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elliewritessometimes · 3 years

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hello. have you seen this post by @notsomightymightytiger?? that’s my friend!!! and this is completely and utterly inspired by that and completely and utterly written for her. love you stabby friend <3

also known as: the tigers go to disneyland, kateva like to kiss, chess, reese and mattie have an understated bromance and cheerwives can actually be fluffy for once

tw: swearing, theme park kind of things??? aka rollercoasters and fireworks and all that. as always, let me know if i’ve missed anything

(sidenote idk if you can tell but i have never in my life been to disneyland don’t come for me if i wrote it all wrong i tried my best)

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"We're going to Disneyland."

There was silence in the gym for a solid thirty seconds before all hell broke loose.

"WhAT???"

"Wait, really?!?"

"Oh my God, Riley, you're the best, oh my gOd!"

"Why the fuck did you think that taking us to fucking Disneyland was a good idea??" Kate looked less than pleased at the proposition, a stark contrast to the delighted faces of Reese and Mattie.

Riley smiled brightly. "Team bonding!!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Right. Of course." Their voice rose in pitch, sarcasm delicately lacing their words. "For the best of the team-"

Chess cut them off, not so subtly stamping on her foot. "Katherine, please."

Farrah had been wobbling on her tiptoes, peering over Annleigh's shoulder. She gave a long-suffering groan. "Annleigh, Clark's not a Tiger, he can't come."

"But-"

"No. It's unfair."

Annleigh ignored her sister and switched her attention to Riley, making her best puppy eyes at the captain. Riley only widened her smile. It probably hurt her face a little bit. "You know what? Fine. Clark can come. It's gonna be fun, right?!"

Annleigh giggled at the answer, sticking her tongue out at a fuming Farrah. Kate was in a similar predicament, being held back by a smirking Chess with an arm around their shoulder. They pulled out their phone as well, already dialling a number, “If Annleigh’s boyfriend gets to come, then my girlfriend should be allowed as well. Otherwise that’s nepotism.”

“Fine.” Riley was steadily regretting her decision to hold a cheer trip. On her left, Cairo squeezed her hand, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Kate gagged in their direction. “You better not, Kate, or I’m banning your girlfriend from Disneyland.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wait,” Reese spoke up, “If Kate and Annleigh can have Eva and Clark, and Cairo and Riley have each other, can I bring my boyfriend?”

“No more significant others!” Riley clapped her hands, ignoring Reese’s pout. “If you can’t get Eva and Clark here in the next eight minutes, we will be leaving them behind! I paid so much money for these tickets and we will not be late.”

The team headed towards the door, being greeted by Eva and Clark already standing beside Cairo’s minivan. They split the rides evenly between the van and Chess’ car (Kate was more than pissed to find that their best friend had been in on the plan all along).

At one point, Mattie took Reese’s hand. “Hey, even if you can’t bring your boyfriend, you’ve got me, right? Ultimate bromance and all that?”

Reese grinned and squeezed the freshman’s hand. “Hell yeah.”

“I want that pin.”

“No, you don’t.” Reese hugged the Belle pin closer.

Chess held out a hand. “Yeah, but I do though.”

Reese shook her head.

“Look, I’ll give you my Tinkerbell diamond one.” They held out the rare pin in their other hand.

“No! Belle is my favourite!”

“She’s my favourite as well though!”

Cairo sighed. “We’ve been here literally ten minutes.”

Reese linked arms with Mattie, turning on her heel to walk off, “I’m going now and you’re not getting my Belle pin!!!!”

“HEY!” Chess chased after the two, trying so hard to keep up their grumpy demeanour and failing when a smile crept onto their face.

Turning to an anxious-looking Riley, Cairo sighed again. By now, she’d sighed more than she’d spoken today. “Chess does know that they could just... buy their own Belle pin if they really wanted, right???”

“It’s the fun of it, Cai.” Riley looked around, craning her neck. “Where on Earth have the other five members of our team gone?”

“Holy shit.” At this rate, Cairo must have been running out of oxygen from the intense sighing. “It has been. Ten. Minutes.”

Farrah wouldn't call herself a Disneyland regular, but she's been a few times before. She remembered a time before her mother had left, when she was still just a little kid, coming to the park for the first time. It had been the kind of magical that only a child can experience, filled with glitter and laughter and something that might have been called family. Her mother bought bubblegum flavoured cotton candy, handing the stick to a seven-year-old Farrah with a smile and a wink. They agreed that it was the first thing that you had to do when going to Disneyland - buy cotton candy. Every time since, Farrah bought the same bubblegum pink sugar from the same tacky stand and ate it with the same wonder as she did the very first time.

Now, Farrah had a new family. In, perhaps, more ways than one. Here, away from home, she's still with her family, maybe a slightly dysfunctional one made up of teenage cheerleaders (and Clark), but still, they are her family in one way or another.

Annleigh returned as Farrah was mulling over all this, a stick of worryingly neon pink cotton candy in her hand. "Figured you'd want to start the day off with your usual sugar rush."

Farrah took the treat with a smile, wondering if Annleigh is only so glad to buy such unhealthy food because at least it's not alcohol. "Thanks."

"Come on, ladies! We've got a whole park to explore!" Clark had apparently already visited a store, a pair of Mickey ears stretched over his head. Farrah rolled her eyes, but followed her sister and brother-in-law (nearly) further down the street because, after all, they are her family.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to fucking Disneyland before,” Eva looked mildly horrified, “Has Chess never taken you?”

“I didn’t really want to go.”

Eva narrowed her eyes. “Why the fuck-”

“Reasons.” Kate’s voice was sharp and Eva backed off, only kissing the top of their head. Kate squeezed her hand in response. “Anyway, come on, show me everything. Mountain rides challenge, right?”

“Ugh, Katie, the queues with be forever...”

“Lucky for you, I’ll be there to while away the time with you.” She winked, laughing when Eva blushed. “Let’s go.”

Of all the things to happen at Disneyland, Reese was not expecting to get sneak attacked by a literal cuddly pig. She yelped, reaching a hand to smack it away, nearing the point of ‘this might as well happen’, when a small head poked out from behind the toy. Mattie grinned, “Boo!”

“Jesus Christ, you scared the life out of me.”

The younger girl giggled brightly. “Look what I got!”

“...Is that the pig from Moana?”

“Obviously.” Mattie rolled her eyes. “You should know by now that Moana is the best Disney movie of all time.”

Reese rummaged in her backpack for a second before pulling out yet another pin. “Look! Moana pin. Girl, I would give it to you, but me and Chess are tryna see who can get the most pins by the end of the day. Speaking of, was Chess in the store?”

“Yeah, actually.” She hesitated. “Dude, I hate to tell you this, but they had a Belle pin.”

“Shit.”

Perhaps queuing had been a mistake. It had probably been hours. Kate would have known more accurately if they’d worn a watch like Chess always told them to. She was stubborn though, and hadn’t. “Aves...”

“Yeah?”

“How long have we been waiting?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Oh.” They craned their neck to see over the heads in front of them, realising that they were only a few people from the front. “Oh.”

Eva laughed and took her partner’s hand again, “Told you the queues were long.”

However, in only a matter of minutes, they were seated in an uncomfortable car, the seatbelts just a little too tight to be comfortable and a little too loose to feel actually safe. To say Kate was uncomfortable would be an understatement. She was also maybe a tiny bit scared.

Eva squinted at them. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I’m fine.”

And so the ride began.

Around halfway through, they began the steady climb to the highest peak. Kate turned to Eva, yelling over the shouts of other passengers. “Hey, babe? Remember when I said I didn’t come here with Chess because of reasons? Now might be a good time to tell you that those reasons are that I’m scared of heights.”

“You fucking idiot.” Eva turned carefully to them, holding their hands tighter, worry and amusement shining in her eyes. The car reached the peak of the ride. “Look at me and don’t fucking think about looking down. It’s okay.” She cupped her cheek. They fell suddenly and Kate's heart jumped into her throat. Eva laughed a little at their surprise. “You know what they say, babe, you gotta confront your fears straight on.”

“I can’t do anything straightly.”

And that was how they found themselves kissing on a rollercoaster, hair slightly in their faces, just as the camera shutter went off.

The team somehow reconvened for lunch, stopping on a bench somewhere as Clark unpacked a multitude of sandwiches and juice boxes. Of course, only Clark, Annleigh and Riley ended up eating the home-brought food, everyone else opting to buy their own trashy, mostly-sugar lunch.

“How the fuck did you know to bring all this if we only organised the trip this morning?” Kate sounded suspicious, eyeing Clark like he was the imposter.

Clark looked mildly sheepish. “Oh... We all knew already.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, sorry Kitkat.” Chess stifled a snort of laughter. “We organised this weeks ago. We had a group chat and everything.”

Kate spluttered for a second. “Alright, traitors, who else was left out of this?”

Mattie, Farrah and Reese all raised a hand.

“This makes no sense. Cairo, I trust you to tell the truth, why the fuck didn’t you tell us?!”

Cairo smirked. “We didn’t tell Mattie and Farrah because they’re children-”

“Rude!” Mattie smacked Cairo on the arm. “I am possibly more responsible than half of the rest of you.”

Riley cut in. “Don’t be silly, Cai. We didn’t tell Reese, Mattie or Farrah because they like Disney the most and we wanted it to be a surprise treat for them.”

The rest of the group made noises of appreciation or fondness. Kate, however, was less than pleased, “What about me?!”

“Oh, we just wanted to see your face when we announced it.” Cairo didn't hold back.

“Fuck you all.” But they were holding back a smile, already moving on to the next thing. “Hey, Farrah, you okay? Why aren’t you eating?”

The sophomore groaned. “I feel sick.”

Annleigh hugged her sister to her side, rubbing her back gently. ‘It’s because you ate all that cotton candy earlier.”

“It was so good, though.” Farrah frowned, regretting her past-self and her need for sugar.

Clark reached into his backpack, pulling out a pair of Minnie ears, before plonking them awkwardly on Farrah’s head. He grinned. “That’ll make you feel better!”

“Dude, I don’t know, but thanks for the effort.” She fought a smile, reaching up to arrange the ears around her plaits.

Riley had been anxious about the trip ever since it had been first suggested. She’d pored over the plans for hours on end, triple checking each detail with Cairo and Chess. Now that they were here, it was all going well enough. Sure, maybe they had gotten lost a couple of times, and sure, maybe they hadn’t stayed as much of a team as she’d planned, but yeah, it was going fine. Everyone else was having fun.

“Hey, Rye, you doing okay?”

She nodded with a smile, clutching Cairo’s hand. “Yup! All good!”

Cairo did not look convinced. “Look, you've been stressing about everyone else all day, how about we leave them be and go visit some princesses, huh?”

“Cai... Cai, that would be honestly amazing.” Hesitating, she watched the retreating backs of the rest of the team. “You’re sure they’ll be okay?”

“They’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, they’ve got Clark and Chess and Eva in case anything goes wrong.” The taller girl didn’t hesitate from naming who she perceived as the ‘responsible ones’.

“Okay.” Riley opened her mouth to suggest a destination, when they were approached by the one and only Peter Pan.

“Hey!”

“OhmygodCai.” She clung to her girlfriend’s arm. “It’s Peter Pan.”

Cairo snorted, nudging Riley to spark her reply. She watched as the two had what was possibly the purest and most wholesome conversation she had ever heard, sneakily taking photos that she would treasure because of Riley’s true delight. Riley skipped towards her after a couple of minutes, grinning properly from ear to ear. “That was so cool!”

“Amazing, Rye. Who shall we visit next?”

“Oh my God, we have to see Tangled!”

“....Rapunzel.”

Riley paused from where she was dragging Cairo into another set of rooms. “What?”

Cairo laughed, “She’s not called Tangled, babe, her name’s Rapunzel.”

“Oh. Yeah, right, of course, forgot.”

The other girl only laughed harder. “You're so stupid, Jesus Christ, I love you.”

Riley blushed. “Love you too.”

“So you did the mountain rides challenge.”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“And somehow, just magically, you two found yourselves making out in every single ride photo.” Chess crossed their arms, grinning at the couple in front of them.

“I- It was noT making out!!” Kate spluttered a reply, hiding her face in Eva’s shoulder. Chess only laughed harder.

Eva hummed as if she was making a difficult decision. “I don’t know, babe, you got pretty into it at one point.”

The senior cackled, high-fiving Eva over Kate's head. Kate continued to hide in their girlfriend's shoulder, only lifting a middle finger in Chess’ direction as a reply. Chess took the offending finger in their hand, pulling Kate up so she could walk between the other two. “Damn, Kitkat.”

“I’m not ever replying to that name again. I have been too attacked to allow it.”

Eva kissed the top of their head, “You came here to have a good time and you’re just feeling so attacked right now.”

“Exactly!” Kate nudged their head up into Eva’s chin, “This is why I’m dating you, meme girl.”

“Ew, gross.” Chess tugged Kate, who tugged Eva, who finally got them walking again. “Come on, lovebirds, it’s firework time.”

By the time the fireworks began, they’d been at the park for hours. Farrah still had her Minnie ears on, ones which Clark occasionally tried to steal due to his own ears being lost on one ride or another. Annleigh would only bat his hand away, laughing when he pressed kisses to her palm.

Kate kissed Eva again when the first firework exploded above them, being caught by yet another camera, this time in the hands of Riley. The photo found its way onto the Tigers group chat by morning, greeted by a pouting Kate begging them to take it down against the protests of the rest of the team (“But you’re just so cute!”). Somehow, she didn’t complain when it even later worked its way onto Eva's Instagram feed.

Chess and Reese jumped at the first fireworks, too absorbed in counting pins to pay attention to the rest of the world. Mattie wormed her way between them, sneakily stealing both Reese’s Moana pin and Chess’ newly-bought Belle pin. They were too distracted by the light show to notice and Mattie celebrated her little victory by also stealing some of the cotton candy that Farrah had bought herself again, despite her earlier regrets. She supposed some people never learnt.

Cairo stood quietly at the back of the group, showing a still-bouncing Riley the pictures taken with the various characters they’d encountered. Riley kissed her for the final firework, a silent ‘thank you’ for today.

With the lights of Disneyland glimmering maybe slightly tackily behind the group, Riley took one last picture. It was them, the team, the Tigers, silhouetted in the lights but, if you zoomed in and maybe turned the brightness up a bit, you could still see them smiling. That made its way onto the group chat as well and maybe it still hangs in more than one of their rooms. It was certainly a day that qualified for the scrapbooks.

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

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i will make the sky collapse ch. 3

First - Previous - Read on AO3!

Ok this post is queued bc y’all will not believe how busy I am, so it’ll be on ao3 a little late

CW: referenced violence, food, brief allusion to suicide, spiraling thoughts (from mr. jack kelly himself)

Jack had been here all day. When he ran from the rooftop after the disastrous strike, he’d snuck in through the backdoor of the theater and curled up in a corner, shaking and gasping and barely holding back tears. He’d been so close to just throwing himself off the rooftop, close enough that he knew he couldn’t stay there.

Now he hid behind the various set pieces, trying to not disturb anyone who still might be working around here this late. Not that there should be anyone, now. He’d even completely avoided Miss Medda. The woman liked to believe that she knew everything that went on around the theater, and Jack was content enough to let her. He couldn’t be found right now, though. Not when his nose burned and eyes smarted and knees wouldn’t stop shaking.

He would talk to Medda in the morning. It was late now, and all the lights were out, so it wasn’t like he had much of an option otherwise. Talk to her, maybe paint a background or two . . . maybe she would pay him like she offered . . . then he would be out of here, as soon as he could get Crutchie.

Crutchie. His heart practically split in half, and a tear finally slipped down his nose. They got Crutchie. They took him to the one place Jack had tried to save him from his entire life.

He had plans to head there near dawn tomorrow--after he’d spent another day planning things out. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him--or it wouldn’t, had it been anyone other than Crutchie. Any other boy would figure out how to climb down the wall, but it would be impossible without all working limbs. Crutchie’s bad leg wouldn’t be able to support him at all, especially not after the beating he’d taken in the Square (and definitely not after whatever Snyder and his goons had done so far during his stay, but Jack didn’t like to think about that). Jack could go in the front, the only door . . . but there was no way someone wouldn’t see him. There was always a guard or three hanging around, if not the Spider himself. And how would he get Crutchie down the stairs all by his lonesome?

A tiny voice spoke up in the back of his head, one that he’d been pushing down all evening. You coulds just go, it said. Forget about him, forget about all of them. Just go.

I can’t do that, Jack wanted to cry. He’s my brother, I can’ts just abandon him to Snyder!

People don’t stay in our lives forever, Jack, it reminded him. He’d never make it to Santa Fe, anyhow.

Jack couldn’t deny that. Maybe on a better day, in a better month. Maybe when Crutchie was grown, and his leg had calmed down a bit. Not now though, certainly not tomorrow. If Jack was going to leave soon, he was going to do it on his own. He didn’t want none of the others to come with him, anyhow. Only Crutchie.

Jack drew a hand across his tear-stained face, wincing as he brushed one of his bruises. Maybe in the morning he’d have a clearer head, a better understanding of what on earth he was meant to do. It wasn’t like the strike could continue, after all. They’d all end up in the Refuge for sure, or even worse. He’d seen Romeo get socked by that cop, had no idea how he was doing. If they kept on striking, more police would come, better armed and with no qualms about a bunch of stupid street rats.

None of them, save maybe Les, had escaped with zero injuries. Everyone was bleeding and bruised and crying and Crutchie was in the Refuge, and it was all Jack’s fault for getting the riled up about this in the first place. They were just kids! None of them knew what a union was supposed to be, even if Davey knew a bit about them! They were just children playacting at being adults, thinking that the trolley workers were probably having a good old time with no work while they got arrangements for better conditions, not even caring that there were full grown men dying in that strike. People died in strikes, and Jack couldn’t let it happen to any one of his boys, not before they properly got to be a person yet.

So he would leave--no, sleep on it, but he was fairly certain of his choice. Leaving, having to trust that the others would quit the strike and just deal with the raise in prices. That Crutchie would be out in a few months and be good enough to get right back to business, and maybe smiling that face-splitting smile of his eventually. Jack had to believe that he’d--that they’d all--be okay.

He couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach as he balled his shirt up into a pillow, nor could he stop a few more tears from wetting his cheeks. This was going to be by far the hardest and worst thing he’d ever done. He just had to hold on to Santa Fe. Everything was going to be fine when he got there.

Medda had given him one of those disapproving looks of hers, which Jack tried to ignore as his face burned. It had turned to blatant concern when he didn’t refuse her offer of payment. She had let it go, thankfully, and now he was waiting for the base white layer of paint to dry so he could start with the reds and oranges of a sunset. He’d already been waiting for what felt like way too long, so he stuck his thumb to the corner of it. It left a print and came back white, so Jack sighed and wiped it on his shirt--his undershirt, he’d taken his blue button-up off as soon as he’d gotten the paint out.

He couldn’t just not do anything--he could feel his feet itching to go, his head clamoring for his conscious attention. He absently flapped a brush back and forth against his palm, wondering if he could start on another while he waited, get the base coat of that one done and drying while he started on the actual painting of the first one. First he ought to sign this one, though, before he forgot.

Jack always signed his work, usually just on the back of the piece. A quickly scrawled ‘Jack K--’ in black paint, something to set it aside from all the other set pieces. He also knew that the boards would get reused countless times, painted over and cut up and redesigned. It was nice to know that under all that change, his name was there.

He spun it around and cracked open the can of black paint, dipping his brush in lightly and placing it on the blank back of the slab of wood. He could do his name big, more noticeable but with a better chance of getting scraped off. Or tiny, in the corner, somewhere it’d probably stay forever. Then he realized that while he’d been considering, he’d begun painting.

A boy, small, but very clearly a newsie, by his bag. An anguished face. A crutch.

Jack nearly dropped the brush. Was his guilt getting that bad, that he was painting Crutchie out of nowhere? Well, he couldn’t leave him there all alone on the canvas, with such a terrible look on his face. So Jack dipped his brush back in the paint and began another boy, not himself--not now that he was leaving--but Davey, as he liked to think that as Crutchie and Davey would become good friends in time. But Davey needed Les, and Les needed other boys, but of course they couldn’t be painted into this. They were too busy being suffocated by Pulitzer--and with that thought, Jack knew what he was painting.

The landscape had started out as any random place, just like all of them did. Mountains, a valley maybe, warm colors and some purple thrown in to capture the magic of a stained-glass sunset, and suddenly it was Santa Fe, exactly as Jack pictured it in his head. This happened with every single backdrop, from meadows to beaches to forests. All of them were Santa Fe, even if they weren’t.

“You ever gonna paint somewhere else, Jack?” a voice asked behind him, as he surveyed his work so far. He chuckled, not turning around, holding his thumb out in front of him the way he’d seen real painters do. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he thought it looked professional-like.

“How could you tell, Miss Medda?”

“Boy, I can tell everything.”

Jack dropped his arm and set his brush down on the floor, wiping his hands on his shirt as he turned around. Medda frowned.

“You are wearing an apron, use it!”

Oh yeah, he was. He moved his hands to it belatedly, smiling a little when Medda laughed at him. She was dressed to leave, not in a costume like Jack had assumed she would be. Were the shows over already?

“I’m heading out for a quick supper,” Medda said, and Jack nodded. One of the shows was over then, the other would be starting soon. He hadn’t lost track of as much time as he thought. “Do you want me to get you somethin’?”

“Aw, don’t worry ya’self over me,” Jack waved off. Sure, he hadn’t had anything to eat all day, but he could grab himself something later. By the look on Medda’s face, she was going to worry herself over him.

“I’ll bring you a sandwich, free of charge,” she said, reaching forward to pat his shoulder. He winced; he hadn’t realized he had a bruise there. Medda gave him another look, then turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she called, “By the way, Jack, there’s someone here to see you. I told him to wait in box five.”

Jack froze. They’d found him. It had to be Davey, didn’t it? The other boys knew that he stopped by the theater every so often, but didn’t know about his paintings. They just thought he knew one of the actors, or was getting food from the back or something. Only Davey and Les knew he worked here on occasion.

Jack put off visiting the box until after Miss Medda returned and told him to get up there before she sent the kid off herself. It was time to confess, he supposed. Let them know he wanted the strike to stop, and was leaving anyhow. At least someone would be able to tell Crutchie where he’d gone. And Katherine, if she cared.

This time he remembered to wipe his hands on his apron, then bundled it up and threw it into a corner. The painting wasn’t done, but he wanted to let it all dry before adding his finishing details. Every time he’d painted before, he hadn’t waited at all and it always came out looking more smudged than he wanted, so he’d decided to experiment a bit. Maybe it would look okay.

He couldn’t put it off any longer, it was time to face the music--or, Davey, rather. Jack knew his way around the theater, so it wasn’t hard to avoid the milling patrons in the lobby completely and skip straight up to box five, ready to talk to--

Specs?

“Specs?”

Specs.

“Specs.”

Specs leaped up from where he’d been perching on the edge of one of the fancy theater chairs, looking guilty as anything. When he saw Jack, though, his face brightened. “You’re all right!”

“Yeah, better than ever,” Jack griped, his eyes caught on the nasty hand-shaped bruise wrapped around Specs’s forearm. “Whaddya need?”

“We’s thought you mighta gotten grabbed by Snyder,” Specs said, looking him up and down, no doubt taking in his relatively few injuries. “The Delanceys been sayin’ you ran. I think some o’ the fellas mighta believed it, but Race thought ya’d be here so I cames by as soon as I could!”

Jack hadn’t counted on telling anyone other than Davey where he was going, but maybe this was for the best. Davey was so new to this, there was no way he could be in charge. Race was the first to come to mind for his replacement, but Race was so stupidly impulsive that Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to keep the boys in line. Specs would do well, though, at least until a better choice came forward. Used to the life, but always a little separate from the others, focusing more on the job than the social aspect. Still, he could have fun, and he was quietly loyal. Yeah, Specs would make a pretty good replacement. Jack opened his mouth to say something along those lines when a dirty scrap of paper was shoved in his face.

“What’s this?” he said instead.

Specs looked nervous and abashed at the same time. “Letter from Crutchie,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I went ta visit last night and he askeds me to give it to ya.”

Jack stared at the paper, taking in none of its details, then shifted his gaze to Specs. His eyes looked honest, if a bit anxious, mouth curved hopefully at the corner. The scrape on his cheek was ugly, but didn’t look infected. Davey must’ve made them all clean up with soap. That was another thing he’d have to tell Specs to remember. If he was going to be in charge, he had to know that Elmer hated the texture of the soap so bad he wouldn’t use it and had to be threatened, that Race sometimes liked to impulsively smear dirt on his wounds to try and get sympathy when it got infected.

Crutchie had written to him.

Jack grabbed the letter so quickly it almost tore, sending Specs stumbling back. Now that he was focused on it, that was definitely Crutchie’s handwriting, starting out relatively neat and just devolving into larger loops and tinier scribbles as it carried on. The paper was dirty, the pencil smudged here and there, and a rusty stain in the middle of the paper that made Jack’s stomach turn as he imagined how it had gotten there.

“I’ll just be headin’ back,” he heard Specs say distantly, but Jack couldn’t look away from the letter. Crutchie had held this, just last night, and he had been alive. Well enough to write a whole letter. Well enough to still have his sense of humor (Jack snorted at his joke about the food, then remembered the sentence preceding it and immediately sobered). Maybe even well enough to escape?

His letter read that he was already coming up with escape plans of his own, which was a good sign for his morale. It also said, though, that he was exhausted and his leg was doing bad.

Well, there was no way Jack couldn’t visit him now. Early in the morning was best--probably when the moon was about halfway done setting--and from there he would see whether or not Crutchie would be coming with him. Then back to the theater to lay low for a bit and finish the backdrop (there was no way Jack would be able to even think about finishing it tonight), then catch a train to Santa Fe and be out of here forever. If Crutchie did come, though, he’d have to do at least two more sets, get enough money for the both of them to make the trip. And of course, he still had to speak to Specs about taking over. Davey would come for him eventually, so he had to come up with something to placate him.

Why did nobody tell him that running away would take so much effort and planning?

The show was starting soon, and that sandwich was still waiting for him in the back room, so Jack ducked out of the box, tucking the letter into his pocket. He had to get ready for a break-in tonight, there was no time to waste.

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debbiechanclub · 3 years

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Best Two Out of Three, Part 24

Oh, friends. @hotyeehawman man and I would like to profusely apologize for how long it took us to get this part out. (And yes, we both changed our usernames - you’re in the right place!) It feels like it’s been an eternity since I posted any of this here fic. But luckily for you all, I’m pretty sure this is the longest part yet? And that being said, I’ll just let you lovelies get into it.

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 24/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Adam Page x OFC x Matt Jackson (yup that’s what we’re going with now.

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: Language; angst; brief explicit sexual descriptions

Catch up on previous parts here.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe @comeasyoudar @champbucks

Callie awoke the next morning with an unmistakable knot in the pit of her stomach. Guilt.

It wasn’t regret. She didn’t regret sleeping with Matt. He had been… wonderful. Attentive. Caring. Passionate. He’d made her feel desired and alive in ways that she hadn’t in months. So long that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel like that. She’d missed it, craved it, more than she’d realized. And there was no one else she rather would have helped her find it again than Matt.

Which was precisely why she felt so guilty.

The covers shifted as he stirred next to her. She felt him roll over and snake his arm around her waist. She smiled and relaxed into his touch. She didn’t want to feel guilty about how Matt made her feel. She just wanted to feel it.

“Good morning,” she said. But he wasn’t quite awake.

“Mm,” he grunted in return.

She laughed and turned to face him. His long, thick hair was disheveled from sleep and had nearly fallen out of its bun. She reached out and brushed a stray strand back from his face. “I was thinking about going to get Starbucks. Do you want anything?”

He didn’t open his eyes as he answered. “Yeah, but I’ll get it, babe. Just gimme few more minutes.”

Callie’s pulse quickened. Babe. She chalked it up to him being half-asleep. “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” she insisted. “You want your usual?”

He nodded. She smiled and kissed his cheek, slipped out from underneath his arm, and climbed out of bed. Their clothes were scattered on the floor, remnants of the night before. She grabbed her joggers and pulled them on along with the closest shirt she could find—Matt’s Young Bucks t-shirt—and then she threw her hair in a bun, slipped on her sneakers, grabbed her phone and wallet, and went out the door.

The nearest Starbucks was just a five-minute walk from the hotel, but she was in no rush to get there. It was a beautiful morning, and she needed the air—especially after Matt had let that pet name slip. She did her best to clear her thoughts of it as she arrived at the coffee shop. She queued behind a man in a business suit and pulled out her phone like everyone else. But, not long afterward, someone unexpected joined the line behind her.

“Late night?”

Callie’s stomach lurched. She’d know that voice anywhere. Adam.

“Not really,” she responded without fully turning around. She was suddenly exceptionally aware that she was wearing Matt’s shirt. She didn’t want him to see it.

But then it came her turn to order—and there was no hiding that she was getting two coffees to go. She spoke as softly as she could when she told the barista what she wanted and, as soon as she paid, turned and hurried past Adam to a table by the window, flustered. Of course this would happen. Of course she would run into him the morning after she’d slept with Matt, getting coffee for him, wearing his fucking shirt. She looked warily back at him as she sat down. She just wanted to keep an eye on him… but she found herself starting to stare as he pulled out his wallet. Admiring the way his t-shirt stretched over his biceps. How well his jeans fit him. She started to get lost in her thoughts—but then he turned toward her. She quickly looked away, back down at her phone. But not quick enough. It wasn’t long before he was standing in front of her.

“Where’s lover boy?”

She glared up at him. “He’s not my lover boy.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Cal. Hair up, glasses on, wearing his t-shirt. This has walk-of-shame written all over it.”

Callie’s brow lowered. “Well it’s not a walk of shame if I’m going right back to him, is it?”

She regretted it almost as soon as she said it. Hurt flashed in his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced with nothing but resentment.

“So he made you go get the coffee?” He scoffed. “What a gentleman.”

“I offered to get it,” she snipped. “And what are you so upset about? You’re more than free to move on with Alex now.”

“Oh, am I? Well you might want to let her know that, because she went home with Kenny last night.”

Callie faltered. She didn’t know what to make of the sarcasm in his tone. Was he trying to mask his hurt? Or was he just being an asshole?

“Callie!”

The barista called out her name not a second too soon. She looked Adam in the eye as she stood from her seat. “Well, it’s not my problem that she rejected you,” she spat. “At least now you know how it feels.”

She shouldered past him, grabbed the coffees from the counter, and pushed out the door back into the morning air. She walked much more swiftly back to the hotel than she had to Starbucks. She knocked on the door when she got back to the room, too agitated to bother with trying to fish out her key card while balancing two coffees. Matt answered in just his sweatpants.

“That was quick,” he noted as she breezed past him into the room.

“Yeah. Oh,” she stopped and turned around to hand him his coffee. “Here.”

“Thanks…” he trailed off as he took it from her, his brow furrowed. Callie wasn’t surprised when he asked, “Are you okay? You seem flustered.”

“Yeah.” She breathed out and took a sip of her coffee as he shut the door. “I just ran into Adam at Starbucks. It was… awkward.”

Matt’s eyebrows arched. “Oh.” His eyes flicked down to her shirt. His shirt. “I guess he assumed…?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned. Callie fidgeted. Now it was awkward between them. But she didn’t anticipate what he said next.

“Do you regret it?”

Her eyes widened. “What? No,” she answered with a shake of her head. She walked over and gave him a reassuring kiss. “Not at all. I just would’ve preferred not to run into my ex the morning after.”

She inwardly winced at that word. Ex. It still hurt to think of Adam that way. She still loved him; that wouldn’t go away overnight.

But the feel of Matt’s arms around her helped.

“Well, forget about him,” he said. “Let’s go out today. Get away from everyone.”

A smile pulled at the corners of Callie’s lips. That sounded like a perfect idea. “Okay. I’m gonna jump in the shower.” She shot him a smirk as she pulled away. “Want to join me?”

He groaned. “All my stuff is back in my room.”

“So?” She peeled his shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His eyes drank in the sight of her.

“Twist my arm, why don’t you,” he said, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathroom.

* * * * * * * * * *

Adam didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t want to go back, but he couldn’t see a way forward, either. And the kicker was that he’d done it to himself.

He’d considered turning around and walking right back out when he’d seen Callie standing in line at Starbucks. And after their interaction, he wished he had turned around and left. He didn’t want to know that she’d been with Matt last night. He didn’t want to think about him touching her body the way that he used to touch it, making her feel the things that he used to make her feel. He didn’t want to know that their relationship was barely two weeks in the ground and she’d already jumped into bed with another guy. And not just any guy—Matt-fucking-Jackson. Literally anyone else would have been better than Matt; Nick would have been better than Matt. But, ironically, he wasn’t surprised that it was Matt. Adam knew Matt had always had a thing for Callie; he’d known it from the day Matt had introduced her to him. But he’d never thought anything of it, never worried about it, not even when Matt would flirt with her right in front of him. He was his friend; he wouldn’t seriously try to move in on his girl like that.

He’d been wrong on both counts.

But, as hurt and upset as he was, Adam knew he didn’t have any room to judge Callie. Not really. Not after where his mind had gone last night.

He’d needed a physical release last night. He’d needed to unburden himself of the drunken, thoughtless way he’d kissed Callie; of the stress and tension and anxiety he’d been carrying for weeks. And so, alone in his hotel room, he’d taken care of it—and he’d thought about Alex. He’d thought about how her lips would feel wrapped around his dick, how she’d look underneath him as she took him, how she’d sound moaning his name. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten himself off thinking about her, but he hadn’t done it in years, since long before he’d met Callie. And after he’d finished, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from texting her.

Hey, are you at the hotel?

Her response had gutted him.

No… I’m actually on my way to Kenny’s.

He hadn’t said anything else after that, and neither had she. He wasn’t sure what would have happened if she had been at the hotel. He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for when he’d texted her. But he didn’t want to think about it. Just like he didn’t want to think about the fact that Callie was with Matt right now.

He walked back into the hotel and crossed through the lobby, but he slowed before he could reach the elevators. Chuck nodded in greeting as he, Trent, and Orange walked toward him.

“Hey, Hangman. What’s up?”

He shrugged. “Oh you know, just went to Starbucks and ran into Callie getting morning-after coffee for Matt. So... yeah. What’s up with y’all?”

He took a sip of his coffee as they all stared back at him, unblinking. Maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered so much information, but he couldn’t help it—he was emotional. But before he could excuse himself and disappear, Trent said, “Well that fucking sucks. We’re going to get breakfast. Wanna come with?”

The offer surprised Adam. Why the hell would they want him to come with them? He’d just drag down the mood. Besides, he didn’t want to go with them. He wanted to go back upstairs to his room and wallow in self-pity.

But then he thought of Alex again. She’d tell him to snap the fuck out of it.

“Fuck it,” he decided. “Sure.”

“Cool,” Trent returned.

They all started toward the exit. Chuck fell in step beside him. “If you’re wondering where Alex is, she went to Kenny’s last night.”

Adam frowned down at his coffee cup. “Yeah. I know,” he said. That was another thing he didn’t want to think about.

* * * * * * * * * *

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

“Alex, don’t just mash buttons. You need to do combos.”

“But this—is—working!”

Alex stuck out her tongue in concentration as she furiously mashed the buttons on the game controller. She and Kenny had been playing this stupid Street Fighter game for forty minutes now, and she absolutely refused to quit until she won at least one—

“K.O.!”

She dropped the controller to her lap, defeated. Again. Kenny curled his lips into his mouth. He was trying desperately not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Alex scowled. She was far too competitive for her own good.

He gave her an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry, baby. That round was better.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he assured. And then, “I think it was the first time you lasted past three minutes.”

“Kenny!” She gasped and grabbed a throw pillow from the couch. “I could say the same about you last night!”

She swung and whacked him with the pillow. “Whoa!” She reared back again, and he held up his arm to block the blow. “Uncalled for and untrue!”

She smirked. “Come on, you walked right into that.”

She swung again; but he caught the other end of the pillow and used it to pull her closer. “Oh yeah? Well I certainly didn’t hear you complain last night.”

Alex bit back a bashful grin. No, she definitely hadn’t complained last night. Last night had been… indescribable. Normally with Kenny it was a frantic rush to rip off clothes as they blindly stumbled and pushed each other to the nearest available surface. Rough and quick. Fucking. But last night had been different. He’d undressed her deliberately, like he wanted to memorize every curve of her body, every mark on her skin. He’d carried her to his bed and laid her down gently. He’d paid more attention to her needs than his, pleasuring her completely, slow and deep as she’d clutched at the sheets, his back, his hair, riding wave after wave until she couldn’t handle it anymore. He’d made love to her. She’d felt what she meant to him, undoubtedly. She’d felt it that morning when she’d woken up next to him and he’d told her to stay in bed while he made them breakfast. She felt it now. And, more than anything, she hoped that he felt what he meant to her, too. She didn’t want him to doubt that anymore.

“C’mere,” he gently said. He moved the pillow from in between them, and Alex snuggled against him as he wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry for teasing you,” he said with a kiss on her head. “I know video games aren’t your thing.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “And that’s not a deal-breaker?”

“What?” he shot, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous. Why would it be a deal-breaker?”

Alex’s face burned with embarrassment. She shouldn’t have said that; she didn’t know how to explain it without incriminating Adam. And she had to explain it now. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “It was one of the arguments people made back in June about why we shouldn’t be together, because I don’t play video games. It’s dumb; I shouldn’t have listened to it.”

There was a thick, contemplative pause. And then Kenny said, “And by ‘people’ I assume you mean ‘Adam.’”

Alex didn’t say anything in response. Her silence spoke volumes.

Kenny squeezed her closer. “Do you remember what you said to me at the hotel the night we first got back together? After your match against Callie and your fight with Trent?”

She looked up at him, her face a question mark. He went on.

“You said, ‘Fuck what anyone thinks. We worked things out and that’s all that matters.’ Well… now I’m saying the same thing to you.”

Alex glanced away, chewing anxiously on her lip. She did remember saying that now. She wished she would have taken her own advice.

“I couldn’t care less that video games aren’t your thing,” he assured her. “But you know they’re my thing, and you care enough about that to try. That means a lot to me. And besides… I actually think it’s adorable how frustrated you get.”

Warmth spread throughout Alex’s core. It meant a lot to him. He meant a lot to her. She needed him to know, once and for all. “Well, I care about the things you care about. Because I love you.”

She looked back up at him. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked so happy. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Kenny tilted her lips toward his and kissed her, soft and sweet. “I love you too, baby,” he said, and Alex’s heart was so full that it felt like it would burst out of her chest. They’d taken the long way around to get here, but they’d made it… and she finally felt like she could rest.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie couldn’t get rid of that knot in her stomach. It had only grown larger and more solid after she’d run into Adam at Starbucks. And, after a while, the focus of her guilt had started to shift.

Matt had been an absolute sweetheart all afternoon. He’d taken her to the beach because he knew how much she loved it. They’d walked along the boardwalk and out onto the pier, and he’d held her close and smiled big as she’d taken their picture in the midst of the ocean. He’d even waited patiently as she’d gone through the shops picking out clothes and trying them on (she’d rewarded him by modeling a few bikinis). And now, as they sat in a cute little café getting something to eat, she couldn’t help but watch him with a smile on her lips as he looked over the menu, admiring his long lashes and hair, his beard and jawline. He made her heart flutter.

So then why couldn’t she stop thinking about Adam?

The waiter brought them their drinks. They put in their order, and as they handed him the menus, Matt told him it would all be on one check. Callie blushed as the waiter nodded and walked away.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” she said.

“I know, but I want to,” he returned. “Besides, I owe you for getting the coffee this morning.”

“This’ll be more than the coffee.”

“Are you sure about that? We got Starbucks.”

She laughed. “Fair point. Well, thank you.” She crossed her right knee over her left, and her foot bumped his leg underneath the table. “Sorry,” she muttered and shifted in her seat. He gave her a quizzical smile.

“Okay, what’s up?”

She took a sip of her iced tea. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been tense all day. What’s on your mind?”

Callie grabbed her straw wrapper from the tabletop and nervously wound it around her finger. That was a loaded question—and she wasn’t sure she was ready to unload. “I know I’ve been tense,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize; just talk to me. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything.”

“I do feel that way,” she returned. “It’s just…”

She trailed off. Matt finished her thought for her. “Adam?”

She wound the straw wrapper so tightly around her index finger that the tip turned red. “Is it that obvious?” she muttered.

He pulled his mouth to one side. “Well, you’ve seemed a little off ever since you ran into him this morning so… yeah.”

She frowned. “I’m sor—”

“Callie,” he gently cut her off. “Stop. Just talk to me. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

Callie glanced down at her hands. On the contrary, her fear of hurting him was the exact reason she didn’t want to tell him what was on her mind. But Matt had been nothing but open and honest with her. She needed to do the same.

“I like this. A lot,” she said. “I like being with you, more than I expected to so soon. And I don’t regret anything. But… I’m not completely over Adam yet.”

She held her breath, bracing herself for his reaction, anticipating the worst—

“I don’t expect you to be.”

She breathed out. “What?”

Matt’s eyes were soft and understanding as he looked at her across the table. “I don’t expect you to be completely over Adam yet. It’s only been what, a week-and-a-half since you ended things with him? And in one of the most dramatic fashions possible,” he said with a smirk. “It’ll take time to get over that. Longer than a week-and-a-half.”

Callie’s brow furrowed. She was relieved, unbelievably so. But she was also confused. “But that doesn’t bother you? After we… you know.”

He smirked. “Not really. I mean, not to sound cocky, but I’m pretty sure you weren’t thinking about him last night or this morning.”

Her cheeks colored and she rolled her eyes. “You absolutely meant to sound cocky.”

Matt’s grin widened. He knew he had, too. “But no, it doesn’t bother me,” he assured. “I like you, Callie. A part of me always has, even when you were with Hangman. But I know this has all happened pretty fast, and I don’t want to push you. So as long as you’re honest with me about what you’re feeling and what you want, we’ll be good.”

Callie’s heart fluttered again. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve someone as sweet and understanding as Matt. But she did know she didn’t want to lose him. “Okay. I can do that,” she said; and as he smiled at her, she did her best to bury the thought of Adam’s kiss in the back of consciousness.

* * * * * * * * * *

Saturday... All Out

Alex was a bundle of nervous energy as Kenny pulled up to Daily’s Place Saturday afternoon. Today was the day: All Out. Her anxiety over it hadn’t let her get a wink of sleep last night, so much so that she worried she’d affected Kenny’s sleep with all her tossing and turning. But as they got out of his car and grabbed their suitcases from the trunk, he looked like his only concern was her.

“Are you alright?” He caught her hand in his. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

She tried to nod. “Yeah. I’m just…” she trailed off and changed her mind. “No. I’m nervous about your match. And about seeing the boys.”

“Don’t be nervous about the match,” he said with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “That’s for me to worry about. And why are you nervous about seeing your friends?”

Alex frowned. She couldn’t help but notice how he’d said the match was for him to worry about—not him and Adam. But she tried not to dwell on it. “Because I’m nervous I’ll walk in there and it’ll just be a repeat of three months ago. I’m sick of everyone trying to tell me what’s best for me.”

She glanced back at the arena, worry darkening her eyes. None of the boys had seemed thrilled when she’d told them she was leaving with Kenny on Wednesday, but they hadn’t put up any arguments, either. She hoped they hadn’t saved it for today.

Kenny let go of her hand and brought his up to cup either side of her face. She looked up into his eyes, gripping his wrists as he held her. “Remember what I told you?”

Her brow puckered. “Fuck what anyone thinks?”

“Fuck what anyone thinks,” he repeated.

She pressed her fingers into his skin. “I care what they think, Kenny. They’re my best friends.”

“I know.” He let out a breath and touched his lips to her forehead. “And because they’re your best friends, they should support you when you’re happy. Right?”

She frowned again. “You would think so.”

“Then don’t be nervous,” he said with another kiss on her forehead. He pulled back and looked down at her. “I’m sure it won’t be a repeat of three months ago. And if it is… it’s their problem, not yours.”

Alex lifted her heels off the ground and kissed him. “You’re right,” she breathed. “But speaking of your friends… don’t take it personally if I go out of my way to avoid Matt.”

“I’ll talk to Matt,” he returned. “Don’t worry about him, either. He’ll come around.”

She gave him a small, grateful grin. But she wouldn’t hold her breath on Matt coming around.

He shut the trunk and locked the car, and then he took her hand again, interlacing their fingers as they walked into the arena. And Alex realized, with some surprise, that she didn’t care if anyone saw them. She was with Kenny; he was with her. She didn’t want to hide that.

But they had to part ways once they got to the locker rooms. They shared a lingering kiss as Alex told him she’d see him later—she knew he’d be busy until after the show was over—and then she continued down the hall toward the Best Friends locker room. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, Alex,” she said to herself. “They’re your best friends.” She steeled herself when she arrived at the door, pushed her way inside. Chuck, Trent, and Orange were all already there—and so was Adam.

She stopped just inside the entrance, her eyes wide and surprised. “Oh! Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you in here.”

Adam looked even more caught off-guard to see her than she did him. “Yeah… Chuck said I could share with y’all. It’s a full house tonight and I don’t really have anywhere else to go because of… you know.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” She pulled her suitcase toward a cubby, doing her best to seem unbothered. But seeing Adam had thrown her off more than she’d expected it would. The text he’d sent her Wednesday night flashed in her mind. Hey, are you at the hotel? She’d thought about it more than she cared to admit over the last two-and-a-half days. Prior to two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought much of it at all. But now that she knew how he felt, she couldn’t help but wonder what his intentions had been.

“Hangy’s been hangin’ with us the last few days,” Chuck stated as she sat down. “Cowpals is a thing now.”

“It’s not a thing,” Adam returned. Chuck glared at him.

“Just let it happen, Adam!”

He grinned. So did Alex. “I agree with Chuck,” she said. She exchanged a glance with Adam as she unzipped her suitcase—a feeling. They’d always have each other’s back, no matter the circumstances.

“So do I,” Trent piped up. He looked at Alex. “All we were missing was you.”

He didn’t say it negatively. In fact, it was quite the opposite. We missed you. That was what she felt from it. Warmth.

“Well, I’m here now,” she smiled, and her anxiety loosened its grip when he smiled back. They were her best friends. Nothing would change that.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had never spent much time in the EVP room. But now here she was, sitting on the couch next to Matt, watching as the All Out Buy In pre-show got underway. It was nice. She could get used to it.

“So are you gonna come out with us for our match orrrr…?”

She shot Matt a look. “I’m not even gonna justify that with a response.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Why not?”

Her eyebrows arched. “Seriously? I’m not accompanying you for your match, Matt. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Trouble from who? Everyone’s about to find out that we’re wrestling together against Trent and Alex next week. What’s the difference?”

Callie looked down to pick at a loose string on her jeans. He wasn’t wrong—Tony had made the mixed tag match official earlier that afternoon, and Callie wouldn’t be surprised if the commentators mentioned it during the show tonight. But there was a difference between wrestling a match with Matt next week and accompanying the Young Bucks for their match against Jurassic Express. There was a big difference.

“There’s a difference, and you know there is,” she softly insisted. “I’m not going out there with you.”

She kept her gaze turned anxiously away from him. Ever since their talk at that little café two days ago, a nagging voice in the back of her head had kept worrying that, even though Matt had said he didn’t want to push her, he would only wait so long for her to get over Adam. Now, she worried he’d take her resistance the wrong way. But she had her reasons—completely valid reasons. She didn’t want people to assume things about their relationship; she didn’t want to invite their criticism and judgment. But, more than that, she didn’t want to rub her budding relationship with Matt in Adam’s face—and especially not tonight. He had a tag title match he needed to focus on tonight.

“Callie,” Matt said. The soft urgency in his voice beckoned her to look at him. “It’s fine. I was only joking.”

She gave him a tight smile. She believed him… but part of her still worried.

He leaned over and gave her a kiss. “Speaking of the match… I should go get ready. You can hang out here if you want.”

Her brow furrowed at him as he got up from the couch. “By myself? I’m not an EVP.”

“No… but you’re sleeping with one.”

He smirked. She scowled. He let out a laugh and bent over to give her another kiss. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back to the locker room. I’m sure Nick’s changing now, too.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He gave her a wink and went out the door. And as it clicked shut behind him, that little voice in the back of her head nagged at her again.

* * * * * * * * * *

There was an undeniable electricity in the air—a big fight feel. Because it was a big fight: Kenny Omega and Hangman Adam Page vs. FTR for the AEW World Tag Team Championship. And Alex was almost certain she was more nervous than the people who were actually fighting.

Her hands were clammy as she walked through the halls to the Best Friends locker room. She wanted to walk with Adam to meet Kenny, so she could wish them both good luck before they headed to Gorilla. She wanted to stay out of their way as much as possible. She prayed they were on the same page tonight.

She entered the locker room just as Adam stood from his seat. He glanced at her as he grabbed his championship. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Just thought I’d go with you to meet Kenny,” she answered. She curiously looked him over. He was wearing black and white tights designed to look like chaps instead of his usual trunks. “New gear?”

He glanced down at himself and shrugged. “Yeah. Big pay-per-view match, I figured why not.”

She nodded. “I like it.”

A smile pulled at his lips. But it disappeared fast. “Well, I was just about to head to his locker room.”

She nodded again, and they went back out the door. She saw him look at her out of the corner of her eye as they walked. “Are you watching with the guys?” he asked.

“Yeah. They’re in one of the lounges with Jurassic Express and a few others.” She drew in a breath. “I might see if I can get a drink before I head back there.”

He gave a wry laugh. “That nervous?”

She looked up at him. “Aren’t you?”

His eyes turned contemplative. “I’m nervous, yeah. But not necessarily about losing the titles.”

Alex frowned. She wasn’t as nervous about them losing the titles as she was about other things, either.

They arrived at The Elite’s locker room. Adam raised a fist and knocked. Half a minute passed before Kenny answered, dressed in his usual gear, his AEW Tag Team Championship already around his waist. He smiled when he saw Alex.

“Hey. You coming up there with us?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to get in your way. I just wanted to wish you good luck before you went up there.”

He flashed a cocky grin. “I don’t need it.”

Alex rolled her eyes. I—not we. Again. She tried to ignore it just like she had earlier. “Well, kick their asses, then.” She reached up and kissed him, tender but quick. She didn’t want to do too much in front of Adam. Kenny smirked again as she pulled away.

“You know I will.”

She gave him a nervous smile, and then she turned to Adam. She stood on her toes and gave him a hug. He momentarily stiffened before he returned it. “Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She unwound her arms from around him and stepped back. “I’ll see you after,” she said to Kenny, and with a parting glance she retreated back down the hall, her stomach in knots. She half-wanted to find somewhere to watch the match alone, in the interest of self-preservation. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t take it so hard if she watched with her friends. Either way, she kept walking toward the lounge; and when she arrived and saw Trent opening up a bottle of red wine, she made a beeline for him.

“Wine?” she charged. Alcohol was alcohol, but still.

He gave her a look. “We’re classy, Alex. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

“A few hundred more,” she quipped. It earned a grin. He grabbed a glass and gave her a healthy pour. She took a long sip as she moved to one of the couches and sat down next to Chuck. He gave her a sympathetic smile.

“How you feeling?”

She laughed into her glass. “Like I’m gonna need a whole bottle to myself.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had been joking—but the more she watched, the more she thought she probably would need a whole bottle to herself to get through this match.

Every minute brought with it a fresh wave of anxiety. Her entire body had tensed when the match had nearly started with Kenny and Cash, only for her heart to drop into her stomach when Adam had called to start it off instead, asking Kenny, “Do you trust me?” She didn’t know what Kenny had said in return—his back had been to the camera. When the match finally got underway, Adam had locked up with Cash like he wanted to murder him. He’d gone after him so aggressively that Dax had jumped in to intervene, and then Kenny had, too, obviously worried that Adam’s emotions were running away with him. He was proven right when Adam nearly swung on him. They’d worked through it… but Dax and Cash were firing on all cylinders. They’d managed to isolate Adam first and then Kenny, punishing them each in turn. And even when Adam and Kenny were able to pick up the pace and work together, it had been painfully obvious over the last fifteen minutes that, despite being the champions, they weren’t the tag team specialists in the match. FTR were.

Kenny and Cash were the legal men now. Adam was somewhere outside the ring, out of commission after Cash had shoved him off the ring apron and sent him flying into the guard railing. Kenny had hit a Tiger Driver ’98 and gone for the cover, but Cash had kicked out at two and dragged himself to the ropes. But Kenny didn’t give him much of a chance to recoup. He charged at the opposite ropes, rebounded, and nailed Cash with a V-Trigger to the side of the head. Then he picked him up on his shoulders. He was setting up the One-Winged Angel. Alex held her breath and grabbed Chuck’s knee—but Cash quickly got out of his hold.

“You want a refill?” Chuck asked.

She just nodded and handed him her glass, keeping her eyes glued on the TV. Cash shoved Kenny into the corner and charged, but Kenny dodged and reversed, pushing Cash into the corner. Dax made a hot tag. Kenny charged again, going for another V-Trigger—but Cash moved out of the way at the last second. Kenny’s knee rammed hard into the turnbuckle.

“Fuck,” Alex cursed under breath.

Chuck returned with her wine. She thanked him and immediately took a drink; and then nearly choked on it when she saw Cash swing Kenny’s leg through the ropes and Dax grab his ankle for a vicious dragon screw leg whip.

“You alright?” Chuck asked.

Alex nodded even though she wasn’t. Cash spun Kenny around and hit another dragon screw. And then Dax slid into the ring and latched on an inverted figure four leg lock.

“Shit,” Trent said from the other side of Chuck. Chuck elbowed him. Alex’s stomach dropped. That was the exact move Dax had used on Chuck to beat Best Friends in the tag team gauntlet match.

Dax grabbed the ropes for leverage, but the referee didn’t see it. Kenny did his best to stay up on his shoulder in order to keep the pressure off his knee. But he still looked like he was agony.

“And remember, this is how they made Chuck Taylor tap out in order to punch their ticket into this match,” Excalibur commented.

“Thanks for the reminder, Excalibur!” Chuck shouted at the TV, causing a few people in the room to laugh. Alex wasn’t one of them. She didn’t breathe again until Kenny managed to reach the ropes, forcing Dax to break the hold.

Kenny laid on the mat, nursing his knee—but Dax got right back on him. He grabbed his leg and dropped a few elbows on his knee before he put all his bodyweight on his thigh and bent Kenny’s leg at an unnatural angle around his torso. Kenny grabbed at his head, his arm, anything to try to get out of the hold; but Dax just got up, dragged him to the ropes, draped his ankle across it, and smashed himself down hard onto his leg. Alex worried at her lip. Adam was back up on the ring apron now, but Kenny was nowhere near him.

Dax tagged in Cash. Cash jumped to the floor and held Kenny’s ankle across the rope so that Dax could throw all his bodyweight down onto his leg one more time before they switched. He slid into the ring and stomped Kenny’s head, making Alex scowl; but then Kenny sat up and rolled under the ropes to the floor. He limped over to the guard railing and latched onto it, doing his best to keep himself upright.

Alex felt her chest start to tighten. She felt so helpless. All she could do was take another drink.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie was starting to regret watching the tag title match with Matt and Nick. They were all cheering for the same team—but it was obvious that Matt and Nick expected Kenny to do all the work. It irked her. So when Adam had finally tagged in and started clearing house, she couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated.

She nervously watched as he ascended a turnbuckle, knowing immediately that he was going for a moonsault. She both loved and hated that move; she loved seeing it, but it always scared her when he did it. But then, he didn’t do a moonsault. Tully urged Cash and Dax to come to the other side of the turnbuckle—and so Adam pivoted and did a senton instead.

“Tremendous improvisation there by Hangman Adam Page,” Excalibur stated. Callie smiled to herself. But Matt pursed his lips.

“More like unnecessary risk,” he commented.

It was a struggle for Callie not to roll her eyes. Matt and Nick were arguably the biggest daredevils in the entire company. Either of them would have done the same exact thing.

Back in the ring, Adam went for the cover on Cash—but he kicked out at two. After they both got to their feet, they traded blows in the middle of the ring before Cash attempted another swinging DDT; Dax made another blind tag as he did. But Adam blocked the move and hit Dax with a back elbow, knocking him to the floor. He and Cash jockeyed for position until Adam gained control and drove him toward the ropes; but Dax hopped back up onto the apron and hit Adam with a forearm. He dove into the ring and covered him. Adam kicked out at two.

“They’re deadly with those blind tags, man,” Nick said.

Both Matt and Callie kept quiet as they watched Cash and Dax ascend the turnbuckles. They jumped simultaneously and hit Adam with tandem diving headbutts. Cash was the legal man again and he hooked Adam’s leg. That time, Kenny dove in and broke up the pin attempt. Callie half-expected a smart-ass comment from Matt. Thankfully, he didn’t make one.

Kenny and Dax were battling on the ring apron now. Each of them tried to suplex the other, but each attempt was blocked, until Dax ended up back inside the ring, his head still locked underneath Kenny’s arm and vice versa. But then, suddenly, Cash charged and launched himself over the ropes and flipped to the floor. He grabbed Kenny and picked him up on his shoulders, and Dax jumped off the ring apron and hit him with a diving bulldog to the floor.

Matt and Nick expelled twin breaths of exasperation. Callie’s mouth went dry. She wiped her hands on her jeans and got up from the couch to cross the room and grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. She opened it and took a long gulp. By the time she looked back at the TV, Cash was back in the ring with Adam. Adam tried to hit him with a short-arm lariat, but Cash reversed it and landed a forearm to the back of the head. Then he lifted Adam up on his shoulders. He walked over to FTR’s corner and tagged in Dax. Dax climbed the turnbuckle and hit Adam with a diving bulldog to match Kenny’s. He went for yet another cover, but Adam powered out.

“Hangman needs to tag in Kenny,” Matt said.

Callie shot him a look. “Kenny’s not even in their corner!” she argued, motioning to where he’d collapsed against the ring apron. Matt ignored her.

Dax pulled Adam up by the hair and reached out to tag in Cash. Cash climbed the turnbuckle again—but Kenny jumped up onto the apron and pushed him off balance. Meanwhile in the ring, Adam reversed Dax’s hold and dumped him over the ropes onto the floor. Cash tried to get back into position atop the turnbuckle; but before he could, Adam jumped up onto the second rope, picked him up, and hit a lungbuster suplex into the middle of the ring. Callie held her breath as he went for the pin—but Cash somehow managed to kick out.

“Fuck,” she breathed. She walked over to the couch and sat back down next to Matt, further away than she’d been before.

Kenny yelled something at Adam from outside the ring. Adam beckoned him. “Last Call!” he shouted. Callie tensed. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

Kenny got into the ring while Adam went out onto the ring apron. Cash struggled to get up from his knees in the middle of the canvas. Kenny picked him up by his hair and held him by the arms. Adam flipped over the ropes and careened toward them, on-target for a hard Buckshot Lariat—but Cash ducked. Callie’s hand flew to her mouth; he’d nearly hit Kenny instead. And then, disaster. Adam grabbed Cash. Kenny charged, aiming to land a V-Trigger. But Cash pulled free at the last second, and Kenny’s knee collided with Adam’s jaw with an audible smack!

“Fuck!” Matt cursed.

Kenny tried to catch Adam, but Cash hit him with a chop block to the back of his injured knee and they both fell to the Matt. Kenny reached out and grabbed ahold of the fringe on Adam’s tights, pulling and jerking, trying to revive him. When that didn’t work, he smacked his leg. But Adam was completely out of it.

Cash pulled Adam away from Kenny and then hit Kenny with a basement dropkick, sending him rolling into the corner. He jumped up and tagged in Dax. Dax climbed the turnbuckle while Cash picked up Adam, upside down. Dax jumped, and they hit Adam with a perfect Mind Breaker. Dax went for the pin, grinning wickedly at Kenny as he tried to crawl toward him. He anticipated a three-count.

But Adam got his shoulder up at two.

“Holy shit,” Nick leaned eagerly forward on his knees. Matt remained quiet.

But Cash and Dax didn’t waste any time. Cash battled Kenny and shoved him under the ropes to the floor while Dax dragged Adam back onto his feet. Cash tagged in and ascended the turnbuckle. Dax picked up Adam. Cash jumped, delivering another Mind Breaker. He pinned Adam. Dax intercepted Kenny as he tried to dive through the ropes, but he didn’t need to. That time, Adam didn’t kick out.

Disbelief and dread consumed Callie as FTR’s music started to play. The crowd was mostly silent as Justin Roberts’s voice echoed throughout the arena. “The winners of this match, and new AEW World Tag Team Champions: F—T—R!”

Matt pushed himself up. “Come on, let’s go,” he said to Nick.

Callie looked up at him in confusion. “What’re you gonna do?”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Try to talk Kenny down,” he returned, and then they both exited, leaving her alone in the locker room.

She stared at the door, stunned, unsure what to do. She looked back at the TV. FTR hoisted the titles high above their heads while Tully brought them two cans of beer. She expected them to crack them open and drink in celebration—but they didn’t. Instead, they set the beers next to Adam, who still laid clutching his head on the mat, as if to toast him. Thanks, bud, we couldn’t have done it without you.

She kept watching as they continued to celebrate, waiting for Matt and Nick to burst out from the tunnels. But they never did. Soon, FTR left, and the former champions were left alone. Adam leaned against the ropes, still not quite all there—and Kenny stood in the middle of the ring, a small folding table in his hands.

Callie’s breath hitched in her throat. Kenny held the table up, gripping it hard, an angry, contemplative look in his eyes. Seconds passed like minutes. And then, he tossed the table aside. Relief flooded her; but it was premature. Adam stumbled toward Kenny, and instead of catching him, Kenny moved out of the way and let him collapse face-first to the mat like a felled tree.

She would have preferred that he hit him with the table.

“Where the fuck are Matt and Nick?” she said out loud. Kenny gazed down at Adam’s prone form, a look of quiet disgust on his face. He exited the ring and stalked up the entrance ramp. He paused on the stage to give Adam one last hard look, and then he turned and walked through the tunnel.

The camera stayed on him as he moved swiftly through Gorilla and toward backstage. Matt and Nick stood waiting for him in the interview area. Kenny started yelling.

“Did you see that? Did you see that there? After everything I did!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt tried to say; but Kenny pushed through them and kept walking.

“I’m done. We’re done. Let’s go.”

Callie’s eyes widened as she continued to watch. Matt turned and followed after Kenny without hesitation. Nick was more hesitant, but he followed, too.

Kenny and Matt continued to talk, but Callie couldn’t understand what they were saying as the commentators tried to figure out what was happening. They moved into the parking lot and Kenny pointed toward a waiting SUV. “I’m done. Are you guys coming with me?”

“Oh fuck no,” Callie muttered.

Matt continued to try to talk him down, but he didn’t try to stop him from walking. “Let’s sit down and talk about what’s going on right now. I know it’s…” he trailed off, unsure what to say.

“It’s time for a clean split… a clean break,” Kenny said. “Let’s go back to the way things were.”

They reached the SUV. He finally stopped and looked back at Matt and Nick. “Are you coming with me or not? It’s up to you—you can’t go back on this.”

Neither of them answered. Kenny didn’t have the patience for it.

“Okay, think about it—think about it. I’ll see you guys.” He looked at the driver. “Get in the car! We’re going,” he ordered. And then he got in the backseat of the SUV, slammed the door, and drove off, leaving Matt and Nick—and everyone else—stunned and confused.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex walked on shaky legs through the hotel lobby, pulling her suitcase behind her. She reached the elevators and punched the up button, angry. She felt like a tea kettle ready to burst; and, honestly, she was afraid of what she might do when she saw Kenny.

She’d left the arena as quickly as she could after the end of the tag match. Gone back to the locker room, packed up her shit, and called an Uber, apologizing to Orange on the way out for not staying for his match against Chris Jericho. There was no way she could stay there a second longer after what Kenny had done.

The elevator carried her to their floor. He’d booked the same room he always did. She stepped off the elevator and walked swiftly down the hall. When she reached the room, she banged hard on the door. Kenny answered a few seconds later, apparently fresh out of the shower, wearing just a pair of gym shorts.

“Hey, baby,” he said—but Alex pushed past him into the room. He shut the door and followed her inside. “Look, I’m sorry for—"

Crack!

Alex whirled around and slapped him hard across the face, cutting him off mid-sentence. She’d hit him hard enough that it turned his head, hard enough that her hand immediately stung. Kenny touched his fingers to his face. He gave a short, wry laugh.

“I guess I deserve that.”

“You’re fucking right you do,” she bit. “You lied to me, Kenny. You told me you would fix things with Adam and you just left him out there. You left the whole fucking arena.”

He rolled his eyes. Alex’s hand itched to slap him again. “Well what would you have liked me to do, Alex?” he asked. “Hm? Should I have caught him and told him that everything would be alright? Should I have said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get the titles back, bud!’ Is that what I should’ve done?”

“You shouldn’t have just left him and run out of the arena!”

“Well I did, because I’m done with him!”

Alex went momentarily dizzy. “What?” she breathed. “How can you say—”

“Because I’m done with being a tag team wrestler, Alex!” he proclaimed. “I’m done with being a drunken cowboy’s sidekick! I don’t want that! That’s not who I am! That’s not what I came to AEW to do! I don’t need to tell you that! You know that.”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. Alex could feel it radiating off of him like heat. It shocked her, but she knew she needed to just listen.

“It was fun with Hangman while it lasted,” he went on. “I’m glad we got to be tag team champions together; I am. But I’m past that now. It’s time for me to be Kenny Omega now. It’s time for me to be the guy that everyone’s wanted and expected from day one of Dynamite.”

Alex scoffed. “What guy? The Cleaner?”

“Yeah,” he bluntly returned. “Exactly that guy. Isn’t that the guy you wanted when we first got involved? The Cleaner?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. There was nothing she could say to that—it was true. She’d never met Kenny prior to AEW. She just knew him as most of the world did: The Best Bout Machine, the leader of Bullet Club, the Cleaner, Kenny-fucking-Omega. His reputation preceded him. It intrigued her. It attracted her. It made her want to get to know him once she had the chance. And then she fell in love with him, the real him. But the thought of him being that guy in AEW… with her… she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that that intrigued her, too.

He stepped closer. Alex didn’t move. He took her by the hips and pulled her against him; a pleasant tingle danced up her spine at his touch. As upset with him as she was, she couldn’t help the way her body reacted to him.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, his voice softening. “And I’m sorry it happened this way… but we both know it would’ve happened eventually. I can’t keep tagging with Adam to get what I want. And what I want is the AEW World Championship… and you by my side when I get it.”

Alex’s stomach did a flip. But her brow lowered, stubborn. “And what makes you think I want to be by your side when you get it?”

He gave a breathy laugh. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. You know you’re my girl.”

There it was again, that cocky grin. But Alex didn’t argue or pull away. She just gazed up at him, her chest rising and falling with her breath, heart racing. She wanted to believe he was wrong; but she knew he wasn’t. She knew she’d go around and around this carousel with Kenny until it made her sick. He pushed her to the edge; he drove her insane; he made her do things that she never thought she’d do in a million lifetimes. He was exhilarating and infuriating and terrifying and intoxicating all at once. And every time she thought she’d sobered up she would always fall right back into him. It might take a week, or a month, or a year—but it was inevitable.

“Aren’t you, baby?” He cupped her jaw in his hand. She leaned into his touch. He ran his thumb over her mouth. Her eyes fell closed, kissing it, and then he parted her lips and slipped it inside her mouth. She sucked as he moved it in and out, slow. She bit down gently and opened her eyes. He looked like he wanted to ravage her—and she wanted to let him.

He pulled his thumb from her mouth and picked her up. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist and kissed him as he walked her blindly to the bed, grabbing at his curls, needing to taste him, feel him, get lost in him. She was still upset with him for what he’d done to Adam; of course she was. But she was in love with him. She couldn’t help that.

#aew fanfiction #kenny omega fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #young bucks fanfiction #ftr fanfiction #cash wheeler fanfiction #best friends fanfiction #the elite fanfiction

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ksfnmoments · 3 years

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~Friday Headcanons~

Today’s Topic: Skye (after the little blurb down below)

y’know what i miss? Posting headcanons, so what am I gonna do about it? FRIDAYYYYY

Still deciding whether or not to do it twice a week (Tuesdays), though knowing me that’ll probably happen. Either way, I love incorrect quotes but I genuinely miss headcanons and I have so many I want to write down that I just never know what else to do with. Since I got a lineup of quotes that are queued for every other day atm, I get so impatient on the days in between but I don’t want to keep going on daily posting sprees and then becoming nonexistent for like three weeks in between-

They’ll mostly be about Chapter 2 battle pass skins since they’re the ones I’m most comfortable writing about (especially 1-3 and 5, won’t include the marvel pals because i really don’t know crap about them lmao), but I’m open to requests on others and will definitely be writing out scenarios for groups! Only thing I won’t really do is ships since I generally just don’t play around with pairings, other than Jules and Fade.

Anyway, onto the headcanons! Today we’re starting with my favorite girl :)

Skye

Gonna go a bit into the backstory I have for her for any newcomers or anyone who doesn’t remember, basically her dad worked for A.L.T.E.R and her mom worked for E.G.O, but her mom was a double agent which was how her parents met. Long story short, someone from A.L.T.E.R found out and killed her mom, then started threatening Skye so her dad handed her off to someone and thus began her story. Skye was only two years old at this time.

She stayed at Camp Cod for four years, back before the loop it was a normal camp (the loop in my universe is a whole different timeline that i’ll have to explain at some point, but the basis is that C2 has been going on for about 10 years in my storyline, but the island existed like a normal place for at least 25 years beforehand.)

When she was six, she was handed off to another person away from Camp Cod due to a safety issue concerning the person who threatened her before she was sent there.

Skye picks things up fairly quickly and usually has an easier time adapting to situations. She takes this with pride and it’s one of the reasons she enjoys camping and adventuring so much. (Speaking of pride, happy pride month! ❤️)

At Camp Cod she was defo one of those kids who more or less says “I love you” to everyone she talked to more than once.

Before Midas took her in when she was eleven, she had four caretakers. Aside from her first at Camp Cod, the longest she stayed with one was two years (age 8-10). After the loop came around, she forgot the names of her first two.

Before she was ten, she had never been past the southern side of the island, or past Misty Meadows.

Weeping Woods is her favorite location and one of her places of comfort. If she really wants to be alone, she’ll go there.

She didn’t stay with Midas at first when he took her in, but with Journey (because Journey wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for literally bringing a child to a dangerous spy base).

Journey would take her to the mountains a lot and Skye absolutely loved it.

Journey taught Skye the basics of handling a grappler, needless to say the adventurer definitely had her gear of choice.

Midas decided to start teaching her tactical skills and stuff sometime after she turned 14. She had already been really interested in the whole agent thing for a while. About five or so months before C2S2, age 15, he officially activated her.

One of the first things she convinced him to let her do as an agent was travel as much as the island as she could, this first adventure being where she got most of the photos you found on her bulletin board. (photo source: reddit)

Her disappearing every so often for a couple days at a time quickly became a normal thing. At first though she’d just kinda leave while forgetting to tell anyone, until Midas got on to her about it so she made extra sure to tell him whenever she wanted to go off again.

One of these little expeditions was where she found her sword, on the hill to the right of The Grotto.

Her third caretaker (age 8-10) had a keyboard lying around and taught her how to play piano. Skye would practice at least every other day and learned a handful of songs.

One day Midas showed her around The Yacht for the first time when she was twelve. The whole tour was a bit of a blur to her, until she saw the piano. Being the little excitable ball of energy she was, she instantly ran over and started playing. She was rusty of course for not playing in a couple years but she remembered most of the things she learned before.

She organized a birthday party for Journey on The Yacht (Midas can’t say no to her at this point) and played Happy Birthday for her on the piano.

A month before C2S2 is when Midas decided to officially make her in charge of The Shark. She had help running the place of course for the first month by various agents and top henchmen, but the day the season started was the day she decided she was ready to handle it on her own.

She especially loved being at The Shark because of the piano; in between missions and patrols she would play it, and sometimes if she really wanted to play but was busy she’d do it in the middle of the night.

In between The Device’s aftermath and the move to The Fortilla, she’d play more often because she couldn’t find much else to do. It was one of the activities she used to cope with the despair GHOST faced after Midas’ and Jules’ supposed betrayal, before the flood took over The Shark for good (in The Tide Rises, The Shark doesn’t fully become the prison version. Only some aspects of it).

Skye loves motorboat rides. Her father took her on them around Rapid’s Rest and Camp Cod often and the exhilaration was something that stuck with her even after forgetting aspects of her past due to the loop.

She absolutely hates seeing others in a bad mood and always offers a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent to. Always open about her feelings and encourages everyone to be as well.

On the other hand, she’s completely stubborn when she’s sick and tries as much as she can to not admit when it’s the case.

She always tries to see the best in people, unfortunately leading her to be a bit too trusting and naive. Upon becoming an agent, this has been one of her biggest flaws, and it even almost cost her her life after a certain incident (which I will post one day =>)

Unless it’s utterly life-threatening or harmful, can’t keep a secret to save her life. She has to tell it to someone (in this case Ollie doesn’t count) or else, in her words, she’ll literally die. Luckily for her, Fade’s the same way, so when he came along the two would confide to each other what they couldn’t tell to anyone else.

All in all, Skye is absolutely a kid at heart.

#fortnite #fortnite chapter 2 #fortnite skye #fortnite headcanons #headcanon #fortnite chapter 2 season 2 #kayvi0’s fortnite storyverse

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adiwriting · 4 years

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Sunday Mornings 2/?

Notes: Thank you all so much for the positive response last week. As promised, I’ll continue to have a new fluffy domestic ficlet to post in this verse every Sunday. ‘Cause truly, we all just need more soft fluffy Malex in our lives. Shout out to @cosmicclownboy for the idea of Alex stealing Michael’s coffee <3

Week 2:

Alex is sitting on the sofa scrolling through Netflix when Michael finally comes into the room, wearing nothing but Alex’s sweatpants and carrying a fresh mug of coffee. He sits down and Alex grabs the mug out of his hands to steal a sip for himself. Michael glares at him playfully, but he just shrugs back unapologetic.

“It tastes better when it’s yours,” he says with a smile, earning him a chuckle and a roll of the eyes before Michael steals the mug back for himself.

“Find anything for us to watch?” he asks, leaning his weight against Alex’s body. Alex wraps his arm around Michael’s shoulder and his hands move to to play with his hair as he continues to scroll aimlessly through the options.

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t care,” he says, handing the remote to Michael.

“There’s this new documentary that I’ve been reading up on about agriculture and over-cultivation,” he says, scrolling down to the documentary section and clicking through the options.

Michael is such a fucking nerd and Alex loves it.

He’s always known that Michael is smart. He was in classes with him growing up and thus, got to witness the ease with which Michael would learn any and every new concept their teachers introduced them to, no matter the subject, but especially math and science. He’d been aware of Michael’s scholarship and his original plans to go to school for agricultural engineering. And if none of that had been enough to convince him, Alex has been in Michael’s bunker. He’s seen the papers littered with complex mathematics that Alex will never understand.

He’s always recognized Michael’s genius. But the sheer level of nerd is a relatively new side of Michael that Alex is lucky enough to witness. He has never understood it when people tease nerds. Watching somebody geek out about a passion of theirs has always been a beautiful thing to Alex.

It’s why he enjoys talking to Greg about teaching. And why he always asks Liz how her research in California is coming along. Or why he asks Kyle about his day at the hospital. And yes, it’s also why he asks Max about his writing, even when it makes everyone around them groan. But few things will ever be as beautiful to Alex as the way Michael acts whenever he’s learning something new or explaining some science topic to him. It’s breathtaking.

“Here it is,” Michael says, finding what he had been looking for. “It’s supposed to be really good but I haven’t been able to watch it because I don’t have a Netflix account.”

Alex gives him a slightly judgemental look. Not because he’s never signed up for Netflix, he gets that the monthly subscription is a luxury not everyone is willing to pay. But because he’d never told Alex that before and they could have solved this problem a long time ago.

“You know I can give you my log in, right?” Alex says. Even before they started dating, Alex would have given him his password so his nerdy ass could watch all the documentaries his heart desires.

“Really?” he looks surprised.

“Really.” He’s about to end it at that but instead gets a genius idea of his own. “Of course, I’ll require you pay me in coffee…”

Michael rolls his eyes. He hands Alex his mug with an amused smile before standing up, seemingly to go make himself another cup. Alex smiles triumphantly and sips happily at what is truly, the best cup of coffee in town. He’s not sure how Michael manages it, but his coffee is always better than Alex’s, even when they are making it out of the same pot.

“So I’m guessing you want to watch this nerdfest,” Alex calls out to him.

Michael appears back at the doorway looking slightly embarrassed. “No, we don’t have to. I can watch it later.”

“Guerin, do you want to watch this?” he asks again, already knowing the answer is yes even if Michael is going to pretend like he doesn’t care.

“Whatever you want,” Michael says before walking back into the kitchen to finish preparing his mug.

Well lucky for Michael, what Alex wants is to cuddle on the couch and watch his boyfriend geek out over agricultural engineering.

He settles back into the corner of the couch, adjusting the pillows and getting comfortable so that he’ll be ready for optimal snuggling when Michael gets back. It’s 10am on a Sunday and they’ve already been up for a few hours. Alex had woken Michael up with a morning blow job and Michael had repaid the favor before they’d had a nice long shower together. Then Alex had cooked them both breakfast and Michael had done the cleaning up. It’s only their second week together, but already Alex smiles at the routines they are establishing. Spending lazy Sundays together he hopes is a routine that sticks.

Michael comes back into the room with a new cup of coffee and they settle into each other before Alex presses play on the documentary. The smile he gets from Michael as a reward is well worth watching 2 hours on a topic that Alex could honestly care less about.

And so Michael watches the TV with rapt attention and Alex watches Michael.

It’s a great way to spend the morning, actually. Because Alex finds out that few things are as entertaining as getting to watch Michael geek out with no filter. Michael watches the screen with intense focus, but every five to ten minutes he’ll pause in order to turn and explain to Alex how he’s going to this, that, or whatever to solve the problem locally. He watches as Michael’s face scrunches up in concentration when he encounters something he doesn’t already know, and how his eyes get wide with excitement whenever they talk about something he does.

Alex kisses the top of Michael’s head as Michael’s fingers run absentmindedly over the arm that Alex has around his waist. Once their coffees are both finished and set on the coffee table, Michael coaxes Alex down further on the couch until he’s spooning Michael, and while the position makes it more difficult to see the screen past all of Michael’s hair, Alex isn’t complaining one bit.

It’s a two hour film and they are going on hour three with how often Michael keeps pausing the movie. It’s nearing 1pm, he’s been up for hours, and the warmth of Michael against him is causing his eyelids to droop. He wouldn’t mind taking a nap with Michael right here. Alex yawns, which Michael of course misreads and tenses next to him.

“I’m sorry, I know this is boring to you,” Michael says. “It’ll be over in 10 minutes and then we’ll watch whatever you want to.”

“I don’t mind,” Alex says, pulling Michael in closer and snuggling up against his back, leaving kisses on the back of his neck. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Michael pauses the documentary to look at Alex, and Alex can’t help but lean in for a sweet kiss. He’s been wanting to kiss Michael from the first five minutes of the film. Michael rolls over until his entire body is facing Alex’s and then nudges his knee in between Alex’s thighs before kissing him again. This time the kiss is anything but sweet. It’s open and strong, and full of all of the usual passion and desire that Alex is used to with Michael.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before Michael is tugging at Alex’s T-shirt, demanding it to come off and Alex separates his lips from Michael’s only long enough to get his shirt over his head.

It’s a solid 45 minutes before they finish the last ten minutes of that documentary, and by then, they both have several missed phone calls and texts from their friends. Both of them had completely forgotten about plans for a late lunch with their friends at the Crashdown, but neither of them feels all that guilty for it.

“New plan,” Michael says, standing up from the couch and stretching his back, not bothering to put his sweatpants back on. “Let’s not pretend like we’re ever going to leave the house on a Sunday.”

Alex smiles. He loves this plan almost as much as he loves Michael.

Tagged: @callieramics

Let me know if you want to be tagged. I’m all queued up with more fics through the end of August, with more fics in my drafts.

#roswell nm #roswell new mexico #Malex fic #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #fic: sunday mornings #fluff #domestic bliss

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 105

I’ve managed to get slightly ahead on these, so: A belated thank you to @littleshydragon, @dark-chocolat-cupcake, @overusedblur, and @allegrochicken for all the love I have seen blowing up my notes recently (I’m queuing this on Aug 25, even if it won’t post until Sept 8).

Also, to the 30 new followers who I have somehow acquired: Welcome! Ask box is always open, and I don’t get nearly enough of them. I love to interact with y’all, so don’t be afraid to ask me every little question you think of as you read. Anon is on if you feel you need that.

Other than that, thanks for this chapter goes out to @baelpenrose for beta reading. Also @quantumizedinsanity, @charlylimph-blog, @wildforestferret, @creakingcryptid, for the characters you gave me to play with in chapters like this.

Later that same ‘day’, I was forcefully reminded of Noah’s observation regarding human communication. Things were generally calm, and an impromptu family meal-snack-thing was happening in my quarters. Antoine had been over to visit, as he seemed to be making up for lost time caused by infiltrating Jokul’s accidental cult. Zach and Hannah were over, as well, so when dinner time rolled around, I just threw together some small po-boy sandwiches and banh mi for us to snack on while we kept visiting, rather than making a full meal.

Hey, I was allowed lazy days, too.

As it happened sometimes, conversation turned to things we either did or didn’t miss from Before. Tonight was very firmly in the ‘do not miss’ category.

“Plagues started by dumb experiments,” Maverick pointed out, smirking.

Catching on, Conor swatted him playfully. “I said I was sorry about that! And Else is an alright person, turns out.”

Snorting, Hannah covered her face with one hand. “Tell that to Nixe.”

“Her new tail is gorgeous,” I gushed. “If I got reparations like that, I’d at least consider forgiving someone.”

“For almost killing you?”

“It was an accident,” I brushed the comment off, reminded of explaining that gesture to Noah. “Besides, there are a lot of other things I genuinely don’t miss.”

“Aunt Flo,” Hannah intoned seriously.

“Tyche and I already did that one, so it’s not admissible,” I admonished. “But spoiled food? Do not miss.”

Zach shuddered. “Hell, that’s not even from Before. I don’t miss that at all.”

Antoine lifted his coffee in a mock-toast. “To all the people we lost to antibiotics.” After a few confused looks banded around the room, I laughed and waved at him to clarify. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he sighed. “Bread mold. This is why people died in the After of antibiotic allergies: they didn’t know it was derived from bread mold.”

“Dude, that’s dark,” Zach whispered.

Clearing his throat, Conor soldiered on. “I never lived through one, but wildfires were pretty bad, yeah?”

Nodding seriously, Maverick - who had lived on the western coast of NorthAm - added “Yeah, fuck THOSE things. Australia had it worse, but still.”

Raising her hand and waving it, Hannah started making eager noises to ask for her turn. “Absolutely idiotic job requirements, am I right?” Nods abounded, and she took the opportunity to vent the spleen I hadn’t even guessed her to possess. “The number of jobs I didn’t get because I didn’t have a degree were absurd. I don’t even know why they even required them, for some! I’m sure most of you had that happen.”

I kept my silence, but Conor was right behind her. “A Master’s in Engineering, to be a foreman. You’re babysitting a bunch of knuckleheads pounding rebar and pouring concrete! And they’ve had a decade of learning to do it right, I would’ve just been there to make sure it was compliant. And they wanted a Master’s for that!”

Hannah took a sip of her drink and nodded eagerly. “That’s what I’m talking about! There was a job I qualified for that was basically a glorified secretary… They wanted a four-year degree and paid peanuts. Absurd. But I was unemployed for way more of my life than I should have been, because I didn’t have that piece of paper.”

Idly, Zach stared at his drink. Like me, he had one of said-degrees, so this was something of a conversation we couldn’t really take part in. “I wonder how many Councillors we would have if those kind of requirements were put in place here.” Arching an eyebrow, he glanced up at me and inclined his head knowingly.

“Well,” I exhaled. “It depends. If they asked for a Master’s degree of any kind, I wouldn’t be a Councillor.” A thought struck me. “Hey - “

“No, Sophia, you cannot recommend that as a way to retire from the Council,” Antoine scolded with a laugh. “You would be grandfathered in with everyone else.”

The laughter broke the serious tone that had descended, and led to everyone speculating jovially, starting with Conor. “Well, we know Grey would still be a Councillor in that case - they admitted they had a PhD when Else was still getting sorted, rather than an MD.”

“Pretty sure Eino has a Master’s, at least,” Zach pointed.

Maverick shook his head, firmly disagreeing. “Doctorate in Education. I saw it on his wall. Don’t sell that one short.”

“So that’s two.” Hannah leaned forward eagerly. “Conor, what about Huynh?”

“Masters in Engineering,” he confirmed ruefully. “But he’s no PhD.”

“Pranav,” Zach interjected. “Post grad in robotics. Even worked on some of the Padrugoi mission stuff, early on.”

A respectful murmur filled the room, accompanied by appropriately impressed nods. Maverick had to actually shake the starstruck look out of his eyes before he could speak. “So that’s three PhDs, one Master’s, and a Bachelor’s on the Council. Not bad, honestly.”

Antoine cleared his throat politely. “Grey actually has two doctorates, if I am recalling correctly.”

I shook my head firmly. “Three. Biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry.”

With a low whistle, Conor shook his head. “So, we have a clear leader as far as ‘most degrees on the Council’. Would Eino or Pranav be second, though?”

An argument erupted, and when it looked like Zach was about to say something, I shook my head. I knew the same thing he was about to point out, as a by-blow of fixing some of Derek’s more… enthusiastic shenanigans, but I wanted to see if anyone would figure it out or even question it. A solid half-hour later, Tyche arrived and scooped up a mini-sandwich before she even registered the conversation/argument taking place.

Whirling to face me, she pointed at the rest of the room and glared at me disdainfully. “Seriously? How long has this been going on?”

“Forty five minutes?” I admitted sheepishly. “Maybe an hour if you include the ‘what we don’t miss’ portion of the conversation. But ‘degrees on the Council’ has been at least forty five minutes.”

“And you said fuck all?”

I shrugged. “I know it’s not me who has the most or even second most. I have the least formal education of any Councillor.”

Tyche pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a long breath. “Okay, everyone. What do you know so far?”

Without hesitation, Maverick rattled it off. “Grey has three doctorates, Eino has one and a Master’s, it turns out. Pranav has one doctorate and a Bachelor’s. Huynh has a Master’s, and Sophia has a Bachelor’s.”

“And the Councillor you have left out?” she interrogated wearily, while Zach and I tried to restrain our laughter.

“Xiomara?” he asked, face scrunched in confusion. “She was career military, but I don’t know if she has any degrees. Maybe a Bachelor’s?”

Tyche shook her head, glaring again when I started gasping for breath. “Wrong. And you know what? Soph knew this, so I’m going to make her tell all of you. Like she should have. From the beginning.”

“Hey!” I cried, still giggling. “I was giving them a whole other 5 minutes before I broke the news. I just wanted to see if they would even question their reasoning.” Antoine’s eyes got wide, sending me into another giggling fit. “None of you even mentioned the idea of Xiomara having any degree,” I gasped, almost in hysterics. “Mav was in the military, so I get that he just assumed she was busy as fuck, but… et tu, everyone?”

Hannah’s head turned slowly to stare down Zach. In self defense, he held up both hands with one pointing at me. “She told me not to say anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I did!”

Carefully, Conor slowly asked the question that was on everyone else’s minds. “Sophie? What’s so funny?”

Tears were pouring down my face at this point - not because I thought the situation was funny, because it wasn’t. Not really. I was hysterical because I was so caught off guard that we still brought something like this with us. “I don’t know the real reason why nobody considered Xiomara, and I’m scared to ask at this point. I’m hoping it’s because she looks tough as hell and like the kind of person who would beat up highly educated people rather than be one.” Wiping a tear from my face, I glanced at Tyche. Her jaw was tight, clearly thinking the same things I was. “But the fact that she is the only other woman on the Council, that hurts, honestly.”

I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. “The fact is, Xiomara has five degrees. Five. Along with her military career. Tyche and I have to know this, since we handle staffing.” Counting on my fingers, I started ticking them off. “Two doctorates, one in international law and one in experimental economics - as in, yes, the calorie economy was her idea. A Master’s in military history, along with two Bachelor’s degrees: one in experimental chemistry and one in nuclear physics.” Shaking my head, I glanced at the shocked and guilty expressions in the room. “It isn’t three PhDs, but damn, y’all. The woman has five degrees!”

“How did she do that, and a military career, so young?” Maverick asked, his tone nothing but awed.

Antoine looked confused at the question. “My friend, how old do you think Xiomara is?”

He shrugged. “Sophie’s age? So, thirtyish?”

Conor poked him. “Mav. You know how old Sophie is.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Fine. So maybe forty? The whole healing stuff messes with me, I’ll be honest.”

Smiling, I cut him some slack. “Xiomara is just over ten years older than me,” I clarified.

Hannah’s eyes widened, and Zach looked like he had been punched in the gut. “So hot-scary-lady is fifty?” After Tyche and I nodded, he shook his head. “That’s still super-impressive for fifty. For seventy, even!” Zach shook his head. “Grey, I could understand. They seem like the type to just live for education, you know? But, Xio? I’ve known for a year and I still get dizzy thinking about it.”

“It does explain why she’s so intimidating,” Conor pointed out. When I opened my mouth to scold him, he held up one hand. “No! No. Doctorates have to be argued and defended, right? Plus one of those is in law. And she balanced a military career on top of all that. If I accomplished all that, people would look at me with respect and expect me to be a direct, take-no-prisoners kind of person.” He glanced at Antoine, who winced and nodded in confirmation.

“She isn’t though,” I complained. “She’s a leader.”

“Definitely not ruthless, but she is intimidating to the general population,” Hannah pointed out gently. “That’s part of what Jokul was talking about, right? The Ark, as a whole, doesn’t get to see her get excited over her favorite foods, or pictures of baby pandas, or…. Cherries? Is it cherries she’s crazy for?”

“Pomegranate,” I corrected, begrudgingly.

“Pomegranate,” Hannah asserted. “They don’t get to see that. They get to see ‘hot-scary-lady who lays down the law’. Not ‘Xiomara who gets googly eyed when Parvati Fletcher wears that one violet shirt’.”

“Or hates plantains,” Tyche pointed out. “Which never made sense to me, because fried plantains are basically dessert with dinner.”

I started to giggle a bit. “It makes even less sense when you’ve seen her order coffee.” Tyche groaned, but more confused looks bounded about the room. Full out laughing, I explained. “She… she puts… maybe three ounces of coffee? Not espresso, just regular coffee… with what looks like a gallon - “ I snorted so hard it hurt my nose, but couldn’t stop. “Of milk! And sugar! Oh gods, she must put a cup of sugar in her coffee, I swear!”

Hannah and Zach exchanged glances, as did Conor and Maverick. Within seconds, the entire room erupted in laughter. “That?” Conor gasped. “That is hilarious….”

“I...I always thought… she took her coffee blacker than sin….” Zach wheezed. “And baby pandas?”

Sobering suddenly, I straightened and glared at the entire room. “OI!” I shouted. “Baby pandas are fucking cute, and if you don’t think so, you aren’t human, and I will ask Noah to do genetic testing to prove that.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #found family #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #apocalypse #found family tropes #hfy #humans are awesome #humans are space fae

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border-spam · 3 years

Text

Leech Lord - Dumbass

Seifa

8 loss streak at cards with Ven and Eli

EIGHT.

Couldn’t cope, went from talking cocky bullshit and swanning around their table to grab her favourite spot against the wall, to swearing under her breath and stink eyeing Ven when he won for the 4th time.

How. She was good at poker. She was made for poker, this wasn't luck anymore - he was clearly cheating. Took no time accusing him of this either, brandishing a shaky lipstick tube at him like a switch blade, snarling that it wasn't funny anymore and to stop using his jank-ass future bullshit to WIN.

Got smirked at lovingly, he wasn't! Swore on his damn life, a laughing Eli joined in and tried to help convince her. Ven wasn't doin’ nothing, she was just losing! This shit happens Sei, calm down!

Absolutely refused to, got more worked up as the drinks kept coming, the wins kept stacking against her, and whatever little injoke the brothers were enjoying apparently kept getting funnier.

Tried to storm out but only managed a half way confident wobble after way too many tequilas, swore up a storm that she'd never come back, they weren't worth her time, bled her dry and cheated. Eli had called after her that they'd see her for a rematch tomorrow.

They did, and she kept losing.

This went on over a week, her intense stubbornness refusing to acknowledge they were just better at poker. I mean they couldn't be, she'd been reading tells since she was FIVE. Her pride wouldn’t let her call it quits - she kept her coming back nightly, and her wallet kept getting slimmer.

It eventually all made sense on the final night when she was ready to flip their goddamn table and Eli was on the verge of needing an oxygen mask with how hard he was pushing his lungs laughing at her red-faced little egotistical shithead tantrums.

He managed to catch it all on E-Time with Troy, the exact moment she finished another volley of slurs and turned to grab her coat, catching her filthy glare in the wall mirror as she did.

The mirror she'd been sitting in front of... every night.

Tyreen and Troy - Early COV

Some of the bandit clans like Troy better. It doesn't upset her, people think it would but it doesn't, it makes sense. Her brother and her are very different, there have always been the groups who shrink away from her and side-eye him in awe, just like there were ones who'd carve their own skin off to offer her praise and not even notice her brother.

The brute clans, the muscle, those always seem to swarm to the God Queen. The Slabs, the Rippers, the cannibal hoards covered in gore and screaming for glory, but the others always flock to her brother. The schemers and the more technically orientated like the Tink-Tanks and Bloodshots... then there's the Rats.. but she doesn't like to think about those.

She prefers not accompanying him when he's visiting a compound she knows he'll get all the attention in, I mean, what would be the point in the end? She'd rather just stay home and wallow in priest's adoration, but he was harder to convince.

He was meant to have left hours ago but was still prowling around the cloister, muttering and complaining to himself as he rushed to try and organise content. If he goes, who's going to cover the editing? They've 4 uploads ready for posting but he's not scheduled them yet, who's going to organise it? What about the media tags, there's a merch push that has to be released 2.5 hours prior and blah blah blah blah.

She told him to shut the hell up and leave it to her. She'd got this, bro! Stop worrying, it's no problem, everything would be fine. She could manage this without breaking a sweat, just fucking shut up and leave already, the escort caravan was hours overdue.

He'd narrowed suspicious eyes at her and asked if she was SURE about this, they had sponsor contracts for the upload times, shit had to go up when it was due to or they'd breach serious deals, and she'd groaned sarcastically at him. Just go. This stuff is easy. Of course she can do it. If he can, she can. Duh.

Troy had gone silent for a moment, glaring daggers as he hissed out controlled breaths, then turned and stalked out of the cloister - the crackling atmosphere dragging behind him like a stormcloud.

Idiot. She had everything sorted that hour. Queued the whole list at staggered intervals, date and times scheduled and planned exactly as he'd left notes for. Easy, just like she'd said.

Tyreen woke up to an e-dev on the verge of crashing and Troy's contact alerts covering the homescreen in flashing warning panels that made her eyes swim.

What the fuck did you DO. WHERE ARE THE UPLOADS?? 6 hours late, 3 flays missing, one product review, ALL THE SPONSOR MERCH DROPS. FUCKING MORON, WHERE ARE THEY.

Her stomach dropped as she checked the queue. Empty. Gone. Nothing. Where were they... she'd.. scheduled everything?? It was done, she'd triple checked before bed she'd... when she noticed the date in the screens corner, time froze around her.

It was the 1st. She'd scheduled for the 30th... and last month had 29 days. System error, queue wiped, content gone.

All his media team's work, his editing, she.. she hadn't backed up the files, why would she have? It was done it was all done she.. she..

She couldn't handle replying. Knew it was just making things worse but couldn't do it. Felt her guts turn inside out at the thought, so climbed under her duvet to wait in dread. Easier to block things out right now than face what was coming. Easier to pretend.

He said nothing when he got back. No contact, straight into Sanctum and at work placating enraged sponsor contacts, organising his team to botch together replacements from cuts, covering the COV's ass silently and efficiently as always.

Said nothing, till she got a ping later that night -

I'll be controlling content management fully from this point on, keep out of my way and stick with whatever the fuck kind of things YOU have talent in... if any.

I mean hell, having an IQ high enough to know how to count days clearly ain't one of them is it, you IDIOT.

Doesn't matter that she knew she deserved it, or that she'd been such a tool to him while insisting she had it covered, that stuck with them after. He'd been too blunt, and she was never able to shake the confirmation that her brother really did think she was stupid.

Ven and Eli belong to the amazing @hieroglyphix

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #tyreen calypso #troy calypso #calypso twins #seifa #ven #eli #leech lord #my hcs #my writing #sbsart

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hoedameron · 3 years

Photo

but before i go looking in the tags, let’s talk about my latest gifsets!

what a worker bee i was both yesterday and today with prodigal son AND loki <3 never have i created so many gifs in a short amount of time it’s a damn miracle that my photoshop didn’t straight up cough up blood and keel over. alas, us bitches are stronger than that! if this post gets flagged because of the scenes i included....that would just mean that i made the right decision to exclude those scenes ajsdksajkldsa

malcolm stabbing martin

when the episode finally downloaded, i took a peek at the ending before it aired to see how it all ends (just in case it doesn’t get renewed </3). GOSH, was i just in a TIZZY when i saw this happen and i couldn’t tell my dad what i saw because we were straight up watching the show as it aired. anyways, keeping my secret knowledge, i got to work on making this gifset. i missed a huge chunk of the episode bc it took me over TWO hours to make the six gif set. i was really torn on the “artistic” approach aka which scene to gif and which to leave out. because i saw the ending before anything else, i couldn’t play it out loud and i didn’t have my headphones to listen so i was like FREE FORMING THE SUBTITLES. plus the captions weren’t synced up so it was really hard to decipher what was being said :(

i really thought i would be able to create the set before 9 but i was running into unforeseen issues such as the subtitle problem, which on top of that, like i said earlier, my photoshop is c/racked and janky so....you catch my drift. i was actually going to gif the bisexual moment in the cafe which i think would’ve been MUCH easier but i jumped the gun and wanted to make the gifs of the shocking ending. funny part about that is the shocking part wasn’t even included in my set (malcolm driving the knife into martin) because i felt like the scene was too short...anyways, let’s talk about the positives:

i really do like the coloring of this one. i used a psd that i’ve used before and luckily it’s meant for outdoor scenes with greenery so the gif really popped. sharpening, buddy ole pal, love you sm. the caption was kinda last minute but i hoped to save it with the gradient. cropping was a bitch because for some reason, it takes forever when you’ve made multiple gifs beforehand (cache innit) pero we pulled through! i actually started not saving the psd files to try and save time which is very unusual for me pero i was getting frustrated with photoshop so i was like y’know what....so i just gave up entirely and stopped saving. i do save when i’m taking my time but jeez, it’s a bad habit. i like saving the psd file because i never know if there is a mistake i missed in post and when i go to publish it, it’s blatant and it needs to be fixed. please, save your psd files idc if it takes up space u can just delete them later. IT HELPS !! TRUST ME!!

first & “last” appearance

i actually premade gifs for this gifset! unfortunately, i didn’t realize that three of the five gifs were the wrong size (pictured above) because i flipped the ratio. instead of 268 x 250, i made them 250 x 268. i don’t know HOW i managed to fuck that up but luckily i saved the psd files (wink, wink) so the coloring was still intact. i think i had to restart photoshop or it was getting too late so i picked it back up in the morning. sucks that i had to remake the entire gif from scratch but we will take some wins xx

coloring is the same with the previous gifset (listen....it’s a good coloring) and i actually did have an alternative coloring that was very warm pero i didn’t end up using it. almost melted the two with the “last” appearance of gil but ultimately didn’t go through with it. also i was thinking of using baby malcolm as the first appearance because technically, that IS his first appearance in the show but i was like...just use adult malcolm lol. also i know that scene of dani isn’t the “first” but the first scene she has goes really quick and she is planked by gil so there isn’t much of a solo (even though this scene isn’t much of a solo either pero it’s better than the former). the lighting is weird in this episode and my coloring tried their best :/ i know gifmakers make each gif a diff coloring pero i’m lazy okay and looking to be time effiencent. another slight tangent is that i actually queued the post for the morning but since i woke up to a storm, i was like, i’m here so i’ll publish it myself.

other than that...i didn’t run into any other problem. i was actually hesitant to make the caption that because i wasn’t sure how to really describe the team. i have poor memory so if there was ever an official name, i do not remember it. i did a quick google search pero it turned up nothing. i stuck with “dream team” because, well, that’s what they are. plus i didn’t want to tarnish the gifset with any mentions of p/olice (i was thinking about putting sumn along the lines of ‘the nypd team’) so DREAM TEAM IT IS because it’s true! you cannot have the show without these five! also, i should’ve used quotations on “last” because there is a bunch of talk about a renewal pero...just in case... sorry y’all :/

odinson brothers parallels

this was made in the spur of the moment. i saw that the teaser trailer with shirtless loki dropped in hd, i came A-RUNNING! it was posted like 47 minutes after the fact and i was like...somebody probably already made a gifset of the scene so i was like...gosh, to make the gifset or not all the while i was trying to download the video. trying because again, this was in the middle of a storm so my wifi was acting up and wasn’t at its strongest (whatever that may be). so i was getting frustrated because neither cc nor 4kdownloader was downloading this small one minute clip. that’s when i knew i was gonna be too late to make the loki gifset so i was like whatever ig...

then i had an idea.

i love parallels so luckily it hit me that this paralleled with thor and how his hair got chopped off. so, i knew i had ragnarok downloaded and got to work <3 wasn’t sure what dimensions to use so i went with 268 x 268 to make perfect squares. because the loki scene was short, i could only make three so i was like..okay, i can work with this. three for loki, three for thor, they’re brothers and they share! i wasn’t planning to add subtitles but i had written them down for the plain gifset so i was like alright, we’re going all in. i didn’t take that long to make since again, they’re small gifs and i did have a coloring in mind that i always use for ragnarok (it’s my fave for non-marvel edits as well). there was a slight adjustment to the final loki gif because i realized the gif had that dark fade into the scene which i didn’t know if it was an artistic choice for the show itself or was added for the trailer only (it happens when companies cut a bunch of scenes together and it’s not at all how it actually plays out). i didn’t want to take any chances so i cut those parts out. i know the gifs are short on the loki side pero...that’s just how it is in show business.

thank you so much for listening and hearing me out! i like discussing my work and i try to have pride in them even if the numbers don’t reflect what i hope they would. either way, still learning, still growing, still thinking about buying p.s. like deadass this shit is RIDICULOUS -_- imagine opening up ps and like...it opens up in less than two minutes...shivers

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peaceisadirtyword · 4 years

Text

Don’t Play With Fire V (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: I left this queued last night, but as always, Tumblr ignored me🙃 I wasn't feeling well so I didn’t check if it was posted or not, I'm really sorry! Anyway, here it is💜 It’s not very good, but I hope you like it! Thank you for reading😘

Warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol, men being men, my bad writing. Ivar might be very out of character :(

Words: 3218

DPWF Masterlist

gif belongs to @justacripple

Apparently, Ivar had a tendency to choose your dresses according to his own liking. This one was also short and tight, but the color changed. You thought red suited you more than black, but he smiled at you and raised an eyebrow.

"I want you to look nice, Y/N, not irresistible"

The worst part were the heels. God, you hated those things. It took you a couple of hours walking around the suite to not to look like a horse while walking. You did your hair and your make up as good as you could, and Ivar seemed to like it, giving you an appreciation nod when you stepped out of the bathroom, ready.

He had given you a small ear piece so he could communicate with you, and you were anxiously touching it every five seconds, trying to hide it with your hair. The small microphone was safely hidden, hooked on your bra.

The car stopped two blocks from the building. You walked from there and, surprisingly, you didn't fall down on your way, even though your knees were trembling so hard that you couldn't even walk straight.

"You're okay, love" you heard Ivar chuckling into your ear and it made you shiver "We got you, come on"

You entered the building while looking around nervously. You felt like everyone stared at you, and you had to force yourself not to lower your head and blush deeply as a group of very well dressed men with briefcases stared at you.

"Go to the left, you have an elevator" Ivar muttered, and you startled, biting you lip as you looked to your left to spot the elevator at the end of the hall "Take it, go to the third floor"

You did as you were told, hoping you didn't look like you were going to throw up as you stepped into the elevator.

The third floor didn't look that scary. Maybe it was because there wasn't that many people around, or because you heard Hvitserk's voice through the earpiece saying he was in the building. In some way, you felt safer with him near you, which was a bit ironic considering the fact that he threatened you with a gun the first night you met.

"The security guard is that man on the counter" Ivar informed you "Take it easy on him, okay? I don't think he had any woman like you talking to him in his life" he chuckled.

You took a deep breath before walking over to him with your head high. He raised his eyes from the magazine he was reading, and he immediately opened them so wide you were afraid they'd roll out of his face.

"Hello" you said. You were sure your voice would sound shaky and shy but you sounded confident and sweet, and he blinked a few times before clearing his throat.

"Hello, miss" he said, visibly nervous and with his eyes fixed on your cleavage "Can I help you?"

"I think so" you gave him a sweet smile "I was supposed to meet Mr. Nilsson on his office now"

The guard nodded, though he had to shake his head quickly and his eyes finally reached your face.

"I'm... I'm sorry, miss" he blinked again "But Mr. Nilsson is not here now"

"Oh really?" You pouted, tilting your head " Mr. Nilsson is out?"

Hvitserk hummed into your ear.

"Nice, love, I'm going in" he muttered.

"Yeah, I'm afraid he won't be here until tomorrow" he looked pretty distracted and nervous, and that made you feel a bit more confident.

"But he told me to come and see him today" you managed to sound truly disappointed "I suppose he forgot" you bit your lip.

"Oh, I doubt that" he chuckled, and his eyes scanned your body "He's just a busy man, you know"

"I'm a busy woman too" you raised and eyebrow, looking right into his eyes to intimidate him with a smirk on your lips "And I took the time to come and see him as he asked"

"I'm really sorry, beautiful"

You felt like throwing up when he called you beautiful.

"Can you do me a favor..." You looked at the tag he had on his uniform "Sam?"

"Yes" he smiled widely at you "Of course"

"Could you tell Mr. Nilsson I came looking for him and that I will be back tomorrow at the same hour? So he won't make plans and ditch me again" you pouted again, moving your eyelashes softly.

"I..." He cleared his throat again when you leaned into the counter, closer to him "I'm afraid Mr. Nilsson doesn't work like that, doll, he just... You will have to wait for him to call you again"

"Really?" Your smile faded "Well... This is kinda urgent..." You added with a sweet voice.

"I... I could make an exception for you" he shook his head "I could try and leave him a message"

"That would be lovely" you smiled widely again, tilting your head "I'd love that, Sam"

"Good job, love, you're making me hard" Ivar's voice on the earpiece startled you again, but you managed to hide it. You blushed a bit but Sam was too busy looking at your breasts and didn't realize.

"Yeah..." He licked his lips disgustingly with narrowed eyes, and you had to held back a frown and the need of covering every single inch of your skin. You cleared your throat softly and shot him a sweet smile, though you actually wanted to scream at him.

"Hold on a bit more, Y/N" Hvitserk said on your earpiece, and you nearly groaned out loud "I just need two more minutes"

"So... For how long have you been working for Mr. Nilsson?" You looked at the security guard through your eyelashes and he smirked proudly.

"For six years, Mr. Nilsson says I'm the best security guard he ever had" he winked at you.

You could hear Ivar laughing, and it nearly made you smile too. In some way, you felt bad for him. He was going to probably lose his job if that information was so important. You both were risking so much that you couldn't help but feel a bit of empathy for him.

"That's impressive" you smiled "Maybe I should hire you to watch my back"

His eyes lightened up, and he chuckled, trying to look a bit more interesting that he actually seemed.

"I would love to watch your back, doll" he winked at you again, and you sighed. He hadn't even bothered to ask your name. You supposed that, when a man found you attractive, things like your name or your personality didn't really matter.

"Hmm" you were running out of patience, and nearly moaned in relief when Hvitserk talked on the earpiece.

"I'm out, Y/N"

"It was really nice to talk to you" you said softly to him. He frowned and nodded, looking a bit disappointed "Thank you, Sam, you have been delightful"

"It was my pleasure" he blinked nervously "I hope I can see you again"

"Me too" you smiled while turning around to walk over to the elevator. You could feel his eyes on you "Maybe tomorrow"

_____________________________________

"You were good"

Ivar's voice just behind you startled you. The suite was amazing, but the carpet of the floor didn't let you hear his crutch or his feet when he walked behind you.

"Thank you" you muttered, blushing as you just got out of the shower and had only your underwear and a bathrobe on.

"You're a good actress" he hummed, sitting on your bed as you bit your lip and tried to cover yourself, avoiding his gaze.

"I suppose..."

Ivar chuckled, his eyes were fixed on your face, even though you were almost naked in front of him, with a small smile on his pouty lips and his head tilted. You cleared your throat in embarrassment, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Do you need something, Ivar?"

He finally looked away, shaking his head with a smirk on his lips.

"I just wanted to congratulate you, you did a really good job for being your first time"

"Did Hvitserk get everything you needed?"

"Yes, thanks to you, he did"

You nodded, sighing as you walked over to your suitcase to take some clean clothes. You still got nervous whenever you were alone with Ivar. Especially since that night.

He acted like nothing had happened. Like he had forgotten about it. You'd like to do that too, especially since you had a boyfriend, but it was impossible. You just couldn't help but remember how good his hands felt caressing your bare skin, and how good he had been with you, focusing on your pleasure until you came, shaking around him and moaning his name. He had made you feel wanted, sexy and beautiful. Things you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Do you mind if I stay here with you?" He asked, and you nearly dropped the sweatpants you were holding when you heard his soft tone. Was he blushing?

"Yeah, I mean... You paid for this room, so you can do whatever you want"

Ivar clenched his jaw. It seemed like it wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"Yes, but this is your room, and I wouldn't want to disturb you, so I'm asking if you mind if I stay here because I don't really want to leave"

You turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised and a small smile on your lips.

"I don't mind, Ivar, you can stay"

His expression softened and he smile before nodding, then looked away as you stepped into the bathroom and closed the door to change clothes.

When you came out, fully dressed and with your hair in a messy bun, ready to crawl into bed and sleep so you could forget about the awful mess that was your life.

Ivar seemed to have guessed your plans as he had gotten rid of his braces, which were now on the floor next to his crutches, and took off his black hoodie, getting into bed with only his jeans and a white t-shirt. He looked relaxed, and for a moment you thought he was asleep as he had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply and slowly.

But his deep blue eyes opened to look at you as he heard you approaching the bed. He managed to smile a bit.

"Sorry" he chuckled "My legs hurt and I took the medicine before coming here... It makes me sleepy" he rubbed his eyes, and immediately frowned and his soft expression changed, as if he regretted telling you that.

"It's fine" you shrugged, smiling as you kneeled on the bed next to him "Do they hurt very often?"

Ivar pressed his lips together and looked at you narrowing his eyes. After a long pause, he sighed and nodded.

"Yes, most of the time" he muttered "Usually, I don't even feel the pain, I'm used to it, but when I sit down and relax a bit it becomes unbearable"

You bit your lip, looking at the bulge under the sheets that were his legs.

"What's exactly what you have?" You asked with curiosity "If you want to tell me, of course..."

"It's called osteogenesis imperfecta" he answered, still surprised that you actually cared about his disease "Most people know it as the brittle bone disease, my bones are too weak to support my weight" he looked embarrassed and a bit angry, maybe at himself more than at you "So they break constantly"

You frowned. You had only broken your ankle once, when you were too little to even remember the pain but you knew it had been painful and stressful. You couldn't imagine living with that for your whole life.

"Wow" you sighed "Sounds... Awful"

Ivar couldn't help but smile. Usually, he couldn't stand people talking about that. Everyone lectured him about how strong he was to endure the constant pain, how brave he was to accept all this painful treatments and take the crutches to walk even if every step felt like he was breaking his legs over and over again. But you... You were more natural about it. You didn't felt pity for him or were disgusted by the fact that he couldn't really walk without crutches. You made him feel comfortable talking about it.

"Yeah, that's a really good description" he muttered.

You got into bed, leaning your head onto the pillows while looking at him. Your eyes scanned his face, and he licked his lips before tilting his head.

"You're hiding something, Y/N"

You tensed up immediately. Maybe that was what gave you away, what made him realize he was right. You were hiding something, and maybe it was something big that had something to do with him. Ivar wanted to know, and he always got what he wanted.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you tried to remain as calm as you could, but your first reaction betrayed you.

"I will find out" he smirked "I promise"

"I'm not hiding anything"

"You're really good pretending,Y/N" he muttered, and moved his head closer to yours "But you can't pretend all the time"

You opened your mouth to speak, but his sudden closeness distracted you. Ivar smirked again, this time in victory. You closed your eyes and waited until you felt his soft lips against yours again.

It was a different kiss. You could say he was opening up to you, he spoke differently, he looked at you differently. And he kissed you differently.

He sighed against your lips when you kissed him back. Since you arrived to Stockholm, he was nicer to you. At least he didn't threaten you with a fucking gun. You liked this Ivar, and that worried you.

"You're an amazing woman" he muttered, moving to sneak his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You put your hands on his chest, a bit taken aback.

"You're... An interesting man" you raised an eyebrow, and Ivar laughed. It was the first time he genuinely laughed with you, and it made you smile too "When you don't threaten to kill me"

"Yeah, I do that with everyone, don't feel special"

He kissed you again. You had never felt something like that. That warmth inside you whenever he touched or kissed you.

You didn't even felt the need to undress him. Yes, you'd love to have sex with him but... That moment felt so good that you didn't need anything else.

Ivar was relaxed. He didn't really understand what took him to your room, what made him decide he wanted to stay with you, and not go back to make plans with his brother and their men. He couldn't care less about Aethelwulf in that moment, he was too busy being completely obsessed with you. You caught his attention from the beginning, and he pretended not to know some things only to have an excuse to see you. But he didn't realize he was getting so attached to you.

He didn't feel something like that since...

"I don't want to go back to Copenhagen" you muttered "Well, not exactly Copenhagen, I do want to go back there, I would love to be at home with my cat but... I don't want to go back to the..." You bit your lip. You were talking too much.

"What?" He frowned a bit, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Sorry" you chuckled nervously "Just... I'm just being weird, it's fine"

Ivar bit his lip. Before he could ask again, you kissed him. He melted, kissing you back as his hands travelled under your shirt. Your skin was soft and warm, and you let out a lovely sigh when he caressed it with his fingertips.

"I'm ticklish" you smiled, and Ivar raised an eyebrow.

"I expected that"

You laid under the covers in silence, listening to each other's breathing. And, before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

_____________________________________

Your phone woke you up. You left it under your pillow, and kind of forgot about it. It was vibrating, and when you took it before it woke Ivar up, you saw it was because someone was calling you.

Erik was calling you.

You left the bed quickly, running to the bathroom and closing the door softly. It was still dark outside and you had to turn on the lights before answering the call.

"Hi" you bit your lip.

"Fuck, woman, it took you forever to answer the fucking phone"

"Well, it happens when you call at four in the morning" you whispered, annoyed at his tone. He hadn't called or messaged you since you went to Stockholm, he left you there, with one of the most dangerous men in Europe all alone. You had the right to be angry.

"Yeah, whatever" he sounded drunk. Again. Of course he'd go out to drink when you were there risking your fucking life for him "How's it going?"

You wanted nothing more than to scream at him and hang up, but you took a deep breath and replied calmly.

"It's going well, I think"

"You think?"

"Yes" you rubbed your eyes "Look, Erik, I don't really want to do this anymore"

"Baby, we're almost there, you can't ruin everything now"

"Erik, I just..." You sighed "Please, can't we just forget about it?"

"I can't forget about it" he raised his voice "He killed my fucking friend, Y/N, I want him dead"

You let out a shaky breath when you heard him.

"It's your revenge, not mine" you muttered "I have nothing to do with this, you dragged me into this and I am the one doing the dirty work"

"We'll talk when you come back" he scoffed "Now focus on making Lothbrok trust you, and I'll kill him"

You couldn't stand it anymore. You hung up and threw the phone to the floor. Sitting on the toilet and trying to control your breathing while rubbing your face. You were making out with the man your boyfriend wanted to kill. You were betraying two people at the same time and you were starting to care too much for one of them. The thought of Erik killing Ivar made you shiver. You knew he couldn't do it, but if he tried, Ivar would kill him.

"Fuck, Y/N, why can't you just hang out with normal people" you muttered to yourself, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

When you had calmed down, you washed your face and drank some water before going out of the bathroom, cursing when you saw Ivar awake and looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up"

"Who were you talking to?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Just... My mom" you shrugged, crawling into bed again without looking at him directly.

He nodded slowly, obviously not believing you. Fortunately he didn't ask. He just hugged you as you hid your face into the curve of his neck with your eyes closed. You might have cried a bit before falling asleep again, but he kept caressing your hair softly, biting his tongue to avoid asking you. Now more than ever, he knew you were hiding something.

_________________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @poisonous00 @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @kalonthecat @nataliehasgrace @atlas-of-the-world @justrepostandlove @persephones-deadgirlwalking @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @sw-eat-ing @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @chinduda @tofadavidson @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @flokidottirsstuff @laubluered

#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #modern ivar #vikings #vikings imagine #modern vikings #dpwf

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fericita-s · 4 years

Text

We Run a Very Tight Ship

Guest chapter! @sagiow challenged me to write a chapter for the Mercy Street Cruise Ship AU that involves “floor bacon” and “leftover snow cone” and this is the result, heavy on the Emmry. Thanks for inviting me to play in your sandbox! I hope I didn’t make things too dirty!

Thanks @the-spaztic-fantastic for beta-ing and for some research on this chapter that I won’t out you for. Let’s call it medical.

Previous Chapters by @jomiddlemarch and @sagiow

Quarantine – Day 5

Maple Bourbon Snow Cones

The lewd bag was empty and every time Emma looked at it the same hysterical giggle worked its way up from the depths of her belly, just like the one that had made her gasp against the wall with the realization that she was quarantined in the honeymoon suite with the man she’d been crushing on for as long as she’d had this job. And then it had been Henry making her gasp, and occasionally the depths of treasure they extracted from the lewd bag. What hadn’t needed batteries – the lotions, some of the condoms, the novelty lipstick shaped like a penis – was used up or laughed over and then discarded, Emma was still too good at her job to stop taking evaluative notes on what should be added or permanently excluded from future honeymoon packages. She had berated herself for not thinking to check that the outlets matched the plugs for the plug-in, but who wanted to spend any time thinking on Alice and Frank’s sexual satisfaction. Anyway, Henry was just as good as a Hitachi. Better even, what with the stubbled jawline and forearms to admire.

They were ensconced on the bed, the silk duvet and the plush matching bathrobes the only part of the experience that felt vaguely like a sick day.

Mostly, it felt like a vacation.

Three times a day, a steward knocked on the door to deliver food. There were increasingly entertaining videos livestreamed by PS I Love You Squivers and Henry was just as fun and funny to talk to post-sex, or more accurately in-between-sex, and no one had died.

Emma knew that should have been what she was most grateful for, and Henry was leading with it in the sermon he was live-streaming later, but it was easy to forget the chaos going on in the medical bay when she was on her honeymoon. Even a borrowed one.

A brisk knock sounded and Henry kissed her forehead as he left the bed to answer. The voice on the other side immediately scolded him and Emma tilted her head, trying to place it.

“You shouldn’t be opening the door for anyone without proper protective gear on!”

Emma wondered why someone would insist Henry answer the door with a condom on until the door opened wider and she saw the scrubs and mask Dr. Foster was wearing.

“Hello, Jed. Should I close it?” Henry seemed unbothered though he did take a few steps back, motioning for the doctor to come in. Emma thought Jed looked like he’d been awake for the five days of quarantine, and perhaps he had. It gave her a slight pang of guilt that he had been working so hard to take care of her sister and brother and soon-to-be brother-in-law/ex-boyfriend.

“Is Alice alright? And Jimmy?” She didn’t ask about Frank. Not because it was awkward, but because she didn’t really care and she’d rather keep thoughts of him out of this room where she definitely had not been thinking about him, beyond regretting that she had poured the premium bourbon Frank insisted the room was stocked with down the drain. If she had known she’d be the one holed up in this room, she wouldn’t have discarded the Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve and refilled the bottle with Jim Bean, which at the time had felt like a delightful power move. Would Frank brag about the superior taste of the good stuff instead of the cheap swill of the masses? Or would he have a Princess and the Pea moment and demand the high-end alcohol? Either would have been fireworks that amused her; it was just too bad she and Henry had to make do with the cheap stuff. It made the melted snow cones from lunch more bearable at least, and who could even taste the bourbon with the snow cone on her tongue and then Henry soon after.

“Alice and Jimmy are fine. The others too. No worse, no better. We just administered the tests and I’ve been assured we’ll get results soon. Alice sent me to collect the ‘sparkly, pretty, rainbow shoes’. The payment required for her participation in the swab.”

Emma tightened the bath robe and got out of the bed, her hands lingering on the silk, wishing it could have been longer that this room had gone without the name “Alice” being spoken. Hearing it twice was like breaking a spell.

“I don’t think her luggage is here. She was staying with her bridesmaids in an ocean view suite on A Deck.”

Jed sighed and raised a hand like he was going to rub it over his eyes and face, but then stopped, letting it fall back down. “I went there first. To Kayleigh or McEnany or MacKayleighAnnie or whatever the hell her three bridesmaids’ names are. They were next to useless and either lying or clueless, but they weren’t sick at least. Mind if I look here?”

Emma’s eyes met Henry’s and they both looked around the room at the detritus of one lewd bag and four and a half days’ worth of food and condom wrappers. Henry cleared his throat.

“How about we look and call you when we find it? And how about you take a rest in your own room before heading back to med bay? Before you need a cot there yourself?” Henry put a hand on Jed’s shoulder but Jed shook it off.

“Fine. I shouldn’t spend time in here with you anyway, stop the spread and all that. Let me know?”

He left and Henry bent to retrieve the breakfast tray that had been left and kicked at the door to shut it, but the pocket of his bathrobe got caught on the doorknob and the tray jerked out of his hands as he was pulled back with the door. Emma watched in horror as a plate slid off of the tray and the bacon slid off of the plate and onto the floor.

“Five second rule!” Henry shouted, pulling his bathrobe free of the door and scooping it up.

“On a cruise ship? During an epidemiological disaster? I don’t think the five second rule applies.”

“Fair,” Henry said, and threw it into the trash instead. “I suppose floor bacon is not what B Gibson intended for our culinary satisfaction.”

“I’m starting to feel like this is the Battle of Manassas and we’re all on a picnic watching the horror go down with amusement. Should I be doing more to help? Jed seemed pretty exhausted.”

“Manassas, eh? Not Bull Run? Took me five days but I finally found your flaw. You’re a secret Confederate.”

Emma swatted at him, but then reconsidered and swiped a pancake from the tray he was still holding instead. “I’m from Virginia. It’s what the battlefield sign says.”

Henry put the tray on the bed, resettling the plates and arranging the fruit and sausage that remained and took a pancake for himself. He spoke in between bites and he was so comforting and certain, Emma thought that online ordination must have included some contact hours for counseling training. He was so good at it. “I think quarantining is the most helpful thing we can do right now. That and look for these shoes. We know we’ve been exposed to Alice and if we go out, we just make the problem worse.”

Despite the sentence ending with “make the problem worse,” Emma felt a thrill of victory. For right now, for this perfectly weird moment, the best thing she could do for her job, for her family, for the good of the public health, was to remain in a honeymoon suite with Henry. It was a sacrifice she could handle.

They finished their breakfast and then began searching for the ridiculous shoes Alice apparently needed while prone in a hospital cot. Henry turned the livestream on and they watched with amusement as Percival Squivers apologized for the unhinged magic shows he had been giving over the past few days and then pledged to provide truly riveting content for the remainder of quarantine, however long it lasted. Then he reached to turn off his camera but missed, and Henry and Emma abandoned their search as they watched, open-mouthed and eyes wide as Squivers pulled a half dollar from behind a woman’s ear as she leaned in to kiss him. Squivers kept attempting to say, or guess, her name, like it was a magic trick that would have the best reveal yet: Lisette? Linnette? Laurent? And then what followed wasn't exactly porn, it wasn't exactly not porn, but it definitely wasn't good porn and they turned from it to keep searching.

As she lifted pillows and emptied drawers and looked in the smallest closet to ever bear the name, Emma considered how much easier it was going to be to stop this wedding now that the bride and groom were both sick. But she wanted it to not happen ever, and the means to prevent it was still not in her grasp.

Henry hadn't asked why and she wanted to think it was because he could tell how awful they were or that he'd do whatever she asked or that he was ready for hijinks of any kind, and not that he expected an explanation. Because she wasn’t sure she could explain the mortification of her former boyfriend marrying her little sister. It was cute when Amy March did it, but if Emma had to choose a scene to repeat from that book it would be letting her sister fall through the ice, and not necessarily the rescue that followed.

“Bingo!” Henry called, holding a shoe box aloft that had been stashed behind a pile of towels they hadn’t worked their way through yet.

Emma crossed the room to sit next to him as he opened the lid. The shoes were very sparkly, every color of the rainbow shimmering and shining in the sequins as they caught the light. Emma lifted them out and frowned as she saw something left behind, half-hidden by the tissue paper surrounding the shoes.

“That’s Frank’s phone,” she said, reaching for it and flipping it over so the rebel flag phone case was at least not offensively visible. She put in the code she knew he’d use: 1-2-3-4 and a series of pictures was already queued up.

She swiped through selfies of Frank, Jimmy posing obscenely, all the groomsmen posing obscenely, a close up of Alice’s ass, Frank boarding a plane, and then a series of photos with a random seatmate who looked to be the reigning Miss Italy. Photos in the cramped bathroom that left Emma with no doubt that plenty of germs and viruses and perhaps even an entire plague could have been caught from the amount of skin and orifices and fluids being exchanged in the bathroom, fully documented on his phone, in black and white, in video, in various filters that Emma appraised with a critical eye and announced, to Henry's amusement "Yep. Just as bad as I remember.”

He flashed her a smile. The one that meant this round was over and it had been a good one. “You did it. You found the evidence. No wedding.”

Emma shook her head. “If it was in her shoes, she knows. Nothing matters. The truth is out there and no one cares.”

A new sound was coming from the livestream and Henry and Emma turned to look, able to see clearly as Silas the pig and Mrs. Brannon came into frame and demanded of Squivers “Did you find it for me? I’m tired of paying you and seeing nothing but lousy magic to show for it.”

“I think we figured out Squivers’s side hustle,” said Henry, but he turned the tablet off at Emma’s blank look. “The truth does matter. And I made a no-vow vow. I don’t break my vows.”

“No wedding,” Emma said, equally solemn.

“The truth matters,” he repeated, and Emma wondered if he meant the revelers still having pop-up parties in hallways and acting like quarantine was a suggestive role play you could opt out of if it didn't suit your entertainment interests. It would be a good sermon, if anyone could tear themselves away from the trainwreck of the Squivers show to watch.

***

Jed came to retrieve the shoes later, looking marginally better rested but wielding test kits and insisting he administer them so the mad rush of the second round could at least be staggered. Emma giggled hysterically as Henry yelled “Peacock! Peacock!” and then again as the swab went so far up her nose she thought it was tickling her hairline from beneath her skull.

“Let’s add some more bourbon to the leftover snow cones,” she said as Jed left, bags and shoes in hand. The phone they had kept; the plan was still formulating on how to wield it.

“I want it that way,” Henry sang, sounding sexier than a Backstreet Boy though somewhat more nasally as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and grinned at her.

#Mercy Street #Cruise Ship AU #Emmry #Foster #Squivers #and then they were quarantined #floor bacon #leftover snow cones #We Run A Very Tight Ship #Quarantine Day 5 #fan fic #guest chapter

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atths--twice · 4 years

Link

Wedding Countdown

Chapter Five

Saturday, Three Days to Go

Mulder feels the need to pick out a possible “first dance” song, much to Scully’s absolute horror.

11e/15

Mulder paced across the living room, waiting for Scully to come downstairs after putting Faith to bed. Pausing, he glanced up and listened, to see if he could hear her coming yet. Looking down at his phone, he saw the song he had queued up. He had heard it earlier and he knew how Scully was going to react when he played it now, but he was ready for that battle, he had his story all prepared.

Hearing her footfall on the steps, he put his phone in his back pocket, turned around and grinned at her. Regardless of the questioning look she gave him, he put his hand out to her, her frown making him smile even more. Always skeptical, that was his Scully.

“What are you up to, Mulder?” she asked.

“Dance with me,” he said, smiling as he gestured with his hand for her to come closer.

“Mulder …”

“Humor me, Scully,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her close.

“There’s no music,” she teased, looking up at him and raising her eyebrows, causing him to laugh.

“This is true,” he said, dancing slowly in place. “I was thinking as you were upstairs, that we don’t have a song to dance to at the wedding. You know, our first dance and all.” She pulled back again and shook her head, opening her mouth to say something. “Relax, Scully. I’m joking. I don’t even know if we’ll have dancing, Tampa is in charge of all of that. But, I did hear a song today and if you’ll humor me …” He took out his phone, pushed play, and she groaned.

“My Heart Will Go On, Mulder? You know how I feel about this movie,” she said in a warning tone, as he put his phone back in his pocket, and they began to dance around.

“Ah yes, Scully. I believe the words ‘just sink already’ were yelled at the screen. But I chalked it up to you being irritated by the ‘non-case case’ you worked on while in Maine. You know, on your weekend away. With Jack.” He twirled her around and pulled her back, spying the grin she was trying to hide. “You know it’s a good thing the theater was basically only us, because I think people would have taken offense to you yelling that, taking into account the history of the ship and all-”

“Mulder, shut up. Why in the world this song?” she asked, as she rested her head on his chest.

“Well, I was listening to it recently... by chance,” he stated, as she pulled back to look at him. She nodded, unconvinced, and put her head back on his chest. “It’s true, it played on that station you like, and I swear to God … ever since you were pregnant and then even more so after Faith was born, I feel so emotional about things. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” He waited and was not disappointed when she scoffed out a laugh. He smacked her ass and she yelped, digging her nails into his waist.

“The way back past, Scully, the circumstances out of our control … I never, I never thought I would be a father and not just one … in theory, so to speak,” he whispered into her hair. “We puttered around here, you and I, and we were happy, but the sadness … it was palpable at times and though we never said it, this home lacked something. William … he left us both with an emptiness that became bigger as we tried to make it smaller. Thinking of him growing up here, having a catch outside, camping out in tents, building rockets … it was a dream and something I didn’t share with you. I see now how stupid that was, I do.” He could feel her taking deep breaths and heard her sniffling, but he continued on, holding her close to him, dancing slowly, the song set on repeat.

“It’s not a … a replacement with Faith. I don’t want you to ever think that …”

“I don’t, Mulder. I understand what you’re saying. I … have those moments too. Looking at her, seeing her milestones being met and knowing how much we missed. Her calling me Mama, Mulder, I will not take that for granted even once. She can say it with love, anger, or annoyance, and I will love it every time. I wasn’t a mother to William, not the way I am to her. He is my son, our son, but … I understand.” They were quiet as they stopped dancing and simply held one another, the words of the song finding new meaning for them in the moment shared.

Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance

And spaces between us

You have come to show you go on

“He’s with us, Scully. He always will be, and one day we’ll see him again,” he whispered, and she nodded as they began to dance again. “I honestly didn’t mean to traipse down this path, but we obviously needed to discuss it. Again.” She laughed softly and nodded her head again. He sighed and was quiet, following the trail back to where he had planned to go.

“When I heard this earlier, I was remembering watching this movie after you came back from Maine. God, I had missed you so much, it was embarrassing,” he laughed and she chuckled.

“Pencils falling from the ceiling embarrassing?” she teased and he laughed.

“Exactly. So, I had suggested we cut out early, hit that head shop for you to buy a poster, for some other man I might add -”

“Of which I never sent it, if you remember correctly.”

“A moot point, at this juncture,” he replied, and she laughed again. “Anyway, I suggested we go see what all the fuss was about with this movie and you rolled your eyes, but agreed. Like I said, there were only a couple other people in the theater and I was glad of it when you yelled for it to sink.”

“Ha! That was hilarious, because I remember the other two people in there said Amen! and I didn’t feel like such an asshole. But Mulder, I just … I didn’t feel it and so, I wanted to get to the, for lack of a better word, the action part of the movie.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, and she laughed again.

“Then, God, this song was everywhere. And then oh, do you remember how it had dialogue from the movie added to the song? Mulder …” She pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. “It felt never ending at times.” He stared at her and shook his head.

“You did start an “I love Cal Hockley” fan club, didn’t you? You went into online chat rooms and discussed how he was the real victim, didn’t you?” he deadpanned, causing her to throw her head back and laugh. When she had finished, she looked into his eyes and smiled, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes, Scully, I remember your disdain for the movie, but if you would shut up, remove the preconceived thoughts from your head, and listen to the words of the song, you’ll see why I was affected by it. So I’m going to start it over, and you’re going to be quiet, you got it?”

“Or what, you’ll smack my ass again?”

“I will, but let’s save that dirty talk for later.” She laughed as he queued up the song again. “Now just shut up.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and then put her arms around him, and her head on his chest, as they began to dance slowly.

Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance

And spaces between us

You have come to show you go on

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on

Once more you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on

“That, Scully, that right there,” he whispered.

Love can touch us one time

And last for a lifetime

And never let go till we're gone

Love was when I loved you

One true time I hold to

In my life we'll always go on

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on

Once more you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on

“So much has happened, Scully, and yet here we are, together, dancing in our living room while our little girl sleeps upstairs,” he whispered into her hair.

You're here, there's nothing I fear

And I know that my heart will go on

We'll stay forever this way

You are safe in my heart and

My heart will go on and on

“I know it’s super cheesy, I know you’ll roll your eyes, but it’s true, there is nothing I fear, not when you’re here. We can face anything, we will face anything as we’re meant to, together,” he said, his chin resting on her head, as this time the music stopped and did not repeat.

“So cheesy,” she breathed and he smacked her ass again, causing her to laugh softly, and then sigh. “Mulder, you have always been a cheesy kind of guy. Your puns, whether I laughed or not, it’s part of your charm and makes you who you are. It’s one of the things I love most about you. You take things seriously, to a point, and then you bring the comic relief. Sometimes it lands and sometimes I don’t want to encourage you, so I hold the laughter inside. But..." She looked up at him and smiled. “I love your cheesiness, because I love you.” He bent his head and kissed her, before pulling her close again.

“I’m happy to hear that, Scully,” he said and she hummed. “It’s nice to know that you appreciate my silly humor.”

“To a point, Mulder,” she warned.

“Like the point of an iceberg?” he asked excitedly. “Because I think we could even get through that, Scully. Our ship wouldn’t sink and there wouldn’t be any casualties.”

“Okay, see now,” she said, pulling away and stepping back, her hands up in surrender. “That’s too far, even for you, Cheeseball.”

“What? I’m saying we’re unsinkable,” he said, with a huge smile. “Our love has anchored us and kept us from drifting off into the horizon. No more rough seas, only smooth sailing, as far as the eye can see. Scully? Where are you going?”

She did not answer, but continued across the room, a slight gagging sound heard as she began to walk up the stairs. He laughed and walked around the room, turning off the lights and locking the doors. Taking the steps two at a time, he arrived quickly at their bedroom door. Standing in the doorway, he grinned at her.

“Permission to come aboard?” he asked, and she threw a pillow at him, hitting him in the face. He laughed and stepped past it into the room, closing the door behind him. “Now about that dirty talk …” He pulled her close and she raked her nails up his chest.

“You got the green light, sailor. Full steam ahead,” she teased with a purr, and he groaned, gripping her hips tightly.

“God, I love you.”

“I know. And, Mulder, you definitely have permission to come aboard.”

“Oh, Scully …”

___________________________________________________

Song credit - My Heart Will Go On written by James Horner / Will Jennings. Sung by Celine Dion.

*Full disclosure, I was the one who totally thought, “just sink already” as I watched Titanic. I just ... it didn’t do it for me. It’s all visually stunning, but 🤷🏻. At least I didn't yell it at the screen like Scully did, so there is that at least.

Although Titanic was not my absolute favorite movie, I do love the song and I DID like when the dialogue from the movie was added to it years ago.*

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Wedding Countdown #Happy #Dancing in the living room #Puns and humor #A few more days to go...

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deadpooly · 4 years

Text

forgotten dreams and faded stars

for the @mcu-christmas-exchange

written for @padraigendragon, i combined a few of your prompts and went for an endgame fix it! i really hope i did alright and that you enjoy it!

I had this queued but it didnt post because it turns out it was in my drafts. a lot went on at home and i got preoccupied and recently remembered that i didnt post your work so here it is!! I apologize for it being late, that is on me 100%

***

When Tony snapped his fingers, he really wasn't expecting anything other than immense pain and death.

And that is exactly what he got.

He snapped and as he felt his breathing get shorter and heart slow down, he watched Peter cry over him and Rhodey give him a sad smile. He listened as Pepper told him it would be alright and he really believes her for the rest of his ending life because he loves her so much.

Then he looks past her and sees the destroyed look on Steve’s face and wishes he had a bit longer to make some things right.

Well, whatever was left to make right. In between the five years they seemed to rebuild the bridge and strengthen it because their friendship became more solid as time grew on. They still had their cold moments but every time after they forgave each other, nothing seemed so bad to keep them apart.

So Tony watched his closet family cry while he drifts away and looks Steve in the eye one more time before he sees him fall to his knees and suddenly Tony’s soul drifts from his body.

It actually felt more like he was being torn from his body. It didn't hurt, it kind of tickled actually, but it's a better analogy than drifting.

Tony Stark loved analogies. Something that he could use to help others understand something bigger. They can be simplified or stretched out and they can be calm and kind or harsh and painful to listen to. But they all get the point across.

When Tony was finally ripped from his body he was still present. He saw his corpse lying a few feet from him but he stood there and watched the scene play out before him. There was a pulling on his very soul trying to tear him from the earth but there was a deep presence of mourning and denial that continued to drag him down.

It wasn't Pepper. God he already misses her, but she had always respected his decisions regardless of how dumb they were. It wasn't his best friend who had already spent a lifetime with him. And it wasn't Peter who only had a few precious years to get to know Tony. The boy was already too familiar with loss.

It was Steve. Tony could feel his soul pulling him toward the man who broke down onto his knees and nearly started crying over a won battle.

Tony just looked at Steve and the single tear that cleaned a path down his dirty face.

He wishes he could go over there and wipe it off his face. He can't though.

He’s a ghost. And that's the easiest way he could put the situation that he is in. Stuck in a world he can't interact with.

***

The first thing Tony noticed was that his soul unconsciously followed Steve Rogers around everywhere. If Tony wanted to go somewhere else, he just couldn't. He was pretty much stuck next to Steve’s side until the man decided he was done mourning Tony Stark.

Steve would go to bed and Tony would be sitting on the floor beside the bedside hoping to fall asleep or entertain himself. Sometimes he fell asleep, other times he somehow still had nightmares.

He attended his funeral, he still doesn't actually know where his body is, but he stood by Steve’s side and luckily he could rest a hand on Peter’s shoulder as the boy cried. He saw Morgan and Pepper together and knew that they were strong and would be alright.

Tony sometimes would forget he’s actually a ghost and would accidentally talk to Steve as if he could hear him.

“Your shoes untied.” Tony snorted and then he remembered he wasn't technically among the living and would huff in annoyance. Steve however would sniff and bend over to tie his shoe as if he heard Tony.

Steve was painting in his room and the canvas was clean except for the short brushes of a light orange dabbed throughout the large frame. Tony couldn't guess what the main object was going to be so he sat on a nearby stool and watched Steve scrunch up his face as he tried to create an image with colors.

“Why are you so complicated?” Steve whispered to the canvas. His arm wasn't raised ready to brush but it was lowered in surrender and defeat. “I could never get you right.”

Tony got up off of the stool and walked over to the canvas and sighed a sad smile.

“You always over analyze, there's a bigger picture and your focusing on the small things, Steve.” Tony dragged a ghost hand over the painting and stared at Steve’s conflicted face. “It looks amazing Steve,” Tony tried to reassure Steve of his painting.

The painting was Tony holding the iron man helmet in a place that looked like an orange heaven.

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve said and Tony froze in place, but Steve still did not acknowledge his astral presence.

***

The day quickly approached where Steve had to return the stones about a week after the funeral. Tony totally forgot that there were death rocks sitting around that needed to be put back. Also, he noticed that the wait was caused by a new healthy and alive Hank Pym creating more particles. Tony watched Steve decline Sam’s help and give his goodbye to Barnes. Then while Tony was expecting to be left behind since he was not in possession of time travel equipment, the machine started and Tony was being dragged along with Steve.

***

First stop was going back to the camp in New Jersey back in the 70s Tony was pretty amused at how horrible Steve was at lying to try to get the stone back where it was, given that he actually didn't know where the tesseract was in the first place.

Tony would tell him where to go but Steve would go the exact other way because being a ghost sucks. Steve was in a hallway with a bunch of doors which lead into peoples offices. Then Steve took the stairs to a lower level and walked around until he somehow found a science-y looking lab.

Steve was walking down the hall then an office door opened and he literally ran into one Peggy Carter.

Then Tony sighed in hopeless jealousy as he watched Steve begin to panic and fluster. Shit.

“Steve?” Peggy gasped but shook her head and blinked a couple of times.

There, right there was Peggy Carter and Tony could facepalm because he suddenly knew that this task was going to get drawn out longer than it needed to.

Steve was frozen, he couldn't move. There was a tinge of red on his cheeks and his eyes told Tony a story of longing that could make his ghostly heart nearly hurt.

“Yeah Peg?” Steve replied. It was simple but coming out of Steve’s mouth like that, it sounded like it repatched a hundred moments stolen from Steve and frozen out of Peggy’s grasp.

The disbelief was written all over Peggy’s face, and the dying hope was burning off of Steve’s.

Dumbass, we need to get out of here or a timeline might get created. Tony tried to whisper into Steve’s ear. It sounds harsh but Tony just might be a little cranky that Steve is paying attention to a past jewel more than he is to Tony. Not that he could pay attention to him.

“How are you here?” she asked, getting straight to the questions and looking for answers. Typical Peggy Carter.

“Long story, time travel.” Steve said as if that would explain anything. Tony rolled his eyes. “I may need you help.” he then pulled the space stone out of his pocket with his gloved hand and held it out towards Peggy. “This is the tesseract, earlier I came here and stole it and I need to put it back.”

“You what?” Peggy asked in disbelief. “You were already here?”

“Is it May right now?”

“No, its June fifth, 1970. Howard just got back, should I get him?” Peggy took out a device that looked like an early phone but before she could do anything with it, Steve stopped her.

“No, no. I just need to know where the lab is.” Steve asked urgently, some people in lab coats walked by and Peggy dragged Steve to the side and Tony just stayed in the middle of the hallway watching Peggy and Steve interact. It was like a beautiful reunion scene in a romance movie where Tony suddenly no relation to the person he loved and all he could do was stand by and watch as the protagonist ran back to the past.

Steve was absolutely adorable when he blushed and Tony loved him so much for it.

At this point Tony just allowed himself to get dragged along with Steve’s body. He didn't listen to the conversations, because why would he? He’s dead it wouldn't really matter. He watched Steve blush and Peggy smile and he also watched the anxiety creep over Steve because he knew that this would last and he would have to leave. Nothing could stop the jealousy from flooding Tony and the mourning that clearly engulfed Steve all over again when the stone was put back and the two said their goodbyes.

The process, as Tony had predicted, was long and drawn out because of the bump in and all Tony could do was try not to listen to a private moment no matter how much he just wanted to drag Steve away.

The reality stone was fast. Quickly injected into one unsuspecting Jane Foster. Tony thought there was probably a better way to handle it rather than re-infecting one of earth's smartest scientists with a reality check. But Steve being Steve, he likes things put back the way they were.

The mind stone was quicker, Steve just stuck it in a case lying around the tower, which he broke into and actually spoke to Jarvis. But this only happened after Tony spent five minutes watching Steve mutter and disregard ideas to himself.

“Hey Jarvis?” Steve asked, his head looking up at the ceiling, Tony thought it was adorable.

“How may I assist you, Captain Rogers?” the clear voice answered. Tony smiled at the familiarity of the AI while a grin brightened Steve’s face. Tony’s heart tightened at the sight.

“I need to get this case to Tony.” Steve paused and took a breath. “But without interacting with him,” Steve paused, then decided that’s all he wanted to say.

“I have several different ways I am able to transport the case to Mr. Stark without physical contact.”

“Thanks” Steve said in reply with a single tear streaming down his face, and Tony feeling like his celestial body is thrumming with energy.

***

Time stone was as simple as a stop by the sanctum. And that was it. Before the old wizard lady stopped Steve and Tony from leaving.

“Mr. Rogers.” she said clearly catching his attention. “You may have to watch what you do, you never know who may be paying attention to your actions.” Tony froze and looked at the woman and waved and smiled when he got the slightest motion of a hand back.

“Still by your side Rogers.” Tony whispered into Steve’s ear when they started travelling to a new location.

***

All Steve did for the power stone was thrown it in its dog cage where he believes it was found, then he just left.

Tony just scoffed at him and laughed because yeah, this shit is getting old and he just wants to go home.

***

Then came the soul stone.

***

The climb up the large mountain was long, it was suffering, and it was painful. For Steve. Tony just sort of awkwardly floated knowing that wherever Steve went, Tony would also go. And he was not complaining.

They reached the top and Steve took a minute to allow his legs to slightly rest and he pulled out the soul stone holding it in his bare palm. He stared at the stone and slowly began stepping forwards until a voice called out to them.

“Steven Rogers, son of Sarah and Joseph Rogers.”

Shit.

Steve straightened and pulled his shield out immediately pocketing the stone getting ready to pounce on the speaker.

“Anthony Stark, son of Maria and Howard Stark.”

Uh what?

Tony froze and Steve’s look darkened.

“Shmidt.”

“Ah, Captain Rogers. I'm afraid you have come to return the stone.” Shmidt said.

“Why are you here. You should be dead.” Steve asked urgently. “And why did you say that name?”

“I am just stating the names of those who are present, naive Captain.” the figure floated forward and the blood red skull stood out against its black hood. “All those years ago, when I seeked power disregarding the consequences, the punishment had delivered me here to guard the stone for all the many years to come.”

Steve swallowed uncomfortably and Tony wanted to reach out and tell him to leave the stone and escape.

“Have your punishments come to catch you yet Captain?” Shmidt asked, and Steve stepped forward and punched him right through the face. Except his hand passed through what he thought would be flesh.

“Face it captain, you cannot try to finish me anymore. I am not among the living, just as your friend beside you. I know what you came here to do.” Shmidt said before he faded out and Steve was left with the stone in his palm and one Tony Stark beside him.

“I want Tony back.” Steve whispered, his grip hard on the stone before he let it drop and he closed the helmet on and disappeared to the future.

Tony felt sick and then it all went black.

***

When Steve returned to the compound, he was alone besides Bruce, Sam and Bucky waiting there for him. He walked off of the platform and dropped onto one knee. Tears gathered into his eyes and his head was bowed.

Then there was noise and Steve blocked it out as he tried to greive, then there were warm arms being wrapped around him and he froze before looking up into the warm smile being given to him.

“Tony.” Steve breathed.

“Steve.” was all Tony said before he grabbed for Steve’s hand and kissed it, then Steve launched forward and embraced Tony like someones life depended on it.

“I was with you the whole time.” Tony told him.

“I felt you. I missed you more than I thought I would.” Steve replied. “I love you Tony.”

“You know what Steve?” Tony asked with his eyes rimming with tears. “I think I love you too.”

Their hands tightened together and Tony never felt more alive in Steve’s arms.

#mcugiftexchange #mcuchristmasexchange #mcugiftexchange2019 #see queue in a minute #jade writes #stony #stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #endgame #endgame fix it

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Words Unspoken 1 / 2

Part, um... *counts on fingers* ... part seven of Secret Things. This one featuring roommates and a metric fuck-ton of mutual pining, and problems that wouldn’t even exist if these two would just say what’s in their hearts. But OF COURSE THEY WON’T. Not while sober, anyway.

Summary: Emma and Killian have been best friends for five years, roommates for three, and in love with each other since the moment they met. Their timing is awful and their communication even worse, until Killian takes a drastic step that finally forces them to talk about their feelings.

Words: 4.6k

Rating: T (for now)

On AO3

(This is a WIP from a while ago that I kinda didn’t plan to post, so not tagging anyone. But there will be a chapter two, so give me a shout if you’d like a tag for that.)

Chapter One:

Emma stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, heading half-blindly in the direction of the coffeemaker. She grunted when she collided with a tall figure who was already there, pouring herself a cup. Emma winced as she spat long, curly hair out of her mouth and tried to focus her sleepy eyes.

“Ugh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Milah gave her a tight smile. “Killian and I were at Antonio’s last night, and we had a bit too much to drink. Here is closer than my place.”

“Makes sense.” Emma scooted around the taller woman to get to the cupboard, pulling out her coffee cup and filling it as Milah watched. Wordlessly, she handed Emma the milk.

“Um. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Milah stepped back and gave her an assessing once-over. Emma tried not to squirm, tried not to think about the tangled mess of her hair or what her face must look like. She hadn’t bothered to wash her makeup off last night, had barely even got her contacts out before she fell asleep. Raccoon eyes surrounded by thick-rimmed glasses was probably not a great look. Milah on the other hand looked fantastic, cool and elegant, her curly hair perfectly tamed despite the early hour. Emma wondered snarkily if she’d be able to pull that off by the time she was Milah’s age.

“Late night?” Milah asked.

“Just work.” Emma sipped her coffee, wishing the woman would just go back to Killian’s room and leave her in peace.

Or as much peace as she could hope for when she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what Milah and Killian were doing behind his door. At least when they went to Milah’s she could put it out of her mind.

Well, almost out.

“Mmm,” said Milah as the kitchen door opened and Killian appeared. He also had messy hair and tired eyes but on him they looked good, rumpled and sexy. He was so goddamn unfair, thought Emma, determinedly looking away from him, missing the way Killian leaned in to kiss his girlfriend before spotting his roommate, the way his lips deviated at the last minute to land on Milah’s cheek instead of her lips. Missed the flash of irritation in Milah’s eyes.

“Morning, Swan.” Killian sauntered across the small room and leaned past her to get his coffee mug. His smile was soft and his eyes warm but Emma saw neither, keeping her gaze firmly on her coffee. “Late night?”

“Et tu, Jones?” Emma muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I’m gonna go drink this in my room.”

“Wait, Swan,” he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Emma forced herself to breathe normally. “Don’t you want any breakfast?”

“No.”

“You need to eat something, love.” His voice was so soft, so affectionate.

She hated affectionate.

“I’ll have a Pop-Tart later.”

“Something with some actual nutritional value,” he teased, his fingers moving gently on her arm.

“Killian, leave her alone,” Milah snapped. “She’s a grown woman, she can eat what she likes.”

This really should be a supportive, stand-up-for-the-sisterhood kind of moment, thought Emma, but instead she just felt judged. Let her eat what she likes, she’s a lost cause. Milah’s face was blank, her pale eyes hard. No sisterhood there.

Emma forced a smile. “I’m fine, really. Not hungry. I’ll have some lunch later, and I promise it’ll include something green,” she said, before Killian could interrupt.

“All right, then,” he said with a grin, removing his hand so she could make her escape.

An hour later Emma was functionally caffeinated and her face washed clean, and she was definitely not standing with her ear pressed to her bedroom door listening for the sound of Killian and Milah leaving the apartment.

Okay, she was. But she’d had a hell of a rough night; her skip had been hard to locate and even harder to take down, and all she wanted was to spend the day vegging on the sofa and watching soothing television. Something she absolutely could not do with Milah in the apartment being put-together and disdainful all over the place. Emma knew she was a bit of a mess and had no problem with that aspect of herself, but she hated being judged for it. Especially by Killian’s wealthy-divorcée girlfriend who’d never had to work to make ends meet.

She heard the sound of their voices, heard the front door open and close, then silence. She gave it another minute then ventured tentatively into the living room, surprised to find Killian there on the sofa wearing his pajamas and a brooding expression. He looked up when he heard her approach and a bright smile broke across his face.

“Hey, Swan.”

“Hey. Did Milah leave?”

“Yeah, she had a pedicure or something. You want to watch some Bake-Off?”

“Very much.”

Killian patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, then. Let’s waste the day away with mindless television.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Maybe a little. Though definitely not for green things.”

He smirked. “Go get yourself a bloody Pop-Tart, I’ll get the show ready.”

When she returned from the kitchen he had the show queued up and a blanket ready to tuck around her feet when she curled them under herself and snuggled against his side. He slung his arm along the top of the sofa, his fingertips brushing the sleeve of her shirt as she let her head fall against his shoulder, nibbling her Pop-Tart and relaxing into contentment.

As they watched mild drama unfold within the pastel tent Emma let herself pretend, just for a moment, that they were together —really together— and that this was their life. Spending a lazy Saturday afternoon watching TV, after which she would allow him to cook her something healthy and they would eat it at the kitchen table like real adults and then they would go to bed. Together. She sighed. She wanted all of that, so damned much.

Killian turned his head, his lips just brushing her hair. “All right, love?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she replied, pretending. “I’m fine.”

They watched three episodes, then Killian hit ‘pause.’

“I should probably go get ready,” he said. “I’m meeting Milah for dinner.”

“Okay.” Emma tried to keep her voice neutral as his words punctured her lovely fantasy bubble. It never did last long, that bubble.

He frowned at her, something odd and sharply assessing in his eyes. “I can cancel,” he offered. “Stay here—”

“No! You have a date! Go! I’ll probably call Mary Margaret and Ruby, see what they’re up to tonight.”

“Okay, well if you’re sure.”

“Definitely.” She gave him a bright smile. “Go.”

She put on Four Weddings and a Funeral and refused to feel sorry for herself, even when Killian left the apartment an hour later looking heartbreakingly gorgeous. She’d take her cue from Kristin Scott Thomas’s Fiona, thought Emma firmly. If Fiona could spend years in unrequited love with her best friend and still be fabulous, then so could she.

So could she.

“So how was your day?” Milah asked as they sat down at a cosy table in her favourite restaurant. A waiter poured them champagne without being asked; Milah was well known here.

“Oh, fine. Nothing special, I just spent the afternoon with Emma. We watched some TV, talked a bit.” Killian smiled as he recalled it, the pure peace and comfort of sitting on the sofa with Emma pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickling his chin.

Milah set her glass down with deliberate control and laid her hands flat on the crisp white tablecloth. Her lips pressed into a firm line. Her nostrils flared.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

Killian frowned. “Can’t do what, love?”

“This.” She gestured between them. “I can’t keep dating a man who is so fucking obviously in love with someone else.”

“What? Who?” What had he done, Killian wondered. Milah never swore unless she was truly furious. What had he done, or said, to set her off?

She gave him a look so dirty he immediately wanted a shower. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He racked his brains. “Do you mean Emma?”

“Who the bloody hell else would I mean?”

“But Emma and I are just—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say ‘just friends,’” she hissed. “I’m not an idiot, Killian, and I’m not blind, though apparently you are both those things if you’re really unaware how you feel about her.”

Guilt stabbed at Killian. He’d tried so hard with Milah. “I—”

“No, don’t say anything,” she interrupted, making a sharp gesture with her hand. “I should never have let things go on this long, but I really liked you and I hoped if I tried hard enough to be what you needed you might forget her. But you never will. And I can’t keep being the second choice for my own boyfriend.”

“Milah, please.” Killian took her hand. “You know how much I care for you—”

“Yes I do. Exactly how much.”

“—and there’s nothing between Emma and me. Surely you know that as well.”

“I do. I know you would never cheat. But you want to, and that might be worse. Killian, you should see the way you act when she’s around. You want her so much you can’t even hide it. You take every opportunity to touch her and the way you look at her…”

“Does she know?” He winced the moment he spoke the words, but it was too late to take them back.

Milah looked stricken, just for a moment, then she closed her eyes on a sigh. “Well, that’s pretty definitive,” she said quietly.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “You can’t choose who you love. None of us can.” She threw her napkin on the table and stood. “Goodbye, Killian.” She moved to go, then stopped, turning back. “Oh, to answer your question, no. She doesn’t know. She’s as much of a blind idiot as you are. You two fucking deserve each other.”

When Killian got home Emma was still curled on the sofa, a pastel tent on the television screen and an empty carton of ice cream on the coffee table. He kicked off his boots and sat down next to her.

“Are you watching Bake-Off without me?” he asked.

“We’ve seen this one already.”

“Oh yeah.”

She frowned at him. “What are you doing home, anyway? I figured you’d stay at Milah’s.”

He looked at her, at her eyes obscured behind thick-rimmed glasses, her hair in a messy ponytail. He could count the freckles on her nose and she had a trace of chocolate from her ice cream on the corners of her mouth.

She was so beautiful, he thought helplessly. And Milah was right. He was in love with her.

He knew he was, of course, he’d known it for years. But knowing was not the same as admitting. Admitting he loved Emma meant admitting that he’d spent years pining for things he could never have. It meant admitting that he’d fucked everything up, that he’d missed his chance when she finally broke up with Neal. Not wishing to be her rebound guy he’d waited… too long, as it turned out, and Emma had found her rebound guy in Graham instead. A rebound that had lasted more than a year, while Killian drowned his regret and jealousy in rum and a series of relationships that burned with intensity then fizzled once the initial attraction had passed. None of the women he dated could stand up to Emma, something he always knew and they soon discovered.

Worst of all, admitting he loved her meant admitting that if he ever hoped to have something real —marriage, kids, a lifetime with someone who loved him back— he was going to have to let her go.

He couldn’t have Emma and he couldn’t commit to anyone else while she was still in his heart. And that was the true root of his denial, the awful, heartbreaking choice that admitting his feelings would force him to face: accept that he’d always be alone or somehow get over the woman he’d loved for years.

Her frown deepened, and he realised he was staring.

“Are you all right, Killian?” she asked.

He forced a smile. “Fine, Swan.”

He could tell her Milah had broken up with him. She would be sympathetic, would curl supportively against his side and try to comfort him. He would put his arm around her, and she wouldn’t pull away. They would stay that way the rest of the evening, curled around each other watching soothing television then maybe a movie, and he would have to pretend he didn’t feel every brush of her skin against his in his very core. Pretend he didn’t spend every minute in her presence wanting to bury his hands in her hair and kiss her with every ounce of the passion he’d been suppressing for the past five years. Pretend.

And he couldn’t. Not tonight.

“I think I’ll go to bed,” he said, standing. She caught his hand, the simple touch sending a jolt of feeling straight through him. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing to remain steady.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” she asked. Her expression was concerned, fond. He hated fond. But she was his best friend, and his feelings weren’t her fault. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry.

He smiled, as reassuringly as he could, and squeezed her hand. “Milah and I had a bit of a disagreement,” he said. “But it’ll be okay. I’m just tired. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Don’t watch any episodes I haven’t seen,” he warned her.

She grinned. “Would I?”

He wanted to kiss that grin right off her face. Instead he smirked at her as he knew she wanted him to, and gave her hand a final squeeze before heading to his bedroom.

He pulled off his clothes and left them on the floor, uncharacteristically for him, but he couldn’t be bothered to hang them up, or to put on pajamas. He fell into his bed, pressed his face deep into his pillow and tried to imagine his life without Emma. Without the cereal bowls she left in the sink and the empty packets of hot chocolate mix on the counter. Her long hair clogged all the drains and she never put the DVDs back in their proper cases. She was always putting her feet on his coffee table and he knew she used his shampoo when she ran out of her own. She should annoy the fuck out of him; instead his chest squeezed painfully at the thought of never being annoyed by her again.

He pulled the pillow to his chest and wrapped his arms around it. The thought of leaving her was almost more than he could bear, but he knew there wasn’t really any other choice. He had to give himself a chance. They could still be friends, he could still be there when she needed him, but he knew that for his own sake he couldn’t live with her any longer.

It took a surprisingly short time to find a new place to live. The week after Killian made his decision Belle announced that she was going on sabbatical, back to Australia and do some research for her book and spend time with her family. She would be gone at least six months and needed to sublet her apartment, she said, and did he happen to know anyone who might be interested? She looked surprised when he quickly volunteered to take it himself but didn’t question him, not even when she handed him the keys and he had to press his fingers against his eyes to stop the tears.

Emma had just slid some pizzas in the oven when Killian came home, looking tired and preoccupied as he had all week. Something was very obviously bothering him, but what worried her was that he wasn’t talking to her about it. He always told her everything, all the gory details of his life. Even things she’d rather not know. Like what was going on with his girlfriends.

He’d always had girlfriends, for as long as she’d known him. A serial monogamist, she thought, that’s what he was. A soft-hearted romantic —though he’d never admit it— always looking for ‘the one.’ His relationships never lasted long, a few weeks, maybe a month or two before the breakup. But it was never serious, and Killian never truly got hurt. He would come home and collapse dramatically on the sofa, pour his heart out to her, mope for a day or two, and then move on.

He’d been with Milah for six months, almost seven now. Far longer than any of the others, and the jealousy that clawed at Emma’s belly whenever she thought about the women Killian dated was beginning to get vicious. He seemed to be putting actual effort into making things work this time. What if Milah really was the one? What if Killian fell in love for real, and she lost him forever? Her chest tightened at the thought.

“Hey,” she said. “I just put some pizzas in, if you’re hungry.”

He didn’t smile. “Thanks, love, perhaps later. Can we talk?”

Emma’s heart lodged in her throat as she nodded. “Sure.”

Killian looked at a spot just over her left shoulder. “I don’t really know how to say this,” he muttered.

Fear was curling in her gut now, drowning the jealousy. “Say what?” she whispered.

Killian took a deep breath. “I’m moving out,” he said.

The fear slashed at her and turned to despair. This was it, then. He was moving in with Milah. He was leaving. They all left.

She nodded, concentrating on staying upright, on not collapsing to the floor and sobbing out her broken heart. “When?”

“Next week. I’ll keep paying the rent here until you can find a new roommate, but that shouldn’t take long. It’s a nice apartment.”

“Yeah.”

The oven timer began to buzz and Emma blindly opened the door, forgetting to put on an oven glove before she grabbed the pizza tray.

“Fuck!” she yelled, yanking her hand back.

Killian was at her side in an instant, taking her hand gently in his. He grabbed a paper towel and ran it under cold water before wrapping it around her burn, tucking the edges in to secure it.

“All right, love?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

She swallowed past the ache in her chest. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about her hand.

“Don’t be. It’s fine. Like you said, it won’t take long to find a new roommate. Actually I think Ruby might be looking for a new place.”

“That’s good, then. Shall I get these pizzas out?”

Emma shook her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of food. All she wanted was escape, solitude. “I’m not hungry.”

“Nor I. I’ll wrap them up, shall I, and maybe we can eat them later.”

“Yeah, maybe. I— I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Aye, love. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

Goodbye.

The weeks after Killian moved out were a blur to Emma. Ruby eagerly accepted his room, glad for a change after her ugly breakup with Victor, but Emma barely saw her. She spent every minute she could manage at work, volunteering to take the toughest skips, spending hours on stakeouts or days chasing them across state lines, driving herself to exhaustion until she could sleep dreamlessly through the night. Anything to keep her out of the apartment that felt empty and wrong without Killian in it. Anything to keep images of him living happily with Milah out of her mind.

He texted her, of course, and she replied, pretending everything was all right. She’d gotten good at pretending. He asked if he could see her and she told him truthfully that she was busy.

Weeks turned to months and still she drove herself relentlessly, waiting for the numbness to set in, for the heartbreak to begin to heal. As it had after Neal. After Graham. When it didn’t she couldn’t help wondering why, wondering if it could be possible that her heart had only been cracked before. If after everything she’d been through, in the end only Killian actually had the power to break her.

Then one night David finally refused to accept her weak excuses any longer and strong-armed her into coming to the bar with him. To celebrate, he said, after she’d dragged in a skip they’d been after for more than a year.

“Come on, Emma, I’ve barely seen you lately,” he pleaded. “Between you and Killian I feel like I’ve lost both my best friends.”

“You haven’t seen Killian either?” Her voice sounded unnaturally high to her ears.

“Nope. Since he moved out of your place he’s pretty much been MIA.”

“Nesting.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut to drive the images from her brain.

“What?”

“He’s—” she cleared her throat. “He’s probably nesting. With Milah.”

David’s frown was confused. “With Milah?”

“Yeah, you know.” She attempted a casual shrug. “When people first move in together they tend to stay in. Nesting.”

“Emma, you do know Killian and Milah broke up, right?”

“Wha— no, I didn’t know that!”

“Yeah.” David nodded, still frowning. “Months ago, right around the time he moved. He really didn’t tell you? I thought he told you everything.”

“So did I.”

David pushed open the door to the bar and his frown darkened. “Speak of the devil,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of a familiar dark-haired figure, slumped at the bar with a half-empty bottle of rum at his elbow, misery in every line of his body.

Emma felt her heart clench. He must still be mourning his breakup, she thought, even months after it happened. Milah must have been really important to him. David went to talk to Killian but she hung back, watching as the two men had a fierce, hissed argument ending with Killian elbowing David aside and staggering out the door.

As much as Emma really didn’t want to hear about his heartbreak over Milah, she couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain. Couldn’t bear to think how he must have been suffering all these months, alone while she worked herself into the ground to avoid him for her own selfish reasons. Guilt and worry churned in her gut as she turned and ran out the door, hoping to catch Killian before he found a cab.

She found him outside, leaning against the wall of the bar, but before she could think of what to say he pushed himself away from it and took a stumbling step down the sidewalk. She darted forward and caught him before he could fall. He caught his breath sharply and looked down at her, trying to focus his hazy attention.

“Swan,” he murmured. “Are you real this time?”

“I— what?”

He shook his head. “Just another dream. Must be.” His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her hard against him. “Good dream,” he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear him, tucking his face into her neck and breathing deeply.

“Killian, what— what are you doing?”

“You smell so bloody good,” he whispered. “Have I ever told you that?”

Having him so close after so long was making her lightheaded. “N— no.”

“I should have. I should have told you that, and so much else. Gods, love, I— I—”

“You what?”

“I miss you.” He breathed the words into her hair, his hand a tight fist in the back of her jacket. “I miss the way you smell and your hair in the sink and those bloody rank Pop Tarts you insist on eating. I miss it all so goddamned much.”

“Then why did you leave?” She choked. “David said you broke up with Milah months ago, so why—”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“I had to give myself a chance to get over you.”

“Get over me?” When were you under me? she wanted to say, but now didn’t seem like the best time to quote Friends. Killian was leaning heavily on her, his eyelids drooping, and she could see he was close to passing out.

“Come on,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Let’s go ho— Let’s go to my place.”

“Mmmmm,” he agreed, and let her steer him down the block and up the steps and through the door of their old apartment, holding him steady as they removed their shoes. Ruby’s bedroom door was tightly shut, her laundry piled high on the sofa. Emma figured she should just push it off and let Killian sleep there, but sometime during the walk home his hand had found its way beneath the hem of her sweater and the drag of his rough fingertips against her skin was making her shiver and ache, and he was murmuring into her hair again, words that sounded like gods so bloody soft and all she wanted was to fall asleep in his arms just once. Just for one night. Then tomorrow she would wake up early, nurse his hangover and send him home none the wiser. And she would hold the memories of that night close and secret in her heart and never yearn again.

She hated yearning.

She guided him through the living room and past the sofa, into her bedroom where he stood patiently, watching her with bleary eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off him together with his jacket. Her hands hovered at the waistband of his jeans for a moment, then quickly unbuttoned them and slid down the zipper, pushing them down until they pooled around his feet.

Go for broke, Emma.

She pulled off her jacket and sweater and shimmied out of her own jeans as he clumsily stepped out of his and kicked them away. Emma pulled her bra out from under her tank top then turned to look at him, swaying on his feet and fighting to keep his eyes open, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs enhanced by a sizeable bulge she knew he was too drunk to use.

“Emma,” he slurred, swaying towards her. She braced just in time to catch him and guide his fall onto the bed but he grabbed her waist as he went down, dragging her along with him, groaning a bit when she landed on his chest but quickly wrapping both arms around her. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she said, “But the blankets—”

“Don’t. Miss you.”

“You said that already.” He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open much longer, she thought. He’d soon be asleep and she could—”

“Love you.”

“What? Killian, what did you say?”

But his only response was a soft snore. Emma stared at him, her mind and heart racing. He’s drunk, she reminded herself. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. She tried to wriggle away from him to grab the blanket but he made an incoherent noise of protest and tightened his hold, pressing his face into her hair. Sighing, she stretched out her leg and caught the blanket with her foot, slowly easing it up and over them. Then she snuggled against him, rubbed her cheek against his chest and let herself pretend that this was real.

Fuck it, she thought. It’s just a one-time thing.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #modern au #roommates au #friends to lovers #angst #mutual pining #an actual metric fuck-ton of it #secret things #profdanglaisstuff #words unspoken

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dat-town · 4 years

Text

CODE Z3RO | CODE 13

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: i guess a lot of depressive thoughts summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4k tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms

➼ Chapter Index

Death.

Such a simple, trivial and lifeless word. And yet, it could bring empires to their knees. Finality had always scared human kind because it was something they couldn’t control, something out of their supervision. People managed to conquer nature, fight against wild animals, they could have diminished entire continents with the snap of their fingers but nobody had won over death before. Egyptian pharaohs had already intended to grant a fruitful afterlife to themselves as they built those huge monuments for themselves, piling gold over gold but it wasn’t a unique trait. Humans tended to wish to control as much as they could regarding their mortality: depending on their religion and beliefs they either wanted to ensure their afterlife or make sure to leave their trace on Earth. Nobody really wished to disappear without anything left behind. Be that fame, the knowledge or the love somebody held for them. But wasn’t loving the cruellest and most painful things to do after all? Because loving meant baring yourself to the possibility of losing something precious, something that leaves you hollow afterwards.

Jungkook remembered when he had encountered death for the first time. It had been almost fifteen years ago, near the hospital bed of his grandmother and he still felt his heart racing uncomfortable whenever he had smelled that typical clinic scent or saw those machines and canullas attached to people. He hated hospitals, he was sick just to the mentions of them, he felt like throwing up only by seeing the hospital bills pile up on his mother’s desk. The treatment had cost way too much for a mere secretary but in her desperate need, she hadn’t cared. But there she had been after: jobless and grieving with three children to feed and a huge debt weighing down on her shoulder. In his worst moments, Jungkook had often called his mother out on being so irresponsible to get them into this spiral downwards from which there was no way out because blaming her had been the easiest when things had been hard on him. He couldn’t have played around or had fun like kids his age. He had been working since he was fourteen, so he could contribute to the family budget. His mother had done everything she could to provide them what they needed but from such a small pay it wasn’t easy at all. Little Jungkook had been bullied for being poor, so growing up Jungkook swore he would have never let anyone look down on him once again. He had spent his afternoons in his middle school’s library to learn programming by himself and he had studied hard to get into a university because he had known how much information technicians earned with the right degrees. But now, he kind of wished he hadn’t been so ambitious, then this guilt wouldn’t have been eating him up like this.

Because death had never been the hardest on the deceased but on those who were left behind.

Yerim had lost a lot already despite being only eighteen. She had cried over dead pets, lost friendships, heartbreaks and now, she had lost her brother as well. Seeing another candidate die right in front of her eyes thanks to the artificial city’s ruthlessness seemed like nothing after that. It was almost as if she had become numb to process that. All she knew that it was not a game nor coincidence. They were going to die there in that terrifyingly beautiful town with a technology smarter than mankind. So once the hallucation fog cleared, she shakily pulled away from Jungkook’s shielding embrace and took a step back. She averted her eyes, so she wouldn’t see the hurt expression on the boy’s face. Because in that moment, it might have been him who needed support.

“Are we really safe here?” Yerim asked with trembling lips, turning towards the other two. Seulgi stood just behind the IT guy who quickly took a seat behind one of the dozens buzzing computers in the room and tried to hack himself into it just like he had done it in the hospital. This one had better security system, so he knew it was going to take a while.

“As safe as we can be. This is the last zone but we still need to stop the simulation or what the hell this is,” the guy murmured as his fingers ran as fast as lightning over the keyboard. Yerim understood nothing of the words written in white over the screen of black. At first look, they looked like English but despite her good language skills, she didn’t get any of it. But Yoongi seemed to know what he was doing and that made her feel hopeful. They had gotten here after all. At what price though?

“Jungkook, can you check the cables of those servers? We need to know the physical network connections as well because if there’s a hub, it might–”

“Be enough to shut it down,” the engineer boy finished his sentence right away, understanding what he intended to do and he got to work, walking behind those black boxes with tiny bright dots.

Just standing there, Yerim suddenly felt as useless as ever. Maybe Taehyung had been right: what was a journalist doing there in the first place? She couldn’t even help the others. She only survived so far thanks to others’ sacrifice. It would have been much better if Seokjin stayed alive instead of her. He could have helped. Like he always had done.

She was surprised when a gentle hand touched her shoulder and she looked up at the always doe-eyed Seulgi dumbfounded, not knowing what to do or what to say to the other girl. They had never talked before, at least not really if they didn’t count the time in the hospital when she had found her alone. Seulgi looked like a deer caught in headlights then but now there was something else in her eyes something akin to determination, a fire that couldn’t have been easily put out. It might have been fueled by desperation or anger, maybe both.

“You’re studying journalism, right?” The architecture girl asked her quietly and there was no mocking in her voice like it had been the case with the annoying Marketing guy. So Yerim didn’t felt ashamed of herself because of her major.

“I do, but… why does it matter?” she crooked a brow at the weird kind of question in such situation but it started to make sense as Seulgi kept going.

“If we get out… or at least you do, you should make sure that everybody knows about what happened here because we can’t let it happen again,” she shook her head and nibbling her lower lips she looked very confident in her statement. Opposite of how hopeful and uncertain that little if sounded, the rest was different. It was a side of Seulgi none of them had seemed before. She was like a girl who had had enough of letting others die around her and Yerim could resonate to that sentiment. It was the least they could have done, trying to save other innocent souls. So she didn’t even hesitate before she nodded firmly.

“Okay,” she murmured, hands in fists, already ready to post about it online, watching it go viral while penning dozens journals until one of them published their story. Their rival-like teammates who had all come for the same goal deserved at least that much. Hoseok’s girlfriend also deserved to know that he had missed her the most, or the Kim parents should have known that their son had saved them all with his sacrifice. People should have learnt not to trust a machine unconditionally because whether it be an error in the system or somebody’s doing in the back, an AI felt no remorse and knew no loyalty.

“Fuck,” Yoongi cursed suddenly and both girls turned their heads towards the IT guy sitting behind the computer screen. But the screen looked different this time, there were not only code lines there but lots of decrypted data as well.

“What? What did you find?” Yerim rushed to his side analysing what she saw from up-close. There were numbers and something that looked like a task manager on the black screen. It didn’t mean anything to her though, so she looked at Yoongi for help.

“I know why the city was killing us all. This is not a hacked simulation program,” he shook his head, lips almost bloodily chapped from the way he bit into them while breaking through the security system. His pupils were wide and scared, this was the first time the youngest member of this freaking experiment had ever seen him like this, so her throat closed up when he opened his mouth to elaborate. “The AI, the heart of this freaking city, is on its way to self-destruction.”

Yerim sucked in a breath understanding every word but not being able to process their meaning. Yoongi pointed to the progress bar on the screen saying how much time they had and above it, there was a list of all the sectors within Choego and the cursor flickering next to the number 24.

SECTOR 22 SHUT DOWN

SECTOR 23 SHUT DOWN

SECTOR 24 QUEUED

Execution 92% – 32 minutes left until total shut down

All three of them stared at the computer fearing the numbers would change because countdown was once again their lifeline, too.

“Self-destruction? But… why? The researchers wouldn’t have… they all died too, so who did it?” Seulgi spoke up, confused, voicing out all of their concerns.

Nobody knew how it happened and it was easy to make themselves believe it was just an error. Something had gone wrong and the security of Choego had started to act off. But this was different, this was something they couldn’t blame on the artificial intelligence only. A computer didn’t have free will, so there was somebody behind it. Somebody who wanted none of them to survive the night. If his plan worked out, all of them would have died about 18 hours before when the whole chaos had erupted. If Yerim had slept throughout the night, would have anyone noticed their approaching end? Maybe she had saved them then but only for a short while. But could it have been called such a righteous act even if they had ended up dying all sort of terrible deaths in the end instead of not waking up from their beds?

“It could have been only done from the inside. From this exact room to be precise because the program only let me in through IP address identification,” Yoongi explained which made the girls gulp in nervousness. That could have only meant one thing, they both knew: it could have only been an employee, one with permission to enter here.

“But everyone whom we met seemed so enthusiastic about Choego. Even if it was a revenge of some sort, why would anyone use such a brutal method?” Yerim gasped but none of them had an answer for that. There was no explanation to human savageness.

“I found it!” Jungkook hollered all of a sudden from behind the rack of computers, so they all three looked his way. “There’s only one connector to all, so I will–”

“Stop! Don’t touch it!” Yoongi yelled in panicked voice as if that single flick could have killed them all. But what couldn’t here for real?

Jungkook walked out from the cover of the shelves and stared at the other guy confused. Yoongi understood the sentiment because his earlier request could have been misleading. He didn’t want to force the computers to shut down just like that, at least not yet.

“Why?”

“Is it because of what happened when Namjoon managed to break into the researchers’ base? That the countdown quickened?” Seulgi asked in a small voice, uncertain as her caramel eyes were looking from one guy to another. The younger firmly shook his head to her question.

“But that was because the alarm system itself noticed the malfunction. But this is the main computer for god’s sake. Everything will shut down, that freaking killing program as well,” he argued and slight anger and hopelessness were mirrored in his eyes as he looked dead in Yoongi’s eyes.

“That’s right. Everything. That means no heating, no electricity, no water, nothing here if we’re lucky. But if we are not, then maybe those invisible killing walls around the sectors stay or there could be a backup generator somewhere that takes the place of the main computer. And knowing this freaking city, there must be not one but more, like the Internet: it’s a network where any hub can replace the other if done right.”

“Then why the hell did I need to check it if you had no plan on yanking it out of the wall?” the younger boy huffed out, disappointed but finally understanding why it would have been a risky decision to cut the electricity just in here. The backup must have been kept elsewhere and they would have never made it there in time.

“Because if my idea doesn’t work out, we need to leave our fate in the hands of goodwill and luck,” the IT specialist said dryly and as if on cue, two new lines appeared on the computer screen. Lines that contained their death sentence.

SECTOR 24 IN PROGRESS

Execution 94% – 24 minutes left until total shut down

Yoongi didn’t believe in life after death. He was a man of analytical thinking, therefore there was no heaven and hell according to him. It they were, Choego would have been hell for sure. He didn’t condemn those whose religion taught about Heaven or Valhalla, at least they had something to believe in, something that was waiting for them. Whether it really existed or not, in the moment of the end, it didn’t matter. But Yoongi didn’t fear death because he believed it would be the inevitable death from which there was no way back. He feared dying without being able to say goodbye or to kiss his mother’s cheek and tell her he loved her.

But in this moment, it was now or never. They were on their own, nobody could have helped them. Even the main computer was separated from Korea’s 3G and 4G networks, he couldn’t connect to any, so if they failed, they would have left without being able to tell anyone. Without anyone knowing about the struggles they had gone through in order to survive. People just over the other side of that bridge and all around the world had no idea what was going on with them: they had dinners usually, went to work like they always did and maybe not even their loved ones were worried because it hadn’t even passed a day since they last contacted them. And that, their death going unnoticed scared Yoongi the most.

“I found a hidden file. It has randomly serialized names changing every other second, so I almost missed it but it seems to be a key,” he spoke up as he typed something on a different computer than the one with the countdown.

“A key to what?” Seulgi whispered, voice strained with desperate hopefulness.

“To stop this program,” Yoongi answered as he hit Enter.

The computer beeped, then small dots appeared on the black background. Sixteen dots and then suddenly a text:

Face recognition done

“Hello, Min Yoongi, it has been a while. What can I help you with?” the lovely woman voice greeted him through the speakers and her too sweet, too artificial voice sent shivers down all of their spines. Oh, of course their last chat was stored in the central memory, Yoongi thought to himself while the others exchanged glances, not quite getting the friendly chit-chat.

“Hello,” the IT guy greeted the computer back coldly and went straight to the point. There was no use being sentimental with a software. “I want to stop the currently running program. How can I do that?”

“There are currently 486 programs running. Which one did you mean? Do you need me listing them all?” The AI’s nice voice echoed in the whole room, rebounding from all that metal and it even suppressed the constant low buzzing sound.

“No, I… I’m talking about the program that shuts down the sectors one by one.”

There was a pause, a deafening silence while the computer searched through its task manager to find the one. They were all waiting with their breaths held back.

“Do you mean Code Zero? It has been running for 1059 minutes, only 21 minutes left. Are you sure you want to stop it?”

“Yes!” Yoongi almost screamed at her, the words Code Zero tasting like metal in his mouth. So that was it. That was the source of it, the reason for this chaos. However, it wasn’t as easy to get rid of as he had thought so. Gosh, he was so naive to think, finding it was the hardest part.

“Permission denied,” the computer recited and he felt like a sulky child protesting:

“But I have the key.”

“Do you have the password?”

“Fuck,” he slapped on the desk frustrated that made the girls jump in surprise.

“Incorrect password. Please try again,” the voice told him ever so lovely, so he gave it another weak try:

“Choego.”

“Incorrect password. Please try again. You have three more tries.”

Oh, damn, so they even had a limit? The guy sucked in a breath, suddenly not knowing how to get that freaking password in time or how to get it right within three tries.

“Is there a way to retrieve the password?” Jungkook interrupted the conversation, even though he didn’t sit across a camera, the computer could tell the question didn’t come from Yoongi.

Voice recognition done

“Hello, Jeon Jungkook.” The AI greeted him as well and out of all the things that had happened to them, it was the least bizzare one. “Yes. You have to answer a question.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Yoongi let out a frustrated sigh and the robotic answer felt like a slap.

“Because you didn’t ask.”

Of course. A computer only does what it’s told.

“What’s the question we need to answer?” He asked then forcing himself not to get impatient even with the counter going down to 17 minutes since.

“You sit in a car. You are driving. You go with normal speed. Suddenly Person A runs onto the street right in front of you. Person A crosses the street with no pedestrian crossing and it’s too late to stop and avoid the crash. If you slow down as much as you could, Person A’s survival odds are 30%, your survival odds are 97%. If you turn towards the opposite lane, another car might come, so Person A’s survival odds are 80%, your survival odds are 50% depending on the type of cars involved. If you turn towards the sidewalk, you might hit another person and run into a wall. Person A’s survival odds are 70%, Person B’s survival odds are 35%, your survival odds are 70%. Would you hit the jaywalker?”

Once the robotic voice stopped, silence embraced the four of them. It sounded like a riddle. So their answer would have been the actual key? Yoongi looked up and exchange glances with the others. They all shook their heads, it was an unanimous decision.

“No,” he said out loud, heart throbbing in his throat as they were waiting for the system’s next step.

“I see. And taken you sit in a smart car that chooses to hit the jaywalker, would you feel guilty as if it was your own fault? Even if a truck crosses the other lane and a child runs on the sidewalk?”

“Yes, I would feel guilty,” Yoongi replied without hesitation.

The end does not justify the means, he believed.

“Here’s your answer, Min Yoongi.” The AI told him almost as if she was saying goodbye and the screen on the other monitor changed as well.

Execution 97% – 12 minutes left until total shut down

Command reset in progress. This might take a few minutes.

SECTOR 24 ON HOLD

Execution calculating…

A collective sigh was torn from the mere university students’ throats equally. The computer buzzing got stronger with each second but this time, Yoongi had a good hunch about it.

“And now?” Yerim spoke up, voice small and unsure. There was only one thing they could have done.

“Now we wait.”

Seulgi’s legs gave out in relief. She sank down to the floor, knees stretched from earlier but even the pain felt reassuring this time. They were going to live. They were going to get out. She felt it in her veins. It was finally the end of this manslaughter. She sat there, quiet, while Jungkook monitored the screen and Yerim scribbled something onto a piece of paper. She was trembling, sitting on the cold metal but didn’t even notice it up until Yoongi lowered himself down next to her. He stared ahead of himself, still breathing heavily and from the way his fingers twitched, Seulgi could tell how big of a pressure the boy faced. He saved them, he saved everyone he could and suddenly she wanted to tell him, to thank him, to take his hands and tell him that it was alright. But she didn’t find the right words and she couldn’t move. It was Yoongi who first broke the silence.

“What did you see?” he whispered and he didn’t need to elaborate, Seulgi knew immediately what he meant by it. She still remembered his whispered words of reassurance and gentle hands on her skin as he had brought her back to reality. Even sitting with shoulder to shoulder, suddenly she missed his closeness.

“My mother… telling me I could have saved them,” she croaked out in a broken voice. She should have but Namjoon might as well have been right about it, that she had been the one who led them into death. Even her silence had caused the end of some. So in a way she wasn’t better than the killing machine. However, the biggest difference was that she had regretted it, she was able to feel guilt. A program didn’t.

“Mine told me I am cruel,” Yoongi whispered and even though Seulgi didn’t agree with him being cruel, the boy didn’t seem like wanting to explain, so she didn’t ask him to. They all had their own little secrets. Their own cross to carry.

The lights flickered above them and the buzzing quieted down. A big red lettered message appeared on each screen in the room.

Self-destruction mode deactivated. You have 60 minutes to reboot the <CODE ZERO> command before the archives are deleted. Section borders are turning off. You are now set to normal mode.

It seemed too good to be true. But hadn’t they suffered enough to finally earn this?

“Is it… done? That was it?” Yerim asked almost as if she didn't dare to believe in it. After facing so many trials it was hard to. None of them had it in them to answer, to be the responsible for others to take the leap of faith. Not until Jungkook pointed at the again changing screen.

“I think so. Look! The zones are not shut down anymore.”

SECTOR 24 WORKING

SECTOR 23 WORKING

SECTOR 22 STARTING...

Seulgi felt tears pricking her eyes, tears of something akin to relief and joy but also sadness and the guilt of survivors.

She stumbled to her feet, heart hammering in her chest, ready to leave this Hell of island lied to be the Paradise behind just like a songbird anticipating to leave its cage. Her breath hitched when calloused fingers curled around her wrist so softly. She looked up at Yoongi and followed him without hesitation. Each of them did.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

And so they did but that was the thing about death: nobody could leave the guilt and grief behind entirely. It stayed; just like one could never get rid of the blood on their hands. This was the price to pay for the illusion of freedom. But whether it was a mere mirage or not, passing through sector after sector, Seulgi couldn’t help but wonder whether it was really the city that kept them there for so long.

Or was it something more?

#series: code zero #bts thriller #red velvet thriller #btsvelvet #bts x red velvet #stories

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