.

All for him.

Just for him.

You aren’t the things they say you are.

Tamaki realized Y/N whispered the words herself, eyes focused on his meaningfully. Hands cupping his face affectionately.

The pro-hero fell silent, in awe at his girlfriend’s strength and unrivaled support and belief in him. It filled his chest with pride for being able to love and cherish someone like her and a sense of peace to know she was one wall that would never crumble, even if he himself crumbled.

Overwhelmed with his own feelings, he switched their position faster than she blinked.

His back met the bed and her weight settled on his thighs, hands working to undo his pants and underwear and push them down to free his length.

His gaze was adoring when he looked up at her. “I-I love you Y/N.” she’d only seen the man as confident as he was now on three instances.

When he was fighting villains, talking about his friends…

Or professing his love to her.

Fighting back the sting in her eyes, she leaned down to share a deep kiss with her boyfriend, their hips gently rocking against each-other.

It seemed like an eternity before Tamaki’s hand moved down to gently rub at her clit, causing her to jump and release a high pitched cry. “Oh-oh-oh-oh! T-Tama please!”

It wasn’t that it happened often, it wasn’t that she didn’t love the shy aspect of her boyfriend, but the look he gave her was definitely not that of her innocent shy Tamaki.

It was almost feral.

“Do…you want me Y/N?” she bit her lip, nearly hard enough to break the skin and she whimpered when he ran the tip of his weeping cock along her slick folds. “Where do you want me?”

Her boyfriend did a complete 180, the low guttural voice sending shivers down her spine, the thrill of knowing her good boy Tamaki was buried underneath that positively dominant male under her. “I-Inside Tama.” she would’ve covered her face in embarrassment at his intense look had it not been for her need.

“I-Inside?” his jaw clenched, fragile control already fraying at the seams as he rubbed at her sensitive flesh again. “…Here?”

She gripped his hips, fingers digging into the tough flesh, a groan leaving the depths of her throat. “Y-Yes Tamaki plea-ahh!”

It made her back arch like a bow when she felt her boyfriend’s thick cock stretch her walls, sharp pleasurable tingles shooting from her pelvis all the way up her back and arms.

It was exhilarating.

His harsh pants met her neck, hot breaths of air that made her dizzy with the strong thrusts into her core. She wrapped her arms around her boyfriend to anchor herself, trying to muffle her groans and shrieks into the pillow.

Tamaki leaned forward, lifting her legs up even more towards her torso and pushing deeper, to suckle on her neck. Y/N moaned loudly, nails clawing at his shoulders.

His low grunts and moans filled her ears and fueled her own impending orgasm, legs locking tightly around his trim hips before a particularly hard thrust made her see white behind closed eyes.

Y/N cried out, spasming and seizing up when her release washed over her, her boyfriend slowing his thrusts to near to non-existent bucks of the hips, just bucking between her shaking thighs gently.

Both adults panted, Tamaki still hard within her, the flutters and squeezes around his cock making him close his eyes.

They flew open when a soft hand met his heaving chest and Y/N’s glazed over eyes met his. Tamaki leaned down and captured her lips in a soft kiss, the complete opposite of their intensity before as he softly began rocking his hips back into her when she moved.

Y/N whimpered, still sensitive, but craving and wanting her boyfriend to finish. Tamaki ran his hands down her sides, gently squeezing the flesh of her breasts and cupping her face to kiss her lovingly.

His thrusts were deep and slow, drawing out the heat he felt that simmered just below his navel and her second orgasm.

This one was slow, less animalistic and more quiet. Tamaki’s long drawn out groan drowned out her own soft whimpers and cries of his name.

The couple shared a long kiss, their bodies slowly coming down from their highs.

Tamaki panted heavily, nuzzling into her neck and kissing the forming bruises apologetically, fingers gently gliding over the various bite marks.

Y/N giggled, a hoarse sound, before her hands lovingly stroked his messy hair.

Comfortable silence followed their afterglow, Tamaki gently removing himself to lay beside her and cradle her tenderly to his chest. She giggled, shaking her head at the plethora of emotions she could pull out of her shy boyfriend.

Tamaki’s own hand glided through her hair and down her back, grabbing the blanket to cover them from the cold air creeping over their sweaty skin. “So…are you still feeling inadequate?”

She laughed when she glanced at the bright red ears and cheeks of her boyfriend, who cleared his throat and ducked his head shyly, as if the events prior hadn’t even happened. “N-No…t-thanks to you.” his smile was soft and sweet, melting her heart.

Y/N nuzzled her nose with his, grinning. “You know Tamaki, if you’re ever feeling inadequate again, just tell me!” she winked and the action sent a shiver rushing down his spine. “Oh! I know, what about showing the other heroes how awesome you are if we do it in your office-”

Tamaki’s eyes widened in horror. “Y-Y/N n-not-not in the office!!” her shy boyfriend covered his face in embarrassment at the prospect.

There were Fatgum and Kirishima and all the other heroes. It would bring so much shame! He wouldn’t- he couldn’t-!

Laughter filled his ears and he felt Y/N’s arms wrap around his middle and her lips press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Bonus:

“What’s the matter, Suneater? I’m surprised you’re not in your chicken form from how well I can see those feathers ruffling!” one of the pro heroes shared a laugh with his colleague for the joke.

Tamaki, dressed in full hero costume and dusting himself off after a successful villain apprehension, glanced at them.

You aren’t the things they say you are.

You need to have the heart of a lion, not a kitten!

The pro’s laughed amongst themselves, until a sudden strong gust of wind knocked them off to the ground. “What the-!”

Wings larger than the size of Hawk’s own blocked the sun from sight, deep shadows falling on the pale faces of the two heroes, who looked up at the towering form of Suneater himself.

Tamaki’s wings spanned wide, taking up space for himself, sharp talons cracking the concrete beneath his feet. The black claws seemed larger than one of the pro hero’s hands and both men froze when Suneater spoke in a low tone, his sharp stare piercing right through them.

“Maybe you didn’t catch my hero name,” the two heroes were unable to tear their gaze away from the man glaring down at them, despite the shot of fear rushing down their spines. “But I’m Suneater and you’re in my way.”

#tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki smut #tamaki smut #bnha tamaki #smut #smut fic #bnha smut #mha smut #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki #aged up characters #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha fic #bnha fic

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beebrainedstudios · 3 years

Text

You Said I Was The Most Exotic Flower:

In which Kell can’t forget someone. This is an exploration of a headcanon I have relating to Kell and some trauma he carries from his experiences in ADSOM. Definitely a little on the heavier side, so mind the tags/warnings. This will have a sequel though, so keep an eye out!

Warning for descriptions of PTSD, panic attacks, anthophobia, emetophobia, vomiting, and brief mentions of slavery and blood!

It’s the strangest of weaknesses, Kell thought, retching into the marble sink. The sharpest of cruelties. As he leaned back against the far wall and wiped his mouth, he thought of his condition, and its cause, all while trying to avoid looking at the gilded vase on the vanity’s countertop. There were many like it all throughout the palace- there always were this time of year- but the tiny washroom was too cramped to offer any escape. He tilted his head back and swallowed down the burn in his throat summoned by his pounding heart, wishing he hadn’t already caught a glimpse of the delicate lilies arranged inside it.

His lungs were full of the sweet summer scent. Kell shut his eyes and tried to breathe over it, but there was no room for air. Frosty blue petals grew in his mind, warping and twisting into two eyes, each sharp as knives and lit with wicked joy. A voice echoed behind them, laughing along with his racing pulse. The smell was like smoke, coiling against the back of his eyes. He couldn’t pick it apart from the scent of his own magic. The voice was hiding in it, sliding down his throat and into his head like water. For a moment, he was drowning.

I smell something sweet.

Kell lunged once again for the sink.

***

The fabric in his hands was soft like crushed velvet, the silver embroidery bright as fine filigree on ceramic, glinting lines on silky smooth.

Rhy was smiling at him, pleased with the banner and its signature design. Kamerov Loste. A moment ago, his brother’s newest scheme had been buzzing in his head, a call to the chase, a chance to escape. But now his thoughts were turning, spiraling around and over one another like the thorny vines stitched into the banner’s front. He couldn’t pull them back together, pull them back apart, straighten them out. They were a writhing mess of dread.

The embroidery traced itself into the same winding shapes of his thoughts, carving out monochrome brambles, two leaves, petals. A ring of them, then another, until there were two gleaming roses on the banner, both bound together by their own thorns.

My rose.

Blood dripping down his chin, smeared along the front of Rhy’s shirt and along his many rings.

He tried to shake the image away, masking the motion as exasperation, but it only made him think of the ruby drops that had spilled all over the prince’s carpet. Kell blinked, and thought, and then as soon as it’d hit it was over. He looked up and sighed at his brother with a bemused smirk. Inside his mind was screaming, and his hands, still clenched around the pennant, were cold as ice.

“How subtle.”

***

It had been only a little thing, at the ball. It was so much easier to ignore the plants and the vases when there was Rhy to laugh with, royals to avoid, Alucard to admonish. The scent of floral sweetness was hidden behind burning candles and wine.

And of course, there was Lila. Kell was spinning with her now, a few moments after she’d slipped away from him on the balcony. He’d followed her, slyly, at the edge of her vision, his presence a request to resume. He’d been waiting too long now to follow right at her heels like a dog- but he’d settle for skulking like a fox instead.

Lila had nabbed herself two drinks before coming back for more.

Now they were dancing, and the music and everything else was only a murmur in Kell’s ears as Lila pressed against him. They were still at the edge of the dance floor- neither of them craved the attention of the center spot- but Kell could have been anywhere in the world for all it mattered.

Then his toes pinched and he stumbled, Lila’s boot quickly righting itself away from his own.

Lila laughed quietly- Saints, he loved that laugh- and pulled him back to her. “Sorry, flower boy.” She mumbled, her eyes already back to her feet so she could mark the steps.

Kell froze, the murmur of the world slipping away until he was alone with Lila’s hands in his own. They weren’t Lila’s.

He drew back from her, snatching his hands away and bolting across the ballroom. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was drawing attention, he was moving too fast, he was being rude- but none of it mattered because his hands were freezing and he hadn’t been dancing with Lila at all. Or had he?

His hands were so cold, and it was spreading up his arms like the touch of frozen fingers.

Kell burst into the hall, a pair of guards following in his wake, but Kell didn’t notice or didn’t care and ran for his room, sliding around the corners and taking stairs two at a time. He couldn’t see, there were tears in his eyes, but he heard the quiet clatter of glass- no, ice- growing behind him, and the guards were yelling now but Kell wouldn’t stop. He might have heard the king, or Lila- not Lila- or someone else, but none of them were as loud as the voice in his head.

Hello, flower boy.

He crashed into his room, shouldering through the door and straight to the floor. Kell had enough sense to shut it behind him, kicking it closed with one foot, but then there was nothing but the dark and the cold and icy hands against his neck. Around it, like a vise. In his hair like a mother’s touch. On his shoulders like a father’s. They were worse than the fists, worse than the sting of Rhy’s knuckles when they hadn’t been Rhy’s at all-

A sudden sob tore from Kell’s mouth and he scrambled for his coat, the one flash of red he could still see through the tears, but when he tried to stand to put it on he only fell back to the floor. His feet had frozen too, and he felt that they would snap apart if he tried again. Tight as wire, his voice was the whine of a dying animal.

She was back, just as she’d been again and again for the past four months.

“No, no, shut up, go away, go away please-”

I should keep you.

Kell couldn’t hear anything else but his heart and his breaths and the white queen’s voice, sharp like the wind in winter, and so very cold like a knife to his chest-

I will own your life.

“Y-you can’t have it, it belongs to Rh-”

As if summoned, the door flew open, bright light filling the room and tracing the shape of the prince in the dark. Kell could see the outline of his crown perched in his hair, the sheen of his golden eyes filled with concern, but he blinked and more tears fell. Then it wasn’t Rhy anymore.

“Kell, Saints, you’re freezing the room-”

Behind him, Lila’s- not Lila’s- voice sparked, drawing closer with every thudding beat of his heart.

“Kell, hey, I’m sorry-”

Kell let out a cracked sound that he’d hate himself for later, his magic surging with the scent of petals before a gust of frigid air pushed the false prince away and slammed the door shut again. Kell pulled himself further away from it, back near the wall, fingers searching first for the icy hands tracing his chest before tangling in the soft folds of his coat. It was still warm, and Kell tried to choke back the tiniest sob of relief as he pulled it close around his shoulders like a sheet. The tears on his cheeks felt like snow.

The hands against his throat shifted to his chin, as if the queen was right behind him, her nails raking feather-light against his skin. He shook and followed them and their pull, wishing that someone, that anyone else was here but her, because he was helpless to stop it. His magic was hot, surging with the adrenaline in his veins, but he couldn’t summon anything but the stinking scent of flowers and it was nothing against the cold threatening to split him apart.

She was everywhere.

Saints, he hated flowers so much.

The queen laughed- why hate what you are, sweetness- and Kell looked up and saw nothing but the glimmering dark of his room and the white shards slowly covering everything in frosted white.

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multiverseofmiracleshq · 3 years

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1/3 of the Reality Stone fragments remained with its host, Ripley Ryan, in the hospital. Determined to finish what they started, the Black Widow and Winter Soldier headed to the Intensive Care Unit along with a team of mutants who were sent by Wanda Maximoff to cast a reality binding spell. Once their goal was achieved, there was nothing standing between them and Zemo at the Town Hall.

These events come AFTER the INN and MUSEUM and before the TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky pushed through the hospital doors with both hands, metal clinking against the acrylic outer shell and double paned panels. He was hot on Natasha's heels, having made a pitstop for the both of them at the museum before the rest of the crew could cause too much of an issue. When he caught up to her just before she hit the stairwell, he slid her a twin set of guns and then readjusted the strap to his AR. "Sure we can't just shoot first and ask questions later?"

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Although not in her suit, Natasha had clicked on the two Widow’s Bites that Barnes had taken from the Museum. The two guns were a gift from a poor S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was now weaponless, but Natasha accepted them from James all the same. “You want to risk shooting the wrong person?” Checking how much ammo she had, the Widow shook her head. “Personal mission. Maybe bad form, but family first.” Knowing that Taskmaster was in the building - and still sore from their last run in - Natasha quietly pushed the door open and raised her gun while she rounded the corner, coming face to face with a crying girl in scrubs. “Too easy.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked his tongue at that. "Fuck form. I would've taken more, but I know how much Barton is attached to his bow." he was only mildly joking, using it as a way to fill the space so he didn't spiral into his own mind. "Think we should've accepted back up?" And now he really was joking, mirroring Nat with his own weapon. He stopped short when they came around the corner and he instinctively tightened his grip on his gun. "It's never that easy."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Eyes rolling, Natasha quickly checked over her shoulder. “Easy to say when it fits the situation,” she hummed. “We do have back-up. Bobbi’s here and changing. She’s got the codes. Psylocke is somewhere looking for her friends. Apparently, Wanda is helping the mutants.” Whatever helped them through. Lowering her gun slightly, Natasha glanced from the sniffling young adult to the name tag she wore. “Hey, Astrid. Sad day at the hospital?”

YELENA BELOVA: Caught up in her own moping, ‘Astrid’ started at the sound of the woman’s voice and sat up as she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. No. I mean -- yes. It’s a hospital. But our patients usually are cured. Just bad dating experiences. Dumb, I know.” She nudged her magazine closed. “Are you here to visit someone?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Bad dating experiences?" he couldn't keep the question out of his tone, the laughable disbelief. He cocked the gun single handedly before dropping it back in his grip. "In fact we are. Wanna tell me who it is you're crying over?"

YELENA BELOVA: Although his tone was a little snide, the brunette didn’t notice. It was lonely at the front desk if she wasn’t making rounds and her friends were fine but the recent dumping had taken a toll. “His name is Jim. He’s a nice guy. Was a nice guy. We went on a few dates and he went all two-faced. Completely ghosted me. That was three days ago.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Natasha wracked her brain. “Helmut,” she swore under her breath. “Astrid, have you talked to ‘Jim’ since?”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky just...blinked at her. Then, all of a sudden he barked a laugh, shaking his head. "How mad would you be if I took out all of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, voice lower, only for Nat to hear. "Yeah, 'Strid, we just wanna talk to him. He's like family, you get it."

YELENA BELOVA: Finally really taking the guns in consideration, Astrid slowly stood and reached around her scrubs for her buzzer. “I should call Chris. He’s head of Hospital security and he can help you figure out where you’re headed.”

BUCKY BARNES: That wasn’t really part of the plan. “Yel-Astrid, Jim’s a little more important right now.” With a sigh, Bucky aimed the AR, barrel directed at ‘Astrid’. “We don’t need head of security.” A red dot appeared at the center of her scrubs, the buzz of the scope a sound only he could hear. “Just give Jim a call, yeah?”

YELENA BELOVA: “He’s not gonna answer,” she huffed as her eyes welled up again. “I just told you -- he’s not interested in me. I think it’s my thighs. It has to be.” Nearly crosseyed, she stared at the light on her scrubs and the demanding man. Fumbling for her phone, Astrid dialed with shaking fingers. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. “See? Thighs.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked off the scope, the red light disappearing before he lowered his gun. ”I’m just gonna hit her. You good with that?” he asked Natasha.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Watching the entire exchange, Natasha had shouldered past Yelena at one point to rummage through the cabinets behind the desk. They needed as much info about the Database as possible, and there a possibility some of Ripley’s medical records were there. At Bucky’s question, she glanced up. Yelena would be pissed, but the two of them had come for a reason. “Only if you’re done hearing about Jim.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Ha ha.” Bucky came over, keeping Astrid’s eyes on him as he came around the desk. “Hey, ‘Strid-“ he employed the same method he had used on the Wyngarde sister, slamming the side of his gun into her temple just hard enough to shake around some loose change. “You have great thighs.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “Oof.” Natasha exhaled as the gun connected with her sisters temple. Deftly moving to catch Yelena and ease her to the ground, the spy crouched down and inspected the welt that was already growing. It still didn’t look like Yelena, but she had stopped crying. “You could have been a little bit more graceful, but I’ll take it. Grab her.” Natasha rose. “We’re not leaving her for Taskmaster to find.” Best to let him think ‘Astrid’ had just abandoned her post or was doing her rounds. The S.H.I.EL.D. pager Bobbi had given her buzzed in her hand and Natasha pocketed it. “We’ve got a room. Intensive care unit, Room 8-1. You know, I always said Clint married up.” Grabbing Astrid’s badge for good measure, Natasha clicked the safety off on her gun. “Let’s go.”

KWANNON: Elsewhere, Psylocke and Laura had waited quietly in the shade of the building. The telepathic signal being emitted led the newly arrived X-Men to the hospital. Raven head tipped to the side, Psylocke held a hand out to gesture that Magik, Synch and Nico should enter the hospital. The door swung closed between them, faces flushing from recycled air. “Intensive Care Unit is the top floor. You know what to do?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Graceful?" it came out more as a scoff and Bucky crouched down, adjusting the AR to lay flat against his back again so he could sling Yelena's fake body over his shoulder. She hung limply, swaying back and forth when he stood. "When have you ever known me to be graceful." he said just as he twisted around, narrowly clipping Yelena's head on the edge of the counter. "ICU? What are the chances he'll be in a coma and I can just smother him."

EVERETT THOMAS: Synch followed Magik and the other witch into the hospital, trying his best not to let himself get too wrapped up in everything around him. This whole thing was pretty messed up of SHIELD, but his main focus was Laura. Even if she didn’t remember any of it, he still felt bonded to her in ways he could barely describe. And making sure she was safe was definitely high on his priorities. “Yeah, we’ve got it.” He responded to Kwannon, making sure to keep on high alert as he scanned their surroundings.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: The sneakers that she had worn as Lulu Gordon were more for show than actual practical use, and the treads were nearly nonexistent. Nat couldn’t actually remember working out in Pleasant Hill, just posing on her yoga mat for selfies instead. It was hard not to slide around with no traction but she pushed open a door to another stairwell and held it open for Bucky, watching to make sure he didn’t smack Yelena’s head into the wall. “You would have failed the Red Room,” she hummed. Presentation begets perfection, after all. Natasha had been the best. Yelena had been better. “Zemo’s at Town Hall. That’s not why we’re here. Ripley’s intubated upstairs. They’re making a play for the Infinity Stone. Did you read your file?” Stopping abruptly, Natasha flattened herself against the wall by the doorway of the next level. She could hear footsteps in the hall, and that felt deliberate in the quiet hospital. Gesturing with her chin towards the door, Nat pushed it open and raised her gun. She moved quickly to turn but still found her face connecting with a fist.

BUCKY BARNES: "I didn't care to read pages and pages of documents beyond who was who and what they were capable of." Which was a delicate way of saying, 'did you really think I would?'. Somewhere along the way of climbing flights, Bucky stashed Yelena's unconscious body in a medical supplies closet, knowing that she wouldn't wake up for a while and that he needed both hands. As soon as they both went into alert, hands moved too fast for Nat to dodge and him to barely skid to a stop and back up, gun immediately raising. He fired off a few rounds, the spray of bullets disoriented in the ambush.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Wiping blood off her nose, Natasha dropped her gun and kicked it to the side. Bullets never tended to work with Taskmaster. She’d keep it for backup. He had his shield and a collapsed bow. Claws in his gloves. Basically, he was as tricked out as ever. “Still sore about last time?” The ( former ) redhead squared her shoulders back. “Zemo can’t be offering you enough for this.” But he was silent, like always, and a moment later the two were locked in hand to hand combat.

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Sword pulled off of her back, Illyana cast a wary look around the hall. “I hate hospitals,” she muttered. Wanda’s spell was complicated but she had drilled it into the sorceress and witch. “It would be easier if we could teleport out after, but apparently we have to walk. No mutant left behind.” Lorna, Gabby, Rogue.

LAURA KINNEY: As the mutants made their way through the hospital, Laura paused and narrowed her eyes. There were more people in the hospital than their should have been. “Take the back.” She instructed Kwannon. “James Barnes is moving to the southern wing.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky dropped the gun, the strap catching on his shoulder before it banged against his hip. It was only Taskmaster, the asshole with the psuedo copycat style and a piss poor attitude. "Less talking-" he kicked at Taskmaster, just hard enough to diverge his attention and have him focused on both of them. "Glad I dropped our nice office secretary off, huh."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: He had got in three good hits but Natasha was at four. “Nursing student,” she huffed as she dodged a kick. “This is a dead end. He won’t quit. It’s called a distraction.”

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett followed closely behind, trying his best to keep close to Laura without making her feel like he was suffocating her. He didn’t want to make things weird in any way, but God was it hard. “Hey uh, are you okay?”

BUCKY BARNES: "So in all those times you've fought him, you never figured out a way to beat him?" They parried some more, moving this way and that. "I'm not going to leave you here to get your pretty yoga instructor face punched in."

BOBBI MORSE: One of the doctor’s personal offices had always been stocked for agents -- as a safety precaution. It was working well in their favor. Her locker held a spare uniform and set of staves that she gratefully hooked into their holsters before grabbing three disruptors. One went onto her own neck and her body shuddered in relief as her appearance twisted back to its regular self. She broke out in a sprint until she found Barnes and Romanoff, and Bobbi tossed them each a chip before kicking off the wall to strike Taskmaster with a baton. As she should have predicted, his bow separated into staves of his own. “What’re you guys still doing down here?”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: If she hadn’t been focused on not getting slashed in half with a sword, Natasha would have rolled her eyes. “It keeps evolving. More new heroes, more moves. We haven’t killed each other yet.” The elastic she had tied her hair up with was falling out, but then Bobbi was there. Nat caught the small chip and quickly fastened it on the back of her neck. There was a second before her body was her own once more, clothed in the uniform she had entered the town with. Even though she was lacking any of her weapons other than the Widow’s Bite, it felt good to see her own hands again. “How about my normal face getting punched in?”

BUCKY BARNES: "That isn't obvious?" Bucky said, arms coming up to cover his face when Taskmaster slammed a fist down. Jumping back, he caught the chip, using what he knew from the file to revert his appearance back into something a little bulkier, steadier, familiar. "It's not exactly easy to get to the reality stone harboring mad woman when there's 600 tons of body armor in the way."

LAURA KINNEY: Lips twitching, Laura pivoted on one heel. “I look like a cheerleader.” She had gone to pep rallies with pom-poms and enthusiasm. The whole nine yards. The worst part was that she had fun, on some level. That pretty much summed up how she was. “I want them to cast the spell so we can get out of here. No more Vaults, no more Pleasant Hill’s.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I have complete and total faith in this woman.” Bobbi held a hand to her temple to stop her vision from swimming after a hit. “But we need to keep moving. Nat, you said you’re old friends. I don’t want to ruin the reunion.” When the redhead nodded, Bobbi arched a brow at Bucky before running into the nearest stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett couldn’t help his soft chuckle at the cheerleader comment as he nodded at her. “I mean, it’s not a bad look. Definitely not you, though.” He pointed out, nodding solemnly at her next words. But unfortunately, they were X-Men and this was probably not going to be the last Pleasant Hill. Or Vault. Before he could say much else, a scalpel flew through the air and stuck onto the wall next to them, revealing Bullseye standing down the hall. “Shit..”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian followed alongside the mutants as they made their way through the hospital, careful to be attentive to their surroundings. As they all rounded the corner, a scalpel was flung through the air, nearly hitting Viv in the face as it struck the wall and they were face to face with Bullseye. “We need to divide. We can’t let him keep us from the stone. Magik, Nico, I can phase us into her room? I think we’re close.”

BUCKY BARNES: "Shitty reunion." he looked over at Nat, only falling back from Taskmaster when he saw the confirmation in her steady gaze. Breaking off, he followed Bobbi up the stairs, finding no other obstacles before hitting a floor with double doors that read: Authorized Personnel Only: Intensive Care Unit. He slowed, weapon coming back around to rest in his grip. "They powered a whole town by putting a girl into a coma." he said it with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't exactly convincing me they shouldn't become a government section lost to time." The room was empty when they entered, the doors clattering behind them. He wasn't sure keeping quiet had any point anymore. Gun poised, he scanned the empty beds, not even noticing the low beep of the monitor and the occupied bed because his eyes landed on Yelena, seated and scanning through...something. "Didn't I leave you in a broom closet?" he said a little breathlessly, grip tightening on the weapon.

YELENA BELOVA: Was she mad? Yes. At Bucky and Natasha? No. At S.H.I.EL.D.? Of course. At Zemo, at the situation. Yelena had been pissed when she came to in a broom closet, tossed to the side like a basic cleaning supply. She remembered Astrid Massey, but her face wasn’t her own. Bullseye had met her in the hallway. He had given her the device Zemo was passing around to his teammates, the disrupter returning her to her former form. As Benjamin headed down the hallway to meet the ‘heroes’, Yelena moved to the ICU and found the Database. The codes were already unlocked from whatever doctor had run away mid scan from the intruders, and when the door opened Yelena glanced back over her shoulder. “Seemed more fun out here. I saw Taskmaster downstairs, but this was a better opportunity. They never let me up here. Now I know why.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Natasha is handling it.” Bucky remarked, lowering his weapon just a little bit. “I know what you’re doing, and it sucks to say this, but it isn’t helping. We can handle the database later, we need to deal with Ripley now.” he spoke pointedly at her, knowing that any form of coddling or soft spoken words didn’t apply here. Not that it ever did. Bucky could never imagine babying Yelena in any situation. “Just trust me on this.”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian quickly grabbed onto Magik and Nico, not wasting any time as she phased the three of them past Bullseye and through to Ripley’s hospital room.

LAURA KINNEY: At his comment, the arch of a brow broke Laura’s deadpan. “Debatable taste.” She commented offhandedly. At the sight of Bullseye she crouched, lunging towards him without claws. Kwannon could follow Viv and the spellcasters. Laura had no problem being a distraction.

YELENA BELOVA: “Natasha is getting her ass handed to her. Again.” The sisters had a messy history with Taskmaster. She hit a key and the code flashed red, the page turning to a simple box for an access code. “We have to shut down the Database.” Yelena straightened up to look at him, her own gun holstered. “We can’t let them do this anymore.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky worked through the tic in his jaw, leveling his voice. By now, his nerves were frayed. “Do you Yelena?” he lowered the gun even more until the barrel was pointed at the floor. “Do you trust me?”

YELENA BELOVA: For a long moment, she just stared. Did she? It wasn’t easily answered. “I want to.” Yelena replied honestly. A finger hovered above the key before she moved, body tightening and constricting as she fell.

BOBBI MORSE: Running behind due to having to disable to alarms on the floor, Bobbi skidded to a stop as she lowered her stun gun. “--She was going to hit the key, right?”

YELENA BELOVA: “Fuck. You.” Yelena hissed from the ground, fingers digging into the tile as she tried to pull herself up. She wasn’t going to hit the key.

BUCKY BARNES: “Seriously?” he hissed, the metal plates clamping into place audibly as he tightened his grip. “Seriously, Bobbi?” he was pissed, clearly. “No wonder you’re a fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” Bucky snatched the stun gun from Bobbi’s grip on his way past her, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it until it was in a bunch of little pieces before he finished his walk to Yelena. “She wasn’t going to hit the fucking key.” he crouched down, helping Yelena back to her feet. “What’s next? You want to hit Ripley too? Do you more good.”

BOBBI MORSE: “Oh, c’mon.” Bobbi muttered as she had the stun gun ripped away and trampled. It wasn’t like that would have been helpful for defense or anything. “Tell me she’s not a flight risk.” Dark eyes narrowed. “I’d love to hit Ripley. Hopefully wake her up. That goddamn stone is fragmenting and destabilizing the town. If it collapses we all may be written out off reality. No happy reunion with your girlfriend then, huh?”

YELENA BELOVA: Yelena just spit towards Bobbi’s feet as James help her up, holding on to his arm even when she was upright.

BUCKY BARNES: “You think you’re the one to call that?” he shot over his shoulder, fully standing now. “Being written out of reality wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me this year.” he turned his attention to Yelena, looking her over but he didn’t ask her if she were okay. “You make an awful nurse, you know that?”

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Phasing in along with Viv and Nico, Illyana stepped around the broken black shards of a weapon. “Now this is where the party is.” She laughed slightly. Making her way to the bed, dark lined eyes narrowed at the woman. Tugging the hospital gown to the side, the red glow of the Stone was flickering under the white bandages. “They said you would have another fragment. We need two.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I think I’m deepest in the shit and have used the Database before, so I made a snap judgement call. It’s not like I shot her. We talked it out.” Bobbi didn’t flinch at the spit. “Maybe not for you, but there’s a lot of other people here.”

YELENA BELOVA: “Nursing student.” Yelena muttered. “The scrubs were ugly.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: She had smashed in the window of the wrong room during her entry, but Riri found the right one after checking for heat signatures. “You have a second fragment now.” The suit’s chamber opened to expose the Reality Stone shard. “Zemo’s got the third.”

BUCKY BARNES: “They were pretty ugly.” he agreed quietly, face pinched lightly at the edges. His head whipped sharply around at Riri’s entrance, completely ignoring Bobbi at this point. “So we go get Zemo.” he took a breath. “Finally.”

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: As the armored teen guided the Stone back to its host, Magik looked to Nico. “Are you ready?” It wasn’t really a question. With eyes glowing blue, she held a hand out over the chest of Ripley. “I’m going to be very unhappy if she chooses to smite us.”

NICO MINORU: Nico looked down at the incubated woman, trying her best not to be intimidated by the thought of all that could go wrong as she adjusted her grip on her staff and nodded. She looked towards Riri as she entered the room and smiled in relief at the sight of another stone. “Okay, yeah. Ready.” She agreed as she gripped her staff and held her other hand over Ripley to follow Magik. “Stabilize.” The staff emitted a glow as she focused herself onto the spell.

YELENA BELOVA: “Jim. What a nice young man.” Yelena scoffed. She paused, softening slightly as she turned to face Bucky fully. “Thank you.” Her tone was composed of genuine relief. Rising up to reach his face, Yelena pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do trust you.”

BOBBI MORSE: Determined to focus on the spell, Bobbi’s face twitched at Yelena and Bucky. Worse than high schoolers.

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: Drawing on Limbo, Illyana closed her eyes when she heard Nico’s staff and began chanting. Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormammu limbo ex angulis eminebant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. As she repeated Wanda’s words, the red began to glow and overtake the room. It burned so brightly that it overtook the space and ate everything else out entirely.

BUCKY BARNES: With his ungloved hand, bucky cupped the side of Yelena’s face. “I know.” he heard Illyana and Nico behind him but he didn’t look. He had a gut feeling where this was going and he was just…relieved to see Yelena again. It tugged somewhere deep in his chest, making him oddly angry all over again. He was exhausted, frustrated, but relieved. “Also, please don’t ever mention Jim again.” he said on what sounded like a breathy laugh. “C’mere.” Even though they didn’t do this, Bucky pulled Yelena in close, arms wrapping around her small frame.

NICO MINORU: Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormanmu limbo ex angulis emine ant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. Nico repeated alongside Magik, closing her eyes as the red glow overtook the entire room. Based on that, she hoped it was working. And she also hoped that they wouldn’t kill Ripley in the process.

YELENA BELOVA: Folding into him, Yelena stared at the two spellcasters. She hated magic. She hated how small it made her feel. She didn’t like Ripley either, but they all deserved better than this. “He was a victim too, at first.” The light was too bright then and Yelena had no choice but to avert her eyes.

RIPLEY RYAN: Every memory. Every life. Every backstory. The Town Database was comprehensive and the woman whose energy fueled it remembered every detail. For the first time since they had managed to restrain her, the stirrings of magic gave way to an elevated form of consciousness. Eyes and mouth open, red poured from them until reality was rattled by a burst of energy. Across the town, those left reverted to how they had looked before being changed. Faces returned and scarlet gave way to familiar bodies and clothes. When the wave washed over the hospital, it faded to reveal a blonde in a hospital gown standing in front of the mangled computer system. “I’m going to kill someone.”

LAURA KINNEY: The fight with Bullseye had ended, but Laura followed the scent of blood towards where the Black Widow and Taskmaster had fought. Natasha was fine, her adversary fleeing towards Zemo and the Town hall. When the redhead said she would follow him, Laura had left her to get to the ICU. Without her claws the fight had been a little different than she preferred, but not all of the blood on her was her own. By the time she got there, the room was awash in red. The force of the energy impact threw Laura against the wall, but when she straightened and came to, her cheerleading uniform was gone. The yellow and blue of her Wolverine suit had returned and when she flexed her hands she felt the adamantium.

BOBBI MORSE: Ripley looked mad, but Bobbi couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be. “That’s valid.” She limbed to her feet. “But can we raincheck? Your Stone -- it fractured. From what was being done. We got you a piece on it, but Zemo has a shard at Town Hall. Do I need to tell you how badly this could go?”

RIPLEY RYAN: Of course she didn’t need to. Ripley could feel Pleasant Hill destabilizing and reality growing thin. It Zemo accomplished his goals, he’d be taking her down. It was hard to live with a stone in your chest. it would be impossible to be fragmented. Even then, she could feel the other part calling out. Raising a hand, Ripley looked at the group. TOWN HALL. With that, the hospital was empty as they vanished in a flash of crimson.

#momevents #event: pleasant hill #pleasant hill: finale #chatlog: pleasant hill hospital

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crxssroads · 3 years

Text

@vsentis ASKED -- ZAC RELYING ON ELIZA

SEND ME A DRABBLE -- ACCEPTING

The endless floodplains were wrapped in the bitter embrace of winter, its river flush with ice, cattails & reeds frosted splendidly, glittering in the early haze of morn. This was no mind to Zachary as he walks the docks just as he had hundreds of frozen mornings before. The smaller boats & pontoons here were personal vessels situated along the outskirts of the commune’s central hive of honeycombed houseboat barges. He holds his right hand to his lips, warming his aching knuckles, ducking into a boat’s cabin suddenly before shutting the door behind him.

This vessel in particular was a rickety thing, much like the young man who ventured further in, towards its heart, worn & creaking with the slightest of movement but held strong against the passage of time. Reaching an engine room of sorts, Zac makes for a locker. An assortment of logbooks, tools, & canned goods crammed into the dented thing. Zac quickly plucks the only item void of dust in the entire unit & seals this back up as well.

This had been his routine for a week now. His morning walks interjected by suspicion. Tossing the logbook on a nearby counter he bows his head & assesses the most recent entries, finding them just the same as they had been all week. But that doesn’t make sense. Frowning, his gaze flicks over to the fuel gauge. Empty. (Even lower than yesterday. & in sparse supply for relics such as these). Looking back down, Zac has the mind to make a fuss over joyriding.

That’s what it had to be, he convinces himself, cabin fever was setting in & the boys must be out racing again. Had to be, he huffs, how stupid. He slams the log shut. Didn’t they know ? Zachary squeezes his eyes shut & swivels around to sit against the countertop, pinching a brow in a bid to avert the imagery of flames & inky black smoke. He breathes in deeply, breath hitching as if it still scorched his lungs.

Didn’t they know -------- ? Umber eyes open to the barrel of a gun.

Didn’t they know how dangerous it was ?

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

He hadn’t had any time to react before the pair had cornered him. Clever bastards, Zachary thinks meekly amidst the struggle, they’d waited- they’d waited for him overnight to prevent warning prints in the snow. He tries to shout, but it comes out as a pained bark as he’s slammed against a wall.

“Fuel,” the man with the gun hisses, getting straight to the point while his partner moves to guard the door, “where’ve you hid it,” the metal is cool against Zac’s temple, “it’s not worth the bullet, boy.”

“If you’ve drained it it’s gone,” Zac croaks out his lie miserably, content only with the knowledge that the reservoir was guarded beyond the reach of any common thief, “that was the last of it ‘til spring thaw.”

“A hundred hippies on a hundred boats,” the gunman forces Zac’s cheek flat against the wall, the weapon digging into his skin, “& not a drop of gas between them ?”

Zac swallows deep, eyes clamping shut, willing the gun away as he gives the thieves a shrug of pitiful half agreement, “ --- h-hippies.”

The comment earns him a sharp strike across the brow with the side of the gun, the man snatching him with his free hand before Zac could curl into himself, slamming him back into the wall with renewed force & frustration.

“Money,” the gunman demands now, “weapons,” Zac bobs his head no each time, unwilling to tempt the desperate man’s rage by answering with spoken word, “You freaks got anything here ?”

The gunman strikes a final time when met with silence, allowing Zac to slide down to the ground where he fusses over his injuries from his knees, hardly registering that the pair had begun to argue about their next course of action over the ringing in his ears.

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

It was around this time that Eliza walks along the wooded docks. Hands stuffed into cozy mittens & cheeks nuzzled against the rabbit fur trim of her chore coat. Knowing her brother’s ritualistic path by heart she makes good time, even without her companion by her side (the pup home in bed for a lazy snow-day morning (Eliza so hated waking her when unnecessary)). & she would have wandered right on past if muffled bickering hadn’t caught her attention.

Were the fishermen arguing again ? She’d walked into a nasty spat just the other week. Something about misplaced liquor. Imagine that. Slowing as she approached the fishing boat, Eliza cranes her neck for better hearing. There was something going on down there.

A moment of hesitation later & Eliza has boarded the boat. Carrying nothing but silence in her step & spiraling cane in her left hand --- guiding her through the cluttered cabin. The clang of her cane hitting the metal door to the engine room betrays her presence & the voices below go silent. Clutching the tool tighter, Eliza carries on, joining her brother in the heart of the vessel, figuring whoever it was might appreciate an ear of reason as they let off some steam.

The air felt heavy & oddly warm. A number of eyes scorching into the blonde as she loiters in the doorway. The most pained of all were those of umber, welling with tears, as Eliza is similarly greeted with a pistol to the face.

Utterly unphased by this development, Eliza turns her head, not from cowardice or fear, but, once again, for better hearing, “ ‘ello ?” she whispers into the silent room, cruel realization dawning on Zachary’s captors.

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

Forced to witness the horror his sister could not, Zac could hardly contain himself as the gunman returned to his previous position. Pinning the younger man with a gentler, but just as firm, grip to avoid alerting the newcomer. Watching together as his partner stepped aside & allowed the clueless Eliza in.

Thankfully Eliza was not nearly as clueless as the thieves hoped. The creaking she heard in that moment could be mistaken so easily for the swaying fishing boat settling into its ribs, but Eliza knew. Oh, she knew. She’d pestered that stupid brother of hers for months to grease up that stupid, noisy leg.

Her blood runs cold & no number of mittens or coats could begin to help. Forcing herself back into motion, Eliza keeps up her act. This intrigues her terrified brother as she approaches the counter & finds the closed logbook with fluttering fingertips. Humming innocently, she picks it up. Wandering off to put it away in a bid to buy herself more time. A few careful clanks of her cane & several snail paced steps later (with equally cautious evasions by the thieves & the ensnared Chance) & she’s found what she assumes to be the appropriate storage locker. Her heart jumps when she hears one of the thieves step towards her in time with the opening of the door, attempting to guise their steps with the brief groan of metal.

Calming herself, Eliza half wonders half hopes it was Zachary playing a terrible prank on her. The figure continues to hover just behind. It wouldn’t be like him, she decides, continuing to rummage through the locker, Zac hadn’t done anything of the sort since they were very young, he wouldn’t do that to her. Not when she was digging around for a weapon.

Her hand bumps into something promisingly solid. Yanking off a mitten with her teeth, she finds again the clunky object she’d nudged out of place, fondling it with expert fingertips, being certain to block any view of the item with her crouched form. A gun. A real gun ? Eliza isn’t so sure, it didn’t seem to take normal bullets & was comically shaped. There’s a click & Eliza’s mind goes blank. It no longer matters if it’s real. Time’s up.

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

Zachary could no longer restrain himself & shrieks something that was meant to be her name. His cry is drowned out by two more additional shouts & a sudden blast. So it was a gun. Sort of. The pandemonium the flare creates in the engine room was just enough to protect her from a misfire on the thief’s part & gave Zac the distraction needed to worm himself out of his captor’s clutches.

The gunman curses as result, firing a more purposeful round after Zac as he scrambles into the disorienting smoke. The brilliance of the crimson flare leaves behind spots in his vision. He doesn’t seem to notice. It didn’t matter. All that mattered in the moment was tackling his sister to the floor & shielding her from yet another round of gunfire. Their cowering was momentary, Zac bouncing back to his feet, dragging Eliza up with him. She was choking on the smoke, but Zac could tell that their distraction would be short-lived, glancing behind in time to see the flare sputtering out its final pulses of light.

“Go- !” he begs as if he wasn’t forcefully shoving Eliza through the door & up some stairs, “go, go, go, go--- !”

They’re practically on all fours as they burst into the cabin & out the front door. Untangling from each other they separate to pursue different objectives : Zachary, slamming the heavy cabin door & holding it shut with the full weight of his body, hoping to imprison the thieves & shield himself from further gunfire, while Eliza raced up the docks to ring the warning bell.

Thankfully there was no need. Eliza collides into the attentive arms of a rapidly approaching group of frantic locals. Alerted by gunfire & the alarm, the group instantly splinters into smaller groups. A number remaining behind to scout surrounding boats or dote on Eliza while the majority rushed for Zachary ; relieving him of his hopeless position.

Subsequently, the thieves are eventually disarmed & properly imprisoned.

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

The twins were uncertain what would become of the pair. & as they sit together on those same docks much later in the evening, they find it hard to care.

Zac is the first to speak. Resting his head snuggly against Eliza’s shoulder before booping her nose with the previously missing mitten, uniting it with its master, “... thanks.” he mutters, ego as bruised as his eyes.

Grinning, she snatches the mitten back & smears the plush thing playfully across his face (not too hard of course), laughing at the annoyed groan he made. He sits back up to avoid the onslaught & Eliza gives it a rest, slipping the mitten back on, cheerfully resting her head against his shoulder. “Welcome.”

#vsentis #DRABBLE -- ZAC #DRABBLE -- ELIZA #-- ELIZA #-- ZAC #ANSWERED -- ZAC #ANSWERED -- ELIZA #THERE WE G O O O O O O O O #i feel like you meant 'rely' as in the emotional support way. but.#consider this instead.

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bma-2021 · 3 years

Text

&& @fvrnaceheart ;;

Another moment, another patron drinking far more than they should. By now the rules should be known-- a drop is all they need, or else they may feel the effects just a bit too much. Hatter already out for a call for the pricier goods, while the rare occasion the mouse was on the job came about. Dormy asleep at the podium, though hardly even shakes when they’re pushed onto the ground by the mouse, replacing them at their position, gavel taken in gloved hand and hit against the metal counter.

“ We’ve an important announcement. “ She starts, glancing over the written script placed down, meant for Dormy to read. Though, with Dormy incapacitated on the ground due to narcolepsy, the mouse has taken over-- much to Hatter’s despair where he stands. Particularly given the fact he knows fully well she’s not actually reading the script at all. Hopefully she remembers when he went over it with Dormy, but her first few words afterwards tells him she doesn’t really care.

“ Have you ever felt dispassionate? Unable to push forward what your partner or, whoever else you’re doing at that time needs? “ She sees Hatter’s hand covering his eyes, but she continues. “ Ever so utterly shite at just about everything that you really need something to create what’s necessary? Well, worry no more, passion is here and ready for pickup. And I’m bettin’ most of you are gonna need it. “ Another hit with the gavel onto the metal podium, and she hops off. Dormy seems to have awoken by this point, though in a daze on the ground, and Mally opts to wander around the room, start picking up some of the mess left behind by the patrons. Though, one in particular has caught her nose, she keeps it under wrap that she’s been glancing.

Empty bottle in her hand as she wanders where they’re meant to go, one patron in particular calls out to her. All it leads to is the mouse’s eyes closing, a heavily irritated sigh leaving her lips when she turns to see what they want. The awful attempts at pick up lines aside, she’s simply not in the mood to deal with the man this week. Tries to keep it at that, too, politely decline and walk away-- least, until he grabs her arm to pull her back. Hatter seemed to have picked up the picture, already heading over, but it’d be a bit late for him to do much.

Gloved hand turning in his grasp and nearly breaking his arm, then quick as a fly to grab his collar and hold him up by it. Considerably larger than the girl, most would be surprised to see how effortlessly she holds him up-- except, most of the patrons have grown used to the behavior. “ Y’know, I really don’t think I should have to go over why just touching whoever you want is an issue, but when it’s someone that can snap your neck like a twig you might want to at least try not to be a huge jackass, especially when they already tried t’be-- “

Hatter’d of told her to drop him by now, before someone sent another complaint to the Happy Heart’s casino, last thing he wanted was Jack to come spiraling in for an overview. At that mention she drops the man, turning and ready to just drop it all together-- until she hears something under his breath. Hatter’s quicker than her though, arms under hers to lift her and pull her away, putting her down towards the hallway to his office. He tells her to go wait in his office until later, though she first snaps her fingers. Block of ice forms under the man, and slides directly under his legs, falling face first into the table, then the floor. Briefly, she looks to her side, locking eyes with the cloaked man she’d been watching earlier. Stares for a moment, then turns around, heading into Hatter’s office as he asks her to at least toss the guy out while he’s unconscious, though she’s opting to leave that up to him for now.

With Hatter now fidgeting with trying to pull the man’s body out so he’s not trampled by the customers (bloodstains rarely made the shoppe look good after all), she popped herself down on one of Hatter’s couches, legs moved to rest upon the table as Mapleleaf moves to sit upon her lap. She hears footsteps, and can only assume with the commotion going on in the shoppe, that it’s not Hatter returning to his office. Wave of her hand causes water to swirl around an apple, lifting it to her palm as the water freezes in the shape of a blade. Small hum when she starts peeling the skin, not speaking, not acknowledging, just waiting to see what he does.

#fvrnaceheart #me: time to write a nice short n sweet starter #me: word voms everywhere #she just had to go cause a guy to potentially bleed profusely #possibly not but possibly so she wouldnt know she immediately left hatter to deal w it bc shes a bitter lil shit #this is;;; not short but even tho i do have a tag for long threads #i'm not;;;; tagging it w it l o l #t. Short. ( DREAM PAST THE DAYS YOU’VE SURVIVED. )

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team-council · 4 years

Text

Title: It’s never getting titled

TW: Character Death, Lightly Grotesque descriptions of wounds, Possible Scuicidle Implications (I didn’t really mean to imply it like that, but I realize it can be read that way and will tag to be safe)

Description: Takes place directly after the council manages to quell the everblaze from book three. Bronte takes some healing salve to Oralie for her shoulder and reflects on Kenric’s death.

Notes: I would scincerely like to thank anyone who bullied me. I haven’t finished a fic in literally ever, meant a lot. This monstrosity is also not proofread and I am sleep deprived so I’m sure it’s absolute garbage near the end but just ignore that. Might clean it up and put it on ao3 later who knows.

An angry grey sky wept dry shudders of ash over each of the miserable, bowed figures that stumbled across the rolling fields stretching beyond and between the crystalline castles scattering Eternalia’s fading outline. The sun was nothing but a sunken stain on the sky, feathery gold light turned a sick shade of pewter as rising smoke choked the warmth from what of it still lingered beyond the horizon. The neon glare of Everblaze could no longer be seen melting crystal and dragging harsh lines of terror down the face of the distant city, but the air still smelled like burning sugar and dizzying sweetness.

With every ragged breath Bronte drew the saccharine sting of the now extinguished fire coated his tongue anew and prompted another fit of coughing to wrack his body. Though the soot that caked his face in thick, dark splotches had long dried his eyes, the muted sting of fresh burns sweltering along his cheeks and arms coaxed tears to blur his staggering vision. He’d long abandoned attempting anything resembling a graceful stride forward, allowing his feet to stumble over each other with every messy attempt he made to not hit the earth. Ignoring the trembling in his knees. Praying mutely that they might give way beneath him. That he might fall and never get have to get up. A fantasy of melding into the cool grass enticed his mind from the fervent protesting of his aching muscles. He imagined idly how the paled blades would curl at the corners of his mouth, cradle his hands and still the weary tremors that weighted his chest. Dazed, he was unable to keep from fancying what it would be to shatter into the dirt. To become ethereal and unknown, sunken beneath a tangled weaving of root where there would be naught to do but unlearn the world. To divorce sorrow and grief. To let the burdens of the many long centuries he’d endured go in passive dismissal.

His thoughts were interrupted as his foot caught the edge of something tough, and when at last he fell it was only to be met with the glassy, calloused embrace of faceted crystal. A dim, concerned muttering of multiple shrill voices hovered above his head, but as the councillor drew to his knees he found in clarity only the gaunt, drawn man staring back at him through the fuzz of a soot-drowned Amaranth stairway. Reminding him. Mocking him. To disappear was not a mercy he deserved.

“Councillor,”

Bronte was forced to respond when the stairs beneath his legs fell away from him, a large pair of hands having drug him up by the shoulders. Well, respond might have been a gracious word for the half-conscious grunt he managed to the goblin bearing his weight in their palms, his eyes not bothering to search the face of the guard, to know whether or not they held his weakness in contempt or pity. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fathom caring. All that mattered was that there was no attempt to stop him from dragging his reluctant body up the steps, that no hand batted his away from the knob of the door, that the scanner reading the intricacies of his palm managed to make sense of his identity despite how fresh burns and ash might’ve tried and scrub it away. There was no triumph in the silent, inward sliding of the towering doors, no pleasant rush as frigid, bitter air swept the welts tapering down from his forehead. He hardly found himself capable of much but standing at the brink of the darkness that spilled forward into the until living room at his feet.

Lavish furniture sat steeped in shadows deep enough to sink under, curtains drawn to block the pitiful laces of grey-yellow light that might have struggled through had they been parted. Bronte’s own silhouette was absorbed effortlessly into the black, his whole body soon after as he mindlessly stepped forward, doors clicking shut at his back with an echo of finality.

The world was void of sound until the shake of a fragile breath bit the quiet in faint retaliation. Bronte followed the quivering whimper around the barest, ebon outline of a table, managing to discern only a tenebrous jumble of shapes wrapped up in the stifle of self imposed twilight. Whatever discomfort he might have felt at the still sightlessness, it was welcomed compared to the snap that brought light back into the chamber, cutting through the veil of blissful ignorance that had pardoned any necessity to look upon what it had charitably concealed. However selfish it might have seemed, for the smallest instant Bronte thought of turning the lights off again,

“Sit up,”

It felt wrong to speak- especially ask anything of Oralie. Her ringlets- dull and stringy- pulled down in thick tangled over her face as she rigidly drug her back up the arm of the lovesteat she’d curled into, blankets falling limp onto the floor with a meek thud. Bronte simply knelt atop them, his fingers trailing the pockets of his clock for the smooth outline of a familiar metallic tin. Oralie made no sound of pain or acknowledgement as he pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a thickly wound bandage fastened over her shoulder. The white color had turned yellow, and as the kneeling figure peeled back each layer the room- what of it he could smell above the saturated, sugary smoke bathing his clothes- began to scent of balms and puss, a littering of welts and shrunken skin having festered beneath the dressings. The case in his hands came open with yet another sound Bronte found himself too far away to register, his fingers diving numbly into the salve inside,

“It’s my fault,”

Came a sound like the shifting of a fault line. Bronte traced his fingers over the rim of the burn,

“I couldn’t do anything but watch,”

Cracking like stained glass. Bronte smoothed his thumb across a patch of withered, pink flesh,

“H-he moved so quick,”

He had been avoiding her eyes, her face. And still he found himself caught in both. Her soft features hollowed. Her warm eyes gutted, occupied only by vacancy. Ghosts of the nots. Of the would never bes,

“And I- I jus-just-“

And her anguish came again with vengeance. Came with strength she did not have to spare for tears she did not have to shed. How dare she think she had wept enough. How dare she think she couldn’t hurt any longer. With a long, godless wail it came back to her in waves, thin fingers gripping his shoulders as she curled forward, her whole frame shaking with the labor of forcing from her throat a cry like cracking ice. What little tears she could manage soaked through his cloak,

“And I j-us did no-nothing! I di-didn’t do anything! I jus-just le-let him go! I le-let him d-“

She had been doomed to fail the sentence from the very start, her broken declarations falling to senseless sobs and howls of pain as she rocked her forehead into his shoulder, re-adjusting her grip at his arms every so often as if letting go might send her physically spiraling into whatever pit of grief pulled at her mind, down somewhere she couldn’t be followed,

“It’s not your fault,”

Again. It felt wrong to tell her anything with certainty, even the truth,

“It’s not your fault,”

It came stronger this time. Still a whisper in her ear, but less like a mist and more like a fog,

“It’s not your fault,”

That’s right. It wasn’t her fault. It was his,

“You couldn’t have known,”

But he had.

“There wasn’t a way you could’ve known,”

He’d known everything. That the healing was dangerous. That he should’ve gone with them.

“You did everything right...”

It was his fault that they hadn’t listened,

“I promise,”

That Kenric hadn’t listened,

“You were everything he needed you to be,”

Why should he have? He had been impatient. Stubborn. Cruel. /Weak/.

“You’ve been so strong,”

For the past three years his judgement had been ruled by fear. Fear of a little girl,

“And so brave,”

And hatred. Hatred of species who’s betrayal’d dawned the advent of millenniums lifetimes ago,

“This could never have been your fault,”

Kenric was dead,

“It will never be your fault,”

Because he hadn’t been stronger,

“No matter what you might think,”

Because he hadn’t been wiser,

“Kenric wouldn’t want you to think that,”

Because he hadn’t been kinder.

“Ever,”

Her wailing had only gotten softer, grip having loosened the slightest bit. He couldn’t tell if anything he’d said had reached her or not. Had he even been speaking aloud to begin with? Had he even been loud enough for it to matter? He had to hope so. Their ilk was not meant to die, and thus not meant to grieve death. To mourn in earnest was not theirs. It never was. He knew too well how easily it would be for her to break beneath the weight of it. He could already feel himself webbing with cracks,

“I-I....”

She couldn’t protest beyond a dry heave, her shoulders raised for what felt like ever in a deep wrenching motion as Bronte clasped the fresh bandages over her newly dressed wounds. In the end, she merely fell into him, grabbing his shirt. His arms. His cloak. Anything she could to prove to herself she was still there with him. Every new hold she had on him felt like another clutch of guilt bearing at his knotted stomach. The morphine drip of shell shock had begun to fade and chip away. Clawed to pieces by the daggers of sharp mourning that broke his haze with every whimper Oralie managed into his shoulder. He knew even in the pathetic state he was in he couldn’t outrun his guilt forever. But he’d been hoping that he might for a bit longer. Selfish as it was,

“Oralie...”

He whispered after a moment. And was met with quiet. Quiet and trembling breaths. She’d become heavy against him, her grip gone slack, eyes finally falling to tearless rest. Good. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say anyways. The lights echoed out again with another dry snapping sound and Bronte stood from the thicket of blankets at his ankles, propping Oralie’s head on a pillow before draping her in covers again, still hoping- desperately and undeservedly- that she had believed him.

He paced the length between his and Oralie’s office with more grace this time, aware now of what the lull to fall and fade and become nothing but memory was in truth.

Not escape from sorrow or grief, but from consequence.

Consequence for the person he’d become. For that he’d done to others... There would be no reckoning with Councillor Kenric. He was dead. No apologies or tears- though he would certainly be giving both in abundance regardless- would change that.

But Oralie wasn’t dead.

The rest of the council wasn’t dead.

Sophie wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t dead.

And to that end there were still plenty of consequences to face.

#TW #TW Suicidal thoughts #TW gore #TW death #keeper of the lost cities #angst fic #kotlc council #councillor bronte #councillor Oralie #councillor kenric #so much angst #no beta we die like Kenric

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katefiction · 4 years

Text

Second Chances - Part II

by mrandmrswales (Emily) / November 3, 2013

Hello all! I had a burst of inspiration and so I finished this for you. Sorry it’s a bit rushed at the end and do excuse any mistakes. Let me know if there’s a glaring one. Please feel free to let me know what you thought and have a lovely week! This is FICTION. Emily xx

Kate stormed into the kitchen which was thankfully empty. Sliding gratefully into one of the comfier chairs at the table, she buried her head into her hands and allowed a few tears to leak out. Seconds later, Marcos came crashing into the room, swearing loudly when he stubbed his toe on the door frame. Seeing her hunched form, he was silenced.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Not really.’ She mumbled. ‘Look Marcos. It’s been great to see you but I think-’

‘For God’s SAKE William! She’s fine! Do we have to go back and check on her?’

‘Hilary she’s my best friend…’

‘And I’m your GIRLFRIEND. PUT ME FIRST!’

‘It won’t take long Hilary. I care about her, and I always put people who I care about first when they’re hurting. Go ahead to the town if it bothers you.’ He snapped back. Kate and Marcos listened in shock and amusement respectively, from their positions in the kitchen. As his footsteps grew louder, Kate hurriedly wiped the remaining tears from her face. William appeared in the door seconds later, looking anguished. Kate’s stomach did several flips as he entered, his blazing eyes holding hers for a few seconds. Behind him stood a cross looking Hilary. Kate managed a weak smile

‘I thought you two had gone into the town?’

William opened his mouth to speak when Hilary interrupted him

‘We were going into town when William decided to check on you.’ She glared at William ‘And she’s fine so we can go now.’ Kate noticed a muscle twitching in William’s jaw as she turned around to stalk out of the kitchen. Suddenly, he caught her hand and pulled her back.

‘Marcos, Kate. Would you mind leaving us for a minute?’ He asked his voice tense and filled with pent up anger. The two nodded and left, diving into the nearby cupboard outside the kitchen to listen as soon as the door swung shut.

‘I am capable of speaking for myself Hilary. I am NOT run by you! Kate is my best friend and If I want to check she’s okay, then I will!’

‘You care more about her than you do about me! It’s always Kate this and Kate that! I NEVER get a look in!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘Am I being ridiculous? I think there’s more to all this bloody Kate concern than I realised! GOD WILLIAM. I’M SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME, NOT HER!’

‘I DON’T LOVE HER! I DON’T LOVE YOU EITHER, WE’VE ONLY BEEN TOGETHER 5 MINUTES!’

‘MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST END IT THEN? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? YOU CAN BE WITH YOUR ‘PRECIOUS’ KATE THEN!’

‘OF COURSE I DON’T WANT TO END IT! DON’T BE STUPID’

‘OH SO I’M STUPID NOW? YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S OVER!’

William made a loud groaning noise ‘Hilary, stop. No come back…’ The sound of a door slamming reverberated around the silent cabin. Another noise of frustration could be heard through the door before he too left the kitchen, his footsteps harsh and angry on the wooden floor. Kate turned to Marcos, whose dark eyes were sparkling gleefully.

‘Oh my god! They just broke up!’

‘I feel so bad…’

‘Don’t be! She’s a right old mare anyway.’

‘Shhh!’.

‘I’m off! It’s up to you to go and talk to him now Kate.’

Kate groaned but nodded. No matter how squirmy his words made her, she still felt bad for being the reason for the huge argument and subsequent break up of their relationship.

Kate slowly emerged from the cupboard a few minutes after Marcos had done so, her stomach churning she dashed through the now deserted kitchen and outside into the misty air. Spotting William walking further down the hill with his shoulders hunched she hurried after him.

‘Will! William!’ She called as she scooted down the path towards him. He turned slowly and raised an eyebrow

‘Yes?’

‘Listen William I just came to say that I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I’d hate to think that you were breaking up with Hilary because of me.’

‘How do you know were breaking up?’

‘Oh…well I did kind of hear it. You were shouting.’

‘Oh. Right well its fine I guess. She just didn’t like that were friends I suppose.’

‘Why?’

‘Ask her not me.’

An awkward silence followed and Kate racked her brains of something to say.

‘Well I suppose we can spend more time together now that you’re not together anymore?’

William glared at her. ‘I’m not completely heartless Kate. She accused me of liking you more than her and I don’t eactly want to show her that it’s true.’

‘Is it true?’

‘God Kate. No it’s not! Your my friend but I’m a bit pissed off with you right now.’

‘Why? That’s not fair!’

‘You broke us up!’

‘No I didn’t! That’s bollocks! She’s a jealous cow and you’re a git for saying that!’

‘Oh I’m a git now? Can you just leave me alone, I’m upset.’

‘FINE! I won’t talk to you again if that’s what you want! Why do you always hurt me? I lov-’

‘William?’ Hilary interrupted her suddenly, appearing from the trees. Her eyes blazed furiously at the sight of them both. Kate closed her mouth before she accidentally blurted out more of her feelings.

‘God you couldn’t wait to get rid of me before you jumped on her could you?’ She screeched approaching them both.

‘I’m getting out of here’ Kate muttered to William, who looked at her with a beseeching look on his face. Still hurt and angry with him, she glared at him and turned away from him towards the cabins trying to ignore the second screeching match of the day between the two behind her.

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

Kate watched as her breath swirled in circles in front of her, frozen in the air before disappearing. Her eyes flickered up to the beautiful view of the valley, cloaked in early morning frost and glinting in the morning sun. She had awoken early and came outside to clear her head.

‘Kate?’ a familiar voice spoke from behind her. She groaned inwardly. He was exactly the last person she wanted to see this early in the morning. His legs came into view and he lowered himself gingerly onto the wet bank beside her.

‘What do you want?’ She asked, perhaps a little too sharply as his face constricted into hurt.

‘I just…saw you out here and I thought I’d check to see how you were.’

‘I’m fine thanks.’

William turned his head towards where her gaze was locked on a single plume of smoke spiralling into the ice-blue sky above.

‘I’m sorry about yesterday. I was just frustrated, it’s not your fault at all’ He said softly and she turned to look at him for a few seconds. ‘We’ve broken up for good now so can we get back to how things used to be?’

A small, exasperated sigh left Kate’s lips.

‘How can we?’

‘What do you mean? I know I got angry with you and that Hilary sort of drive a wedge between us but surely we can still be friends?’

Kate looked into his eyes for a few seconds before making up her mind. It’s now or never. Taking a deep breath she began; ‘you still don’t get it do you? I like you William. As in I like you more than friends…I have for ages. Practically everyone could see it except you! Do you know what it’s like falling in love with someone who spends his whole time sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat? I was happy for you, don’t get me wrong. It just hurt that’s all. There. Now I’ve said it and I won’t bother you with it again.’

Without looking at him Kate leapt up and walked away, restraining herself from sprinting away from him. William sat in shock on the bank, his heart torn between elation and shock.

A few days had passed. Hilary had eventually stopped wailing and had settled for glaring at William across the room whenever she had a chance. She and Kate had made up and Hilary had told her that she was ‘welcome to him’. Kate had been avoiding William despite his efforts to talk to her. She had spent a lot of time with Marcos so that he couldn’t corner her by herself. Kate told herself she didn’t care that she wasn’t speaking to him but no amount of lying to herself or to others healed the hurt in her heart.

One morning Kate and several others were informed that they were to spend the following day backpacking across the nearby icefield. It being nearly late, Kate hurried off to her room to pack while the others went out on a walk. Switching the radio on, Kate happily began to pack the essentials into her backpack while singing quietly along to a song. She was nearly finished when the door opened softly and William’s head appeared around the doorway.

‘Kate!’

Kate looked up with a jolt and her smile froze. ‘What are you doing in here?’

‘Ella told me you were in here packing’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you for ages but you’ve been avoiding me.’

‘No I haven’t…I’ve just been busy.’

‘Yeah right. Listen Kate about what you said-’

‘-Yeah I get it. I like you as a friend but nothing more. Don’t embarrass me further.’

‘Not quite.’ Kate looked up suddenly and he smiled softly ‘That’s better, I can see your face.’ He stepped closer and Kate’s heart beat frantically. He chuckled softly, ‘if you’d given me the chance I would have said that…I do like you as more than a friend. I have done for a while but I don’t think I realised until a couple of weeks ago, but of course by then I liked Hilary too.’

‘So complicated for you.’

‘Indeed.’

A short silence ensued as William bowed his head closer until he went blurry. Her eyelids fluttering shut his lips touched hers, sending sparks the whole way through her body and setting her senses on fire. The sound of a door slamming awakened them both and in an instant his lips were gone, leaving her cold. He grinned at her, gave her a quick hug and slipped out of the room, leaving her reeling.

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

Kate dumped her heavy backpack onto the floor beside her sleeping bag and rubbed her sore shoulders. The two had spent the evening together, enjoying being friends again but nothing more had happened. While she had trekked across vast quantity of land that day, William had been doing his shift at the local radio station. All day she had spent thinking about the kiss whilst listening to his voice on her pocket radio. Re-entering the busy kitchen, she looked aroiund for him but was unsuccessful.

‘Hi Guys.’ She said cheerily to her friend Ella and her boyfriend Robert ‘Have you seen William?’ Ella grinned cheekily.

‘What?’

‘When are you going to do something about the fact that you two are completely head over heels with eachother?’

‘Who says I haven’t!’ She replied cheekily, giggling at Ella’s expression. Robert intervened before either girl got into a deep discussion.

‘He went that way, I think he was heading towards the lake.’ Robert told her before Ella or Kate could begin again. ‘Thanks Rob.’ Kate replied ‘I’ll tell you later.’ She mouthed to Ella and began to head outside.

It wasn’t long before Kate noticed the familiar mop of blonde hair through the trees. He appeared to be pacing angrily beside the lake.

‘Will? You okay?’ She asked, nearing him.

‘NO!’ He screeched, turning on her suddenly, his eyes blazing. ‘Read this!’ He said in response to her bemused expression. Kate reached out and took a crumpled letter from him and began to read.

Dear William

I hope you’re enjoying your time in Chile, Harry and I are both well and can’t wait to see you again soon. Unfortunately I write to tell you that the BBC is to come and film you for a few days the week beginning the 14th. As you know, this is the deal I had to make in exchange for your visit Raleigh International. They shouldn’t bother you, apart from the odd filming of you doing jobs such as cooking and you are expected to give an interview. Be charming and enthusiastic please William! Harry is taking his school exams this week so I haven’t heard much from him. I do hope he is revising properly! Enjoy your last few weeks Son and we’ll see you soon.

All my Love

Papa

‘Why can’t they leave me alone? Bloody cameras and journalists always getting into my business! Is it so hard to let me have 10 weeks away without a camera following me? IS IT?’

‘No…but William…that was the deal for you to come here…’ Kate whispered, looking at his angry face. She knew enough about him to know that when he was angry it wasn’t a good idea to get involved. He glared at her for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Kate winced under his gaze, her blood pumping furiously. Seeing him angry was making him more attractive to her every second. She lifted her gaze to see his face crumple and his anger wash away. He sighed and slumped onto the grass.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I would be just as angry’ She replied firmly and a smile flickered across his face. She sat down next to him. ‘How about we go to the pub this evening? It is a free night for us and it will take your mind off things.’ William looked at her and smiled.

‘Yeah that would be nice. Just us yeah?’

Kate felt as though her insides were on fire. ‘Yeah. Just us.’

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

The night was cold and clear and as the two walked in silence, their breath froze in the air in front of them, illuminated by the torch light. The further they moved from the camp, the closer they walked until at last they were holding hands, their bodies pressed together for warmth and the need for closeness. At last, the village’s tiny pub loomed out of the darkness and William ushered Kate inside, the warmth hitting them instantly.

‘One white wine and a lager please.’ William said in a low voice to the barman while Kate found a table in the corner of the pub from prying eyes. Minutes later, the drinks arrived and William settled himself next to her, taking her hand in his under the table.

‘It’s nice to be alone with you.’ Kate said honestly, turning to look at him. He nodded in agreement and kissed her softly, setting her lips on fire. He pulled away and chuckled at the fleeting look of disappointment on her face.

‘The less you get, the better they seem’

‘Oh really? How’s that working for you?’

‘Very well considering your facial expressions.’

‘Damn it!’

Will grinned, kissing her once more before pulling away to drink his beer. Kate did the same and sighed contently, settling back into the chair.

‘I’ve got to leave for the expedition tomorrow afternoon. A week camping on a beach.’

‘Oh really? I didn’t realise it was so soon.’

‘Yeah… The weather looks ghastly so I can imagine it’s going to be awful.’

‘You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can handle it.’ William chuckled.

‘Then when I get back, the press are arriving…’

‘Oh.’

‘Yup. No quiet time for me. I’ll have to sneak kisses from you when they’re not looking’

Kate smiled in amusement . ‘I’m going to miss you.’ She replied softly, caressing his cheek, her eyes wary but filled with affection. William caught her hand and kissed it softly.

‘Same.’

4 drinks later and both were feeling rather tipsy. Having had little to eat since supper, it had gone straight to Kate’s head. Giggling, the two left the pub, clinging to each other for support. They had barely walked very far when Kate stumbled and bumped into a tree. William caught her and laughed helplessly at the expression on her face.

‘I’ve had a bit too much to drink’ She mumbled, pulling him to her and pressing her lips to his. He mumbled inaudibly in agreement and pressed her back firmly into the tree, his arms wrapping around her body. His lips moved gently against hers, her insides aching. She deepened the kiss, her whole mind focused on him and the way he felt beneath her lips. He pulled away, both breathing heavily before dipping his head to cover her neck in soft kisses. Kate ran her fingers through his hair, before pulling his head up to hers and kissing him again. The whole sensation set her senses alight and before she knew it her hands were fumbling at his belt buckle. Suddenly, he pulled away, her lips left cold from the lack of his warm ones covering hers and his eyes wary.

‘shit’. Her eyes lifted to his in trepidation.

He snorted suddenly,

‘Here?’

‘Why not?’ She replied petulantly. Her heart beat slowing down from the previous scare.

‘You’ll freeze.’

‘William I’m boiling right now’

‘Right.’

‘Oh just shut up’ She replied, her lips meeting his while their hands ran over their bodies, unbuttoning clothing. He lifted his hand and grazed her jaw softly, his kissing slowing to a gentle and loving pace, the urgency of earlier having vanished. He softly steered her from the tree and towards a soft slope covered in grass. Holding her back he lowered her to the ground before burying his face in her neck and kissing her gently.

‘I really like you Will.’ She gasped, her hands slipping inside his T-shirt thumbing his soft skin, little gasps escaping as his hands ran enticingly over her body.

‘Like?’ He replied, amusement heavy in his muffled voice.

Kate giggled. ‘Okay I more than like you. I…think… I think there’s a small chance that I’m falling in love with you’

William smiled against her skin, ‘I think that may be the case with me too. I would give you a speech but right now I’ve had a bit too much alcohol and am rather preoccupied.’ Kate giggled and kissed him passionately, her eyes fluttering shut as their bodies began to work in harmony.

She was freezing. Although his body pressed to her under the cover of their various clothes kept the heat in, her body was still convulsing with cold. Next to her, William lay, his hair messy and a rather contented look in his face as he slept lightly. Kate allowed the thrill of what had just happened and the memory of his declaration of love, warm her body.

His eyes flickered open and he grinned on seeing her watching him. Then he shivered.

‘We should get back quickly.’

Kate nodded and began dressing hurriedly while he did the same. Getting to her feet, she jiggled up and down to get the blood moving through her body again. He smiled and leant closer

‘One last thing before we go.’ He said softly and leant to kiss her, his lips warm against hers and a jolt passed through her body to where the fire smouldered inside her rather than burning as it had earlier. Then he grabbed her hand and they ran back towards the now dark camp.

————————————————————————————————————————————-

‘Where were you last night?!’

Kate’s eyes flickered open to see Ellie’s accusing face at the end of her sleeping bag.

‘Keep your voice down!’ Kate hissed, closing her eyes again, images of the previous night flickering through her mind. The feel of his lips on hers, the way every caress set her skin on fire, the way-

‘Oh my god. You were with William weren’t you?’

‘What? No!’

‘Yes you so were! What were you doing? Come on tell me!’

Kate sighed. ‘Fine. William and I went for a drink at the pub last night to take his mind off the press coming. We had a few drinks and got back late. That’s all!’

‘Are you sure that’s all?!’

‘Yes Ellie.’

‘Phff. I don’t believe you. You look like the cat that got the cream. I bet you slept with him’

Kate blushed furiously, wincing at the gasp that escaped from Ellie’s lips as she realised the truth.

‘You did!’ Kate nodded slowly, Ellie’s excited noises increasing in pitch

‘Will you be quiet?’

‘Oh sorry. I knew you liked eachother. We’ve all been placing bets on when you guys would finally give in and do it!’

‘Bets?!’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh god.’

‘Where on earth did you do it? Not outside..’

‘Yeah…On that little slope leading up to the path.’

Ellie burst out laughing and Kate kicked her sharply. ‘Go and annoy someone else! And don’t tell ANYONE!’ Ellie nodded, pinkie promising before skipping off, a huge grin on her face. Kate rolled over and let a huge smile escape now that no one could see it.

Breakfast was a painful affair. Both Kate and William sat rigidly at the bench, avoiding the suspicious glances from various people up and down the table. It wasn’t helped by Ellie sitting bolt upright with a massive grin on her face, watching Kate squirm under her gaze.

‘Can you pass the jam Ellie?’ William asked suddenly, breaking into the sleepy and suspicious silence. Ellie drew her eyes away from Kate’s bowed head and nodded, tossing it casually up the table.

‘So. Did you enjoy your evening Will?’ She asked loudly and William grimaced.

‘Oh yeah it was fine thank you’

Kate lifted her head from the porridge to watch William squirming anxiously along with everyone else who was either oblivious or suspicious.

‘What did you get up to?’ Ellie asked again, a wicked look appearing in her eyes.

‘Nothing much’ Will mumbled

‘Oh really? I heard you got back really late’

‘Did you?’

‘Oh yeah.’

‘Does it really matter what time I got back?’

‘Not particularly. I was just curious…you know.’

‘hmm…’

Ellie giggled and turned back to her breakfast, ignoring the glares from Kate and the grins from several others.

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

I’m so sorry about Ellie’

‘Don’t be. She cares about you and also has a wicked sense of humour’

Kate sighed and looked at him. ‘I wish you weren’t leaving me here to suffer.’

William grinned and kissed the tip of her nose ‘I’m sure you will survive. After all, if I’m gone, there won’t be anything for them to talk about, will there?’

‘Suppose not.’

‘I’d better go and pack. See you later.’ William said, kissing her gently before disappearing. Kate sighed and wandered outside to join the others. Spotting Hilary on the grass, she joined her.

‘Hi Hilary, you okay?’

‘Yeah I’m fine, you?’

‘Mmm. Good.’

‘So, you and William? Are the rumours true?’

‘You’re not mad are you?’

Hilary chuckled ‘No not mad. I always knew he liked you more than me. He would talk about you and gaze at you constantly so I’m not surprised.’

‘I’m glad you’re not angry’ Kate replied honestly and the two girls shared a warm smile.

‘Kate when the press get here, avoid them. Trust me, I’ve had my time in the spotlight once or twice and it’s no fun. My parents are quite high profile and their divorce was highly controversial and publicised. My sister and I were thrust into the media for a while and I lost my then boyfriend because of it. Let William do his thing and then you can be with him afterwards for the remaining few weeks.’

‘Thanks Hilary, I’ll bear it in mind. I’ve never been in the media so It’s good to have some advice from someone who knows.’

‘That’s okay. I hope you guys are happy together.’

‘I hope so to.’

‘KATE?’ Came William’s familiar voice from behind them.

‘Yeah?’

William approached them, holding his bag and dressed for going away. ‘I’m leaving now, I’ll be back in three days.’

‘Okay, have a lovely time. I’ll miss you.’

Will grinned and kissed her quickly before anyone else could see. ‘Bye. Don’t talk to the press before I get home, they’re journalists remember!’ ‘I won’t! Have a great time!’

As William disappeared from view, Kate’s heart sank. It was going to be a long three days.

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

On Wednesday morning, a range rover rolled up outside the lodge. Kate and several others gathered in front of the kitchen window to watch while the rest watched from windows around the lodge as five men and Jennie Bond stepped from the car and shook hands with the leaders. Kirsty, turning around and spotting the faces from each window, made a stern face and shooed them away from the windows as the team began to walk toward the entrance.

William returned at lunch time, but Kate had no chance to greet him because he was pulled into an interview immediately after unpacking. Feeling a bit down, she resolved to greet him afterwards but Hilary warned her to stay away, the last thing William wanted was for their relationship to be caught on camera or by a reporter. Therefore, when William entered the kitchen to film, she could only smile at him and move away to sit on the far side of the kitchen while he spoke about how bad he was at cooking, something she could at least agree with.

William showed them all around the village and took them down to the school and radio station while he did his shifts and activities. Kate and many others watched in awe of how easily he handled being filmed and interviewed. He was smooth and charismatic but more closed up than normal, which was to be expected. It made Kate realise how very different his life was from hers and made her uneasy.

On the final day of filming, Kate found some time alone with him whilst the crew were enjoying a coffee break. He kissed her cheek softly

‘How have you been?’

‘Not bad. I haven’t really enjoyed not being able to spend time with you though.’ William made a face.

‘Welcome to my life.’

‘How was camping?’

‘Hellish. It rained the entire time and was freezing. I sincerely dislike camping.’

‘Poor you. At least your back now though’

‘Yeah about that… Listen Kate, my father has send me another letter telling me that I will be returning to England in two days, after BBC return’

‘Oh… I never knew you weren;t finishing with the rest of us.’

‘Neither did I. But…the press being here…I hope it’s showed you exactly who I am as a person.’

‘Well yeah but it doesn’t bother me. You’re still William to me. I’ll miss you, but surely we can pick it up when I get back?’

‘You don’t get it…’

‘What don’t I get? I’m not incompetent you know.’

‘I know Kate. What I’m trying to say is… We lead entirely different lives back home.’

‘I know that.’

‘Do you though? When I get home, I will be expected to prepare for university and do engagements for the rest of the summer. My life will turn out very differently from yours.’

‘It doesn’t have to be. We could be really happy if you let us.’

‘I can’t let us Kate. I love you but I can’t introduce you to my life the way you want me to.’

Tears filled Kate’s eyes as the implication of what he was saying sunk in. she sighed, trying to keep them back so as not to make it difficult for both of them.

‘I get it. I hope you have a happy life Will. I’ve had the most amazing time with you the last few weeks, it’s made this experience so much better.’

‘Can we be friends at least?’

‘I don’t know, can we be?’

‘That’s up to you, whether you still want me in your life.’

Kate sighed, her heart breaking. She looked at him, his eyes sad but hopeful. ‘Yes I don’t see why we can’t, but in order for this to be easier for me when you leave. Let’s break it off now.’

‘I was afraid you’d say that. Very well if that’s what you want.’

‘Of course it’s not, but you’ll break my heart otherwise.’

‘I’m sorry it has to end this way Kate.’

‘Me too.’

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

The next day, the press left for England. Kate spent the day spent in her room with Ella and Hilary trying not to fall apart. William packed his things together and said goodbye to the area, the children and the radio station staff.

The following day William left Chile. He and Kate kissed one last time, breaking both of their hearts as he walked away from her and everything they’d enjoyed over the last two months.

The following two weeks went like a dull blur. Marcos tried to cheer her up but to no avail. At last, it was Kate’s turn to trace William’s steps back to England, leaving behind the place she had been so happy at.

………………………………………………………………

3 Months Later: St. Andrew’s University, Scotland.

Kate wandered along the leaf scattered path toward the lecture hall on her first morning arm in arm with her new boyfriend Rupert. The trees shone in the morning sunlight, their red, orange and yellow colours reflected in the lake as the light breeze carried a few to the ground. William and Kate had stayed in touch for several months after leaving Chile but it hadn’t been the same. Kate hadn’t looked at another man all summer until eventually coming to terms with the reality that William and her would never be together again. Rupert was kind, good looking and everything she could have wanted but no William.

William wandered along the path to his first lecture by himself, deep in thought. HE had only arrived the previous evening and was completely overwhelmed. Having not been at Fresher’s week, he knew no one properly yet apart from the odd few he knew from Eton. Looking up just in time, he caught sight of a rather shocked looking Kate on the arm of another man. His heart erupted into cheers at the sight of her familiar face. She had grown taller, her hair was in a more sophisticated style and she was no wearing makeup but she still looked beautiful to him.

‘Kate!’

‘Oh my god! William!’ She cried, rushing over to hug him. He breathed her familiar scent, holding back from kissing her and breaking his heart all over again.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I go here. Did you not see it in the newspapers?’

‘No, my Dad stopped reading them for several weeks as a dare so I didn’t read it!’

William laughed and glanced at Rupert.

‘Sorry. Hi I’m William.’ Shaking his hand

‘Rupert. Kate’s boyfriend.’

‘Oh. Well nice to meet you.’

We’d better get on, or we’ll be late. See you around William’ and taking Rupert’s arm, she wandered on leaving William gazing at her in a daze, his heart beating loudly.

Finis

#mrandmrswales #royal fanfiction #cambridge fanfiction #kate middleton

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feistypaants-archived · 4 years

Text

Equality

Rating: T Words: 2766 Pairing: Kristanna

Notes: I’m bad at titles. ignore it. I don’t know.

i’m also bad at endings and editing. just let that slide.

a fic born out of listening to LITW too many times, and wanting something just a little different from the movie :^) (still loved it so much, but sTILL)

anyway hope you enjoy!

“Wait, wait!” Anna tripped over her dress as she ran down the castle hallways to catch up to Kristoff, who had been walking with determination. “Where are you going?” Her fingers barely caught the edge of his jacket, clenching tightly into the fabric. “Please, wait!”

He stopped.

He turned around.

Anna couldn’t help but notice the wetness brimming his lower eyelashes.

“I just…” He started, grabbing her hands in between his and fully enveloping them in his warm grasp. “I love you -”

“I love you, too,” she desperately interrupted, giving their enclosed hands a swift shake, trying to knock some sense into him.

“But…” Kristoff sighed, pulled her hands to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her fingers, lingering for just a moment as he chose his words carefully. “I… I’m not sure where I fit in here, Anna.”

Her eyes darted from side to side, and she pulled her hands from his to gesture to their surroundings. “Of course you fit in! You’ve been doing so well! Even without the fancy clothes and ice master title! I mean, even Elsa --”

He winced, and lifted his hands to his face before cutting her off. “I don’t mean here. I mean…” Kristoff moved his hand between them, doing his best to show her what he meant. “Here.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Her brows were furrowed, concern weaving through her features as she tried to force him to make eye contact with her.

He took a deep breath and quickly swept his fingers at his eyes, keeping his gaze trained on the toes of her shoes. “I know what I want, Anna. But I’m starting to think you don’t feel the same.”

“What? Of course I do! Of course I -”

Kristoff moved quickly, not sure he could handle hearing her rebuttal, and cupped her jaw in both of his hands before pressing a full, heartfelt kiss to her lips. She kissed him back, her hands finding his for only a moment before he regrettably pulled away, leaving a confused and whiplashed princess staring up at him.

“There’s always…” he sighed. “Always going to be something or someone more important to you than me.” She moved to protest and he shook his head. “It’s okay. Of course it is. It’s always fine.” He sighed, and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her. “I love you, more than anything.” Her hands slid up his back, fingers tangling into his jacket. “I never thought I could love anyone like this.”

He felt her hiccup against his chest.

“I just need some space. Some time.”

Anna squeezed him tighter, her words trembling. “But I love you.”

“I know,” he placed a kiss against her forehead as he pulled back, untangling her hands from his clothing. “I know.”

Kristoff could feel his heart breaking as he looked down at her, blue eyes tinged red, small body trembling. “Then why are you leaving?”

But he didn’t know what to say. His words were caught in his throat, and he heaved a sigh before spitting out whatever he could manage.

“I just want to be equal. Just… equal to everything else in your life. Just,” he wiped under his eyes again, catching her gaze and the confusion swirling inside it. “Just give me a few days.”

“Okay…” Anna, hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “If…” she sighed, taking more steps back. “If that’s what you need…”

Kristoff nodded his head before turning around and heading to the exit, doing his absolute best to keep moving forward as he heard her let out a sob behind him.

---

Kristoff followed paths familiar to him, his heart pounding as his feet dragged through the crisp leaves of autumn. He barely made it to the outskirts of the kingdom before tears started flowing freely, not stopping no matter how much he begged his body to listen to him. It was all getting to be too much.

He knew she loved him, logically.

He knew she loved him, rationally.

He knew she loved him, when she looked up at him with big doey eyes. He knew she loved him when she leapt at him with a smile on her face, kissed him with heat on her lips, fell asleep in his arms and woke him up with big snarky grins and fingers to the tip of his nose and a teasing you snore.

But the minute - the second, even - something else wanted her attention, she was gone.

And he understood. She had missed out on years of experiences, years of friendships, years of a life with her sister. It was fine. It was always, always fine.

All Kristoff had wanted was her undivided attention for one night. He had planned and planned and planned some more, set the tone, got her alone, pulled out the ring and …

He sat on the first stump he could find, and rested his head in his hands.

She had been so distracted by Elsa that she didn’t even notice.

Reaching in his pocket with a sigh, Kristoff pulled out the soft wrapping, gently untying the ribbons on the package, and placed the small band above the first knuckle of his finger.

He had spent months making sure it was perfect. A blend of his upbringing and hers. A fiery troll stone set in a traditional arendellian motif, with her warmth reflected in the yellow gold next to the white gold of his chillier exterior.

Her huge, giving heart had brought a new and incredible light into his life, and he wanted to make sure she knew how much she meant to him. Forever.

But lately he had started to wonder if he meant as much to her as she did to him. Or was he just convenient? Was he just there to ease the loneliness? Give her someone to give attention to when the queen was distracted?

He shook his head. That wasn’t right. He knew that wasn’t right.

Damn it.

---

Anna knew she was being pathetic, but he had already been gone for three hours. That was two hours and fifty nine minutes too long. So she had dug in his wardrobe, pulled out his pajamas, and curled up in them in front of the warm fire.

Why did he go? What did he mean, he wanted to be an equal? He meant so much more to her than she ever knew how to express. He was far and above almost everyone in her life, and that scared her.

When he left to visit the trolls, or oversee new ice harvesters, or anything else that took him away from her, Anna felt herself break a little inside. She had let him go once, and she hated doing it every time since.

But he asked. He asked for some time alone, and she had to respect him.

He loved her, right?

He had said it so many times.

But sometimes she pushed him too far, or was too loud, or too Anna, and she was sure he would leave. Why would he stay? She wasn’t anything special. She was just…

No, she scolded herself, burying her nose into the collar of his sleep shirt. Anna had worked hard to shake that mindset and she wouldn’t let herself fall down that spiral again. He loved her, so much, and she knew it. She was so worth loving.

Biting her lip and sighing, Anna stretched out on the couch, her toes brushing the armrest.

So then why did he leave?

---

Kristoff was laying against Sven, strumming a soft melody on his lute, the ring still sitting snug on his finger. It felt like the old days, and Sven nuzzled his nose against the side of Kristoff’s face with a sad snuffle.

He had been gone for two days, and it hadn’t helped in the slightest.

After walking around for a few hours, Kristoff, unfortunately, realized that he didn’t have many places to go anymore, and didn’t quite feel like camping out without his best friend. So he turned around, went back to the kingdom, and hunkered down in the stables.

He just hoped no one noticed him here. He wasn’t sure he’d know how to explain himself.

When he first moved into the palace, Kristoff had been quite uncomfortable with the idea of living a plush, undeserved life, and had made a tiny loft above the barn in case he felt like he needed a return to what he knew. It happened less and less often as the years went by, and when he was firmly settled into spending every other night in his princess’ bed, the makeshift bed was just downright unappealing.

Strumming an out of tune note brought him back to reality, and he patted the side of Sven’s muzzle, slipping the ring back into the velvet bag.

“I…” he started, sighing. “She’s all I know anymore, buddy. She’s all I want to know.”

The reindeer let out a relieved snort, before laying his head down on the ground.

“I mean…” Kristoff grasped the ring firmly in his fist, nodding mostly to himself. “I know who I am without her… but I don’t want to be that person anymore. I just…”

He sighed once more, deflating. “I wish I knew if she felt the same way…”

As he settled back down against the soft fur of Sven’s side, he heard the barn door slam open and hurried feet running through the stable.

---

Anna sighed, rolling over in her bed. It had been two days and her pillow didn’t smell like him anymore and she was tired and sad and anxious. She didn’t know where he went or where he was staying or if he was safe…

She wiped her red eyes and pulled the blankets over her head when she heard an incessant knocking at the door.

“Go away, Olaf.”

But he didn’t. He kept knocking until she heard him fumbling with the lock and giggling as the door swung wide open. As grateful as she was for him finding her that night, him learning to pick locks would never be something she was okay with.

“Hey Anna!” he practically sang, running to her window and throwing open the shades letting all the bright light into her bedroom. “You’ve been sleeping for days!”

She groaned before throwing the blankets down and sitting up in her bed. “What is it, Olaf?”

“Oh,” he looked her up and down, nodding. “You look… hmm.” Anna rolled her eyes as he scrambled up into her bed, sitting beside her. “Where’s Kristoff?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I thought he lived here now?”

“He does.”

“So where’d he go?”

“I don’t know!” Anna felt tears welling at her eyes again. She had just managed to stop crying, and she dropped her head on top of her knees in frustration. “He left.”

Olaf hummed, patting her shoulder. “Are you going to find him?”

“He told me to leave him alone…”

“That didn’t stop you when Elsa said the same thing, did it?”

Anna froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. No, it hadn’t. In fact, nothing ever deterred her from helping Elsa. Not being told to go away, not doors slammed in her face, not her being sick, not her being sad, not…

Not even Kristoff smiling sadly at her as she walked out of the parlor the other day. He had been saying something, hadn’t he?

Her eyes darted to the window, looking at the leaves falling outside the window, before turning back to Olaf. “You’re… you’re right.”

If nothing stopped her from going after Elsa… Why was she letting something stop her from going after Kristoff?

I just want to be equal.

Equal.

Oh, no.

Realization hit her hard, and she scrambled out of her bed, ignoring the snowman who was now buried under her blankets. She didn’t have any time to spare, and quickly pulled her boots on over Kristoff’s too long pants, tied her sash tighter around the waist, and bolted for the door.

How would she even find him?

Her feet slipped on the polished floors as she ran through the hallways, barrelling through doorways until she made her way down and out of the castle. She had almost started running to the mountains when she realized that a horse would probably be faster.

Throwing open the doors to the stable, Anna ran as quickly as she could towards the back where her favorite horse was boarded. “Okay, Snowball,” she sang, almost laughing at the coincidental name. “We’re going to go find --”

She turned a corner and let out a surprised yelp when she saw large antlers and a full head of blond hair staring up at her from the floor.

“Anna?”

Relief washed over her whole body as she ran forward and threw herself to the ground, confident that he would catch her. And she was right. His arms opened wide, cushioning her fall and pulled her flush against his chest smiling as she buried her nose into his chest.

“Please,” she sighed, catching a sob in her chest. “Please say you still love me.”

Kristoff could feel her body trembling, and he adjusted his hands to bring her gaze to his face. “Hey, what…” He paused as he watched her eyes brimming with tears before wiping her cheeks. “Hey, of course I do.”

She shook her head in disagreement and closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into his palm. “I would understand if… if you didn’t…”

“Anna,” he started, trying to make her look at him. “What are you --”

“I’m bad at this. I don’t know --”

“You’re not bad at --”

“I am. I’m a bad --”

“You’re just new to --”

“But I’ve been neglectful and --”

“You’re not --”

“But I am.”

She took a deep breath to continue, but Kristoff cut her off with finality. His voice was gentle but stern. “Do you love me?”

Anna froze and sniffled, her eyes finally opening to meet his gaze. “Of course I do.”

“Then,” he sighed, pulling her into a hug, her head falling into the crook of his neck and resting his chin against the curve of her nose. “We’ll figure it out.”

They stayed like this for a while, breathing slowing, Anna’s hands rubbing back and forth on his chest. He spun her messy curls in between his fingers, feeling his heart growing lighter with every passing minute.

Anna let out a sigh against his skin, and turned just enough to look up at him. “What were you saying the other day, in the parlor?”

He froze and let out one breathy laugh. “Oh, uh…” He hummed, reaching into the pocket inside his vest. “Just wanted to…” He moved his hand from her back, opening the ties of the velvet bag. “Ask you something.”

Anna sat up in his lap, looking with curiosity. “What’s…”

The ring slipped out into his palm, and he did his best not to shake too badly. It didn’t help when her hands came up under his, lifting his palm closer to her face. “You’re my everything, Anna.”

He felt fat tears fall from her chin to his hand, and he couldn’t help but laugh. They were both unbathed, in days old clothing, sitting on the floor of the stables, smelling like horse and reindeer sweat, and it was almost as if this couldn’t have worked any other way.

“Will you --”

She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing their bodies to the ground. He couldn’t even finish his question before her lips came hard down onto his, knocking the wind out of him.

“Yes,” she wept through kisses, moving her lips to the side of his mouth as he laughed and tried to speak.

“You didn’t,” he laughed again, wrapping tight arms around her middle and leaning her backwards. “Let me finish.”

“Oh,” she smiled, wiping at her eyes. “Go ahead.”

Kristoff lifted the ring up between them. “Marry me?”

“Oh!” she smirked, tapping her chin. “Well if that’s the question, I might have to --”

He pulled her forward to cut her off with a laugh, kissed her again, and slipped the ring onto her finger before tangling his hands into the hair at the back of her head.

“I love you,” she whispered when they slowed, her voice a ghost on his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he kissed her again, shifting under her weight. “We have plenty of time to get it right.”

#kristanna #frozen #kristanna fanfic #kristanna fic #feistypantswrites #canon divergent #frozen fic #:^) im so happy to be writing still #it's cool i'm not emo or anything

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carolinahurricanesstan · 4 years

Text

Dougie Hamilton x reader

It had been three months since you graduated from college. Unsure if it was because of that or because you were quickly approaching your 25th birthday, but you were spiraling. Not gonna lie, college was freaking hard and honestly, you were unsure of what you wanted to do but if something didn’t get you out of the house soon, you were going to go insane.

You had applied to a few different marketing positions, but nothing had materialized yet and you were frustrated.

You decided to go and grab lunch with your best friend, (y/bf/n) one HOT September Friday and as you sat down at your favorite downtown Raleigh restaurant, your phone rang, but the number was not one that you recognized. It was a local number so you decided to answer it, hoping that it was one of the many jobs you had applied to.

“Hi! Is this (y/n)?”

“Yes, it is!”

“Hi, (y/n)! I hope you’re doing well today! This is Shannon, head of marketing here for the Carolina Hurricanes. I’m calling in regards to your extremely impressive resume. We would absolutely love to set up an interview with you to see if you would be a good fit for our team. Are you free this week sometime to come in and chat?”

You were speechless. This was finally your opportunity. Quickly, you regained your composure and were able to choke out,

“Absolutely! I’m free first thing Monday morning! What time works best for you?”

“Let’s say 9 am? You can meet me at the North entrance of PNC.”

“That sounds fantastic. I will see you Monday morning at 9 am, Shannon! Thank you so much!”

“See you then, (y/n)! Have a great weekend!”

You smile at your friend across the table and she looks back at you with a confused look on her face.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“Head of marketing for the Canes. I have an interview for a position on their marketing team on Monday!” You were beaming.

“Holy SHIT, dude! That’s awesome! You’ve been waiting for something like this!”

\\\

Monday snuck up on you. You decided to go out on Saturday night for drinks with your closest friends to celebrate your pending job interview and spent Sunday recovering from that. You were excited for sure, but now the nerves began to set in. You slept like shit, tossing and turning all night. You woke up around 7 am, groggy as all. You knew that you were really great at interviews, but looking in the mirror, you knew that you needed some work to feel as confident outside as you were inside. You drug yourself to the shower, turning on the almost-scalding water. After getting out, feeling a lot less groggy, you take extra time getting ready, being very meticulous with each step. You curl your hair into loose waves and apply your normal, natural makeup: a little eyebrow, a little mascara, and that’s it.

You step back into your room, putting on the outfit that you picked out a few days before. A super flattering pair of slim fit, black ankle pants, a more casual shirt, layered with a modern blazer. You slide on a pair of ankle boots and stop at the full length mirror propped up in the corner of your bedroom.

Pleased with how you looked, you grab your keys and head out the door. You lived 10 minutes away from the arena, so you jump in your car and turn some music on to hype you up before pulling out of your driveway and eventually onto 40.

You pull into PNC arena, familiar because of the many events you’ve attended, you go directly towards the north entrance. You quickly park and begin heading towards to door, only to be greeted by one of the friendliest faces you’ve ever seen.

“Hey! You must you (y/n)!! I’m Shannon!! So nice to put a face with the name!”

You quickly walked towards her, shaking her hand. “Likewise! So nice to finally meet you!”

You two begin walking inside of the building, she starts: “So, nothing to be nervous about! We loved your resume and just wanted to familiarize you with our organization before we officially offered you the job.”

You two arrived in what appeared to be the offices for the staff and you were mesmerized. Hockey in Raleigh hadn’t been much of a thing to write home about until two years prior, when they qualified for the Stanley Cup Playoffs for the first time in a while. You’d been to a few games, but to be honest, you didn’t know a whole lot about the team. You knew about hockey because your college had a team, but you never really cared about who the players were.

Shannon continued to talk and fill you in on the history of the team, who the leadership was, and chat about the upcoming season. You were engrossed in every word she said. She asked a few questions about you, seeming to really like your answers. The atmosphere here was incredible, everyone was buzzing with excitement, which in turn, made you excited. While invigorating, everyone was extremely friendly and laid back, including Shannon.

Finally, your tour came to a stop as Shannon led you into a conference room. She had some paperwork laid out on the table as she took a seat and gestured for you to sit across from her. As you sat, she began talking.

“I have been given pretty open freedom to do whatever I need to do to make this marketing team the best in the NHL. I do not beat around the bush at all and so, I’d like to formally offer you this position on our marketing team. I think that you could really bring a lot of incredible energy and ideas to our team and to Carolina in general and we would love to have you.”

Your smile took up your entire face.

“You guys seem like an amazing group of people to work with and I would be totally honored to accept.”

She smiled back at me, “Awesome!! Welcome to the team, (y/n)! Let’s go meet the boys and then, we’ll come back and fill out this paperwork!”

///

Shannon leads you down a hallway, chatting you up the entire way. You’re halfway present, nodding along and smiling at what she’s telling you about the team, but your excitement is making it hard to focus on anything at all.

Finally, you walk out of the hallway into one of the openings leading to the rink. You recognize that you’re now beside the bench. She informs you that the guys are doing their morning skate. She motions a man over and introduces you to him. His name is Rod, the head coach. He shakes your hand, firmly, and welcomes you to the team. He seems friendly and warm, just like everyone else you’ve met, but you can also sense that he does not handle nonsense, at all.

Shannon asks him to bring the boys over for them to meet you as well. This terrified you a little, because as you’re scanning, you realize that these are not busted up hockey jocks, missing teeth, but these are young looking guys that are intimidatingly handsome. As she introduces you to the guys, you become a little self-conscious as a lot of them come to shake your hand, each giving you his name as he does.

“(y/n) will be working specifically with creating our social media content and maintaining it. She’ll be doing an array of things in regards to working with you, including photographing and helping with video work. Her accomplishments are super impressive and we are so excited she’s decided to be apart of our organization.”

The guys all clap, a few even cheer and yell, for you as Shannon finishes up her announcement regarding you. You don’t typically blush, but as you’re standing there, talking to Shannon, you can feel it beginning to rise up your neck as you realize some of the guys are studying you as they skate back out.

Shannon sits on the empty bench and motions for you to join her as she begins telling you how she got started with the Hurricanes a few years back. You’re listening along, scanning over each guy on the ice. One in particular catches your eye and you realize it’s one of the same ones you caught looking at you earlier when Shannon was introducing you to everyone.

He was tall. Like, really tall. You were only 5′3, so it didn’t take a lot for someone to be taller than you, but he was probably the tallest on the ice. You realize that you hadn’t been introduced to him when you met a majority of the other guys,

Shannon’s phone began to ring and she excused herself, leaving you alone for a minute to continue watching from the bench.

You continued to watch this tall man. He took his helmet off momentarily to expose his blonde hair. You also noticed his beard was gingery and he had probably the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Definitely your type. He skated over towards the bench to retrieve a gatorade and you felt your body stiffen a little when you realized he had caught you studying him.

As he got closer to the bench, he plopped down on it, breathing heavily from the drills he had just run and drinking from one of the bottles. You knew that you were blushing now. How could you not? He was freaking handsome. You avoided looking at him by pulling out your phone, but you could feel his gaze.

He swiftly put himself back over the wall, but not before stopping on the ice directly in front of you, causing you to look up at him. He smiled and stuck his hand out. He cleared his throat and said, “Hey, (y/n). I just wanted to introduce myself after you got bombarded by the rest of the guys. I’m Dougie.”

His voice startled you a little. It was deep, with a slight rasp, and smooth as butter. Trying to pull yourself together, you shook his hand and smiled back at him. God, he was handsome. “It’s so nice to meet you,” you managed to get out.

He held onto your hand a bit longer than a normal person would, holding eye contact with you, causing you to giggle and divert your eyes. He finally let go and added, “I should probably get back to morning skate before Roddy gets me. I’m looking forward to seeing you around, (y/n).” He smiles at you again before skating off to rejoin his teammates.

You finally release the breath it feels like you’ve been holding onto for an hour and look out at the ice one more time, catching eye contact with Dougie again, finding him smiling at you before running the drill he was apart of.

Shannon finally ends her call and comes back to where you are, smiling at you. “You ready to go fill out your paperwork?”

///

Your first official day was a few days after you’d been hired. You knew that the season didn’t start for a few weeks and Shannon informed you that this was a big time for the marketing team to push out a lot of content to get the fans excited about the coming season. Fan attendance was up the last two years, but they really wanted to continue pushing out content that helped them get to know the players and feel connected with all of the boys.

You guys had brainstormed a ton of new video ideas for the youtube channel, a few new promo shoots to get done, photo and video, and now the ideas just needed to be executed.

In the weeks leading up to the beginning of the season, you had been trusted to take the lead on a few of the different video projects and you were hooked. You loved being around the guys. They were freaking hilarious and so fun to be around. The repertoire they had with each other was dynamic and there was no denying that they all cared about each other.

There had been a few moments during filming videos and photoshoots that you and Dougie had exchanged. Glances, short, friendly conversations. You were trying to remain professional and keep work and private life separate, but it was hard to do here. This was one of the most laid back environments you’d ever been in and you loved being able to open up and be yourself.

On the way to your car after work that day, you felt your phone buzz in your hand. You waited until you sat down in your car to unlock it and see a text from an unfamiliar number.

“You have been brilliant the last few days. It’s incredible to see you do what you’re so passionate about. Can’t wait to see you at the game this week. - DH”

Ah, Dougie. You smiled down at your phone for a minute before responding. He was so damn good looking and you admit, you’d caught yourself staring a little too long or scanning him up and down, longing to just reach out and touch him.

“You’re too kind. See you then. ;)”

You debated leaving the winky face off, but decided to leave it. You were feeling a little more adventurous than usual.

Before you knew it, the season was starting. You were buzzing because you got to photograph the game from beside the bench. The arena filled up quickly and you got to witness your first game as a staff member. The crowd was insanely loud. You spent the first two periods in awe, snapping photos during play, letting yourself get sucked in. There were a few times that you felt a few eyes on you from the bench, but you assumed you were being ridiculous. Once, you happened to glance over to catch a particular blondie watching you before he looked away.

You grinned at the thought of Dougie being embarrassed that you caught him watching you, especially since you’d been watching him for most of the game.

Towards the end of the third, the Canes were up two points with 2 minutes left in the period. Dougie came off of a shift and sat at the end of the bench, right beside where you were. He tapped your leg with his stick and smiled over at you. You smiled back at him. God, you hadn’t looked at him that close in person in a while. You guys had been so busy prepping everything for this night that you had been running around like a mad woman.

You both turned your attention back to the game as the clock wound down to zero. Dougie flashed a smiled at you as he and the other guys went out onto the ice to celebrate their first win of the season. You followed out onto the ice to grab photos of the storm surge, as you knew that was tradition that was so important to everyone.

You were in your office, packing up your equipment as you imported the images and videos onto your computer. You sat back in your chair, waiting for the import to finish, as your scrolled through your phone. You heard a knock at your door and you look up to see a freshly-showered Dougie in his pre-game suit that he had shown up in earlier today.

“Hey, get any good shots tonight?”

You chuckled, knowing that this was a joke you had made with each other before, during the countless video and photo shoots you’d done with the team that last few weeks.

You held eye contact with him, still chuckling, “You know I did. Did you”

This caused him to laugh as well, “Man, I could have sworn you watched me score that goal. I’m hurt that you didn’t.”

You both giggled before he came and sat at the chair in front of your desk. As he sat down, he looked slightly nervous, maybe uncomfortable?

“So, I’ve been trying to push this off because you work for the team, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how unfair it is for me to not do this and always wonder what if.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going. Yeah, you guys had been friendly with each other, but a lot of the guys had been friendly. You were super attracted to Dougie, but you didn’t think anything different of the way he’d treated you vs the rest of the guys.

“If you are not interested, feel free to say no and we will forget this whole thing ever happened. But, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab a post game meal with me, (y/n)?”

You were slightly stunned. You wanted this, so you finally mustered up the confidence to respond. “Uhm, absolutely. I would love that!”

///

DOUGIE’S POV

I was nervous, but good nervous. I hadn’t wanted to date anyone since I came to Carolina, but she was different. She was this presence that really lit up any room she was in. She was brilliant, thoughtful, hilarious, and always made anyone she talked to feel like the only person in the room. It was no secret that she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. A lot of the boys on the team shared that opinion with me, how could they not?

I sat there, after putting myself on the line to ask her to hang out, nervous as fuck, hoping and praying she’d say yes.

She looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and that killer smile and accepted my invitation.

Thank God.

She closed her laptop on her desk and stood up, putting it in her bag.

“Ready to go?”

She looked up at me and flashed that heart stopping smile. “Yes, please.”

The whole way out to the parking lot, I wanted to hold her hand so bad. Ever since meeting her, I have had this desire to make her feel secure and safe, and walking with her now was no different. I didn’t understand the effect that she had on me, but I didn’t feel the need to fight it at all.

I knew which car was hers and had made a point when I got to the arena today to park near her.

“So, I thought that we could run through a drive-thru since it’s so late and then I have a secret spot that I want to take you to.”

She smiled at me as we approached the cars. “That sounds perfect.”

Every time she smiled at me, my stomach did a backflip.

///

(Y/N) POV

He offered to drive or gave you the option to drive separately, but you just wanted to be around him. In this moment, his presence was intoxicating.

He held his car door open for you, carefully closing the door before he retreated to the driver’s side. He smiled at you before starting the car and driving out of the arena. He asked what your drive thru guilty pleasure was and happily obliged, heading in the direction of it.

You both asked a few questions back and forth, easily filling your time with quality conversation on the way to whatever he had planned for you.

After pulling away from the drive thru, he drove for a few minutes, before turning down a road you were unfamiliar with. He parked and walked around to open your door. He opened his trunk and pulled out a blanket and you followed him as he began walking. Finally, you stopped in an opening and he gestured for you to look out into the field. You could see the entire city lit up in the distance. It was beautiful. He watched you sheepishly for your reaction.

“I figured we could sit out here, eat, talk, and look at the city or the stars.”

You were stunned, but in the best way. You looked up at him, with the biggest grin on your face. “Dougie, this is gorgeous.”

///

It had been probably close to two hours that you two had been sitting in front of the city, under the stars. To be honest, it felt like a fairytale to you. You were convinced that you could do the most mundane task with Dougie and it would feel like the lottery.

The more you talked to him, you realized how incredible he was. He was arguably the most handsome guy you’d ever seen. He was intelligent. He always seemed to be hinged on every word you said. He made you feel like you were all that mattered in the world.

You felt your adrenaline coming down and decided to lay back on the blanket and look up at the stars. Dougie did the same. You two continued your conversation, taking turns talking about anything and everything.

Before you knew it, it was 4 am. Dougie offered to take you back to your car at the arena but you knew that you lived close to his apartment from the last time you filmed a video with him and the boys, so you asked if he could just drop you off at your apartment. He obliged. After he opened your door for you and got into the driver’s seat, you said, “thank you again for dropping me off. I’ll just catch an Uber in the morning for work.”

“That’s nonsense. I’ll just swing by and pick you up.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you get up any earlier than you have to.”

“Nonsense. It’s not an imposition at all.”

You smiled out towards the window. The feelings that you were developing for Dougie were intense. You guys had spent the night talking about things that made it feel like you’d known him your entire life. Something about him made you want to open up and share everything you’ve ever said or done with him.

Part of you felt like he knew the effect he had on you. He glanced over, catching you smiling, trying to hide it. He contemplated for a second but decided to slowly reach over, resting his hand on your knee. He didn’t want to be too forward, but you had the same effect on him as he did you. He knew it was risky because this was the first time you’d hung out.

You smiled over at him before resting your hand on top of his. He was so warm and his hand almost engulfed your entire knee. He was perfect.

He finally pulled up to your apartment building. He parked on the street and got out to come and open your door. He grabbed your bag from you and offered to walk you up to your door.

As you got to your apartment door, you turned to face him. He held your bag out for you to take. You smiled, thanking him for such a lovely night. He smiled back at you. You loved that smile.

He debated kissing you. He had wanted to since he met you on your first day. He decided against It and pulled you in for a hug instead, opting for a kiss on the forehead instead.

Without breaking the hug, he said, “(y/n), thank you for spending tonight with me. You are incredible, truly. Can we do this again sometime? I would love to take you out for a nice dinner or maybe I can cook you dinner?”

You smiled into his chest, before slightly pulling away to look up at him. “I would love that. I’m free Thursday night?”

“Thursday night is perfect.” He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead one more time before pulling away. “Goodnight, (y/n)”

“Goodnight, Dougie” you said before unlocking your door and going inside of your apartment. You rested your back against the door, not wanting to move as you recounted the night, trying to remember every little detail about him. The way he smelled when he hugged you, how safe you felt with him.

You heard your phone ping with a text message. You took it out of your bag, wondering who would be texting you at this hour. It was a text from Dougie:

“Thank you again for tonight. You’re an incredible woman. I can’t wait to see you in the morning. x Dougie”

His message made you smile so big that your cheeks hurt. You were smitten.

///

Thankfully, you weren’t due in to the office until 10 the morning after weekday games, because you felt like you slept for maybe an hour. As you were almost done getting ready for the day, your phone pinged with a text from none other than Dougie.

“Hi gorgeous. Stopping for coffee. What can I bring you? :)”

You couldn’t stop smiling. God, he was perfect. You sent him your coffee order, along with a thank you, and continued getting ready. You had just slid your shoes on when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it and there he stood with that heart stopping smile, holding out your coffee for you to take.

As you took it, he bent down and kissed your cheek. “How did you sleep, (y/n)?” You almost didn’t answer, caught up in his smile and the way he says your name. “I hardly slept at all, if we’re being honest.” Saying this, you threw a cheeky little smile in his direction. “But, I’m not mad about it at all,” you added, winking at him.

You start to see a blush rise up on his cheeks and he looks down towards his feet, smiling he entire time, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. You’d never seen him like this before. He was almost bashful. This caused you to smile softy before saying, “we should probably get going.”

///

The car ride to the arena was anything but quiet. You loved talking to Dougie and the feeling was mutual. You brought out a side in him you’d never seen being around him at work. Halfway through the ride, he reached over and grabbed your hand. A warmth washed over here. You loved being around him. There was such a security with him, knowing that if you were his, he’d take care of you always.

///

You had spent the whole week thinking about your upcoming date with Dougie. You could not stop thinking about him. Every second of every hour. You caught yourself sending him quick little texts throughout the day. He came to your office and ate lunch everyday. You couldn’t wait to spend more time with him, away from work.

Thursday finally came. As your workday was coming to a close, your phone buzzed with a text.

Dougie: “Hey beautiful. Roddy let us out early today, so I’m running to get things for dinner tonight. Meet me at my apartment when you’re off?”

You: “I’ll be there. :)”

///

You didn’t even want to go home and change before heading over to Dougie’s. You just wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. There was an away game Sunday, so both of you were off the next day.

You parked outside of his apartment building, shooting him a text before heading up. You were greeted by him at his door. He pulled you in for a tight hug, pulling you into his apartment in the process. With your face against his chest, you breathed it. His scent never got old. You pull away to look back at him. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and slim fit jeans that fit him in the best possible way. God, he’s fit. You were so lost in your thoughts of him that you didn’t realize that he was watching you sum him up. He laughed and closed the gap between you, wrapping you into his arms again.

He brought one of his hands up from you waist to the side of your face, brushing your hair away and tucking it behind your ear. His eyes were intense, like he was deep in thought. After rubbing your cheek with his thumb, he was tired of waiting. He couldn’t handle his desire to be closer to you anymore. He brought your face closer to his, closing the gap between your lips, kissing you with the most intense passion you’d ever felt. He pulled away, that sheepish Dougie grin taking over.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now,” he smiles, forehead still resting on yours.

“Me too,” you chuckle.

///

Watching Dougie in the kitchen was the most attractive thing you’d ever seen. While he was working, you just imagined your life after this moment, with him. Seeing this all of the time.

After making you the most incredible dinner, you guys ended up on his balcony, with a bottle of champagne, giggling like school children, sharing the occasional kiss, him sitting in a chair, you sitting on his lap, one arm around your back, the other resting on your thigh. You were so infatuated with him.

///

You felt yourself begin to get more and more tired. Unable to fight it anymore, you laid your head down on Dougie’s chest, feeling yourself floating between being asleep and being awake, still conscious of where you could feel his skin touching yours.

“I should probably head home,” you say, into his neck, where you’ve nuzzled into him.

“No, no,” you hear him mumble into your hair. “Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” you mumbled, still pressed into his neck, sleepily.

He is getting ready to object when you say, “I’ll stay, but under one condition: you have to stay with me.”

He contemplates for a minute, unsure of if it’s the champagne or the sleep talking, but he just wants to be close to you. Without saying anything, he scoops you up, bridal style, and carries you into his room. Setting you down so that you’re standing in front of his dresser, he pulls out some sweats and a canes t-shirt, handing it to you and kissing you quickly before he leaves the room for you to change. After you’ve changed and thrown your hair into a messy bun, you walk into the kitchen, finding him cleaning up from the dinner you two shared.

You smile to yourself. Eventually, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You heard him chuckle a bit before turning around and engulfing you into a hug. He ran his hands up and down your back.

“You look nice in my clothes,” he said, examining you, up and down.

You giggled, looking up at him, getting lost in those eyes.

“You ready for bed, gorgeous?”

You nod at him. He takes your hand and you walk with him back into his room. You stand behind him as he pulls the blankets back for the two of you. He gestures for you to lay down and as you do, he covers you up before removing his shirt and walking to the opposite side of the bed.

You turn to face him, finding his bright eyes already studying you. You grin slightly, soaking in all of his features one by one. You reach out and run your hand through his beard, seeing a smile play on his lips as you felt the stubble on your fingertips. Holding eye contact, you could see that his eyes were intense, studying your face more intently than you’d ever seen before.

Seemingly all in one motion, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, face face only inches from yours. He smiled big before pulling you in for another kiss. Since your first earlier, this was all you had craved. His lips were soft and tender. You felt his hand move to your cheek, pushing your hair back. You deepened the kiss, running your hands into his hair, down his bicep, before stopping at his forearm.

You felt his kiss throughout your entire body. He was electric. All too soon, you pull away to catch your breath. Foreheads still pressed together, you hear him, barely above a whisper, “You are all I’ve thought about for days now, (y/n). You drive me wild in the best way possible. Everything that you are...” he pauses and begins stroking your hair, “is everything that I’ve looked for for so long. You make me want to be the best version of myself. For you. For us.”

His words cascaded over you like velvet. You let them soak into you, hanging onto every word he said. You’re lost looking for words to have the same effect on him that he’s had on you. You decide to kiss him in response to what he’s said.

Things become more heated the longer you two kiss. Hands begin to wander. You feel his large hands run down your back, down to your bottom. After giving you a little squeeze, he runs his hand down to the back of your knee, swiftly pulling you up, so that you were straddling him. You smirked into the kiss before kissing him harder.

///

You woke up to sunlight beaming in on your face with strong arms wrapped around you tight. You felt him brush your neck with his lips.

“Good morning. You are so incredibly beautiful first thing in the morning.”

His raspy, morning voice paired with him mumbling into your neck, made him more attractive, not knowing that that was possible. Being here with him, you knew that you never wanted to do this with anyone else...like ever.

///

You laid there with him for the longest time, listening to the two of you breathe, exchanging secrets in the form of glances. Unknown to you, he was feeling the same way you were. You had never felt this way before and he hadn’t either.

///

You two decided to spend the day together, starting with brunch after a lazy morning spent between the sheets together. You ventured downtown after stopping by your apartment to change out of Dougie’s clothes that you had slept in. You offered them back to him, but he smiled and sheepishly told you to keep them.

Dougie drove you downtown to his favorite brunch spot. As you parked and were walking, he reach for your hand.

“I hope this is okay. Y’know, doing this in public. We really haven’t done that yet.”

You just smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze to let him know that you didn’t mind.

“It’s great. Really.”

///

You two had the best conversation over brunch, delving deep into topics that you hadn’t yet talked about. After you were done eating, he reached across the table to take your hand, as he’d done before your food arrived, and held eye contact with you, before saying:

“(y/n), I have something to say to you, just because I always want to be upfront with you. I actually don’t know if I could keep anything from you if I tried,” he said with a chuckle.

“Of course you can tell me anything. What’s up?”

“These days with you, since the moment you walked into the arena, I have felt so connected with you. I am so honored that you said yes to spending time with me. You have made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. The way that you look at me is the most incredible feeling, bar none. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever, especially in only a few weeks. I think I am falling in love with you, (y/n), and I know that that seems insane but I just want to be open and honest with you.”

You could feel your heart turning flips in your chest. Again, he’d left you speechless. You could feel tears pricking your eyes, but you finally managed to speak.

“Walking into that arena full of men, a large amount being bachelors, my eyes have always been drawn to you. Now that I know you, my heart, my soul, and my body literally crave your presence. Being around you makes me feel alive, makes me feel like a new person. I feel the exact same way about you, Dougie.”

You had avoided his gaze until the last sentence came out of your mouth, but finally connecting your eyes with his, he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. There were truly no words that either of you could say to describe your connection with each other.

You felt him squeeze your hand, pulling you from your thoughts about him.

“You ready to get out of here?” he smiles over at you.

///

You two decide to hang out at your apartment for the rest of the day. You’re sitting on the couch, snuggled into his side. It felt safe. You were safe. Dougie was rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb, humming sweet nothings to you. You always thought that your job would be what made you feel the most fulfilled. But, this, this was it. This was what you’d been searching for this whole time.

______________________________

Thank you so much for reading!!! Do you guys want a part 2???

#dougie hamilton #dougie #canes #hurricanes #carolina hurricanes #dougie hamilton x reader #dougie hamilton fic #dougie hamilton imagine #dougie hamilton fanfiction

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