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cerberussyndrome · 2 years ago

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kakaobirin romance/fluff things

some snippets/hc i wrote years ago for a fic that i didn’t end up writing

cw: discussion of sex in the last section

love languages

Rin + gifts -- He visited her in the hospital every day, always at nine o'clock sharp. By nine-oh-five, there'd be another pebble added to the small pile growing on her bedside table. Rin forbid the nurses from moving them, even when they crowded the glass of water and bouquet of flowers from her aunt. Kakashi brought them from Konoha's nearest river. An impulse, he'd claimed the first time, because he thought the pattern had looked like a turtle's shell and maybe she could chuck it out the window if she wanted? She smiled and cooed over it instead. By nine-oh-three the next morning, it'd been joined by a sibling. He suspected that she didn't like the pebbles so much as she liked what they said: that he'd passed by the riverbank at six-thirty-eight, his breath misting the sunrise, and thought of her.

Obito + words /acts of service -- They met before school at the little food stand by the road. Rin bought hot chocolate, counting out the coins her mother pressed into her hand after breakfast, while Obito huddled against the morning chill in his old, too-big jacket. As they walked towards the gate, she handed him the cup. He drank too fast and picked the marshmallows out with his teeth. She waited until it cooled to lukewarm in his hands before taking it back and gulping down the last half. "Thanks, Rin," he said. Their shoulders were pressed together, throats warm from the hot chocolate. Mother always said to accept thanks with pleasantries; Rin thought politeness was less important than sincerity. "No need to thank me; you're my best friend," she replied, same as ever, and Obito's grin was always blinding.

Kakashi + time /touch -- Obito found him on the roof across the street from the training grounds, as if Kakashi had stopped halfway to the memorial stone with the realization that his team was still alive after all, that he didn't have any mourning to do. This was the third time this week. Kakashi was propped up against a pillar, reading with the same focus he reserved for new jutsu and seals that Sensei taught them, and Obito resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He settled down next to Kakashi, titling his head to lie on his shoulder and side-eyeing the page. "I thought you were heading to the Tower," Kakashi said, turning the page. Obito said, "I'm comfortable here," and looked up at the sky. Eventually, Kakashi snuck his free hand into Obito's, something in his posture loosening.

Sidenote:

Obito is starved for approval and affection in fairly equal proportions. (Like, the kid is an attention whore, and i do mean that in the most loving way possible). He basically melts into a puddle of joy and embarrassment when people genuinely compliment him. When Rin brings him soup when he's sick, he's?? So touched?? He honestly cannot deal with people going out of their way to do shit for him, he's happy af.

Rin is the eldest child in a large household. You know what was precious? Gd allowance was precious, esp when Rin didn't have time to go looking for a side job when she was in the academy and low-key managing her siblings. But her baby siblings would draw crayon pictures of her being a doctor and her parents got her summer dresses and jutsu scrolls, and that was honestly the best part of her birthday.

Kakashi has been simultaneously touch-starved and touch-repulsed for a long time now, which is a chore to manage on a good day. (Surprise! Baby ninja who gets pushed into a war has problems distinguishing friendly vs hostile touch. Who would've guessed.) Time is something he understands, though, because he's always had a peripheral awareness of its value. Sakumo was a jounin as well as a father. Kakashi knew his place in the hierarchy of his father's priorities.

body hc's

-In Anbu, Kakashi's whipcord-thin, all lean muscle and lack of body fat and probably constantly underweight too. Just a collection of angles, tbh, with his ribs and hips and spine visible through his skin. Obito and Rin both bitch that he's too bony, oh my god, Kakashi, why, but that doesn't stop him from draping himself over either/both of them at any opportunity like a needy octopus. He has a high metabolism and leads a distinctly unhealthy lifestyle of constant life-or-death situations and days of not eating or sleeping (but plenty of killing shit and sneaking around). Spends like a week in the hospital (well: should, but doesn't actually) after his missions between the injuries, chakra exhaustion, and adrenaline crash. Constantly pissy during his teenage years because he just keeps growing? and it's fucking with his balance and reach and ability to kill a person from twenty meters and he Does Not Like it.

-As an adult, Obito's stocky and muscular, with thick arms and shoulders and thighs. (A nice ass, too, but that's neither here nor there.) Is slightly taller than Kakashi, but that's only if they're both soaking wet, because no, idiot, your stupid gravity-defying hair doesn't count. His hands are long-fingered, but the knuckles are a little fucked, like maybe his fingers have been broken and healed badly. The right side of his face is deeply scarred from the rockfall + impromptu Mokuton transplant, as is most of the right side of his body, which is about a decade of sun exposure paler than his left (rather than straight-up snow white like it sometimes looks in canon). Generally wears a glove on his right hand, or bandages wrapped around his forearm, or the sleeve pulled down. Sometimes has whole-body aches when the humidity/temperature changes too quickly. Rin makes a point of giving him a massage when this happens, which Obito thinks is borderline fussing but he's definitely not complaining about. His teenage years were a study in chronic pain as he kept growing and Hashirama’s cells kept doing weird shit and not quite catching up to him, though he's more or less reached an equilibrium now.

-Rin is petite--shorter than average, with skinny wrists and ankles--but incredibly muscle-bound, even if it's generally hidden behind a flak vest or a sundress. Has runner's thighs and guns and abs like a washboard--still extremely smug about it, thanks for asking. Could and would happily pick up both boys if they had enough decent handholds to get a grip on. Has grown out her hair a bit more since her chunin days, because, hey, it's not like she has to worry about it getting in her face during impromptu field surgery anymore. Has calloused feet since she likes going barefoot through coasts and streams and the like, and, on one notable occasion, sliced her foot open on a coral reef while out wading. (This is why we walk on water, Rin, Kakashi says while he patches her up with the med-kit she gave him, and she boops him on the nose in retaliation while Obito paces and frets while pretending he's not pacing and fretting).

sidenote:

Rin is a jinchuuriki of Isobu in this one. Because she became a jinchuuriki when she was in her teens, this has fucked with her chakra control enough to make extremely precise medical ninjutsu impossible for her to use anymore. Well. Use to heal allies, anyway. She could probably use chakra scalpels offensively still.

(Let's say they get together when they're all in their early-mid twenties.)

Figuring the sex out is really awkward at first. Kakashi's experimented a little, but his experience is mostly in what porn he's read and what he's picked up in Anbu escort/seduction missions. Casual sex, but mostly confined to Anbu and its hypersexual, overly paranoid assassination experts, since that was where he felt most at home for a long time.

Rin, the medic and the prisoner, knows the practicalities of sex but nothing about how it's supposed to go when it's with someone you're in love with, let alone two people. She's had flings before (some of them intense) but never anything both sexual and romantically serious.

Obito got the talk twice--once when Minato, the coward, foisted the three of them off on Kushina (who explained it very matter-of-fact-ly and seemed to enjoy making them blush), and once because Madara wanted to ensure he wasn't going to off himself through STIs or something--and he's had sex, sure, but between the chronic pain and the lingering Stockholm Syndrome, it's hardly been a priority.

Order of most to least sex drive is probably Kakashi, Rin, Obito. Kakashi's hypersexual (and probably also hypersensitive and paranoid, but that's a story for another time), Rin cycles through being mostly indifferent to being insatiable, and Obito's demisexual af and enthusiastic but doesn't understand the appeal of casual sex.

I mean, for god's sake, it takes forever for Obito to even work up the courage to kiss Rin on the mouth, let alone sleep with her. (Kakashi mostly got around this by making kissing a competition, because of course he did.) Kakashi, on the other hand, is allergic to emotions but likes sex just fine, and is perfectly willing to hop into bed with one/both of them and has been for years. Rin wants to take it slow, since it's not like they really know what they're doing, but they've known each other for years; what are they supposed to do on dates, talk about where they're from? So it takes a month (or a few months) for them to fall into bed at all. (They have a very awkward conversation about what they're comfortable with and what they might be comfortable trying in the future. Obito is so red the entire time, and Kakashi and Rin are both shameless and unhelpful, dammit, guys.)

Sidenote:

the eternal struggle between making Kakashi a perfectly straight-faced and shameless fan of sex and making him an awkward, blushing dork who can't flirt to save his life.

--admittedly, this loser can't read passages of his gd porn aloud even if he blatantly reads them in public, but. Still.

--kak is v, v private, so i do lean towards the former

--but then I'm like, this is the man who reads porn in public to troll people. Where is the shame. Does it exist.

--maybe it's progression or something

Obito is just straight up awkward, blushing dork. Look at the scene where he's kissing Rin's photo, there's no conflict here.

Rin reads bodice-ripper romance novels with far, far less irony than Obito thinks they deserve. In public, no less, because Obito's friends are terrible. She has no shame.

#my writing #naruto #kakaobirin #less sad team minato #oh look it's my first ot3 in this fandom #nohara rin #uchiha obito #hatake kakashi

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howareyanowwayne · 3 years ago

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Letterkenny Crack

This is a Mermaid AU you have been warned. pre-Wayne/Darry.

If you asked most of the good people in Letterkenny, they’d tell you that Wayne was without a doubt the toughest guy in town. A really good guy, just all around stand up; he kept to himself, but never avoided a polite chit-chat with neighbors or ag hall members. Ran his farm with ease and always put out a good crop, fought with honor and defended his own- that was all most people really cared to know about him.

He’d never really had a sweetie(except for Angie) and that goss would circulate every few years when someone decided to try their luck asking him to dance at the jamboree or sum’such. It never stuck, and people would find something else to talk about until another party came around and others would give it the old college try.

The best thing about Wayne, in most the town’s minds anyway, wasn’t just the good fights he put on or his honest-to-god good ole’ boy way of going about things- it was the lake that bordered the north side of his property. Like his Dyad had when they were kids, every summer Wayne opened the back driveway from noon to 4 or 5 and let people drive up in their trucks for a few hours of swimming. Most of the lake sat on the state-owned wildlife preserve that curled around the north and east sides of the farm, but they had a solid 3rd of it that was great for swimming and fishing, as long as people stayed respectful.

Wayne himself spent a good deal of time out by the lake, thinking or drinking. Always in the morning when there was no one about. Katy worried about him sometimes, especially after Angie’s cheated on him; when he’d disappeared and they’d found him, two days later passed out on the shore of the lake completely soaked through.

But Wayne was never one for many words, content to spend a good deal of time alone or with his dogs, and she understood. He had his own demons, and she trusted him to come to her when he really needed help.

But this isn’t a story about Wayne being alone, or not liking people that much(because as polite as he was, he really didn’t like most folks all that much), this is the story of how Wayne and Derry met.

One morning, long before chorin’ needed to be done, Wayne bolted upright in his bed. Whatever dream had woken him was already fading from his mind, leaving behind only a vague sense of wonder and alarm. He sat quietly trying to remember for a moment, but soon enough drew a blank. Rolling out of bed, he looked out his back window towards the lake, out of sight on the other side of the field. Wayne had a strange feeling, as he dragged on jeans and a button up, that something was happening.

Without realizing it he’d rushed out of the house, pulling a dart from his pack and lighting it, beelining for the lake with long rolling strides.

As he got closer to the edge of the property he could see little flashes of green light from over the hill- getting brighter as he cleared the corn field and making his alarm grow. Wayne hadn’t brought a flashlight, and now he was glad he hadn’t announced his presence- if there were skids partying on his property after dark, he’d send them running with their tails tucked between their legs.

He ran the last few feet up to the crest of the hill and stopped cold. Blinked a few hundred times, because what he saw didn't make any kind of sense.

There, sliding leisurely through the water on the bank of the lake was fucking mermaid. He couldn’t think of another word for it that was for gd sure- clearly the upper body of a man, no legs, just fish from the hips down. Wayne scrubbed at his eyes hard, blinking the water out and letting his peepers adjust. It was still there after, tail pushing water lazily, upper body reclined on the shore. Glowing, for god's sakes, biolights flashing a soft green and blue and lighting the water like some kind of scene from a fairy tail.

He didn’t even register his legs taking him closer until suddenly he was only a few feet away, and big, glowing green eyes flickered up to him.

Wide, luminous, and wet as a dewdrop, Wayne watched two sets of translucent eyelids flutter in shock before yellow pupils shrunk into slits of alarm. Even as everything in him screamed at him to flee he was stuck, making intense eye contact with this strangely-human looking fish.

Two things happened in an instant. The Mermaid’s face split like a snake’s, mouth too wide and full of sharp teeth. Messy wet curls flew about his head as he flipped, hissing and backing away from the farmer faster than a deer in headlights.

Wayne stumbled back from the bank and slipped as loose sand and clay gave way, landing him right in the water with a splash. The hissing, barking sound continued as the hick threw his arms over his head and clenched his eyes shut. Lights flashed under his eyelids and his ears rang.

After a few long moments of heart pounding panic, the farmer stopped hearing hissing and a warm weight moved behind him. He opened his eyes to find the mermaid only a few inches from him. Wayne wasn’t the best at reading people, but he’d say it looked curious- mad as a snake, teeth barred and body tense, but there was a confused tilt to its head, eyes wide and searching.

“Hw’re ye n’w?”

And if that bomb didn’t take him out just a little. Wayne was sitting chest deep in freezing lake water, at four in the morning, tangled up with the canadian creature of the black lagoon and it was fucking speaking to him. He raised his head to meet those glowing green eyes again, took a deep shivering breath and said.

“Oh not so bad.” Lies. He was very overwhelmed right now.

Now that Wayne had a chance to see it up close, it was hard not to stare. Other than it’s eyes, which had no whites and shined like emerald fuckin’ gemstones, the top half of it looked just like a scrawny, less hairy dude maybe a little younger than Wayne- wiry and muscular, smaller by a bit, with a mop of curly wet hair that hung around it’s face and stuck to it’s neck. Freckles and a scale or two decorated it’s body, everywhere that could be seen, pale skin making the seamless transition to a fully green-scaled tail somewhere around the hip bones. There were little fins that Wayne thought might be for steering, on his elbows, wrists and sides; they were laying flat against his body now.

“S’rry.” It wheezed, and Wayne couldn’t help but wince; that was certainly not a voice meant for english, that’s for sure. But the fish continued anyway. “M’ Derry.”

“I’m Wayne.” It was only polite to introduce yourself. “I know.” Unless you were introducing yourself to a creepy mermaid, apparently. Wayne gave Darry an utterly unamused look and said- “Wish you weren’t so fuckin’ awkard, bud.”

When those words left Wayne’s mouth Darry lit up, literally, the entire rainbow and then some bathing the water around them in a halo. Darry pressed up against Wayne’s chest, hands sliding lightly up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“A’right, bud. No awkward.”

Wayne almost choked when, as the words left the merman’s mouth, his head dipped down, teeth and lips grazing sensitive skin through fabric. He heard Darry take a deep inhale, chest rumbling like a cat.

“Take about 30% off ‘er there, Derry.” Wayne lifted his hand slowly to pat the merman’s arm and earned himself a toothy smile. Felt slimy as the bottom of the lake, for sure, but his hand wasn’t bit off and his new pal(?) didn’t even flinch, so he counted that as a win. Darry was a freaky lake monster, but Wayne could tell already that the guy was softer than 12-ply toilet paper. Even if he had a mouth full of lethal chompers.

“Now I’m gonna freeze if I stay in here any longer, so you better let me up.” Darry whined, all the anxiety and tension returning to him in an instant. His clawed hands tightened on Wayne’s shoulders.

“Wayne, don’ tell. Please.” Those huge eyes pinned Wayne with a pleading stare. “ ‘m a secret. No tell ‘nyone.”

Wayne rubbed Darry’s arm again, thinking it might calm him down some. “O’ course not. It’ll be our secret.” He paused, looking out over the water and then back to Darry. You didn’t meet a mermaid every day, that was for GD sure- and technically, Darry was his neighbor. It was always polite to maintain good relationships with your neighbors. “And if you like, I’ll come back and visit ya. That’s my house right over there.” He pointed.

That got Darry smiling again. Wayne heaved himself to his feet, dripping wet. The merman pulled away as he stood, eyes following the line of Wayne’s form as he straightened and peeled off his soaking flannel with a shiver. Playful hands tugged at his ankles, but didn’t drag him back down.

“Alright. See ya, Dar.” And with that Wayne tore his eyes away from his new friend, trudged up the bank toward the field and the house beyond it. He felt eyes stay steady on his back until he’d crested the hill.

#letterkenny #unbeta'd #wayne/darry #crack fic #not on ao3 yet idk if ill continue it

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pink-imagines · 5 years ago

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you are who you are

request: Hey I guess this is kinda a, I need support for this from fiction characters or I'm going to cry more, requests. If your uncomfortable with it could you suggest someone who could write something thank you. I've been feeling a huge amount of gender dysphoria (female to non binary ) recently and honestly want to know if and how Denki would help comfort someone with GD. thanks in advance if you do and if you don't I completely understand.have a nice day

a/n: i hope this one is okay!

warnings: mostly fluff

masterlist

Another tiresome day, correcting people over and over again. Asking them nicely if they could maybe just use your prefered prounounce. Then they give you false hope by saying yes and you get disappointed when you have to remind them that it’s actually they and not she.

Kaminari was by his desk, actually studying for once. You couldn’t disturb him when he was working, so you just plopped down on his bed. You usually went to his dorm after school when you didn’t feel like being alone, so he immediately knew something was up. Out of everyone Kaminari was the one who understood you the best and accepted you the most.

“What’s up, buttercup?”, he spun around in his chair towards you, pointing finger guns at you.

“I had a bad day...”, you pouted, motioning for him to come and hug you, which he did without question. The two of you were laying down on his bed as you hugged his waist tightly. He smelled of that cologne you said you liked and you made a small note in your head about that.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”, he asked suddenly.

“Everyone kept getting my pronouns wrong today... it’s as if they don’t even care.”, you sighed, “Your friends at least tries, but these people didn’t even think of it.”

“You kept reminding them?”

“Yeah, but they would forget it the next second... I don’t know... maybe I don’t pass enough.”, you choked back your tears.

“Hey, baby...”, he lifted your head to look him straight in the eye, “It doesn’t matter what you look like, they need to respect your wishes. Do you want me to talk to them?”

“No it’s fine. Thank you, though, Kaminari.”, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”, he grinned.

“Oh, shut up before I change my mind!”, you laughed and gently slapped his chest.

“You wouldn’t!”, he gasped before breaking out into fits of laughter along with you. His laughter went on a bit after yours had ended, during that time you took a precious moment to take a picture of his face in your mind. To remember every wrinkle and freckle, the way his eyes glimmered and all his perfect imperfections.

“What are you staring at?”, he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“You’re pretty.”, you smiled.

“Well, you are gorgeous.”, he grinned.

“Are you trying to make this a competition?”, you giggled, “Because you know I’ll win.

“Oh no! My heart can’t take your giggles! They’re just too adoreable!”, he laid down on his back, “It seems I have already lost.” You giggled again and cuddled up next to him, letting him comb his finger through your hair softly. A content sigh escaped the prison of your lips as you relaxed into his freeing touch.

“You should know, Y/N.”, Kaminari’s voice was now serious, “That I’ll protect you no matter what...”

“I know that, babe.”, you nodded.

“I’m serious, though.”, he said, “If that ever happens again with those people I’m gonna act on it. No one should tell you who you are, okay?”

“Okay.”, you smiled.

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trashinaglass-archive · 6 years ago

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Arguments

Requests: Can you do an imagine where you and Tom get in a fight, but you have a big argument the next day so you have to ride in a long car ride together and it’s pouring so you have to sleep in a hotel and you want to sleep in separate beds and he’s afraid he’s going to lose you AND 31 & 32 for prompt list ❤️

A/n: I decided to combine these two requests because I feel like they go together perfectly.

31. “I’m so fucking in love with you” I don’t like GD sorry

32. “Are you leaving me?” “Do you want me to leave you?”

People always talked about how you and Tom were the perfect couple. Always supportive of each other, always traveling with him, always happy- although it wasn’t always true.

You were with Tom for his press tour, currently in China. You both had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, incredibly irritable and insatiable. You were packing your bags to leave the hotel for your next destination when you started to snap at each other.

“Why do you need so many fucking shoes, y/n? Just pick a pair or two, don’t bring the whole damn closet,” Tom snapped as he saw you placing a pair of heels into a bag of other shoes.

“Don’t even start- why do you need so many different watches? Why don’t you just pick one,” you snapped back, refusing to look at him. “And stop being such an asshole while you’re at it.”

“Oh, I’m being an asshole?” He challenged, making you reply back with a ‘yeah’. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to be an asshole if you would stop being a whiny bitch. You’re the worst thing in my life right now.”

You stopped what you were doing as you heard the words fall out of Tom’s mouth. “Well, sorry I’m such an inconvenience,” you said, closing your bag and placing it on the floor. “You’re the most inconsiderate dickhead, and I don’t want shit to do with you.” You walked out of the hotel room and headed to the lobby. You were not excited for today in the least.

“Hey, y/n. Where’s Tom?” Jacob asked as he saw you approaching. He was standing next to Jake and Zendaya as they were talking about something.

“The room,” you said simply, your voice laced with attitude, as you flopped down on the couch next to them. You pulled out your phone, not wanting to talk to anyone, and they all took the hint. A few minutes later, you heard Jacob greet Tom. Tom, being the professional he is, held his temper and feelings towards you at bay. He moved to sit next to you on the couch where you immediately stood up, moving to stand next to Zendaya. You pushed your sunglasses down over your eyes and continued to be mad, not wanting to participate in any conversation.

The small bus arrived shortly after everyone gathered in the lobby. Tom got on the bus and sat with his brother, not looking at you as you passed him, sitting by yourself in the very back while everyone else sat near the front. You leaned your head against the window and watched the sights pass as the bus began moving.

About five minutes into the trip, you felt Zendaya sit next to you.

“What happened?” She asked softly to keep everyone from hearing her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered, not looking at her.

“Well, sometimes talking about it makes you feel better,” she began to tell you before you interrupted her.

“I don’t want to talk about it because I know as soon as I do, I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop and I don’t want to do that.”

“Okay,” She said, accepting your reason. “Just remember that I’m here for you- we’re all here for you if you need to talk or if you just need a hug.” You felt her place a hand on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze. You nodded and she stood up, moving back to her original seat. You continued to sit by yourself, listening as everyone else laughed, talked, and had a good time, all while you wallowed in your own pity.

About an hour later, you felt someone else sit in the seat next to you. You knew it was Tom without having to look- his cologne a familiar scent.

“You still mad?” He asked making you roll your eyes. Of course he would have to ask. You didn’t answer, opting to stare out the window and ignore him. “So you’re just not going to talk to me?” He asked to which he received no answer again. “Okay,” he said finally, nodding his head.

He moved to get more comfortable in the seat next to you, looking at his phone. You wish he would have stayed in his seat, that he was still mad at you too. You wanted to forgive him and move on, but you couldn’t get past what he said to you.

After a three hour ride, you arrived to your destination, stepping out of the bus and walking into the hotel. You each checked in and headed to your floor, Tom opening the door to the room and holding it open for you after he stepped in. You moved past him, placing your bag on the bed furthest from the door and laying on the other side, leaving no room for Tom.

You heard him sigh- and probably roll his eyes- at you. He was ready to talk and to forgive and forget. He didn’t understand why you were holding onto this grudge so bad.

��Jake suggested that we all go somewhere for dinner tonight. He said it’s one of his favorite places out here,” Tom began to speak, hoping you would reply. But of course you didn’t. “I told him I’d go with them, do you want to join too?” He watched as you laid on the bed, unmoving before feeling frustrated with you. “Can you at least raise a hand for yes and a foot for no,” he said sarcastically. You let your foot lift into the air and automatically went back down.

“Right, I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up,” Tom said, grabbing his jacket and walking straight out the door. Hearing the door slam, you began to feel the tears slip from your eyes. You had been holding your emotions in all day, and finally being alone, you let them all out.

. . .

Tom met Jacob, Harry, Jake, and Zendaya as well as some of the other crew at the restaurant.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted them before sitting down.

“What happened earlier? Why’s y/n so upset?” Zendaya asked. You and her became friends immediately when you met and seeing you so upset worried her.

Tom shook his head before answering, “we had an argument. We both were just irritable and kept snapping at each other. She’s just taking it a little more seriously than she should.”

“What the hell did you say to her?” Jake asked.

“I don’t even remember. It was literal word vomit. All I really remember is her calling me an inconsiderate dickhead and storming out.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Harry told his older brother. “I know y/n- she’s the nicest girl I’ve ever met. She doesn’t just call people names like that or storm out of a conversation. Whatever you did or said, obviously really hurt her feelings. And you don’t even realize it.”

“I tried to talk to her on the bus, and she said that she couldn’t talk about what happened because if she did, she’d start crying and wouldn’t be able to stop. You really need to talk to her, Tom,” Zendaya informed him.

“You think I haven’t been trying? It’s like talking to a wall, she won’t even look at me.”

“All that and you really think she’s just ‘taking it too seriously’?” Jacob asked. “Come on, bro. You need to apologize to her.”

“And take her a piece of a cake while you’re at it,” Jake said, showing him the signature dessert on the menu.

“I’ll do that, yeah,” Tom said, thinking about you and what you were doing right now. He felt like the worst boyfriend ever- yell at you, forget what he said that upset you, and then leave you to be with his friends. He really must be an inconsiderate dickhead.

After eating, everyone decided to go out on the town, explore and have fun. Tom declined, saying he needed to get back to the hotel and talk to you which his friends strongly advised. He got back to the room, opening the door to see you in the same spot as he left you- not moved an inch it seems. He placed the to-go boxes on the counter by the tv, moving to where you lay.

“Hey,” He said, waking you from your sleep. He noticed the dried tears on your face and his heart sank even more. “We need to talk. And I can’t do that if you keep ignoring me like you are.” You looked up at him, not wanting to talk, but knowing it had to be done. “I’m sorry for snapping at you this morning. I’m sorry for whatever it was that I said to make you this upset,” he began.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “You’re so clueless,” you said, your voice laced with disbelief. You stood up from the bed, needing to be on your feet.

“I’m clueless because you’re giving me nothing,” he defended himself. “I was grumpy and I snapped. I’m sorry, what else is there to say?”

You raised a hand in the air signaling for him to stop. Biting your lip, you looked at him, preparing yourself for his excuse. “Do you have any idea what you said to me? Do you want to guess or should I just spell it out?”

“Just tell me, y/n. If it pissed you off this much-“

“I’m the worst thing in your life right now,” you blurted out, interrupting him.

“I didn’t say that,” Tom said. He never said anything to you like that before, why would he? It wasn’t true, and he wasn’t the kind of person to say random words just to hurt people.

“But you did. And I can’t stop hearing that stupid tone in your voice when you said it, I can’t take it,” you said, voice cracking as you turned your back to him, walking to the door.

“Are you leaving me?” He asked softly.

“Do you want me to leave you?” You fired back. “Because if you think that I’m the worst thing in your life right now then I can leave. Save you the worry or stress of having to be around me.”

“No,” Tom moved closer to you, reaching out to touch you, only for you to move away from him. “Y/n, I love you. I’m so fucking in love with you. I don’t know why I said that to you, but it’s not true. It’s so fucking far from the truth. You are the absolute best thing in my life- the only thing in my life that makes sense. You say the word, and I would drop everything to be with you. If I ever had to choose between you and my career- being Spider-Man- y/n, it will always be you.

“I’m sorry for saying that. I know sorry doesn’t cut it, but I can’t think of anything else to say. Be angry at me all you want, ignore me all you want, but please don’t leave me,” Tom begged, tears escaping from his eyes. “Just please tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Tom. But I’m not about to force you to be with me if you really think I’m the worst thing in your life,” you informed him.

“You aren’t. Y/n, I swear on everything. I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you- I promise. Just give me a chance.” You nodded your head, hearing the desperation in his voice. “Now can I please just fucking hug you?”

You subtly smiled, moving toward him. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he wrapped his around your shoulders, wrapping yourselves in a tight embrace. You felt Tom exhale deeply as if your lack of touch kept him from breathing straight. You stood like that for a while, just soaking in each other’s touch that you missed all day today until you pulled back to look at Tom.

“Kiss me, dickhead,” you whispered. You watched Tom laugh softly before placing his hand on the back of your head, placing his lips to yours.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader

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petersmparker · 6 years ago

Note

Sorry!!! Prompt list dialogue with 8 and 13?? Honestly it’s the latest one reblogged if that helps at all

No problem at all!! I’m glad you saw my first reply !! 💞I hope I got the right ones , eek

This one is a lil long because I had to fulfill my urge to write Some Nonsense Happening. I’m having too much gd fun with these but I have to admit that this one is slightly less romance and a bit more eccentric slice-of-life

prompts #8/13 - “Ugh, you’re sweaty. Get off.” “I might have had a few shots.”

Winter break is your favorite time of year. Not just because of the break from your overly-demanding college schedule, either. When finals end for the fall semester, Midtown Tech’s 2024 graduating class flocks back to their New York City home. It’s not long before phones start buzzing with the invitations to meet up again, and while many people had drifted out of it all together, the academic decathlon team had remained blissfully committed to these yearly rekindlings.

You and Peter had been one of the few to stay close to home for higher education. With his commitment to superheroing and your adoration for Empire State University’s interning programs, it seemed like the most obvious choice. This, and the fact that you both had been nursing gigantic crushes on each other. Nearly three years into your relationship, you eagerly await the return of your friends each winter together. It’s kind of like high school still, but with bills and no curfew.

Making ends meet is a bit difficult, but despite that, it’s kind of great. Kind of awesome, just going about life with Peter Parker.

Last year, Ned had been the first to jump on gathering the troops. This year, Flash sends out a mass text containing a video of a santa hat spinning circles on his turntable, Dec 20th, bitches. 7pm. Time to get your fuckin’ christmas on, emblazoned across it in red. It’s only a few hours before everyone excitedly confirms their plans to attend.

Everyone is exactly the same as they always were, but maybe that’s just because you all become stupid high schoolers again when you get together. It’s Flash’s house, but Ned answers the door when you ring the bell. Peter is instantly wrapped up in a bear hug by his best friend. It’s been a few months, and they’ve been whining about missing each other for at least half of it.

“Never leave me again,” Ned orders as he releases Peter.

“Funnily enough, I’m just putting a downpayment on a place in Boston,” Peter jokes back.

MJ is quickly found on the floor of the sitting room, gently shaking the presents that had been placed beneath the tree. She isn’t that big on gifts, but likes to challenge herself to guess what they are. You and Peter place your secret santa contributions in the pile and ask to hear her theories.

“I’m almost positive that your secret santa bought you an action figure,” MJ tells you, shaking a longer box that has your name on the tag.

“That can’t be right,” you laugh.

“You’ll see.”

Flash appears from the kitchen, eventually, Betty close behind, on their way to the main living room. They’re both toting huge trays of sugar cookies. The ones on Betty’s tray look significantly nicer than the ones on Flash’s, which is pretty typical.

“Mine taste better than hers,” Flash insists as he bumps fists with Peter and gives you a one-armed hug. The rest of the crowd in the living room erupt into the teasing of his “ugly ass reindeer” when he presents them, but scarf them down anyway.

It’s the same every year, and nothing could make you any happier.

Gifts are exchanged around the devouring of sweets and an over-the-top catered dinner for a relatively small group. Friends don hideous new sweaters and open up weird new board games. To your surprise, you do receive an action figure. It’s one you’ve seen before in shop windows: a display-quality Spider-Man figure in the Iron Spider suit, complete with four metal arms protruding from the back and a stand to hold it up.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, spotting it in your hands.

Flash is snickering from his spot near the fire. You wave the box in his direction. “You know that Spider-Man’s identity is secret and therefore he can’t receive any profit from the merch that companies are making these days, right?”

“Yep,” he confirms, “I’ll make it up to him eventually, probably.”

All things considered, it’s a pretty funny gift. And you have to admit that it is a nice figure.

There’s already a couple bottles of champagne being passed around, but Peter receives several rolls of expensive camera film and a fancy bottle of liquor, and, feeling happy and generous, cracks the bottle open and shares.

It’s not long before most of the group is tipsy, having arranged rides home or decided to stay the night in Flash’s home. The rowdiness picks up. Games are taken less seriously and somehow become more fun, Flash’s stupid techo-christmas playlist suddenly becomes excellent dancing music, and some of the guys end up hollering as they chase each other around the house. You’re content to watch the festivities pick up, having decided to be the designated driver. It’s hard not to enjoy it all.

Peter sprints across the living room, in hot pursuit of Flash. He attempts to hop over Betty’s head while she’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch and ends up clearing the couch, too. Flash screeches and nearly collides solar-plexus first with the countertop island as he dives into the kitchen, gasping out accusations of Peter being a filthy cheater.

“What the fuck!” Shouts Abraham, who had been running behind him.

Your boyfriend has been chasing the host through the house and yard for the better half of thirty minutes by now. He’s such a stupid drunk. You’re completely in love with him.

When they calm down, he immediately drifts back to you. He drapes his arms over you from behind the back of the armchair, pressing smooches onto your temple.

“Ugh, you’re sweaty. Get off,” you chuckle, swatting lightly at his head.

He doesn’t get off, deciding instead to melt further into you. “You’re sweaty,” he says, quite cleverly, and turns his head to try to kiss you for real.

“No I’m not. You’re drunk, too,” you add, accepting his attempt to kiss you on the lips.

Peter is 160 pounds of pure muscle, but he comes around the side of the chair to climb into your lap. His arms wrap themselves around you again. He’s a little too heavy to be in your lap, but at the moment you’re too filled with adoration to care.

“I might have had a few shots,” he concedes, “That expensive stuff tastes like cherries. I love cherries. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you assure, patting his leg.

“Marry me.”

Your heart thrills. Peter is gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars in his sky. There’s a sincerity in his tone that you’ve only heard a few times before. When he first confessed that he loved you, for one. There’s only one real answer to this question, but considering the circumstances, that isn’t the answer you give just yet.

You lift your head to kiss him once more.

“I’ll say yes next time you ask.”

permanent tag list

@undiadeestos @moonstruckholland

#blurb request #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker reader insert #peter parker self insert

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hellimagines · 6 years ago

Text

18 Months (Part Three) -- Michael Langdon

Masterlist

Summary: After Michael passes the Seven Wonders, you return to Miss. Robichaux’s, and your friendship with one another grows over the phone.

Warnings: Hella flirting

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,600+

A/N: I’ma be honest with you guys; I don’t remember much of Coven, and I haven’t had any time to rewatch it, so if I’ve gotten anything wrong, please let me know and I’ll gladly fix it! Also, I wish I could insert emojis in GD bc of texts. Instead, I had to use cringey aesterics. Circa 2012 culture guys. Also 2.0, I tried to write Michael’s character as well as I could, but I’m sorry if he seems a little ooc.

18 Months Masterlist

You stood in the Hawthorne library, staring up at the walls of books in fascination. You were sure that there were plenty of books similar to the ones at Miss. Robichaux’s, but you also knew there had to be plenty of different ones; ones you’d never even heard of. Your fingers itched to pull them from their shelves and start flipping through them, to see if there was any new magic or knowledge you could discover- but, you knew better. These books weren’t yours, and the warlocks didn’t see you as a guest, so you had no right to start taking things from their rightful places. The door of the library hesitantly creaked up, and you paused your ogling to see who had come in.

“Michael?” you hummed, fully turning to face him once the blond had entered the room. You had briefly seen Michael when your coven had gotten to the school earlier that morning before he was being rushed off for some last-minute preparations for his test tomorrow.

“Hello,” he greeted, shutting the door and walking over to you. “I didn’t have the opportunity to say hello to you earlier, so I thought I’d do it now.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?” you grinned, looking back up at the books once he had come to a stop at your side.

“The same way you knew I’d be at the fire pit.”

“A guess.” The two of you spoke at the same time. You nodded in understanding and allowed the silence of the room to close off the conversation. You both just stood there for a while, staring up at that one particular wall of books. There wasn’t anything obviously special about it, simply the bindings of roughly a hundred books looking down at you, in all sizes and colors. The books didn’t even seem to be organized in any certain way either- the last names of the authors weren’t alphabetical, and neither were the titles. Hell, it wasn’t even color coded. After a while, you started trying to figure out if there was some sort of pattern you weren’t seeing.

“You’re staring at the books like they killed your grandmother,” Michael spoke after a while. You looked up at him and shook your head with a frown.

“They’re not organized…” you said softly, glaring up at the books once more. Michael snorted in disbelief, turning his body slightly so he could cross his arms at you.

“You’re mad at the books because they’re not organized?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah,” you scoffed, crossing your own arms and staring up at him. “How do you boys even find anything?”

“This little, precious thing called magic,” Michael mocked, waving his hand in the air. In an instant, he held a large, black, hardcover book in his hands.

“House of Leaves?” you questioned, instantly recognizing the cover. “Oh, and your smartass comment? Real cute, Langdon.”

Michael snickered and flipped the book over to show off the cover and reveal the title. “Have you read it before?”

“Yeah, it’s interesting. Took a while because I really wanted to understand the story and the house, but it was good. Why’d you choose it?” you asked, reaching out and grabbing it from his hands.

“I used to read it as a child. It… reminded me of home, you could say,” he smirked. You nodded and left the conversation at that. “So, if you guys need a book, you just wave your hand?”

“Yeah. Are you telling me you don’t?”

“No, we use our hands. You can’t rely on magic for everything, that’s what my mother says. Besides, if you get too used to it, you’ll slip up in public. Probably get burned alive,” you shrugged, watching as Michael rolled his eyes.

“Now, isn’t that a lovely thought,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But this isn’t public, now is it? We are underground, in a library, with just the two of us. If yo-”

“The way you talk makes me think you’re trying to hook up.” Your interruption stopped Michael abruptly, causing him to nearly choke on his words. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape while trying to come up with a response. You grinned wickedly at your ability to shut Michael Langdon up, waiting until he took a ragged breath.

“Having sex in a dusty library isn’t on my bucket list, darling,” Michael drawled, taking a dangerous step forward.

“That’s a shame,” you shrugged, slamming the book you were holding into his chest. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the Seven Wonders?” you asked, veering the conversation completely off topic, as you walked over to the nearby couch.

“I’ve been getting ready for two weeks. I feel as though I’m fairly prepared,” Michael replied walking over to you. “Shouldn’t you be with your witches?”

“No, they’re all asleep. I wanted to find a book to read to help me sleep, but I didn’t expect to be greeted by an unorganized library,” you sighed, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking yourself into the corner of the couch.

“Are you ever going to drop that?”

“No. Not until you lot organize this place.”

“Why don’t you organize it for us?”

“Because I’m not your fucking maid, Michael,” you snapped, causing Michael to laugh at your anger. Michael sat himself on the other end of the couch, stretching his legs out and draping his arm over the back.

He tossed the book you had shoved at him back to you, and you caught it with a raised eyebrow. “Your reading material for tonight. Maybe it’ll help you fall asleep.”

“Honestly, this entire conversation has put me in a sleepy mood,” you said but held the book in your lap regardless.

“Oh, that so? Am I not intellectually stimulating?” Michael questioned.

“No, you’re not. I doubt you’re stimulating in any department, truthfully. Maybe after you pass the test tomorrow you’ll be a bit more interesting,” you grinned, noticing the way Michael’s lips twitched.

“Are you questioning my ability to please a person in bed?” Michael gasped in mock-offense.

“Yes, darling, I am,” you laughed.

“So what you’re saying, is that when I pass the test tomorrow,” Michael began slowly, moving so he was beside you on the couch, “I’ll be better able to make someone’s legs shake when they’re beneath me?”

Your breath hitched, but you kept your expression neutral. “Depends on how well of a reigning Supreme you become,” you whispered, trying your hardest to keep your gaze focused on Michael’s blue eyes rather than his lips.

Michael hummed gently and reached over, pushing a piece of (h/c) hair out of your face. “Well, I’ll be the Alpha, love, not the Supreme. So when I do win the test tomorrow, I suppose the two of us will just have to find out how interesting I really am, hm?” Michael practically purred.

“In your dreams, handsome,” you scoffed, despite the raging blush on your cheeks. “It’ll take a lot more than a title to get you in bed with me.”

“So you’re saying it is possible then?” Michael grinned, tilting his head. His knees were pressed against yours and his arm was resting behind your shoulders, on the couch.

“It could be, but who knows. We’ll just have to wait and see. Besides, I never said you were my type,” you smirked, placing your hand on his knee, before roughly pushing down and lifting yourself off of the couch. Michael hissed and stood up as well, following you.

“Leaving the conversation so soon? It was just getting interesting,” Michael complained, gently grabbing ahold of your wrist to keep you from leaving. Where he touched, blossomed with cold, and it felt nice with the crackling of the library fire so close. You turned and held up the book in your hands.

“Reading material, remember? Besides, wouldn’t want you to fail your test tomorrow. Wouldn’t be very interesting of you, now would it?” you pouted. Michael tugged on your wrist, and with a roll of your eyes, you let him pull you close.

“I won’t forget this conversation, fox. And when I pass, I’ll show you just how interesting I can be.”

“Hm, I sure you’d love to do that. But like I said, you’re gonna need to work extra hard to get me in your grasp. So, don’t count on it,” you tsked.

“Looks like I already have you in my grasp,” Michael countered, moving his hand to rest on your waist. You grinned and shook your head at his persistence.

“Yes, but not as tightly as I know you want me to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a book to read,” you stated, and spun out of his hold. You waved at Michael over your shoulder, before disappearing through the library door, allowing it to slam shut behind you.

That night, though only two nights ago, seemed so far in the past. Now, standing in the foyer of Miss. Robichaux’s Academy, you found yourself clutching the book Michael had given you, House of Leaves, in one hand, and your duffle bag in the other. You had just gotten back from Hawthorne, and you were saddened to find out that Madison had stayed behind in California to connect with some old Hollywood socialites, to get her name back in the media. You had just gotten Madison back, a mere two weeks ago, and she was gone already for who knows how long. You understood her reasoning, but you still felt saddened, and alone. Zoe had Queenie now, and your mother and Myrtle were doting all over Misty, which left you to your own devices. Nodding to yourself, you hiked your bag higher on your shoulder and made your way up to your room, passing a few new students on the way.

It was weird seeing the academy so full. You were used to three or four girls, maybe five; but never over a dozen. Ever since your mother’s tour, young girls had been ringing the phone left and right, believing they were witches. Some were right, they indeed had gifted abilities and needed help. But others just knew how to tie a string to a lamp and tug on it. It had gotten exhausting weeding them all out through the years, but it was worth it to help the true witches, and to see the smile on your mother’s face each time the doors opened for someone new. And now that Michael had passed the test, and was the new Supreme, things were going to change. Which meant the more girls walking through that door, the better. Even if you had to dodge random flying objects at any point in time, or clean up a magical mess that had happened, or help assist with a traumatized girl who still couldn’t control her powers, or weren’t able to eat a meal because all the food had been snatched up, it was worth it. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Once you got to your room, you tossed your bag onto your bed and collapsed beside it. Your body felt unnaturally hot, like you had gone skinning dipping in a volcano. You didn’t know why, because the thermostat downstairs read 64° and everybody else seemed fine. But you were just so fucking hot. With a heavy sigh, you flicked your wrist and summoned a fresh pair of clothes. Normally you wouldn’t have done that, you took your mother’s words seriously, but you didn’t want to move, and like Michael had said, it’s not like you were in public. You stood up, kicked off your shoes, and grabbed your phone before heading towards your bathroom. An ice cold shower should help do the trick.

Once you had stripped and were moments away before you were about to enter the shower, your phone dinged. Your heart stuttered, and your hand shook as you quickly lifted it from the counter.

Supreme Crunchwrap- ‘How’s Cordelia’

‘She’s okay. With Misty and Myrtle downstairs, I think giving the title away is what hurt her the most’

‘Most likely. You doing better than yesterday?’

‘Oh, is the supreme showing interest in little ole me and my feelings?? *eye roll emoji*’

‘We’ve talked about this Foxx. I’m the Alpha not the Supreme’

*Supreme Crunchwrap’s name has been changed to Alpha Schmalpha*

‘Stop calling me Foxx and we have a deal *double eye emoji*’

‘Now why would I do a thing like that? You’re a fox and you know it’

‘u trippin supreme’

‘Whatever you say, Goode.’

‘Wasn’t so hard, now was it?’

‘My thumbs burn.’

‘Oof, I’m getting the periods. Is the alpha all grumpy now? *deep frown emoji*’

‘Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?’

‘You gonna stop using periods?’

‘I suppose so’

‘hell yeah’

Once you had sent your final text, you realized that you had been standing there for roughly ten minutes. You hurriedly tossed your phone to the side, disregarding any new texts, before jumping into the shower. Your scorching body temperature had been forgotten while you were texting Michael, almost as if you weren’t even hot, but the second the cold water hit your skin, you were moaning out loud. You were positive steam had to be coming off of your skin at the contrast in temperature, but you had your eyes squeezed shut, simply enjoying the cold water. If you were being honest with yourself, which you usually weren’t, you did miss Michael. The two of you had shared a couple, few-minute moments together, but to you, they felt like hundreds of hours.

Sometimes, when you were upset, Michael would text or call you, like he knew something was wrong, and tell you the most random thing known to man. Like asking about your mother, when your skin was burning you alive. Or texting you about how in Switzerland, it’s illegal to only own one guinea pig, while you had been on the plane, pouting about Madison being gone and staring at Queenie and Zoe gossiping in the corner. That one had made you laugh out loud. Or that time a week or so ago, when you and Mallory had gone at it again, resulting in bruises and harsh words. Michael had called you only seconds after you had stormed to your room and slammed the door shut. When you answered the phone, you had obviously yelled at him, but after talking with you a minute or so, he had managed to help calm you down and you were able to apologize. Michael just laughed over the phone, called you an idiot, and hung up the phone.

Things were weird like that, with Michael. But that was okay because you were a witch, and he was a warlock, and things were just weird sometimes.

A few days passed, and you were outside with Queenie, Zoe, Mallory, and a few of the other new students. Cordelia and Misty stood by a tree, demonstrating a preservation technique. Since Misty had returned, your mother had been sure to bring her outside as much as possible and introduce her into nature lessons when the opportunity arose. Misty had been adjusting decently well, she still had nightmares and was unable to deal with anything to do with frogs, but being around the coven was doing her a whole world of good. However, nature classes were never really your forte. Your magic wasn’t nature centered, and you couldn’t do a whole lot with nature anyways, so you often just lingered behind the others, and half-heartedly paid attention. You had talked with your mother about it, so she understood when you zoned out or just flat-out didn’t show up, and you loved her for it. But, you wanted to be here to support Misty, even if there was nothing for you to do.

You had still been feeling hot lately, and it varied from scorching hot to a simple summer day in California. You still couldn't figure it out, but you weren’t about to go complaining to your mom or Myrtle just yet. Chances were, it was just a cold from those grimy boys and it would pass before you knew it. As of right now, your skin felt just as hot as it did when you had arrived back at the Coven. You were subconsciously scratching at your palm, where the heat seemed to resonate while staring up ahead with a glazed-out look. You couldn’t focus on Misty’s words, not with the ever-present heat engulfing your body, but you managed to stay upright, face void of any indication that you were in pain. But then, your phone buzzed in your back pocket, startling you out of your head, followed by Misty’s voice rushing back, at an intensity that made you visibly flinch. You pulled out your phone, and your lips twitched into a gentle smile. He always fucking knew.

Alpha Schmalpha: ‘We’re supposed to use sweat in love potions’

‘Tysm for this information. Are you making a love potion?’

‘Possibly. Don’t know yet’

‘You should. It might take too long for someone to actually fall in love with you’

‘?? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, per usual?’

‘No, I woke up in the bathroom’

‘Fun night?’

‘Nope, it was too fucking hot last night, and the bathroom floor is cold’

‘It’s October, how hot could Louisiana be?’

‘It’s not the state, it’s me’

‘Yes, we know you’re hot. But what’s the got to do with your body temp’

‘No you jackass. I’m physically burning up. Ever since we got back, I’ve been sweating like a mf. I’ll mail you some for your love potion’

‘You know why?’

‘Probably one of you gross ass boys’

‘Don’t talk to your Alpha like that’

‘Suck my ass’

‘Not my kind of thing. Have you told Cordelia?’

‘No she’s been busy. I’m not dying so I’m not worried about it. I just can’t sleep, eat, and everything I wear burns. Nbd’

After you had sent that text, a harsh elbow into your side caught your attention. You looked up, ready to give the newbie a piece of your mind when you saw it was Queenie. You glared and shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“What? No need to elbow me,” you huffed, rubbing your side.

Queenie rolled her eyes and motioned to your pocket. “Who you textin’?”

“None of your concern,” you said, crossing your arms. Queenie raised her eyebrows and turned to face you, crossing her own arms.

“You don’t talk to people outside the school. So, who is it?”

“Madison,” you shrugged, looking ahead.

“Bullshit, Madison hasn’t been answering her phone all fucking week.”

“Maybe not for you, but she has for me.”

“Then let me see. I wanna talk to her too,” Queenie said, holding out her hand. You frowned and turned to stare at you.

“No. My phone is my business, and who I’m texting is my business. I love you, Queenie, but fuck off,” you objected, before turning on your heel and storming back to the school.

“What was that about?” Queenie looked over and saw Zoe peering up at her, eyes switching from Queenie to your retreating form.

“Mini Supreme has a secret that she’s trying to keep. A secret someone, and we’re gonna get to the bottom of it,” Queenie explained, squinting against the sun as you disappeared inside the school.

“Oh, great. That’ll be a piece of cake,” Zoe muttered, rolling her eyes. But she didn’t object and turned back to the lesson at hand.

You made your way into the kitchen and towards the fridge, hell-bent on finding something cold that your stomach would abide by. You opened the freezer and shifted through a few things, until yet another buzzing in your pocket, this time more consistent, occurred. You reached back and pulled it out, noticing it was a phone call. You slid the answer button and held it up to your ear before continuing to search through the freezer.

“You need to eat”, Michael’s voice on the other end was like a soothing hum against your ear.

“I’m working on it, Doc,” you huffed, finally reaching for a cherry popsicle at the back of the freezer. You shut the door and leaned against it, unwrapping the popsicle with your teeth, before popping it into your mouth.

“Something of nutritional value,” Michael said as an afterthought, and you paused to stare down at the phone with an incredulous look.

“How do you know what I’m eating or not eating?”

“A guess.”

“You and your guesses can piss off, thank you very much,” you grumbled, moving to sit down at the island. You lazily popped the popsicle in and out of your mouth, sighing softly as the heat began to subside.

“Now, you don’t really want that, do you?” You could practically see the smug smirk on Michael’s face, and you couldn’t help the eye roll that overcame your body.

“It’d be rude to truthfully want my Alpha to piss off. So no, I don’t,” you admitted, staring out the window at the others.

“What the hell are you doing? It sounds obscene.”

“Nothing,” you said, grinning at the groan that came over the phone.

“What is it?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Because I wanna know if I was right or not.”

“Guess the world may never know,” you sighed in a sing-song voice. But then, there was the familiar beeping on your phone, signaling a FaceTime call. “Michael you ass,” you complained but answered the call anyway. Michael was sat in the library, lounging on the couch with his hair tousled everywhere. You could see the occasional boy walk by, and you heard a few voices that told you it was more than just Michael in the library.

“A popsicle? Really?” Michael asked, rolling his eyes as you dramatically popped it out of your mouth.

“Yup. It’s cold, I’m hot, can I make it any more obvious?” you snickered.

“Did someone just make an Avril Lavigne reference?” A boy yelled out across the room, and Michael looked over the phone with a bored expression, at whoever had called out.

“It seems busy over there. I’m not disturbing the righteous Alpha, now am I?” you hummed, tapping the tip of the cherry popsicle against your lip.

“I was the one that called,” Michael reminded you.

“Oh, yeah. So really, the Alpha is bothering me,” you said, laughing loudly at Michael’s glare.

“But, I’m serious. You need something that won’t have you crashing in a few hours.”

“There’s nothing! If I eat something hot, I’m throwing it up within seconds. There’s no more bread or sandwich meat, so I’m fucked there. All we really have is ice cream and drinks,” you groaned, crossing your arms on the table, and placing your chin on them so you could pout at Michael through the screen. “Third world problems.”

“Go out and buy a sandwich or something from the store,” Michael said, and your head popped up at the idea.

“Oh, that’s a brilliant id-”

“(Y/N), who are you talking to?” you looked up at the newcomer and winced when you saw it was Mallory. You were quick to place your phone face-down on the counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Nobody you need to know about it.”

Mallory nodded and walked around you, towards the cabinet behind your head. You spun on your chair to face her, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why’d you leave the lesson?” she asked, pulling out something to eat, and turning to face you.

“‘Cause I could.”

“Nature is important. We could wake up one day, and it could all be gone. You should be more grateful for it, and start learning about it,” she chided.

“Nature isn’t my thing, you know. You’re fucking amazing with nature, but I’m not. My magic is mental-centered, and spending a few hours in the sun won’t change that,” you defended. Mallory shook her head and began to leave the kitchen.

“You won’t get very far as a witch, thinking like that. Try harder. You’re the Supreme’s daughter and granddaughter, you should have something to show for it.”

“I do, my mother. I don’t need any special powers to prove that I come from two generations of Supreme’s. My powers are strong on their own, I don’t need to add yours to it. So do me a favor, and get the hell out.”

“With Cordelia dying, it would do her a whole lot of good to know she’s resting her fate in the right hands. But, to one's own I suppose,” Mallory shrugged. Without thinking, you grabbed the apple in the fruit basket at your side and chucked it at her. Mallory yelped as the fruit exploded beside her head, apple fragments flying into her hair and on the floor.

“My mom will not die. She is not resting her fate in my hands, because in case you’ve forgotten, the new Supreme has already been appointed. Michael can save Cordelia if either of them pleases, and if what my mother is saying about the world is correct, there are much bigger problems at hand, than my ability to turn a fucking rose blue,” you growled, each word coming out harder and angrier than the rest. The heat had picked up, sweat now beading down your forehead and neck as you stared straight at Mallory. Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing more as she briskly left the room.

Once you were certain Mallory was gone, you let out a loud cry of frustration and tugged at your hair with your free hand. Your popsicle had been long forgotten and had melted down your other hand. You tossed it into the trashcan at your side and wiped off your hand with a paper towel, before picking your phone back up. Michael could see the evident anger in your eyes once you had appeared on the screen, and the library he was in seemed vacant now.

“Who was that?” Michael questioned, once you had opened your (e/c) eyes to look at him.

“Another witch. She means well, I know she does, it’s just… we’re too similar, and we don’t get along. I know she just wants my mom alive and well, and she thinks that because the Supremacy was passed from my grandma Fiona to my mom, that I’ll get it. But it’s not genetic, and it’s already been passed to you. It’s just stressful, ‘m sorry you had to hear that,” you sighed, and began leaving the kitchen, phone held up so Michale could still see you.

“I don’t mind. But she needs to stay out of your business,” Michael said simply. You muttered a quiet ‘yeah’ as you walked up the stairs, passing the occasional student who side-eyed your phone. Once you had safely gotten to your room, you locked the door and tossed your phone onto your bed. “Nice ceiling.”

“I need to change,” you said, stripping off your shirt so you were just in a tank top. You pulled on a pair of pajama shorts as well, before climbing back onto your bed. You laid down on your side and picked your phone back up, holding it in front of you. “Thanks for calling,” you said quietly after a couple of minutes of the two of you just staring at one another. “You always know when something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s hard to explain, but I can usually tell when you’re upset. I’ve got nothing else to do, and you’re not boring to talk with,” Michael explained, his typical smirk replaced with a soft smile- one you hadn’t really seen before.

“Try to explain it,” you urged, biting the inside of your lip. Michael hummed softly and moved himself down the couch, until his head was resting on the armrest.

“Whenever something is wrong, I get this cold feeling on the inside of my palm- almost like I’ve touched liquid nitrogen. I can’t move my hand, at all, not until I’ve texted you or called you. It went away when I texted you after you had left, that’s when I first started figuring it out. I’d gotten the feeling before, once or twice after meeting you, but I texted you that time because I wanted you to see if the same was happening to Cordelia, because at first I thought it was a Supreme thing. But as soon as your name popped into my head, I could move my hand again. So then I texted you, and the feeling slowly started going away. That’s when I figured out that whatever the feeling was, had to do with you,” Michael said, running his thumb over his bottom lip as he spoke. It all seemed so surreal to you, that Michael had this intimate connection with your wellbeing, only days after knowing one another. You could hardly believe it, it seemed like something out of a dark Disney movie.

“Did you say the inside of your palm?” you asked, focusing in on part of what he had said. Michael nodded, and you looked down at your own palm, the one that had been the center of the burning sensation. “Does the cold spread throughout your whole body? Like you’re in the middle of a snowstorm or something?” you inquired, looking up from your hand.

“Sometimes, but not often. When it does, is when I usually call you,” Michael said, and you nodded once more.

“The heat… it does the same thing. It’s hottest at my palm, and then it just spreads everywhere. Sometimes it feels like I’m drenched in lava, sometimes it feels like I’m in California in the middle of summer. It all just varies throughout the day. Like right now? Right now it’s like I’m in California. But earlier, when you had texted me about the potion, I felt like I was being burned alive.”

“That’s more than a simple cold, love. You’re smart enough to realize that,” Michael sighed, tossing his arm behind his head. You bit your cheek and sighed, staring at his arm.

“Yeah, I do know that. But I don’t know what it is, so saying it’s a cold is better than saying ‘I don’t know’,” you pouted, running one of your hands down your face.

“It’s connected to the two of us somehow. You get burning hot, and I get freezing cold. Somehow, our bodies know when something is wrong with the other, and they’re trying to tell us,” Michael deducted, and you groaned loudly.

“That doesn’t make any sense though. Why us? Why the two of us? It all starts with our palms, where we shook hands. Did… did you feel anything when that happened?” you suddenly asked. You had been staring at his arm the whole time you were talking, but at remembering what happened when you shook hands with Michael, your eyes snapped back to his.

“Yes. My hand got hot, and it went into my chest. I thought it was just the fire, but by your reaction, I’m guessing it wasn’t,” Michael confessed, wearily looking at you.

“That happened to me, except for me, it was cold. The second I touched your hand, the feeling went up my arm, and into my chest, too. And before that, I got this… this fuzzy feeling in my head. Like a swarm of bees, made out of cotton, were inside of my brain, and they were all trying to tell me something at once. Like actual words, but I couldn’t tell what they were. And that happened when we all met up by the fire pit,” you confessed as well, sitting up in your bed as Michael sat up on the couch.

“Hm,” he hummed quietly, narrowing his eyes as he stared at you through the screen. “I’ll talk to A-”

“No! Michael, don’t. This stays between us, you got it? Ariel doesn’t find out and neither does Cordelia. This is a Michael and (Y/N) thing only, okay?” you said quickly. You didn’t want anyone prying into your business any more than they already had, and you and Michael both had too many things on your plate already. “We’ll figure this out together, but they don’t need to know about it. Promise me, that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t think the Alpha should be having to make promises,” Michael huffed, leaning back against the couch.

“Michael please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this as the Alpha or whatever. Do this as my friend,” you pleaded, biting down on your lip in worry. Michael looked at you for a few moments before nodding.

“Yes, alright. Between the two of us. A friend thing,” he complied, and you sighed in relief.

“Fuck, thank you. You’re a lifesaver, Michael, I mean it.”

“No, I’m not. This is affecting the both of us. It’s hurting you more than it’s hurting me, obviously, and I want to help you. But if you don’t want anyone to know, than I won’t tell anyone. However, that means you’ve got to promise me something of your own.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Whenever you start feeling overwhelmed, or too hot, or something is bothering you, you need to tell me. What you feel, I feel, and I need to know what’s going on with you,” Michael said, and you groaned loudly.

“You’re busy, you’ve got things to do! I can’t just text you at two in the morning like, ‘yeah, hey, I’m hot’. That’s not fair for you!” you objected.

“Yes, it is. No matter what time it is, you will tell me if something is the matter with you, no matter what the problem is. Do you understand?” Michael’s voice seemed to grow darker and more serious, the curious, boyish-softness all-but gone.

“Okay, okay, fine. I will. If something is wrong, I will text or call you. I promise,” you sighed, holding up your pinky finger mockingly. Michael grinned, and held up his own, tapping it against the screen.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Bite me, Supreme Jackass.”

Michael Langdon Taglist (OPEN): @omg-luv4lyfe-universe @hesvoid34 @winchesterbloodxxxx @justanotherdaydreamersoul @frozenhuntress67 @michaels-slut @buckynatlarry @sweetcredence @crybabycth @very-aesthetic-pineapple @rainbowxmisa @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @sherlokid7 @hexqueensupreme @kaliforniacoastalteens @madhatterweasley @skullchik89 @assgardiangoddess @booyouwhoreee @kerouacsroad @moonagecordelia @valentinevirgo @aliahemmings97 @becca-in-outer-space @supersoldierballerina @quione3 @hxdesworld @multi-madison @lanijoyxo @bookwormstrawberry @killcort @shado-cat

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #american horror story apocalypse #ahs imagines #18 months

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junepop45 · 5 years ago

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Too Late, Too Late

Summary: Atlas doesn’t show up for some time and it greatly affects The Rose Thorns.

Co-written/edited by @no-need-to-apply

The Rose Thorns had been playing for about an hour, but their guitar section had one less riff in it. The mood was a bit awkward because of it.

"Yo, dude! Any word from Atlas?" River whispered during the chorus.

"No," JD said, dismayed. "I haven't seen him all week. Granted, it’s Monday, but still."

"Think he might just be sick?"

"Yea, probably."

"Or maybe he's flaking on us," the lead vocalist speculated, ending the song abruptly.

JD got pissed immediately. "He wouldn't do that, Mia!" They exclaimed. "Why would he not show up if he likes playing music?" This was a bit of a touchy subject for the wolf.

"Hey, I'm not sure. But we can't rule that out just yet. He's been late a couple times with some made up excuse so I feel like it's not unbelievable that he just wouldn't show up," Mia claimed.

The wolf sighed. "I guess. I still don't think he'd ditch us though.”

"We'll just have to see."

Practice ended, and Atlas was still nowhere to be seen. It was like that for a while. Days passed. Weeks drudged on. It was almost unbearable. It was an entire month until JD saw Atlas.

"Heya, Pu-" JD tackled their friend to the ground. He laughed. "You gotta stop tackling me or you'll snap me in half," he joked. For some reason, JD was trembling. They couldn't seem to get off of him. Atlas wriggled underneath JD’s grip. “Uh… what’s going on?”

"Where were you?" They choked out. Atlas didn't seem to follow. "You've been gone for one month and twelve days." The time traveler’s eyes grew wide.

"Shit. You don't really mean-"

"Yes, Atlas! I mean it! I counted it! Forty-two days, six weeks, twenty one practices and I haven't heard a word from you!" JD smacked a hand on Atlas’ chest. It didn’t really hurt, but he got the point.

“Oh sweet Jesus.” Atlas managed to sit up, burying his head in his hands. He looked genuinely upset at himself. “I didn’t… Fuck. I really had no idea. It’s only been like four days for me.” He glanced up at JD, his face one of stress and nerves.

JD made eye contact with him, they're vision getting blurry. "That's... not a long time," they said, not really having the right words to explain what they meant. "So time really does change depending on where you go?" They asked.

Atlas was hesitant to respond. "Yea," he said, sighing. "There's probably some brainiac explication but depending on the spin of the planets and where my tech decides to land me in the timeline, the difference can be days, weeks-"

"Years." JD finished. Atlas could hear the twinge of hurt and betrayal in his friend's voice.

"I get that you're mad at me. Hell, I'm pissed at myself. You gotta understand that sometimes I just lose track of time." Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yea, I know," JD admitted. "It still hurts though. It's not good to feel... abandoned."

Atlas shuddered at those words. No smug look, no amount of jokes, no Atlas Charm could sugar coat his one of his biggest fears; to make his friends feel like he left them.

"Cmon! Let's just grab your guitar and we can jam out," the pale skinned man insisted. JD remained silent, got up and walked with him over to the practice lounge.

Before he could knock, the door opened.

"It's been a while," Mia muttered through gritted teeth. JD teared up.

"Y-yea. Too long. Let's not waste another second," Atlas agreed.

"You mean YOU! Better not waste another second-" she pressed her finger on his chest. "Where the hell have you been?!" She berated the band member. He looked uncomfortable and irritated.

"Listen here. It was fucked up I didn't show up for a month. I know that. But can't we leave that in the past?"

She scoffed, but moved out the door frame as the taller two entered the room.

Atlas was met with glares and begrudging welcomes. At this point, he took what he could.

Practice was all work and no play. The air was so stiff that Atlas could cut it with his nails. They didn't work on anything new, since JD was having a hard time looking at him, let alone talking with him.

"Cmon, we've played this song a billion times today," GD complained. "Let's call it quits, ok?" She hopped off her drum set and flopped onto the couch. Atlas stretched a bit before walking over.

"Mind if I sit next to ya, Nightmare Eyes?" Atlas joked.

"Only a little," she mumbled, making room.

Mia abruptly stormed out, River chasing after her. Atlas grumbled and looked over at GD.

"How do I make it up to them?" He asked.

"I don't know," GD responded. "You were gone for so long and with no good reason." Atlas looked back at JD.

"I- n-never told them.... I was-sn't sure I-if you wanted them to." They explained.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about, but it's too big to keep secret," GD said. "Have you been in a coma for a month? Are you dying?" She asked.

Atlas laughed out loud for the first time all day. "Actually, quite the opposite," he reassured. "I'll tell Mia and River when they get back, but I highly doubt you'll take me seriously if I tell the truth."

It was GD's turn to chuckle. "With all the jokes you make, it’s hard to ever take you seriously. It's better if you just tell us. If you need a place to stay, just crash here like JD does sometimes."

"I'd prefer he didn't stay with me for a while." JD mumbled.

"Oh, cmon. He apologized. You know better than I do-"

"IT STILL HURTS!" They cried out of frustration. They sat on the ground, facing Atlas and GD. The wolf began to carve into the cold concrete floor.

"No one likes being left behind or forgotten. Especially with zero contact for a month from your own best friend. It stings. I could barely think straight because everyday I thought more and more about you, but I thought less and less you'd show up." They sighed, grabbing their breath. "I-I'm not saying I don't accept your apology, Atlas. But I can't forgive you qu-quite yet. I'm not used to seeing you, let alone to sleep with you."

Atlas began chewing on a lock of his hair due to nerves. “I… I understand. I have a different place to stay. It’s fine.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Mia burst back into the room, fuming. Atlas looked up in surprise.

“Oh, Mia! Um… there’s a really good reason why I didn’t show up for so long, but-”

Mia suddenly turned on Atlas. “Oh, really? It better be the best damn reason ever!” She ran over to the couch. “You’ve been gone for a month! Or did you forget that as well? Huh? There’s no good reason for that!”

Atlas began chewing on his hair again, eventually biting down so hard that he accidentally broke a strand off. Mia didn’t even notice how stressed he was from the anger.

“You know what? Tell me. Give me your reason why. I wanna hear why you just left us!”

Atlas had enough. “Fine, fuck it. You wanna know why? Do ya? Do ya really?!” He tossed off his jacket, revealing his suit to Mia and the others. JD winced, realizing what Atlas was about to do. Atlas raised his arm up, revealing his wristcomp. “Access Arial Attack Orb footage from the last four days.” Everyone was silent in shock, not expecting anything like this.

The wristcomp displayed a video hologram, beginning to play back footage of Atlas on another planet, in the middle of a giant war. Incredibly advanced technology and unearthly creatures were both noticeable in the video. Atlas was seen at the front lines, fighting for his life. This went on for a couple minutes, before he closed out of the footage. “That a good enough fucking explanation for you?”

The band stood with their mouths wide open. Mia's temper fluctuated from confused to saddened to furious. "So you're some space soldier. Fan fucking tastic!" She paced back and forth between the couch and the stage. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?!"

"How the hell was I supposed to bring it up?!?! 'Hey guys, I’m a space traveler and sometimes I'll leave for days on end,' or something?" Atlas mocked.

"Yes! Or something!" Mia screamed.

"You wouldn't have believed me if I hadn't shown you the footage!"

"You're wearing a fucking suit under your clothes! You've got a robot on you that's definitely not from earth. And literally everyone in this band except for me isn't completely human. We're all fucking weird!"

Atlas stared angrily. Yea, Mia was right, but she had no right to berate him like this. River pushed Mia aside to get in the middle of them. "Both of you guys calm down!" She commanded. "I get it. Mia, you're mad at Atlas for not showing up. Atlas, you just wanna pick things up where they left off, right?"

"Right," they both said synonymously.

"Well, it's not that simple. We didn't know the full story. Atlas didn't know he'd be gone that long and we didn't know he'd be gone at all,"

"It was a mistake," he mumbled.

"Exactly! It's all just a mistake and some miscommunication," River agreed.

"Pshhh!!! More like no communication. We had no way to reach him. Hey, space cadet! You got a wrist watch or some advanced tech shit we can call you on?" Mia snidely remarked.

"Don't be an asshole right now, that's not gonna help," River cautioned.

"Whatever. We still need a way to at least get a goddamn message saying 'I'm gonna be out of town,'! I just want some communication because that's the only way this is gonna work."

"So why don't you just kick me out the band," Atlas questioned. Mia look shocked and offended.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" She asked. "You're a hell of a player and you've been a great member so far. I've only known you for a while but you bring an energy to the group that we need." She sighed realizing what she needed to say. "If you want to quit, that's fine. I can't force you to stay. But the last thing I want is for you to go AWOL on us. You can live your life however you want, but you gotta let us know beforehand. When you accepted being in the band you made a commitment to be here and be apart of The Rose Thorns. So when you left without saying anything, it took a toll on us, not knowing where you were or when you'd come back. We thought you just ditched us."

Atlas really didn't like feeling like a beaten dead horse, but he had to acknowledge that River did have some good points. He put his hands on his chest.

"It'll be difficult to find a device that won't give out our locations out to hackers. But I'll figure something out. You've got my word," he swore.

Mia reached out her hand to shake on it and Atlas gladly accepted.

"I've got an idea!" River exclaimed. "What if we go get some grub! It'll be Atlas first outing with us!"

Atlas shrugged. "I can't. I'm busy tonight," he declined.

Mia raised an eyebrow "Really?"

"No," he snickered. A unanimous groan came from the group.

"Too soon," GD joked.

"What can I say? Timing’s not my strong suit." He jumped up and walked over to the door. "Yea, let’s go get somethin' to eat! It'll be better than the slop they gave me over on generic war-planet 1000."

The group headed out, each learning something new about Atlas and somewhat forgiving him. It took time before the dust died down, but nevertheless, The Rose Thorns was still six members strong, one band making music, and a couple friends having the time of their lives.

#ert writes #The Rose Thorns #JD #Atlas #River #GD #Mia #Static

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pwnyta · 6 years ago

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ALRIGHT BUT I GOTTA TALK ABOUT THE SPOILERS!!!

Endgame spoilers under the readmore-

Steve going back into the past to be with Peggy to close his time loop is so funny to me. Everyone whos read the spoilers just fucking hates Steve (and The Russos)... Ive been sayin this whole gd time Steve does some shitty things and everyone in canon (and IRL) just pretend that it was the right thing and Cap is just so righteous and shit... I told yall... no one ever fuckin listens to me.

The only thing that really sours my hearty guffaws at Steve being a scrub as expected is Emily VanCamp went through some bullshit doing Marvel press shit and they really did her and Sharon THIS dirty? FOR WHAT? The first woman who was nice to Steve that Steve barely spent ANY TIME with and who shot at him more times that shes kissed him?

I know your bad at romance Marvel but HOLY SHIT.

Steve projected his feelings for Peggy onto Peggys niece and then dips out on Sharon to go back to her Aunt... S’gonna be REAL fuckin awkward when Sharon is born later... ‘Oh Sharon... my niece WHO I CERTAINLY DIDNT FUCK IN THE FUTURE PRETENDING YOU WERE YOUR AUNT‘

Thats a dodgy look even for you Rogers. AT east you pass the mantle to Sam (I guess?).

EVC bitch I am so sorry they dragged you into this franchise for LITERALLY no fucking reason. They could have had this ending without issue if it werent for the fact they added Sharon to TWS... Like what was the point? This is worse than what they did to Nataile Portman. At least Jane just fuckin dumped Thors bitch ass... SPEAKING OF--

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

Thors kind of a scrub too! Really just leaving his people after everything thats gone down? I mean at least he put them in the apparently far more capable hands of Valkyrie. But damn Thor... I mean at least he didnt just have a kid and leave her like in NA:HoT.... BUT STILL. Rough.

Also people being surprised and angry that Loki saw an opportunity to help himself and dips out? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN THIS ENTIRE FRANCHISE?! Especially past Loki... maybe an argument could be made for the Loki that was strangled (though not to me).

(Theres potentially? still hope for you Thor. Maybe Gunn can save you. Prayer circle for Thor.)

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

Tony dies. I knew that was gonna happen. I hoped it wouldnt... but there was no way Tony give up Iron Man. Never could so him dying a hero.... thats fair. But very sad. At least we got a real good hug out of Tony and Peter and he dies surrounded by the people he loves instead.

And after that Film Theory episode where MatPat was talking about how Tony and Thanos were foils and Tonys story should have him give up Iron Man and live... I was like ‘ OR Thanos sacrificed the person he loved (Gamora) to ‘’save’’ the galaxy. Tony would sacrifice himself to save the people he loved/the galaxy‘

Your fav dies a hero or lives long enough to turn into a total fuckin scrub.

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

TChalla giving the BP mantle to Shuri? Dope. Valkyrie and Carol sorta flirting? Maybe dope? Rescue!Pepper FUCKIN DOPE. GotG setting up to find and save Gamora and her getting a big part in the 3rd movie? VERY DOPE.

But this will probably be my last MCU thing im watching. And Im kinda glad my emotional dependency on this franchise dimmed when I got into BNHA... I might have been a little more salty. But I still cant wait for the movie... Im still really curious and I want to see Tony reunite with Peter in HIGH DEFINITION.

#Endgame Spoilers #Like full on this time.#Dont bitch at me. I tagged.

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l000ey · 7 years ago

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the queen and the jester → r.d

pairing; song mino x rae dara (ft. dong youngbae and mentions of lee chaerin, park bom, min hyorin and kwon jiyong)

summary; Red needs to forget everything and Mino wants to helps her

warning; bad language

note; yes, they fucked but Mino is not the only one Red has had sex with after her breakup with GD.....

2014

People smiled and laughed happily as they talked to their friends or acquaintances while Red was sitting there with a glass of the strongest alcohol she could have found in the bar of the huge hotel where they were celebrating the end of the year party. She sighed and turned to see her best friend when she felt that he was sitting next to she.

"Are you gonna stay like that all night?" The girl shrugged at the question. Taeyang sighed as he looked for Chaerin but she was very busy dancing with Hyorin and Bom, he made a face that showed his displeasure when he saw his leader dancing with that girl he had brought to the party.

He looked at the brunette only to realize that she was also looking at Jiyong and that model devouring in the middle of the dance floor. Dara sighed and drank another swallow from her glass. "I think I'll go home."

"But there is only one hour left for it to be New Year" With his right hand he gave a slight squeeze on her leg, trying to give her encouragement but she ignored it by going back to drink another drink "D, stay. Do not give him the satisfaction of seeing you wrong. "

"I think he's already satisfied enough." She pointed out how the girl intertwined her fingers in the rapper's hair and bit his lips. She let out a bitter laugh and stood up, alarming Youngbae.

"Uh, uh, where are you going?" He got up too when he saw her staggering, helped her sit down again.

"I need a cigarette, maybe two or three." She opened her purse and pulled out a packet of tobacco next to a cigarette lighter. The white-haired man sighed again before snatching the bag, earning a complaint from the best "Yah, give me that."

"No" He said curtly.

"Youngbae, please. I need to get out of here, I want to go home.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face in his stomach, the singer growled looking for someone to help him with the twenty three years old baby. The only one who seemed to be in his five senses was the rapper of the group of boys who had debuted about a year ago, what was his name? Oh, yes, Mino.

"You" He pointed to the boy, who was sitting at a few tables beyond. The dark haired man frowned and pointed, Youngbae nodded "Come here."

"Yes, hyung?" Mino waved at him but Taeyang stopped him.

"I need your help, have you drunk?" The boy denied and he smiled "Perfect! Well, you're going to help Red get home. "

"Ah, I'm not so drunk." Red, who was watching them still sitting in her place, frowned annoyed. "I do not need a babysitter, Youngbae."

"Oh, believe me you need it." He handed the bag to the young man and helped his friend get up while she complained nonstop. Mino frowned without understanding anything, his sunbae looked sad and did not understand the reasons why she could be but nevertheless remained silent. The older one looked at him. "Help her get home and then come back if you want. If you do, I'll talk to the CEO to give you a solo album. "

Red rolled her eyes at the exaggerations of her best friend, snatched the bag from her hoobae and picked up a cigar ready to be smoked. She looked at the dark haired man "Are we going?"

"Eh, yes." He nodded quickly receiving her bag again and started to walk to get to it but his hyung's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Take care of her. She's not anybody, you know?” He nodded and started running toward the girl who had stopped at the door as soon as she realized he was not following her.

Both walked in silence through the hotel corridors until they reached the elevator. Red sighed as soon as Mino hit the button that would take them down.

“Mino”.

"Yes?" He turned quickly to see if she needed anything. He inspected her with his eyes, curious about his senior, but everything seemed fine with her, so he waited for her to speak.

"Can we go somewhere other than my house, please? I do not want to be there, I need fresh air.” She did not look at it for a second as she spoke, her eyes were lost on the floor of the elevator.

"But Taeyang hyung said that ..."

"I know what your hyung said, but I want to breathe and if you're going to be my babysitter at least does that for me." Her green eyes finally settled on him and all he could do was nod. He was afraid to screw everything and have her thrown him out of the agency. He approached the panel and pressed the button on the sixth floor making the girl look at him confused. "What are you doing?"

"I rented a room because I thought about drinking until I forgot my name so we can go there. You can smoke, there is a terrace. "He explained before leaving the wall and standing in front of the doors.

"Wow, I did not even think about asking for a room. Very clever, Song” The boy smiled at the words of the eldest and offered his hand to help her out of the elevator. They walked hand in hand to the room where Mino had to let her go to open the door. He let her pass first in a gentlemanly act. Red smiled to see the room, it was beautiful "You can go back to the party if you want, I will smoke a while and then I will go to my house. Do not miss the fun because of me. "

Mino laughed leaving the bag on one of the bedside tables after closing the door "It was not a fun party. It was pretty boring, I would say. I'll stay and when you want to leave I'll take you home. I promised hyung that I would take care of you."

"Well, thanks." She smiled at him, running the curtains so she could have access to the terrace. She turned around and looked at him still smiling. "And stop talking to me in a formal way, we've known each other for many years, I think we're close enough to talk to me like that."

He followed her to the terrace. "You're older than me and everyone knows you do not like honorific so I had to be respectful in some way." He watched her take off her heels and throw them away from her. He laughed thinking about how cute she was doing that pout looked when he saw the wonderful views of the Seoul night that the room had.

"Thank you for bringing me here." She looked at him, ignoring the fact that she had caught him looking at her and smiled at him and then looked again at the illuminated city. "It's just what I needed."

He followed her example and sat in the other chair. "I'm glad I was helpful."

Silence filtered again between the two, the only thing you could hear was the cigarette burn and music away from the party a couple of floors above. Dara sighed letting out the smoke, her sigh caught the attention of the rapper, who turned his head to look at her.

"C-can I ask you something?"

The brunette laughed "You've done it but yes, go ahead."

"Why are you so down? It's been a while since I've noticed it. You almost never smile and if you do it is a fake smile, you just drink and smoke and spend most of your time in your studio or at home "He looked at her worried" Is everything all right? "

Just as he said, she forced a smile, feeling her eyes watering so she looked away from him. Mino did not stop looking at her for a moment so, despite her effort to keep the tears out of sight, he saw her cry. He got up and knelt by her side while rubbing her arm trying to comfort her.

"Hey, it's fine. You can cry if you want. "He trailed his other hand down her back and hugged her while she hid her face in his chest. A few minutes later she stopped sobbing but both continued in the same position "Do you want to tell me what happened?".

"Jiyong and I have broken up and the son of a bitch has brought a slut to the party. He was eating her mouth in front of me!” She exclaimed and shrugged closer to the warm body of the boy" I know we're not together anymore and he's free to do whatever he wants but I do not know...show some respect at least? "

"He should have waited a little longer to take someone to an event at the company." The black-haired agreed, she nodded away from his arms causing a cold to immediately spread through his skin.

"Exact. Thank you.” She accepted the handkerchief for which Mino had entered the room and carefully cleaned her face but could not continue because the boy took it from her hands and began to clean it.

"Let me do it" he murmured and began to spread the silk over her skin carefully, with too much care, as if she were the most precious and weak thing that he could have in his hands and that he should take care of. "I think hyung is stupid, not only for today but for leaving you. He's crazy about leaving a queen like you without a king. "

Dara moved slightly away from his touch leaving his cleaning job in half. She looked into his eyes and frowned thinking about why the hell she should have fallen in love with Jiyong instead of Mino. Without realizing her lips were already glued to his and her body was sitting on his lap.

She moaned when his tongue entered her mouth. She quickly brought her hands to his hair, that hair so well combed and cut that since she had seen it had made her want to run her fingers through it and ruffle it. The fireworks began to explode in front of them and the shouts of happiness of their record companions sounded in the distance. 2015 had already arrived.

Mino broke the kiss by separating from her, very little but for them it felt like being millions of miles away from each other. He looked at her confused.

"Help me to forget him, please" She whispered and he, even knowing that this would bring consequences, nodded before returning to stick his lips with hers and get up with her in his arms. He walked with a determined step towards the room where he approached the bed and placed her gently on top of it.

Mino pulled away to take off his shoes while Dara unzipped her dress. He came quickly to her after he had discarded his jacket and kissed her again before helping her to get rid of that dress that looked very expensive although he did not regret to see that under the dress there was a fine lingerie. He bit his lower lip with such force that it seemed that at any moment he would bleed, the brunnette took him from his tie and pulled him closer to her. He joined her lips again while she unbuttoned his shirt. Mino's mind kept telling him that this was probably a dream and that he enjoyed it because he would never experience such a real dream again.

"Mino" She sighed his name when his lips took hold of the skin of her neck, he growled happy to hear his name leave her lips and continued sucking her smooth and soft skin. He spent minutes on each part of her body, did not leave a corner without kissing while whispering how beautiful she was making her sigh happily.

He pulled away from the skin of her stomach and looked at her, eyes closed and moaning for him. He smiled and went down to kiss her on the lips this time.

"Mino” She whispered again when the kiss broke.

"Yes?" He pulled their sweaty foreheads together as his hands danced around the curves of her body.

The look she gave him said too many things, said he would help her, that she needed love, that she missed her family, that she felt...empty but she did not say anything of that.

"Mino, fuck me." She said instead.

Hours later the boy looked at her back where that stupid tattoo rested while she slept soundly after her attempt to forget Kwon Jiyong. Mino grimaced without stop looking at the tattoo, that tattoo that was famous throughout Asia, that tattoo that symbolized the eternal love that the king and queen swore to have before all but that in the end it would only be a scar on the skin of the queen that would remember her for life to the king.

And Mino did not like that because he knew that this, what had just happened and for what she asked so much, would be nothing more than a secret story that would be between them and that soon she would run into the arms of the king as soon as he was, realized how stupid he is and asked for forgiveness. And then there would be him, the funny but lonely jester who loves the queen in secret like many others.

He sighed and turned around, ready to say goodbye to the beautiful but tragic night that had just passed in front of him.

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shownuslaugh · 7 years ago

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Stage Name: SJ Birth Name: Park Soo Jin Position: Rapper, Face Birthday: December 10th, 1990 Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Birth Place: Seoul, South Korea Height: 176 cm Weight: 150 lbs Blood Type: O Instagram: sjofbb Twitter: sjofbb Me2day: sjofbb — SJ was born in Seoul, South Korea — She is an only child but considers the other members of BigBang as her brothers — Her nickname is Kitten and was given to her by Top shortly after the band’s debut — SJ and Seungri were the last two members to be added to BigBang. — Initially, SJ only got along with Seungri. The other boys basically ignored her existence for the first few months after the band was formed — Her favorite color is blue and her favorite food is anything Taeyang is willing to cook for her — She is very good friends with Onew (SHINee), Siwon (Super Junior), Amber (f(x)), and Min Kyunghoon (Buzz). — SJ works as an MC and has hosted several shows. She also works as a model in her spare time and has starred in a handful of dramas. — YG has not released her mixtape that was reportedly completed around the same time as GD’s second album, but other members often bring it up in interviews — Her favorite BigBang song is Fantastic Baby — She and Seungri lived together for a while but eventually split when netizens accused them of secretly dating. She now lives two minutes away from Top. — SJ has three dogs: Haru, Jae, and most recently Ssamja. Ssamja was supposed to be named after Min Kyunghoon when SJ lost a bet to him, but she opted for his nickname rather than his actual name. — SJ’s ideal type: “The older I get the more I discover what I want is actually an amalgamation of my brothers. I want someone as funny as Top, as kind hearted as Daesung, as loyal as Taeyang, as passionate as GD, and as hardworking as Seungri. Appearance doesn’t matter so much as long as they have good morals and a good work ethic.”

Okay, so, here’s my try at a sixth member of bigbang au. Up top is obviously some basic info about her and below the cut is a Seungri/SJ story for your reading pleasure. For now, nothing will be in chronological order; however, I’ll add dates where I can.

2018

“What will you do while we’re gone?”

SJ looks up from her now empty glass of wine only to see Seungri’s face full of earnest curiosity. It’ll be the first time in over ten years they’ve been apart for longer than two weeks. None of them are really ready for it, but they all know it needs to be done. Her boys need to be men now. They need to serve their country while SJ…

“Wait for you to come back.”

Seungri sticks out his lower lip at her response and she pats his cheek. “You won’t really do that. Will you?”

“Don’t be silly.” SJ bites at the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know. It’s different, ya know? We’ve all had our little solo endeavors before, but at the end of the day we all came back together. We’ve always had each other to fall back on.”

“Now it’s just you.”

“Now it’s just me.”

Seungri finishes off his own glass of wine before lapsing into a comfortable silence with his best friend. She has a point. They’ve always had each other when things got rough or unsteady. Now they’ve drifted one by one to a point in life that will either be a springboard for a new chapter or the end of everything. It’s bittersweet. It’s terrifying. Sometimes Seungri is so scared of what’s to come he has to physically stop himself from hiding away at SJ’s apartment for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want to leave her or the comfort of their relationship because- while he knows he’s good at meeting people and making new friends- he wouldn’t be half the man he is without SJ’s constant, unwavering belief. Same with his hyungs. They made him, shaped him, and now they’ve left him.

“This isn’t permanent,” SJ slips her hand in his and leans her head on his shoulder. “Things will change but… it’s all for the best.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes I worry though.”

“What about?” Seungri lets his cheek rest against the top of SJ’s head as he listens to her deep breathing, ready to jump at the slightest sound that could mean distress.

“The thought of you as a soldier is terrifying. The thought of Daesung as a soldier is terrifying. Of course, I worry over Jiyong as well.” She sighs briefly before continuing. “And then… there’s Seunghyun and Youngbae.”

“What about them?”

“I have no doubts the rest of you will be ready to pick up where we left off, but those two… I’m just not sure. Youngbae is married now. Don’t you think he’ll want time to just be a husband for a while? Maybe have children? Then there’s Seunghyun. After everything that’s happened who says he wants to come back?”

“He says.” Seungri doesn’t want to say he’s had those exact same fears, so he does what he does best when emotions get high: jokes. “Would you like to go see him now? He’s been off work for a while. If you put on a nice skirt and pick a good bottle of wine I’m sure we could convince him to stay in the band-“ He yelps when your fist makes contact with his chest.

“This is why I never get touchy feely with you.”

“Well, according to tabloids you like to get touchy feely with all of us.”

SJ sits up, back completely straight. “I can’t believe those rumors are still out there. Why hasn’t YG done anything? Since 2006 I’ve been called the worst things imaginable! Why hasn’t legal action been taken?”

Seungri feels bad. He knows why action hasn’t been taken just as well as she does. Just as well as the fans do. They aren’t the gold children of YG. They aren’t a G Dragon or a Taeyang. They’re just SJ and Seungri and that’s all they’ll ever be. For a lot of fans that’s more than enough. They like to show off their hardworking maknae line (which includes Daesung who’s also not a G Dragon or a Taeyang in Korea at least) to the rest of the world. They dote and coddle just like the older members dote and coddle. Most of the time it’s enough to be loved only by the fans and older members, but a bit more love from the company would be nice as well. Seungri still gets tears eyed over the surprise birthday party from YG even though it happened months ago, that’s how rare and hard to come by the love is.

Suddenly, Seungri’s struck by a memory. His first birthday after debuting. SJ threw him a surprise party, going so far as to personally invite and bring his family. He cried harder than he ever had in the past, harder than he ever would in the future. From day one SJ was showering Seungri with all the love and affection in the world and expected nothing back. And she’s still doing that. Her brothers are her world.

No wonder she’s so distraught about enlistment.

“I leave tomorrow,” Seungri whispers, pulling SJ back to rest against his chest. “I don’t want to spend tonight sad. Oh, I know! Let’s rewatch Goblin!”

“Seunghyun,” SJ slips out of his arms in order to face him properly. “Don’t you want to go out and have a good time? You leave tomorrow.” There’s a sadness to her voice. A regret. Like she feels like she’s holding him back from something. “Call a bunch of your friends and go party. Don’t spend your last night comforting me.”

“But that’s how I want to spend my last night. I love you and I’d rather be here with you. It’s… calming. I want to be with my family.”

“What’s left of it,” SJ mutters.

“Hey, don’t talk like that. Will it be like it was before? No. You’d be an idiot to think it was.” Seungri takes SJ’s hands in his own. He notices how cold her fingers are and presses his lips together in a firm line. “We’ll still have each other, though. No matter what. I promise.”

SJ’s grin reminds Seungri of a fox when she says, “you’re such a good dongsaeng.”

“No! Don’t start that! You’re only two days older than me!”

“Still older. Now, put on a drama. I need a good cry.”

Seungri mutters under his breath as he does what SJ said. “You’re so bossy. Are your hands broke? Can you not use a remote?” He huffs and pouts the entire time he searches for a show. Preferably an old favorite. Maybe… Goblin? Seungri just really wants to watch Goblin.

“I can hear you over there.” SJ smacks him squarely on the back of the head before taking the remote. “How does Goblin sound?”

Seungri claps his hands together. “Please, noona?”

“Eww, stop. Here, watch the damn show and shut up. You’re annoying.”

Halfway through their binge watch something occurs to Seungri.

“Hey, Soojin, you won’t break into my house while I’m gone and sleep in my bed while wearing my clothes will you?”

“What the- why would I do that, you psycho?”

“Because you miss me. Obviously.”

“If I miss you that bad I’ll just watch some YouTube videos to remind myself how awful you are. In fact, your face is getting on my nerves already.”

“Whatever.” Seungri turns his attention back to the show. A few minutes pass before SJ gasps in his ear. “What now?”

“Does it hurt?” She asks.

“What?”

“Being so ugly.” Her laugh is loud and Seungri knows she thinks she’s made the funniest joke in the world just now. He lets her laugh, content with these last few hours of normalcy.

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mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 7 years ago

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50 Shades Of Kwon Ji Yong PT.1

LISTEN BEACHES I WATCHED INFINITY COMPANY FOR LIKE 100TH TIME WITH GD AS THE CEO AND I FELL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN FOR HIS LOOK THERE SO IM GOING TO RECREATE 50 SHADES OF GREY INTO THIS THING AND ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO E.L James the author of fifty shades of grey i just edited it so i hope you like it ,reblog to share it!

y/n- your name y/l/n-your last name PT.2 PT.3

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair - it just want it behave, and damn Hyo-Rin for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.

Hyo-Rin is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she had arranged to do, with some mega-industri alist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no, today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seoul in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Kwon Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious, much more precious than mine - but he has granted Hyo-Rin an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities.

Hyo-Rin is huddled on the couch in the living room.

Y/N, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this off. Please, Hyo-Rin begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

“Of course I’ll go Rin.You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?”

“Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.”

“I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.

“The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be late.”

“Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Hyo-Rin, would I do this.

“I will. Good luck. And thanks Y/n - as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”

Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I can not believe I have let Hyo-Rin talk me into this. But then Rin can talk anyone into anything. She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful ,and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from Gangnam-Gu, toward Seoul (i know its like part of seoul but i meant that she goes to main part of seoul ok?) and the 1-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seoul until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Rin’s lent me her ,sporty Mercedes CLK. I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Kwon’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy,with Kwon House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous - and frankly intimidating - glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

“I’m here to see Mr.Kwon. y/n y/l/n for Min Hyo-Rin.”

“Excuse me one moment, Miss Y/L/N.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand selfconsciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one of Hyo-Rin’s formal blazers rather than wear my navy blue jacket. I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots and a blue sweater. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.

“Miss Min is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Y/L/N. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all.

Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past

the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby - again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you wait here, please” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seoul skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.

I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel, and go through them, inwardly cursing Hyo-Rin for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty. The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, y/n. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Kwon is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It’s like Stepford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

“Miss y/l/n?” the latest blonde asks.

“Yes,” I croak, and clear my throat. “Yes.” There, that sounded more confident.

“Mr. Kwon will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?”

“Oh please.” I struggle out of the jacket.

“Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“Urn - no.” Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.

“A glass of water. Thank you,” I murmur.

“Olivia, please fetch Miss y/l/n a glass of water.” Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“My apologies, Miss y/l/n, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Kwon will be another five minutes.”

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

“Here you go, Miss y/l/n.”

“Thank you.”

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Kwon insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African- American man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. “Golf, this week, Kwon.”

I don’t hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She’s more nervous than me!

“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr. Kwon will see you now, Miss y/l/n. Do go through,” Blonde Number Two says.

I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

“You don’t need to knock - just go in.” She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office.

Double crap - me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Kwon’s office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow - he’s so young.

“Miss Min.” He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I’m upright. “I’m Kwon Ji Yong. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”

So young - and attractive, very attractive. He’s tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright Brown eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

“Urn. Actually…” I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

“Miss Min is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Kwon.”

“And you are?” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it’s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

“y/n y/l/n. I,m studying English Literature with Rin, urn… Hyo-Rin… urn… Miss Min at Gangnam ”

“I see,” he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I’m not sure.

“Would you like to sit?” He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there’s a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white - ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite - a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Trouton,” says Kwon when he catches my gaze.

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

“I couldn’t agree more, Miss y/l/n” he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Hyo-Rin’s questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Kwon says nothing, waiting patiently - I hope - as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not used to this.”

“Take all the time you need, Miss Y/l/n,” he says.

“Do you mind if I record your answers?”

“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder - you ask me now?”

I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Did Hyo-Rin, I mean, Miss Min, explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.”

Oh! This is news to me, and I’m temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me - okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

“Good,” I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Kwon.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Miss y/l/n, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his Brown stare. “My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people.”

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Rin’s list - but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss y/l/n. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ,the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.”

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss y/l/n,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,” he continues, his voice soft.

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.

“I employ over forty thousand people, Miss y/l/n. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility.

“Don’t you have a board to answer to?” I ask, disgusted.

“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he’s so arrogant. I change tack.

“And do you have any interests outside your work?”

“I have varied interests, Miss y/l/n.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.” And for some reason, I’m confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”

“Chill out?” He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

“Well, to ‘chill out’ as you put it - I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits.”

He shifts in his chair. “I’m a very wealthy man, Miss y/l/n, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”

I glance quickly at Rin’s questions, wanting to get off this subject.

“You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?”

“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”

His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.

“Possibly. Though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”

“Why would they say that?”

“Because they know me well.” His lip curls in a wry smile.

“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It’s not on Hyo-Rin’s list.

“I’m a very private person, Miss Y/L/N. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don’t often give interviews, he trails off.

“Why did you agree to do this one?”

“Because I’m a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t get Miss Min off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire That kind of tenacity.”

I know how tenacious Hyo-Rin can be. That’s why I’m sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

“You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?”

“We can’t eat money, Miss y/l/n, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world’s poor?”

He shrugs, very non-committal.

“It’s shrewd business,” he murmurs, though I think he’s being disingenuous. It doesn’t make sense - feeding the world’s poor? I can’t see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle - Carnegie’s man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled. I’m very singular, driven. I like control - of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things?” You are a control freak.

“I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”

“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”

“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can’t help thinking that we’re talking about something else, but I’m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it’s just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Rin has enough material now? I glance at the next question.

“You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?” Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he’s not offended. His brow furrows.

“I have no way of knowing.”

My interest is piqued.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“That’s a matter of public record, Miss y/l/n."His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap. Yes of course - if I’d known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research.

I move on quickly.

"You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”

“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.

“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Are you gay, Mr.Kwon?”

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions? Damn Rin and her curiosity!

“No y/n, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.

“I apologize. It’s urn… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren’t your own questions?”

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

“Err… no. Rin - Miss Min - she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?” Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.

“No. She’s my roommate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his brown eyes appraising me.

“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m compelled to answer with the truth.

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.

“Mr. Kwon, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.

“Very well, Mr. Kwon,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we, Miss y/l/n?”

Oh, we’re back to ’Miss Y/L/N, now.

“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His browneyes are alight with curiosity. Double crap. Wher’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

“There’s not much to know,"I say, flushing again.

"What are your plans after you graduate?” I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seoul with Rin find a place, find a job. I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Kwon. I just need to get through my final exams."Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

"We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?

“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I murmur, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.” Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.

“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. What’s going on? I have to go now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Kwon, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to Gangnam?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain"Well, you’d better drive carefully.“ His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? "Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Kwon.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

“Until we meet again, Miss y/l/n.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

“Mr. Kwon.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

“Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss y/l/n.” He gives me a small smile. Obviously, he’s referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.

“That’s very considerate, Mr. Kwon,” I snap, and his smile widens. I’m glad you find me entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I’m surprised when he follows me out. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

“Did you have a coat?” Kwon asks.

“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Kwon takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.

Kwon places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting - awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning brown eyes gaze at me.

“Y/N,” he says as a farewell.

“Ji Yong,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

ME....

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ranger-of-estel · 7 years ago

Text

I’d Know You Anywhere

Been doing a re-watch of Eureka and couldn't help but write a little something. ~Missing/Extended scenes from 3x10 (My face or yours?)~

When Zane finds out that one of the scientists at GD had found a way to turn herself into Jo it explained why she'd been acting so strangely. But when he chooses to face Julia Golden, he realizes that things are not as they seem.

Read it on AO3

Thanks to @stillthewordgirl for the Beta

Zane steps into the room, the woman he’s never met laying on the bed. He absently notes the way she slides her fingers together then pulls them apart; Jo does the same thing when she’s on edge. He shakes the thought clear and opens the coms, knocking lightly on the glass to get her attention.

She shifts, eyes opening as she pushes to her feet. “Zane, thank god you’re here.”

He’s not sure if it’s the fact she knows his name, or how she says it that sets him on edge. “Julia, right?” He shifts his weight. “Allison told me what you did to Jo.”

She’s looking up at him. “No. She’s Julia Golden.” She lifts one hand to motion to herself. “And I’m Jo.”

“Ah.” He gives a half nod. Allison had told him the woman was unstable. “Psych ward, I’m Henry.” He jokes, because something still feels off and this is helping less than it should.

“I can prove it,” the woman replies, one hand coming up again to motion between them. “Ask me something personal that only Jo could know.”

He wants to leave, wants to forget he ever came in here…but that nagging feeling won’t go away, so he faces her once more and clears his throat. “Pet peeves?”

Her hands have shifted to rest near her hips, and her voice is sure. “Small guns, big egos.” Her weight shifts as she gives him an almost scolding look. “And over-critical boyfriends.”

Not enough. “Boxers or briefs?”

Her chin raises a bit. “Me or you?”

“Funny,” he deadpans. “Me.”

“Boxers,” she replies, then continues with, “except on laundry day. Which, by my count, would be tomorrow.”

He’s beginning to think that either Julia Golden has been spying on him, or his girlfriend really is the victim here. “First date?”

The woman on the other side of the glass changes a little at that, softens. “Sunday brunch at Café Diem.” He can’t help but step closer, watch the vulnerability in the brown eyes looking back. “I was nervous.” She glances down, then returns her gaze to his. “You brought a rose, I wore a sundress.” There’s a catch in her voice. “You said something smart.” She pauses, eyes dropping shut and head dropping slightly. “Which made me feel dumb.”

He remembers: he’d insulted her being at church…thought he’d screwed up his one shot with the most stunning woman he’d ever met.

“But,” she draws him back to the present, a smile pulling at her lips, “you made up for it on our second date.” She falls silent, her eyes pleading with him as she offers a half smile and little shrug of her shoulders. It’s the most open she’s ever been with him.

He shifts to his heels, turning to face the guard and making a quick motion that he wants a couple minutes inside. The other man nods, and he quickly punches in the code so he can step inside the cell with her. “So.” He moves so they are only a step apart, offering a small smirk. “Does that mean I said something dumb, or made you feel smart?”

There’s a flash of relief as she gives a little shrug. “A little bit of both.”

“And how’d the date end?” It’s more a challenge than a question of who she is.

“Let me give you a reminder.” She closes the gap between them with Jo’s sauntering gait, then puts one hand on his shoulder as she leans onto her toes to press her lips to his.

It’s a brief kiss, and it’s a little strange to have Jo kiss him but not have it feel like her lips. Still, the kiss itself is familiar, is enough. As she drops back down, he smiles. “That’s my Josephina.”

She hits him in the shoulder, hard enough he shifts his weight slightly. There’s fire in her eyes now. “Now get me out of here, before I tase you for kissing another woman.”

“Yep.” He can’t help the grin on his face, the relief that the woman he loves still picks him. “Definitely Jo.” He turns for the door, intending to have a chat with Allison and Henry before hunting down the real Julia himself.

He stops as Jo makes a gasping noise behind him, turning to find her unsteady as she steps back toward the bed. “Zane, what’s happening to me?” She sounds a little breathless as he kneels before her.

He doesn’t know, and it scares him. “Hey, we’ll sort this out.” He tucks hair behind her ear, offers the most encouraging smile he can muster and then rises to bang on the glass and motion for the guard to open the door.

“Come on, Jo.” He helps her to her feet, taking most of her weight without actually picking her up…he doesn’t have a death wish. As soon as the door is open, he’s easing her through, giving the guard a stern look. “This woman is sick, I’m taking her for medical attention.”

The guard nods, doesn’t question as they make their way into the halls of GD. Using his free hand, Zane pulls out his PDA.

“Allison,” the woman answers.

“You’ve got the wrong one.” It’s almost a growl.

“What are you talking about, Zane?” Allison’s voice fills with concern.

“You got the wrong person. Julia switched their faces, the woman in holding is definitely Jo.” That woman stumbles and he curses. “And she’s suffering some kind of side effects.”

“Oh no…” There’s half a second pause, then Allison adds: “Take her to Dr. Stefano’s lab. I’ll get Henry and meet you there.”

“Copy that.” Zane clicks the PDA off, focus returning to the woman at his side. “Almost there.”

She nods, and soon they reach the lab and get her into the scanner once more. Zane watches with his arms crossed over his chest as the blue light scans her from head to toe.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Dr. Stefano states. “Her DNA markers don’t match her original profile.” The man motions toward his computer. “They don’t match any profile.”

“I’m so sorry, Jo.” Allison motions toward her. “I still can’t believe that’s you in there.”

Zane grabs a tablet, running diagnostics of his own. “Trust me, it’s her,” he comments, stepping aside so the other woman can pass him.

“Just fix me and all’s forgiven,” Jo replies uneasily.

“We’re working on it,” Henry states, walking over to ask Zane’s opinion on something. It takes Zane longer than it should to answer, but his focus keeps being drawn back to Jo as her hands and jaw clench in an effort to hide the waves of pain.

Allison’s voice catches his attention once more. “…her DNA to decompose, it’s like her cells are misfiring.”

He shifts his attention to the other woman, that fear digging into his chest once more. “So if we can’t restart them again, that means…”

He’s cut off by Henry. “…that being stuck in Julia’s body is the least of her problems.” The older man looks at him. “It means her cells stop functioning.” There’s something in his gaze, a pity Zane has seen before. “It means we could lose her for good.”

It twists Zane’s gut, and when he looks back, Jo looks at him like she’s lost. “No.” Initially he doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud, but when attention turns to him, he guesses as much. “No, I won’t let that happen.”

He moves to a desk, runs a hand through his hair as he runs calculation after calculation until between them, they have something solid to work with. He runs to Julia’s lab, tossing apologies over his shoulders as he knocks people and paperwork to the side. He returns at a slightly lowered speed, more in fear of damaging the complex chair she’d used to swap faces, than out of concern for the people lining the halls.

When he re-enters the lab, Henry is getting the small devices attached to Jo’s temples as he moves to hook in the chair itself. “I can’t believe my cells are misfiring?” she asks, sounding tired, drained.

“Bodies regulate tiny impulses that allow our cells to function,” he answers, looking up from where he’s working. “Yours aren’t getting enough juice.”

“Your DNA strands are essentially unraveling,” Dr. Stefano adds, carefully leading her toward the chair. “The genetic lines between Jo, and Julia, are getting blurred.”

“I’ve been in a blur ever since you shocked me with your stupid scanner.” She scoots herself back in the chair.

“Again,” the scientist puts his hands out before him, “really sorry about that.”

There’s a pause, then. “What if we do it again?”

Zane straightens behind the chair to look down at her, Allison beating him to a response. “One near-electrocution wasn’t enough?”

Jo tries to sit up, and he moves around the chair to stop her with a hand against her shoulder as she speaks. “My cells are misfiring,” she says as she allows him to lean her back into the chair once more. “What if we give them a genetic jump-start?”

“The scanner does have your original DNA profile.” Allison looks over at them thoughtfully.

“Programming them into Julia’s device might restart the markers,” Henry continues. “It’s like a cellular reboot.”

Zane is on his feet again, looking at the other two scientists. “But we need Julia to show us how.” There’s no way any of them are using guesswork to get the device working.

“Well, we’re trying to pinpoint her location now.” Allison makes her way over to them.

Zane is about to tell her that’s not good enough, but Jo speaks first. “If this is happening to me, it must be happening to her too.” He can hear the pain radiating from her voice. “Can we track her down the way you tracked me?”

Allison shakes her head. “Not if her DNA is degenerating.”

“It won’t match the profile in the system,” Henry adds from his post.

Zane returns the tablet, intent on trying anyway. “Then,” Jo says, looking between them, “try searching for Fargo’s.”

The moment she says it, Zane feels like an idiot, and with a quick motion from Henry, he’s sprinting over to help. Fargo was why this all started, it only figures that he’s part of the solution. They get the location, and it’s only Henry’s hand on his shoulder that keeps Zane from bolting toward the shooting range.

When they arrive, they find Julia, still looking like Jo, tucked into Fargo’s side on a bench. Seeing Jo’s face contorted in pain, even if it’s not really Jo, pulls some of the fury out of Zane’s veins.

Still, he wants them up and in the lab as quickly as possible. The moment they arrive, he leaves Julia to Henry, grabbing the tablet and pulling a box up to the side of Jo. He keeps glancing up from his work at the woman beside him, and she offers a weak smile. He reaches up to cradle her face in his hand. “We’ll fix this.” It’s almost a whisper, but she nods a little all the same.

“Okay, that’s it.” Dr. Stefano approaches them, pulling Zane’s attention up. “I’ve programmed her original DNA profile into Julia’s transfiguration device.”

“All right.” Henry steps up. “She’s stabilized for the moment, we need to this now.”

Dr. Stefano nods. “All right, let’s go.” He activates the device, and Zane watches as the headpiece folds in to frame her face with light.

He can see the pain in her eyes, the way she tenses, and he instinctively takes her hand into his.

“Her blood pressure is dropping.” Allison frowns. “Her system is too unstable.”

“We stop this thing now, we may not get another chance,” Henry replies.

“She’s getting worse!” Allison counters.

Zane is standing, leaning forward with her hand still tightly in his. “Come on, Jo,” he says, keeping his voice low, afraid it will crack if he gets louder. “Don’t give up on me now.”

She’s gripping his hand so hard he’s pretty sure there will be bruises, but right now none of that matters. He’d let her break every bone in his hand if it meant she kept fighting.

“She’s still not responding.” Henry’s voice feels a million miles away.

“We have to stop this,” Allison replies.

“No, just hang on!” Henry snaps.

Before Zane can comment, fuses begin to blow, sparks coming from most of the electrical devices in the room. He lifts the tablet in his hand to shield his face, gaze dropping to the chair the moment the sparks stop. He hears the generators kicking in, lights stabilizing, but the only thing he cares about is the way Jo whimpers under the lights.

But he can see her facial structure changing, familiar features returning as she clings to his hand even more tightly. He returns to sitting on the box, watching in relief as his Josephina comes back. “Her DNA profile is starting to stabilize!” Dr. Stefano exclaims.

Her eyes open, and she smiles at him. “Hey.” Her voice is breathless, but it’s hers once more.

He smirks back, thumb brushing over her hand. “You had me worried there.”

She reaches up, fingers moving across her cheek and neck. There’s a flash of uncertainty as she looks at him. “How do I look?”

He smiles, fighting around the lump in his throat as he nods at her a little. “Perfect.”

Her features soften a little, and he thinks she might be blushing just slightly. Normally he might tease her, but right now, right now he’s just glad she’s all right. He looks up as Fargo and Julia approach, bristling fractionally at the other woman as he rises to his feet.

“Thanks.” Julia inclines her head, leaning heavily on Fargo.

“It’s okay.” Jo gives a tired smile, her hand never leaving Zane’s as she gets out of the chair. They walk to med lab in mostly silence, and once she has a clean bill of health, and her uniform is returned, they make their way through the hall once more.

They make it to Stark’s wing, and Zane watches the light reflecting from the water dance across her skin. “You know, it was fun to be Carter for a day,” she says, “but I’m really happy to be back in my skin.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, tugging at their joined hands so she’ll turn to face him. “Well…” His free hand comes up to cover where hers is tugging him closer by his shirt. “You are perfect.”

“No.” Her walls are back up again, and she’s shaking her head slightly. “I’m hyper-sensitive and over-reactive.”

“Well…” His hand releases hers long enough for him to exaggerate a shrug. “My ego’s too big, and I’m overly critical.”

She offers a half nod. “No argument here.” She tries to keep a straight face, but he just laughs.

“Seriously though,” he holds her gaze, giving her hands a gentle squeeze, “I love you just the way you are.” He tilts his head slightly. “Flaws and all.”

“Love?” She looks up at him, a smile blossoming across her face moments after she says it.

Yeah, he doesn’t doubt it after today. “Can you handle that?” he smiles, leaning a little closer.

“I think I could get used to it.” She’s so close their noses brush, and this all feels so right.

“Good.” His lips brush hers with the word, and then he dips his head just enough to kiss her soundly.

She reciprocates, pulling herself impossibly closer with the hand on his shirt, and they’re both a little breathless when they pull away. She lifts herself up for another, shorter, kiss, then pulls away with a regretful little sigh. “I really need to go meet Carter.”

He nods. “All right.” He tilts his head. “Dinner later?”

She smiles, eyes sparkling with life once more. “Dinner sounds good.” She gives their entwined hands one last squeeze, then turns to walk away.

He watches her go, knows she’s swaying her hips entirely for his benefit. He’s still not sure how he caught such an amazing woman, even less sure how he keeps her…but, god, is he glad she’s his. And for the first time, he’s not afraid of being in love.

#Eureka #Zane X Jo #Zane Donovan #Jo Lupo #Missing Scene #S3E10 #My face or yours #Established Relationship #Canon Compliant #My fic #I'd Know You Anywhere

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betweenlifeandfiction · 7 years ago

Text

Another me (part 2)

Imagine you become someone else. That’s what happens to Kang Min Sun. After unclear circumstances she starts new life as Hana. That’s how she meets Kwon Jiyong and the rest of YG artists. At first it seems like a dream but nobody’s life perfect and soon Min Sun will learn this lesson.

Genre: melodrama/comedy/fantasty

It’s meant to be wrote in style of kdrama. Jiyong as a male lead and Seunghyun as a second lead. Reader as Min Sun/Hana- female lead.

Part 1

Kim Ha Na, more known as Hana. She debuted in 2014 as a solo artist after being the YG trainee. Her first album was sucessful and later she recorded two songs with T.O.P and G-Dragon. She also had few cameos in dramas. She’s said to have come back at the end of this year.

These were basic information about a person who was apparently you now. Or you was actually this person. In her body. Trying to figure it out was causing another panic attacks so you just decided to stay glued to computer and continue reading information about Kim Hana. You stucked in some apartment and before you left hospital, bodyguard had to deal with reporters in front of building. Until your leg was broken you had to act like you was really a person in whom body you lived. You had to act you remember things so you tried to find as much news about Hana as possible. You had to act that you’re not scared of a fact that you actually moved in time from 1998 to 2018.

Hana, you can search Internet on your phone. It’s uncomfortable to sit at the table woth plastered leg. You manager said and put this weird, flat thing on a desk. Your previous phone looked simpler but this one was colorful and had big screen without keyboard. It looked so complicated and it was locked by password that you didn’t remember.

Want me to help you to sit on bed? Manager asked you.

I.. I wanna eat ramen. you changed subject.

Ramen? You always eat greece salad at this hour.

You stopped yourself from making surprised face. Your manager came up to fridge. You would normally tell him to mind his business but you tightened your mouth to stop yourself from comments. This girl seemed polite and strict. Unlike you with your bad temper and laziness. You looked again at beautiful furnitures around you. This place looked expensive.

It’s a dream to live in so great apartment. you sighed to yourself.

That’s why it’s yours. This is one of your favourites, isn’t it? Man added and gave you your salad.

Do I have another apartments? you asked without thinking. He looked at you surprised behind his round glasses. Ah.. Right. Now I remember. Everything comes back to my mind.

You doubted it sounded reliably but it was better than nothing. Then your manager said he would leave your for a while to buy more products to your kitchen. It was so unusual to be treated this way. For the next week you literally studied from Internet about korean wave, idols and YG artists. Meantime you started private rehabilitation with doctor at your home. Even beautician came to take care of your skin and nails. You felt like a princess.

Ah.. What a beautiful life. you sighed and took another seafood from your plate. You was sitting on the folding chair in fluffy robe. Month have passed in the blink of an eye.

Hana, your mother calls you. your menager told you and he took your iphone from a table and handed it to you.

My mom? you said with enthusiasm before you realized he didn’t mean your real mom. It felt awkward at first but later you just acted like you really talked by phone with someone who was your mother. You planned to find out about her and leave this place after convalescence.

No. There’s really no need to fly from USA, mom. I’m getting better. you said at the end when Mrs.Kim suggested to visit you.

Anyway. I’ll visit you in nearer future. Call me more often.

Yes. Thanks. Bye, mom.

Few minutes later when you ened your conversation, your phone started to ring again. You saw a name on a lockscreen: Yang Hyun Suk.

Answer for me. you asked your menager.

Oh.. Ok. he mumbled. Yes, Mr. Yang? Here’s Park Dae Hyun. Yes. She’s better now. Doctor said she will be able to walk without struches soon. Meeting? Tomorrow? Yes, sir. I think we will handle it. Goodbye.

What meeting? you asked when Dae Hyun disconnected.

All artists have a meeting with CEO to sum up current projects and establish new things.

When next day your driver stopped a car in front of YG buildling, you couldn’t believe what you saw. Dozens of photoreporters and not less of fans gathered close to your car. Your manager told you to put sunglasses on and asked two bodyguards to go out first.

Hana! Hana! group of girls started to scream when you went on the sidewalk. You collides with your bodyguard’s back when he pushed away intrusive reporter. Now you knew you was said to hide behind sunglasses. Flashes of cameras were so blinding. Everybody around tried to come closer and take a photo or record you. Second bodyguard and your manager helped you to walk by crutches and enter entrance. When you finally came to elevator, you could say that you felt safe. Your manager opened a door to big conference room. All eyes turned to you.

Welcome back, Hana. Please, take a seat. you heard familiar voice. It was CEO Yang. You watched few videoclips with him during your stay at apartment. You actually got know about all of these people in room. Three man on the left were from Epik High. Then girls from Blackpink and boys from Winner. You still didn’t remember names of all of them.

Good morning. you said and you barely bowed.

Here’s free place. said a man with small eyes and prominent nose. It was Kang Daesung. Rest of members were sitting next to him on the right side. When you sat, you looked closely. You recognized that man behind dark glasses was T.O.P. You was curious if he was as handsome as on photos but you could only see his profile. The next one was a dark-haired man in weird clothes, G-Dragon. He had a face that even women could envy. Then it was maknae of Big Bang, Seungri. He looked at you and smiled at the same time with Taeyang who was next to him. You shyly bowed what was nothing like you but it was a first time when so many handsome men was looking at you at the same time. It felt so great to live like a celebrity and be a real beauty. Maybe I should live this dream a little bit longer? You thought.

Ok. If everybody’s present, let’s start. CEO annouced. He discussed with Winner about their tour and then he looked at you.

Hana-sshi, we’re glad that you’re fine. YG will take care about press but I would like you to give an interview after few months. Reporters are at the building so please, agree with Dae Hyun if you want to make a short statement. It’s the best moment when they know that you arrived here.

Yes. you answered shortly.

We will talk about that planned collaboration with GD when you fully recover. Mr. Yang continued. You stifled your moan, hearing this. So you was meant to start some project with GD? Shit..

We will talk it out when Hana will be in good shape. Meantime I will be re-writing a song. you heard Kwon Ji Yong.

That’s all right. CEO said and looked at you again. I hope it won’t take more than a month for you to be able to work again. I’m really rooting for this project but that schedule is not a problem for you.

I will work hard. You anwered just like these all idols from videos used to say. These informations helped you a lot to deal with this situation but after Mr Yang’s words you suddenly felt so helpless. Trainees worked hard for years to improve their singing and dancing skills. You had no preparation, you couldn’t sing or dance, you didn’t know how to talk with press and the most importantly you was different person with your own memories and experiences.

I’m fully responsible for someone’s sucess now. you whispered to yourself when you left a room.

What? your menager asked you.

Nothing. I need to go to bathroom. you suddenly said.

I can’t go to female..

I know. I’m able to pee on my own. Don’t worry. you interrupted him. He looked embarrased. You entered toilet and looked around. It was only you. You wanted to try again with phone call to your mom. You only wanted to hear her voice. The last time there was no answer. Maybe she changed her number? It’s been ten years. Your heart was beating so fast and then you heard someone’s voice.

Hello?

You froze. Female voice asked again. It sounded exactly like your sister’s. But she was living in Busan and you wasn’t that close.

H-Hello? you stuttered.

Who’s there?

You knew she couldn’t recognize you when your voice was different so you found a new solution.

Hello. Is it Mrs.Kang‘s phone?

Oh.. Yes. But she can’t talk. Your sister answered.

When can I call her then?

Who are you? She asked you after a while. She was always suspicious.

I’m.. Sun Min’s friend from high school. I lost her number and some of former friends wanted to meet up.

I’m sorry.. You probably didn’t know it. She said with tensed voice. My sister is dead for ten years.

Suddenly you wasn’t able to make any sound. You even couldn’t move. It felt like you was close to fainting.

I’m really sorry but I can’t help you. I thought that all of her friends knew. I’m at the hospital. Our mother had a stroke few months ago.

Then you could only hear her crying. And you was crying with her. On the other side of line. When you already disconnected and fell to the ground. Your sob mingled with a sound of falling crutches.

Mom.. I’m sorry. You sobbed loudly and touched your chest with pain. It felt like something was tearing apart inside of you. I’m dead, I’m dead..

What’s happening there? some low voice came out behind a door.

I’m dead.. I died. You kept repeating in silent voice. Tears were still falling. You saw long legs in black, laquered boots in front of you.

Hana? What happend?

You looked up. Choi Seunghyun was standing in the doorstep.

Where’s you menager? he kept asking. Some man behind him, moved closer and picked up your crutches. They both looked shocked and you slowly realized that you was sitting in the middle of the public toilet with probably blurred make-up and red eyes. This pain inside was so strong and you couldn’t do anything. And you didn’t want to move. Do anything.

Come on. Seunghyun said and grabbed your hands. You forced yourself to stand up.

Hana!

Your manager showed up. Tht other man gave you crutches and put sunglasses on your face.

That’s better when you’re leaving in front of many people. he suggested.

What’s going on? I only left to buy coffe. Your menager said.

Why did you leave her when you know she has problems with walking now? Seunghyun said with irritation. You looked into his eyes behind dark glasses. His eyes had so deep, dark shade and thick lashes.

Aish.. She always drinks coffe at this hour. I thought it won’t take that long. Your manager kept whining when four of you walked corridor.

Thank you. I’m thankful. You said to T.O.P and grabbed his hand. He shuddered with surprise.

Are you ok? You don’t seem good. Why did you cry? Men next to him- probably his manager asked.

It’s this accident.. you started and tears started falling down your cheeks again.

Aigoo.. She’s still stressed. Let’s go home, Hana. You can drink coffe in car. You manager said and took you by hand. Thank you for help. He said to T.O.P and his manager.

Hana, we’re family. You can count on us. T.O.P suddenly said. You nodded and went to elevator. It felt like this man was the one who understood what a real nervous breakdown meant. He seemed empathic. Maybe that’s why you grabbed his hand without thinking. It’s been a long time since someone sympathized with you.

#gdragon #choi seunghyun #big bang fanficion #t.o.p fanficion #gd fanficion #gd scenario #gd angst #yg scenario #big bang fanfic #gd fanfic #jiyong fanficion #jiyong fanfic #jiyong angst #big bang angst #gdragon fanficion

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welllpthisishappening · 7 years ago

Text

Tripping Over the Blue Line (36/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: I have no actual problem with The New York Post, but that John Mulaney bit about Post headlines is the honest to God truth and writing Post headlines for this story was an absolute delight. So here are some more puns and some more feelings and more playoff hockey. As always, you guys are fantastic and I’m in constant awe of @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan. Also living it up on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr

“You really didn’t have to come with me,” Emma said and it was probably the twelfth time she’d said it in the last half hour.

Mary Margaret didn’t look impressed. She had, after all, promised it had been fine each of the last dozen times Emma had questioned it.

“You’d be bored by yourself,” Mary Margaret argued.

“You’re slacking on those counterpoints Reese’s. I’ve got, no less than, twenty-six different things to do by puck drop.” “Isn’t that soon?” “A beacon of support,” Emma laughed.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, glancing down at the detailed schedule Emma had given her as soon as they’d set foot in the hotel lobby that morning. It hadn’t really been part of the plan – splitting games in Boston and Arthur was bordering close to complete breakdown, pulling Jefferson in the third period of the second game, but they’d bounced back in New York, back-to-back wins to set up a game-clinching situation that night.

Or, well, the team had bounced back.

Killian, it seemed, couldn’t keep the puck on his stick this series.

It hadn’t been particularly pretty and the tabs hadn’t been kind to any of them, making sure, every day, to harp on Killian Jones’ latest skid and how that was going to affect the Rangers’ run and maybe Cap should score if he wanted to win a Cup and stay in New York.

The headline was a bit more concise than all of that.

Emma’s mind was just a jumbled mess and they needed to stick to the schedule because she really did have twenty-six different things to do before puck drop.

She was glad Mary Margaret showed up at her front of her door the night before, a bag in her hand and promises that she was coming to Boston with Emma.

“Alright,” Mary Margaret said, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do we have to do first?” “Teacher voice,” Emma mumbled. It was a deflection, but it kind of felt like her heart had sped up in her chest and Mary Margaret had given up spring break for this.

“Well, to be fair, you look about as overwhelmed as some of my kids. Come on, you’ve got a ton of stuff on here. What do we have to do first?”

Emma twisted the ends of her hair, eyes falling on the laces she still had tied around her wrist. She’d never actually taken them off. “We need to talk to the music people and make sure they set up where the hotel said we could set up and there’s merch somewhere in this hotel that we’re supposed to auction off for GD.” “How did you get merch here?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Kristoff brought it.” “Is it already signed?”

Emma shook her head. “We’re deviating from the norm today. Just game-worn. The guys have kind of had some other things going on. Arthur would probably kill me if I even suggested having them sign anything for me.” “Sounds like they’re almost as busy as you.” “That sounded decidedly overprotective, Mom.” Mary Margaret waved her hand through the air, nose scrunched slightly as she shook her head. “I’m proud of you. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Emma repeated, but her heartbeat hadn’t quite settled yet.

“He’s totally going to score tonight,” Mary Margaret added softly. Emma didn’t expect that.

“That was a quick transition.” “David might not be here, but he’s had a lot of thoughts on the status of whatever skid The Post seems to think Killian is riding.”

Two weeks. Since Game Two of the first series. He’d scored on a rebound in Montreal and she’d texted him about it and he’d actually called her in response. That was the last time. And six games wasn’t really a lot, not in the grand scheme of a season, but it was an eternity for the face of a franchise in a do-or-die playoff run.

The headline in The Post that morning had been awful, hardly even clever and they’d used his name as part of the pun twice that week. Kill’ian the Vibe.

It would have been funny if she wasn’t so worried. That was probably why Mary Margaret insisted she come to Boston.

“It’ll be fine,” Emma mumbled, slumping down in her chair.

Mary Margaret smiled sympathetically, hand falling on Emma’s shoulder. “Of course it will,” she promised as if that would ensure that it would. “David’s pretty certain.” “Pretty certain?” “He said it was, and I’m quoting here, inevitable. Something about Boston’s terrible defense and how close that post was last game.”

“Close, but not a goal,” Emma argued.

Mary Margaret’s lips quirked. “Ah, that sounds like Killian.”

“It was.”

“Did you give him that food? Or just steal all the mac and cheese for yourself?” “Who do you think I am, Reese’s?” Emma scoffed, crossing her arms lightly. “Of course I gave him the food. He walked out of your apartment with the food. And you don’t need to mother both of us. We both know how to make food.” Mary Margaret made a noise under her breath and Emma lowered her eyebrows. “What?” she asked.

“It’s not because I don’t think you can’t make your own food. I’m well aware you can make your own food.” “Then why are you forcing mac and cheese at me and Killian every time we see you?”

“That’s why,” Mary Margaret said, pointing at Emma for extra emphasis.

“If I’m supposed to just get it, I’m not.” She rolled her eyes and Emma wasn’t certain she realized her fingers had made their way to engagement ring out of instinct. “You know what he asked me the other day?” “Who?” “Emma!” “Reese’s we honestly don’t have time for this,” Emma said. There was a hotel employee lurking nearby – a clipboard in hand and a slightly frustrated look on their face and they were, collectively, five minutes behind schedule now.

“You want to know what he asked me or not? And if you say who again, I’m going to rip up your schedule right in the middle of this hotel lobby.” Emma pressed her lips together – so she didn’t actually laugh at the serious look on Mary Margaret’s face – and she nodded once. “He asked what he was supposed to wear to the wedding.” “Your wedding?” “I’m going to rip your schedule apart.” “Ah, but you’re not considering the fact that I’ve got the whole thing memorized. That paper copy was just to make sure you knew what was going on.” Mary Margaret groaned, rolling her head back onto the top of the chair and the hotel employee was actually sighing at regular intervals at this point. Emma was almost waiting for the lasers to start shooting out of his eyes.

“How come you didn’t tell him what to wear?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Honestly?” She nodded and Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they should be having in the middle of a hotel lobby, now, seven minutes behind schedule. “I kind of forgot,” Emma sighed and it wasn’t the lie she wished it was. “It’s just been one thing after another. The game and Henry and then the deadline and now it’s all playoffs all the time. Why don’t you think he asked me?” “Maybe he realized you forgot too,” Mary Margaret mumbled. Emma’s eyes widened. “Ah, sorry, that was kind of harsh.” “Decidedly un-Reese’s like.” “It’s because I’ve got so much on my mind. Apparently Storybrooke is in revolt.” Emma hadn’t expected that either. The hotel worker had moved closer to them, half a step away and she waved him off before he could announce they were, now, eight and a half minutes behind schedule. “About?” “Exactly what you’d expect it to be. No big wedding at home, no bringing David back like some sort of suitor so the whole town can pass judgement. We didn’t want any of that. We just want to get married.” “That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Emma said, doing her best not to actually sigh.

Mary Margaret laughed. “Oh, please.” “I’m serious. It’s...nice.” “Nice?” “If I wasn’t so stressed out about team events I’d be able to come up with a few more adjectives,” Emma said, nodding in the direction of the hotel employee and his clipboard.

“Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything. You’ve got enough going on without me pushing wedding issues onto the schedule. And, if we’re going to be completely honest, this may be why I kind of forced myself on your team trip.” “It’s not a team trip if we drove down here ourselves, Reese’s.” “It’s absolutely a team trip. Clipboard guy here just proves that.” Emma chuckled and clipboard guy had started actually tapping out some sort of impatient rhythm against the imitation wood. The glare would probably linger on his face for the rest of the day. He was probably a Bruins fan.

“He can deal,” Emma muttered quickly, leaning forward to rest her hand on Mary Margaret’s knee. “I’m glad you’re here. Perpetually, for the rest of time. And if you need someone to yell at the general population of Storybrooke, then I’m your girl.” Mary Margaret beamed at her, eyes glossier than they should have been. “I think Ruby’s taking care of that. Although she’s kind of nervous about telling off my dad. She said she drew the line there. And then mentioned something about the color scheme and how she was giving up enough for me.” “It’s because she spends so much time around blue.”

“It’s mostly my dad,” Mary Margaret mumbled. “He’s not too big on the castle in New York idea.” “I’ll tell your dad to shut up,” Emma offered immediately and there wasn’t a hint of a lie in her words. She would have.

She probably would have done anything for Mary Margaret at this point.

“You don’t have to do that,” Mary Margaret argued, but her voice lacked a bit of the determination Emma had always associated with her.

“Reese’s, you let me live on your couch for months . You still won’t let me or my boyfriend try to feed ourselves. The least I can do is provide some strongly worded sentiment in your wedding corner.” “You could have stayed on that couch forever and I wouldn’t have minded.” “I probably would have done permanent damage to my neck.”

Mary Margaret hummed in agreement, rubbing quickly at her cheeks so Emma wouldn’t notice the tears she’d already seen. “You said boyfriend,” she mumbled.

“It’s a little high school, I know…” Emma started quickly, but Mary Margaret shook her head.

“No, no, I don’t care about that. That’s just the first time I’ve ever heard you use that word. Ever.” “Ever?” Emma repeated skeptically and that couldn’t be right. She’d had boyfriends before. She’d talked to Mary Margaret about them before. She’d...no.

She’d never used the word boyfriend out loud before.

And it would have been almost depressing if it also didn’t send a wave of something down her spine, some kind of overwhelming sense of emotion and meaning and home right there in the middle of Boston.

“Ever,” Mary Margaret nodded.

“Huh.”

“Although maybe we can avoid a repeat of your apartment a couple of days ago. I don’t think I was quite prepared for that.” “Did we scandalize you, Mom? Stop coming in without knocking.” “I did knock! You were otherwise occupied. Just be glad it was me and not David. He probably would have challenged Killian to some kind of on-ice competition.” “I’m surprised he hasn’t offered him a spot in the department’s rec league,” Emma laughed and something in her felt like it shifted at how easily this had all become hers. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been waiting for it until she got it. “He doesn’t want him distracted from postseason glory,” Mary Margaret said, rolling her eyes before her face turned serious. “That’s why I keep trying to give you mac and cheese, you know? Both of you.” Emma ignored whatever fluttering was happening in the pit of her stomach and tried to push her feet into the floor. “Yeah, I kind of figured. What did you tell him?”

“About what?” “What to wear to the wedding.”

“That it might be hot, so he didn’t have to wear a jacket, but your dress was very blue and he might want to remember that when picking out a tie.” One of her feet slid along the floor. She’d lost control of her limbs. And the world might have been spinning – more than usual. Emma would probably never stop smiling. “Thanks, Reese’s,” she mumbled.

“No matter what,” Mary Margaret said, grabbing Emma’s hand and hooking their pinkies together. “Come on, according to your very detailed schedule, we’re very, very late.”

Mary Margaret was, apparently, some kind of schedule-following God-send.

She apologized profusely to the hotel worker and got him to stop tapping on his clipboard and then, for good measure, organized all of the merch and got a line of over a hundred fans into the hotel without any argument and in a single-file line.

It was a Rangerstown miracle.

“You can come on every single road trip from here on out, Reese’s,” Emma said later that night, tucked into the corner of the room with one eye on her event and the other on the game.

They were two minutes from puck drop and the opening notes of the anthem were bleeding across the room as the crowd actually started to shush each other.

Emma rolled her eyes at the noise and the sea of blue and white stretched in front of her, all of them focused on the screen they’d rented for the series-clincher.

God, she hoped it was the series clincher.

The Penguins swept the Capitals and it hadn’t even been that close – Soyer racking up penalty minutes and more ice time than he had all season and he wasn’t on a scoring skid. He’d scored twice when they played in Pittsburgh.

The anthem finished and someone shouted Let’s go Rangers and the whole group cheered. It helped ease some of that worry in the pit of Emma’s stomach.

Mary Margaret shifted next to her, shoulder brushing against Emma’s jersey and for half a moment it was fine, good, better than – a mix of emotions and expectations and she was confident . They were going to win.

They’d get a couple of days off and then go to Pittsburgh.

It was all going according to plan.

“Where’s Killian?” Mary Margaret muttered and a few of the fans nearby echoed the sentiment, questions and comments and no one tried to shush them.

They’d plugged the MSG feed into the speakers and Emma strained to hear what they were saying, hardly even registering that they’d dropped the puck and lost the faceoff already. The words seemed to sink into her slowly and it felt a bit like falling on ice, like her feet were sliding across the hotel floor again and Mary Margaret’s hand moved to her shoulder.

Taken off his line for the first time in...what is it Joe? Must be six years, at least. Yeah, yeah, we’ve got it here. Six years. Always played with Locksley, a one-two punch for the Rangers offense since they both joined the Blueshirts. Can’t imagine what Jones is thinking here...

They panned to the bench and Emma’s eyes widened, the breath she didn’t realize she was holding rushing out of her. Mary Margaret kept biting her lip.

He didn’t look mad.

His fingers were wrapped tightly around his stick though and Emma would have bet his knuckles were white inside his gloves.

This just, well, it came out of left field didn’t it, Sam? We asked Stylo about the skid with Jones and his plus-minus rating hasn’t been great, but he is the captain of this team and it’s an interesting move in a potential series-clincher .

There was more talk about moral and speculation about what went into the choice and Emma was going to kill Arthur. Mary Margaret was muttering something, probably something positive or supportive and all the reasons Emma should not murder the head coach of the New York Rangers in Boston.

He hadn’t said anything. Arthur most not have told him anything – just switched up lines before a series-clincher and it took nearly three minutes before Killian swung his legs over the boards and got on the ice and the whole goddamn crowd of blue in front of Emma started cheering.

“I’m going to kill Arthur,” Emma mumbled, not entirely certain she’d said the words out loud until Mary Margaret gasped.

“You can’t do that.” “Yeah, probably not. At least not at the Garden. Oh, maybe in between the game and the hotel.”

“Emma.” “He didn’t know,” Emma said, doing her best to keep her voice low. Mary Margaret tugged her farther into the corner. “He didn’t know anything. I...I talked to him before the game. Arthur just pulled him off the line.”

“Maybe he just wanted to test some new looks. Or something. I don’t know how hockey works.” “Not like this,” Emma hissed, glancing over her shoulder when the crowd oohed and aahed and that new guy, August whatever, had checked somebody.

August was skating first line.

Emma groaned, not even trying to mask her frustration, as she threw her head back and traced back through memories of afternoon text messages. Nothing.

He hadn’t known. He'd sent her facts before the game –

The first American lighthouse was built in Boston Harbor in 17...something.

Shouldn’t you be skating? I’m about to, aren’t you impressed by lighthouses?

Fishing for compliments, Jones.

You just made an ocean joke, Swan, and you didn’t even realize it.

Maybe that was the point all along. Maybe you’re the one who should be impressed by me.

Consistently.

– It had made her stomach flip and Mary Margaret had actually asked what was going on, ignoring hotel worker’s quiet tuts of disapproval whenever Emma glanced at her phone.

Killian would have told her if he’d known. Right? Of course. Absolutely. He would have said. Yeah.

Definitely.

She was, at least, ninety-six percent certain. Maybe ninety-six and a half.

It was the rest that worried her and Emma could almost feel the doubt creeping into the back of her mind, feet not quite as certain on hardwood floors as Mary Margaret kept staring at her.

“Arthur’s just trying to spark something,” Mary Margaret said and Emma lowered her eyebrows in confusion. She held up her phone, still vibrating in her hand, and Emma could see the string of text messages on the screen. “That’s what David said, at least.” “Right,” Emma agreed, not quite certain she did. “Right, right. Of course.” Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes, hand tightening on Emma’s shoulder. The crowd cheered again and Emma hardly noticed it, mind racing and thoughts she hadn’t considered in weeks, making it a bit more difficult than normal to stay upright.

August was fighting. She could hear the punches land and the crowd cheering and it took thirty seconds for the Bruins to score.

Arthur probably snapped another whiteboard.

Emma sighed, thumb looping through her laces and Mary Margaret’s lips shifted. She was trying not to smile.

“If you get sentimental on me right now, Reese’s,” Emma warned, “I’m probably going to have some kind of complete meltdown in this hotel.” Mary Margaret laughed. “You can’t do that. That’s not on your schedule.” “Fair point. How is David watching this game? I thought he was out saving the entire city?” “Paperwork,” Mary Margaret corrected.

“I heard it was a mountain.” “He exaggerates. And procrastinates.” “You know, I think that was almost not a compliment, Reese’s. You’re, like, a whole other person in Boston.” Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but her head snapped back towards the screen when the fans started singing the goal song. “I think we scored.” “Who?” “Not Killian,” Mary Margaret sighed and it nearly sounded like an apology. “Oh, but it’s good. Phillip is good. We like Phillip.” “We do,” Emma agreed.

“And a tie game!” “Also a positive. You’ve effectively done your job, Reese’s,” Emma smiled. “A beacon of light and support in tough playoff times.”

“If David were here, he’d sigh dramatically at you.” “Are you not going to?” “Not really my thing. Even in Boston.” Emma smiled and she’d have to write the best maid of honor speech in the history of maid of honor speeches to pay Mary Margaret back for that afternoon. It would, apparently, have to wait until after her phone stopped ringing.

“Everyone I know is watching this game,” Emma muttered, tugging her phone out of her back pocket to glance at the name on the screen.

Aurora.

“Isn’t that Phillip’s girlfriend?” “Fiancée .” “Does everyone on this team fall in love?” “Reese’s, the set-up was your idea. Your hands are not completely clean here.” “Whatever. You better answer before she hangs up.” “Or just calls back again,” Emma mumbled, making a face as she swiped her thumb across the screen and pushed towards the relative quiet of the hotel lobby.

“Emma,” Aurora said. She sounded out of breath. “Are you by yourself?”

“As by myself as I can be in the middle of an event. What’s going on Aurora?” “I have news.” Emma’s heart stuttered and she was almost positive several internal organs had fallen on the floor. That hotel guy probably wouldn’t be happy with that.

“Bad news?” she asked. Aurora wouldn’t know about first-line stuff. Probably. Unless Phillip had told her. Jeez.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Aurora said quickly. “The opposite of that actually. The best news. Or, at least, really, really good news.” “About?” “That house.” Emma shook her head slowly, one hand held in the air and she knew Aurora couldn’t actually see her confusion from New York. “I’m not sure I follow.” “The Garden of Dreams one. The one that was closing.”

“Was?” Aurora made some kind of noise in the affirmative. “Was.” “You’ve got to be more descriptive, Aurora.” She laughed softly and Emma heard her nod against the phone. “You did it, Emma. The charity game and the scholarships and then the auction from the charity game. They’re not going to close anymore. Those kids aren’t going anywhere.”

Emma slumped against the chair she hadn’t realized she was sitting in, mouth going slack and only dimly aware of the collective groan that came from the event room. The Bruins must have scored. It almost didn’t matter.

“Aurora are you serious?” Emma asked sharply, those thoughts that had made their way back to the forefront of her refusing to believe.

“Why would I lie about that?” “But how? I mean we raised a good amount of money, but it was hardly enough to keep a whole house like that open.” “I think you’re underestimating how much work you did.” “No,” Emma argued. “I know how much work I did. I’m just questioning how this is possible.” “Not so great at that whole just believing things are you?” “I’ve worked in this league long enough to know things never really go the way you plan. Come on, how did this happen?” Aurora made a noise and Mary Margaret was halfway into the lobby – they needed to get back on schedule, intermission events to follow and merch to give away and Emma was still confused.

“You might have had some help,” Aurora said slowly. “But, I mean, this is really your thing and the game really did, apparently, pay for most of it...” “Who?” Emma asked, cutting her off.

“Who what?” “Who helped, Aurora?” It took the entire first intermission for her to answer – or it felt that way – and Emma tried not actually groan into the phone. “I know you know, Aurora,” she said.

“I have an educated guess.” Emma took a deep breath, twisting a piece of hair around her finger. “How much?” “I don’t understand.” “How much did he donate? Was it a lot? It must have been a lot, right? If they can afford to keep the house open and keep the kids there.” “You know a lot about how these houses are run,” Aurora said and Emma bit her tongue to stop the immediate retort sitting on the tip.

“Yup,” she said. “How much?” “Enough.” “That’s not a number.” Aurora muttered under her breath. “Somewhere in the realm of 40. Ish.” “Ish?” “Emma, I don’t have an exact number,” Aurora snapped. “I thought you’d be happier about this. This is a ridiculously good thing you’ve done.” She was right. Of course she was right.

And Emma was happy. The kids could stay and the house would stay open and Henry would still get adopted – all because of a whim and a pick and her own ridiculous determination that one kid didn’t get overlooked on his GD day.

And Killian had shown up then too.

She wasn’t mad. She was happy. She was, decidedly, overwhelmed.

God, she hoped they clinched.

“It is a good thing,” Emma said. Mary Margaret was standing a few feet away, eyebrows raised and she kept nodding towards the room and the increasingly restless and unentertained fans a few feet away. “Listen, Aurora, I’ve got to go. But, uh, thank you. For letting me know. Can I tell Henry? He’ll be psyched for the other kids.” “That’s why I figured you’d want to know.” “Thank you.” Aurora’s voice wasn’t quite as sharp when she answered. “You’ve done a good thing here, Emma. Really.”

“Everything ok?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Yeah,” Emma answered, the ease of it surprising her. “Better, actually. They’re not going to close Henry’s house.”

“What? For real?” “That’s what I said.” “How?” Emma tugged her hair again and Mary Margaret’s eyes narrowed knowingly. “We raised enough money. You know with the charity game and the auction after and apparently a few extra donations.”

“Donations,” Mary Margaret repeated.

“A few. I guess.” “That’s incredible, Emma.”

She wasn’t talking about the donations. Emma hummed noncommittally, glancing over Mary Margaret’s shoulder and maybe they should buy hotel worker guy some coffee or something. He looked very stressed out.

“We should probably get back in there,” Emma said, pushing out of the chair. “We’ve got merch to give away.” “Sure.”

They did give away mech and there was more cheering and yelling and whatever mess of thoughts had been taking up residence in the back corner of Emma’s brain had all but disappeared when the third period ended and they’d won.

They’d won.

The crowd started chanting again and even Mary Margaret joined in and Emma smiled when she grabbed her phone again.

The Boston Bruins are the oldest American NHL team in the league. You probably knew that. I can’t think of a fact. God, that’s lame. You had lighthouses and I can’t think of anything. I love you.

She hit send before she could rethink it or retype it and, well, it was all true.

The fans filed out and Emma hadn’t really expected a response – there was post-game and probably more post-game after that and they could film their fan videos here, had come up with some sort of separate clinching schedule with Ruby hours before.

She kept smiling and they’d clinched and it was all going according to a plan she’d only allowed herself to start to hope for, so, naturally, that particular bubble had to get popped.

“Oh my God, you’re her,” someone said, almost skidding to a stop as they moved out of the room. They reached forward and Emma took a step back instinctively. Mary Margaret moved again and if she wasn’t so confused, Emma would have probably appreciated it.

“What?” she asked, ignoring the noise her phone was making.

“You’re the girl. The one from SI. ”

“SI ?” Emma repeated. “Like Sports Illustrated ?” “Well, whatever their fan thing is. Extra...something, whatever. And Reddit. They’ve been talking about you all game. It’s definitely you, you’ve got the same hair. Is it true, are you wearing laces?” “What?” The guy’s eyes darted down – he was wearing a Booth jersey – and he scoffed when he saw the laces wrapped around her wrist. “Oh man, you are. You know the internet hates you.” “What?” He laughed, shrugging slightly like that was an answer and Emma’s mouth was hanging open. Her phone was still vibrating. “Yup,” the guy continued, popping the word on his lips. “I think the theme of the thread was distraction. Cap’s never played without Locksley. They’ve been on the same line forever.” She had an argument. She had a string of entirely inappropriate words and phrases and the anger flushed through her so quickly her whole body nearly started shaking with the force of it. That would have matched up with her phone.

“Alright,” Mary Margaret snapped. “Enough. Get out of here. Emma, answer your phone.” Emma nodded slowly, anger mixed with something that felt a bit too familiar. She tried to push it away. It didn’t really work.

David was texting her – a whole string of messages in a row that got more and more desperate the longer she didn’t respond.

Clinched!

You need to call me. I’m going cross-eyed with paperwork.

Why’d Arthur pull him? And third line? That seems kind of weird, right?

Emma. Seriously. I know you have your phone.

Is this because of Mary Margaret? Trying to force me to work? It totally is isn’t it?

Hey, so, uh, I don’t know how much time you’re spending on subReddits for this team, but maybe don’t read the game thread from tonight.

I mean it, Emma. Don’t read it .

She wasn’t sure she’d ever been on Reddit before, had never found any need to search the dark corners of the internet for fan’s thoughts on her team. Huh, that was new.

Her phone buzzed again.

You’re totally doing it, aren’t you?

She was. It didn’t take long to find – one well-worded Google search and there she was, Emma Swan, villain of the New York Rangers.

It was all there, everything that guy had promised, laid out in front of her on one tiny phone screen. She read the word distraction no less than six times in the first post.

They knew everything or, at least, thought they knew everything, a breakdown of her arrival in New York and where she’d come from and a few guesses as to when Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, had given her laces like that was some kind of promiseand reason to hate her completely.

Emma was still standing, albeit leaning up against the wall and she probably would have told herself that was cheating if she’d been able to actually form any words.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said again, hand stretching towards her slowly like she was kind of frightened animal or a particularly emotional fourth grader.

“It’s fine,” Emma said quickly.

Emma, I am going to drive to Boston in two seconds if you don’t answer me.

She sighed softly, but there was a smile tugging on the of her lips and she couldn’t quite ignore the feeling lingering in the back of her mind – certainty. Emma might need the wall a bit still, but she wasn’t running.

She didn’t want to.

Stand down, Detective. I’m fine.

You totally looked didn’t, you? I don’t know why you’re asking questions you don’t want the answer to. You want me to beat them up?

Who? The internet? The internet. Arthur for that piece of garbage move. Killian, if you want.

Emma laughed and she took a step away from the wall. Mary Margaret still looked concerned.

While I appreciate the offer to defend my honor, I don’t think you can punch the entire internet. And this isn’t Killian’s fault .

It’s not your fault either.

I know that too.

She could practically see David nodding – lower lip probably sticking out and eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Good. Is Mary Margaret still with you?

All afternoon.

She wanted to help.

She did. So did you. Thanks, Dad.

No matter what, kid.

Call Reese’s. She’s been worried you’re going to make yourself go blind with all that paperwork.

Mary Margaret’s phone rang almost immediately and Emma was somewhere close to cackling at how quickly David followed instructions.

She was some kind of whirlwind of emotions as soon as Mary Margaret said hey, babe on the other side of the room, eyes falling on her laces and how much she absolutely, positively, for certain did not feel inclined to run.

It was...exciting and a bit terrifying and they’d clinched another series.

“Reese’s,” Emma hissed, tapping impatiently on her shoulder. “Reese’s I’m leaving.”

Mary Margaret pushed her hand away, switching her phone to the other ear. “What? We’re staying here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be back. I don’t know. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” “Where are you going?” “Down the block,” Emma said and the words were barely out of her mouth before she was out of the room and Mary Margaret was mumbling answers to David into the phone.

She wasn’t lying – it was actually down the block and Emma might have actually sprinted down the sidewalk. There wasn’t a plan, no schedule to stick to, nothing more than just some kind of desperate need to run towards something instead of away from it.

She stopped in front of the media entrance to the Garden and it was already late enough that the guard was long gone. She tugged on the door – locked. Everything was probably locked. There probably wasn’t anyone there. It was probably just building ops and there was probably a Celtics game the next day.

Emma groaned, flipping her hair back over her shoulders. That’s what she got for doing things without a schedule.

“Swan?” In the grand scheme of whatever mess of emotions Emma was wading through that night, she’d been the least prepared for that one. It felt like...everything, all at once and then something that might have been warm and it didn’t quite make sense.

She was also, apparently, an internet villain though, so, nothing made much sense in Boston.

“Hey,” Emma said, turning back around to find Killian in a league-mandated suit and a bag of equipment slung over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t somebody be carrying that for you?” “What are you doing here, Swan? Didn’t you have in-game?” “Yeah, during the game. That didn’t answer my question.” “Yes.” Emma blinked once. “Wait, yes, to what?” “Having somebody carry this for me,” Killian explained, nudging his shoulder up to prove his point. “It’s been a shitty series though. Figured I could manage to carry my own stuff. Take a walk. Or something. I didn’t really have a plan.” “Me either.” Killian narrowed his eyes and his hair hadn’t dried completely yet. “We’re doing this half-sentence thing, Swan.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” “And you never answered my question either.” “I don’t remember it.” “Really know how to make a guy feel important,” he mumbled, but his eyes brightened just a bit when he glanced up at her, all blue and meaningful and Emma bit her lip when his fingers brushed across her wrist.

“The internet thinks I’m the worst person in the world.” “I’m sorry, what?”

“The internet. Or Reddit. I don’t know. I only read that one thing.” “Why were you reading any of it?” “Why do you keep reading the tab stories?” Emma countered. “You keep leaving newspapers in my apartment. Ruby said I should consider using them as wallpaper.” “When was Ruby in your apartment?” “Yesterday before Reese’s got there.” “Wait, Mary Margaret is here? Is David here too?” “They don’t travel in a pair.”

Killian scoffed and his fingers had wrapped all the way around her wrist, thumb brushing across her laces. Emma didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “Yes, they do,” he said, leaning forward to kiss the top of her hair.

She might have melted. Or at least dissolved into some sort of human-emotional hybrid who had apparently grown enough in the last few months that she was not immediately terrified to be feeling every emotion in the world.

“Well, David’s not here. He had a ton of paperwork and Reese’s is on April break and she wanted to come and she’s having some sort of emotional breakdown about her wedding. This is a distraction she won't admit to.” “One that you’ve picked up on though.” “I’ve known Reese’s for a decade,” Emma shrugged.

Killian hummed, lips pressed together thoughtfully and Emma wished he’d kiss her again. Maybe she should just start kissing him. “You’re avoiding my question, you know,” he said and his voice felt like it lingered in every inch of her.

It was unnaturally quiet in front of the TD Garden media entrance. That was probably a sign. This was important – with a capital I. “Well, you keep changing the subject,” Emma muttered. “This has been one heck of a conversation.” “I aim to give off some kind of lasting impression.” Emma rolled her eyes and he did something absolutely absurd and completely unfair with eyebrows as he moved his hand away from her wrist and onto her waist.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Emma said, dragging her heels on the sidewalk when he started to tug her closer to him. “Jeez, relax your feats of strength, Cap. There’s no one to impress here. Just me.”

Killian tilted his head and something flashed in his gaze that Emma didn’t entirely understand – something much bigger than this conversation should have held. She probably should have expected it.

“And what would you say, Swan,” he whispered, squeezing his hand meaningfully on her jersey. His jersey. She only ever wore his jersey. “If I told you that the only person I am interested in impressing is you?” Definitely melted. Here lies Emma Swan, former community relations, fan experiences and events manager for the New York Rangers. Melted into some kind of puddle of emotions as soon as Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, stared at her like she was the center of the goddamn universe.

His smile stuttered slightly, all nerves and caution and he probably thought he was pushing again. Emma needed to get better at talking.

She pulled her hands up, palms flat on the front of his jacket and tried not to blink too much when she started talking again.

“Then,” she said slowly, doing her best not to stutter on those first few letters. “I would tell you that I am consistently impressed. No matter what.” “Even for a third-liner?” “That’s not going to last.” “Ah, you don’t know that, love. Arthur was very serious about it. Said I needed a wake-up call.” “That’s idiotic,” Emma said, half shouting the words and Killian’s smile widened slightly. “It is! As if you’re not worried enough already. He’s just trying to cover his own ass if this doesn’t…”

She cut herself off, but she’d said enough. She couldn’t talk before and, now, she’d talked too much. “If this doesn’t work,” Killian finished.

“There’s no reason to think it won’t. You guys beat the Penguins plenty of times this season.” “And lost.” “You can’t do that,” Emma reasoned. “If you do, you’ll go insane.” “I feel like I’m halfway there already. You know what my plus-minus rating was this series, Swan?” “That’s an antiquated statistic. None of those goals were explicitly your fault.”

“Pick a different stat then,” Killian argued and Emma knew he’d thought about every single one of them far more than he should have. “Neutral zone turnovers.”

“You’re pulling at straws, Cap.” “No I’m not. I’ve been playing like shit. The whole team knows it. The entire New York City media world knows it. You probably know it too.” “No,” Emma said, knocking her knuckles on his shirt like that would, somehow, get her point across. “Listen to me. It’s just a skid. It happens. You told me that in LA. That it had happened before and it would happen again. No one cares if you’re winning and you guys are winning. The only reason Arthur did this was to save his own ass and it was selfish and stupid and the fans nearly rioted when you didn’t come out with Locksley and Phillip.” Emma’s shoulders heaved slightly and she hadn’t really taken a breath during her mini-speech. The ends of Killian’s mouth quirked and he squeezed her hip again. “That was good, Swan,” he said. “I think you’re taking over from Mary Margaret.” “Shut up,” she muttered. “I’m being supportive.” “And I appreciate it, love. I got your text.” “Yeah?” “I love you, too.” There were those emotions again, lighting metaphorical fires in the pit of her stomach and sending chills down her spine and a whole slew of cliché nonsense Emma was certain didn’t exist before she got to New York.

And she’d never been more certain of anything in her entire life.

“He really didn’t tell you until today?” Emma asked. “When?”

Killian shook his head slowly. “No. Tell me about the internet.” “You didn’t answer my other question.” “It’s not important. Why were you trying to break into the Garden?” “I wasn’t trying to break in. I figured there’d still be people here. Are you really done with all your post stuff already?” “Yes, answer the question Swan.”

She grumbled, sticking the toe of her shoe into the sidewalk. It kind of hurt. There was a lesson there. “The in-game thread wasn’t happy about your move and they seem to be under some sort of impression it’s my fault.” “How do you even know who they are?”

“I mean we made Page Six that one time. And the guy said he recognized me from Sports Illustrated, although I feel like Ruby would have mentioned that, so who knows what the hell he was talking about.” “You’ve lost me again.” “There was a guy. At my thing. He said he recognized me and that the internet thinks I’m some kind of distraction and they’re all mad about my laces.” Killian’s who face shifted, anger settling into every corner and Emma kept her hand trained on the front of his jacket. “They know about your laces?” “We are absolutely horrible at under the radar.”

That seemed to help. Killian’s shoulders weren’t quite as straight, the tension easing out of his jaw slightly and there was almostsomething that resembled a smile. “You’re not a distraction. At least not one the internet can blame for how shitty I’ve been playing.” “We have been over that. You’re not. There are other factors and....”

He kissed her before she started repeating herself again.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss a person should have after only recently trying to break into TD Garden. He’d dropped his bag at some point, the sound echoing in Emma’s ears for half a second before the only thing she could hear was her vaguely desperate attempts to keep breathing.

That jacket might have been the best thing he’d ever worn – collar serving as leverage and Emma was on her toes with Killian’s hands anchored on the small of her back and she wasn’t sure which one of them groaned when they moved, hips hitting hips and she had to grip the back of his neck so she didn’t fall over.

His hand traced up the line of her spine and there was probably something ironic about his fingers ghosting over his own name on her back, but Emma was far too focused on whatever he was doing with his tongue to be worried about deeper meanings.

“You’re very good at that,” she mumbled and he laughed softly against her lips.

“A glowing endorsement.” She rolled her eyes, but her pulse kept pounding in her ears, a metronome that she felt like she could plan an entire life to. Oh.

Emma blinked once and everything she was thinking was probably written on her face, Killian’s head tilting slightly when she tried to take a deep breath.

It was a strange realization to come to in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of Boston, but Emma supposed nothing had gone quite the way she thought it would when it came to this and them and Killian Jones.

“You’re not a distraction,” Killian repeated. “I am...this is…” “What?” “I’m here for you,” he said quickly. “And I want to be. Indefinitely. You aren’t a distraction, Swan. You’re a reason. For all of it.” She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to force his words into the deep recesses of her brain, that dark, vaguely frustrated place where promises of never and no and almost lingered. And she wasn’t sure how she knew it worked, just that it had, an answer for every single question and every single what if she could come up with.

“When did you do it?” Emma asked and Killian jerked back slightly at the sudden change in her voice.

“Do what?” “Save the house.” His whole body sagged, tongue pressed into the side of his cheek. “How’d you find out?” “Aurora told me. Earlier.” “So it went through, then? We weren’t sure.” Emma nodded. “Yeah, called during the first period. Wait, we?”

The ends of his ears went red and he ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the back for half a moment before he looked back at her. “Well the three of us. Locksley and Scarlet and me. That was quick. I didn’t think it’d happen until after the conference, actually.” “Look who’s all confident now,” Emma laughed.

��Well, we did win, Swan.” “You’re still dodging questions.” “Just the one.” “Killian.”

He nodded, eyebrows lifted as he brushed his thumb across her jaw and that metronome in Emma’s ears picked up pace. “It was a joke,” he stared. “Or at least it was supposed to be. Locksley and Scarlet talking about how they were going to buy you some sort of gift for changing everything and making me want to stay in New York and less of a cynical ass.

But, uh, we talked about it a little bit more and we talked about the ever-expanding Mills-Locksley family and, well, it made sense. You know the game raised a ton of money.” “Yeah I did,” Emma said. “Not nearly enough to save a foster home though.” “So you had some help.” He took a step back and Emma tried not to sigh too loudly when his hand moved off her jersey. “It wasn’t much, really, when you split it three ways.” “They really did that?” “Enthusiastically.” “And it was your idea?” “I guess,” Killian shrugged. “It just made sense.” Emma looped her fingers through his belt, appreciating the almost-stunned expression on his face and realizing exactly what you wanted out of everything in the middle of the sidewalk was fun. She was having fun.

“Thank you,” Emma said. There should have been more, more words or more sentiment and she’d decided in some kind of end-all way, but she was still God awful at talking.

“That’s not anything to thank me for, love,” Killian whispered, voice barely audible over the traffic and the collective sounds of downtown Boston. “I was reliably informed we’re some sort of team.”

She needed to add that to whatever list she was keeping of this moment. That part should be at the top of the list. “A good one, maybe,” Emma added.

“Series-clinching.” “A do-gooder tandem, saving New York City.” “Should we collectively tell the internet to shut up?” Killian asked and his hand was back and there was a smirk and that was justcheating.

“No,” she laughed. “I’ll survive. I’m not...it actually didn’t bother me. Much.” “Ah, well, I’ll take much when I can get it.” Emma ignored that. “Were you going to walk back to the hotel?” “It’s, literally, down the block, Swan. You walked here from the hotel.” “I wasn’t carrying an entire team’s equipment.” “Go ahead and talk about how strong I am, I can wait.” “Jeez,” Emma sighed and the smirk was on a completely different level now. It wasn’t fair. “Alright, Jones, come on.”

“You know Boston has one of the highest walking-populations in the entire country. Probably only second to New York.” “That’s a better fact than the lighthouse.” “No more lighthouse facts,” Killian laughed, arm finding its way around their shoulders when they turned back down the sidewalk. “Noted.” She didn’t check for any other stories again.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #ouat ff #cs #csbb #blue line #ROMANCE #HOCKEY ROMANCE #HOCKEY DRAMA #trying to find facts about the boston bruins was a distinct challenge this chapter #but in the realm of the rangers postseason opponents this story #i hate the bruins the least

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