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rosiehrs · 4 months ago

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civil war | hanni

summary ; you don't know how to function without expressing your disdain for each other, but sometimes all you need is to share a drink to bring peace.

pairing ; hanni pham x fem!reader

content ; non idol!au, enemies to lovers…?, mild jealousy, lame insults, hanni doesnt like yn's outfits, yn and hanni are annoying

genre ; fluff

word count ; 4075

not even 10 seconds in and the two of you were already going at it.

“goofy outfit, bro.” hanni comments as you finally arrive at the café you all agreed to eat at. you raised your eyebrow at her, scoffing. “i know you’re not talking with that hair.”

“i’m trying something NEW. maybe you should too!” she fought back, crossing her arms and turning away from you. “we’ve been here together for approximately 5 seconds and you’re already at it. i’m genuinely amazed. how are we a function friend group?” minji complains, the look of disbelief clear on her face. danielle laughed, wrapping her arms around you and hanni. “it’s gonna be a fun day! brighten up, everyone! we’re gonna eat good, have good conversations and so much more!”

“unnie, yn and hanni will kill each other before any of that happens.” hyein butts in as she eyes the desserts on display. “so not true! what do you think, haerin?” dani asks, catching the younger girl off guard. haerin slowly turns to look at her and blinks. “mm.”

“exactly! thank you! now let’s eat and have fun, yes?”

“yes..” you all replied. you looked over to see hanni glaring at you, causing a laugh to escape your throat. you stuck your tongue out at her and let dani drag you to a table.

“why can’t you just be a normal person and wear a normal outfit?”

“how is this not a normal outfit?”

“you’re just not normal.”

“do you think you’re funny?”

“i’m funnier than you.”

“im taller than you.”

“who fucking asked you?”

“i–”

“no one asked! next!” hanni interrupts, taking a huge bite out of her bread roll menacingly. “i hope you choke.” you replied, kicking her under the table earning a muffled yelp. you laughed as you watched her aggressively chew, clearly wanting to say something back at you. “apapap! unnie, calm down, you might actually choke.” she looked at danielle and defeatedly obeyed. she looked up, sending you a glare. a small smile couldn't help but spread across your face as you watched her cheeks full of bread move up and down. you couldn’t deny that hanni was cute. even at times when you found her absolutely insufferable, you still found her adorable. but that was something you’d take to the grave.

“...party and she invited us.”

the girls all began to agree with minji’s words but you were too caught up in your own world to listen. “wait, wait. what? sorry, i zoned out.”

“i said wonyoung is throwing a party tomorrow and she invited us. but i think there will be drinks there? you comfortable with that, hyein? we would take care of you!”

“please. it’s a party thrown by wonyoung unnie, of course there are drinks. besides, i’ve been friends with you guys for so long, i think i’m comfortable around alcohol.” she replied, rolling her eyes. minji laughed at her, bumping her shoulder. “okay, big girl. you down, y/n?” you nodded excitedly, “yeah! should be fun.”

“hanni? dani? haerin?”

“i’m down!” danielle cheers. “me too.”

“hanni?” minji asks again. “oh, uh, yeah. sure, i’m down.” she muttered, sending minji a small smile. “great! i’ll let her know.” and you all easily found yourselves lost in another silly conversation, but your eyes never left hanni. you could tell something was off but you weren’t close enough to push. if you asked you were certain she would just tell you to go away, so you decided to stay safe and just.. wonder from afar.

you got into minji’s car, greeting everyone excitedly. hyein was in the passenger seat and haerin was sitting on dani’s lap behind them. “we should start taking my family car when we all go out.” hyein suggested, causing minji to laugh. “my car is perfectly fine!”

“you’re not drinking tonight, min?” you asked. “nah, gotta take care of this big baby.” hyein groaned and started arguing with minji about how she wasn’t a baby and that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. minji simply laughed and let the younger girl yap until they reached hanni’s house. she opened the door and stopped her movements as she laid her eyes on you. “these damn outfits, y/n. i want to laugh, but i just feel bad.”

“can we leave her, please? i’m begging.”

“hi hanni unnie! please get in!”

she hesitantly gets in next to you and shuts the door. you awkwardly tried to shuffle further away, but it was no use. with the two girls next to you, you had no space to go anyway. you tried to remain respectful and leave a little gap between the two of you, but it just meant you squeezed in closer to the other two.

minji made an abrupt turn causing everyone in the car to move with it. you were pressed against hanni as she grabbed your arm to prevent herself from flying away. “shit, sorry everyone! that car came out of nowhere.”

“unnie, we’re not even there yet and you’re already trying to kill us!” hyein yelled.

“ow.” haerin mumbled, rubbing her head. “you okay, rin?” dani asked, getting a nod in response. you felt some pressure on your arm and saw that hanni had still been holding onto it. “you good?” you asked quietly. her eyes widened as she realised and quickly let go of you, “um, yeah. i.. don’t talk about it.” she turned away to face the window and you laughed at her antics.

“holy shit, where the hell am i supposed to park? the whole street is full?”

with a scoff, hyein crosses her arms. “of course the entirety of seoul is here, it’s wonyoung unnie’s party.”

“unnie, there! free spot there!” dani directed, minji quickly driving to secure the spot. it took a few minutes.. with hyein yelling, dani trying to help, you and hanni quietly arguing about God knows what and haerin just.. listening to everything.

you all eagerly made your way to wonyoung’s house – mansion? castle? either works! there were already heaps of people in her front yard, walking into her house was another level. there were seas of people, some familiar, some not. you looked around and saw a dj up on a stage-like area, wonyoung knew how to throw parties.

you made your way through the huge crowds, searching for your friends. stepping foot into the kitchen, you see wonyoung, yujin and rei chatting with other people. wonyoung looked up and squealed as she saw you. her face lit up as she ran towards all of you, giving you all a hug. “you came! i’m so happy! i’ve missed you guys! it was only supposed to be a small gathering, but people bring people and those people bring people and you know how it goes.”

“i can imagine, looks great though! very lively!” dani exclaims, excited by the atmosphere. “thank you! the snacks and drinks are over there and hyein! there’s a bunch of juice! if there’s anything else you need, please just come looking for me! have fun you guys, i’ll call you when we start playing games.”

you all thanked her and made your way towards the snack table. “who’s drinking, raise your hand.�� minji said (yelled) over the music. dani and you raised your hands, high fiving in the process. you and dani poured yourselves some drinks and made your way back to your friends. hyein was dancing with minji, haerin and hanni, making the both of you smile. “they’re cute.” you stated, sipping your drink. “yeah, they are! let’s dance!” dani giggled as she dragged you to the dance floor where your other friends were.

after a few songs, you started to get tired. you stepped away from your group and went to get a sip of water. you looked around and saw a familiar figure outside on the patio. you curiously made your way outside, startling said familiar figure.

“hanni?”

“what are you doing here?” she asked, turning back to look away from you. you shut the sliding door and sat down next to her. “i.. just saw you out here. i didn’t realise you left, are you okay?”

she nodded, “yeah, it was just.. loud. i’m okay. you can go back inside.” you thought about it for a second and decided to stay put. she looked at you with confusion on her face, “i said you can go back inside.” you shook your head and looked up at the sky. “nah, i’m good here.”

hanni opened her mouth to say something else but chose to keep it to herself after she saw how content you looked next to her. she cleared her throat, not knowing how to start a conversation with you. insulting you didn’t seem very fitting in this setting so she didn’t know what to do. “we can just sit in silence, don’t be weird.” you spoke, amusement clear in your voice. “whatever, i’m just trying not to make it awkward.”

“it’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” she blinked at you a few times before looking back up at the sky. she took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. you turned to look at her and couldn’t help but smile. she glowed in the moonlight and when she opened them, you saw stars in her eyes.

“wanna go for a walk?” you regretted it as soon as you opened your mouth. you were certain she was going to laugh at you and throw a childish insult at you. but much to your surprise, she stood up and said, “let’s go.”

you stared at her with shock on your face, quickly standing up and taking your phone out to let minji know. you walked along wonyoung’s neighbourhood, quietly rating each house you walked by. the streetlights weren’t too bright, but weren’t too dim. they gave off the perfect light it reflected clearly on hanni’s face.

“you know, if you weren’t such an asshole - i would be able to say you look pretty without regretting it.”

you heard hanni’s breath hitch next to you, quickly coughing to cover it up. “what happened to being in silence?” she snapped back, trying to hide the fact that she was turning red. “i just called you pretty, can’t you be decent for once and just say thank you?” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“it- i-.. thank you..” she defeatedly whispered. “see, was that so hard?” she muttered a snarky reply under her breath, but she was extremely flustered. you just watched her for a few seconds, genuinely taken aback by her beauty. you held no hatred for the girl next to you, in fact it was the opposite. you wouldn’t lie and say you were never hurt by the things she said. most times you genuinely had no idea whether or not she actually hated you or this was just her way of communicating with you. like.. it was your thing? but curiosity is strong and sometimes people need answers.

“hanni?” you began, kicking a rock on the path. she hummed in response, looking down at the ground. “do you actually dislike me?” you asked, still avoiding eye contact. “oh.” was all she could let out. she turned to look at you and felt guilty as soon as she saw the look on your face. of course she didn't hate you, she definitely wasn’t good at showing that but dislike was the last thing she felt for you.

“you’ve always argued with me and insulted me, so i reciprocated the energy. i thought it was just banter, but we never seemed to get past it. come to think of it, this is probably the closest thing we’ve had to a proper conversation.”

her demeanor softened, voice laced with guilt. “no, i don’t dislike you. i just thought you didn’t like me either.” she said, eyes glued to the floor.

“i’ve always liked you but with the way you treated me, i knew i didn’t have a chance.”

“no, it– wait what?” she froze and stopped in her tracks, “a chance?”

“yeah–oh, i see how this can be misinterpreted.” you responded, standing next to her. “oh, you mean like.. have a chance to be friends with me?”

“no.. i mean have a chance with you.” you clarified, leaving hanni dumbfounded. “what?”

“i mean, even with the way you treat me - i see how you treat others. i know you’re a good and kind person, i guess being pretty helps as well, but you’re funny and you care for others. i see how funny you are, how you care for our friends, i know you have a nice voice. you help take care of hyein, you look out for haerin, you help minji out when she feels overwhelmed with everything, you and dani are a great pair and– ”

“– you like me?” she interrupts, eyes almost popping out of her eye sockets.

you tilted your head at her, “yes..?”

“how?” “erm.. did i not just explain?”

“how are you acting like this isn’t a big deal?” hanni screeched, throwing her head into her hands, “we’ve spent years shitting on each other and you’re saying you’ve liked me this entire time?!” her voice went up an octave with every word. you quickly shushed her with your hands, trying to prevent the entire neighbourhood from hearing her, “hanni, it doesn’t have to be a big deal! i didn’t tell you because i expected anything, i just wanted to share my side of things. i like you, so i’ve just followed your lead. if arguing and insulting is what you’re comfortable, then i’m alright with that.”

she shook her head, chuckling almost bitterly at your words. “y/n, i’ve always known you to be a sarcastic person, so i’ve only been acting like this towards you because i thought this was what you wanted.”

she took a deep breath in, taking a step closer to you. “y/n, the truth is i–”

the sound of your ringtone cut her off, taking you both by surprise. you pulled your phone out of your pocket to see minji’s name displayed in big letters. “it’s–i’m sorry. give me a second.” you apologised, answering the call. “minji?”

hanni cleared her throat and took a step back, staring down at the ground. all she needed was 2 more seconds. minji’s timing was impeccable. all she wanted to do was laugh at the absurdity of it all, but all she could muster up was the fact that she felt defeated.

“oh, yeah, alright. we’re coming. okay, see you.” the call ended and you turned to hanni, “we have to go. haerin’s not feeling well.” hanni nodded and followed you as you turned to walk back to wonyoung’s house. “wait, sorry, i interrupted you earlier. you were saying something..?” you reminded, turning to her. her head was down and her shoulders were slumped, you couldn't help but wonder if this was because of what you told her.

“huh? oh.. no.. it’s nothing. it doesn’t matter.” she mumbled, almost whispering. “are you sure? you can tell me anything, i won’t be offended.” you reassured. you wanted to hear what she felt about.. how you felt. you were almost getting to her, opening up to each other. “yeah, i’m sure. don’t worry about it. let’s just get back to them so we can take care of haerin.”

you slowly blinked at her before nodding. “hanni, i hope what i told you doesn’t change anything. or if i does, i hope we can at least be civil with each other.” she sent you a soft smile and replied, “of course.” with that, you were content. and you were a step closer to being friends.

you reached wonyoung’s house shortly, grabbing hanni’s arm to run towards minji’s car in the distance. “is haerin okay?” you asked immediately.

they explained that she had snacked too much and needed to rest. the ride back home was.. awkward to say the least. you and hanni didn’t say a word to each other, looking in opposite directions. you felt as if you had screwed everything up until you felt her move next to you. she subtly shuffled closer to you, making your shoulders and knees touch. your entire body stiffened, startled by the sudden contact.

it was all you could think about when you got home, that and hanni sending you a smile when she got dropped off. she made your heart flutter with the smallest gestures and you could only imagine how she’d make you feel once you were actually friends. you went to sleep that night with a content heart.

a few days after the party, you all agreed to meet up again to try out a new café. you rushed to get ready in hopes that hanni would arrive early again. you reached the café half an hour before the initial plan, eagerly searching for the australian girl.your shoulders slumped when you realised you were the first to arrive. you grudgingly went to find a table big enough to seat all of you. you wanted to sulk, but you never made an arrangement with hanni. in fact, you haven’t spoken to her since the party. you sat there, busy arguing with yourself that you didn’t even realise someone had walked into the café.

a sweet voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “hi.”

“oh.” you began, feeling your heart race as you saw her face. “hanni, hi. you’re early.” she chuckled and took the seat opposite you, “so are you. didn’t expect that from you. did something motivate you?”

“oh, don’t even. i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you scowled, scrolling on your phone to hide the blush creeping up on your face. she pushed your phone down with a grin, “we have to talk, y/n.”

“about what..?”

“your clothes. what the hell are you wearing.” your facial expressions dropped and you stared at her with a look of disapproval. “i’m not impressed. you’re not funny. it’s good to see that you fixed your hair though.” you retorted.

“you still find me pretty, don’t you?” she teased with a smile. all you could do was stare and you knew you looked stupid. you felt stupid, of course she’d use it against you. she’s hanni. “i don’t like you.”

“hmm, that’s not what you–”

“i’m going to the bathroom! be right back!” you stood up and ran to the bathroom. you stared at yourself in the mirror, embarrassed by how flushed you looked. you wanted to strangle her. she was infuriating, how you still like her will always be a mystery to you. any regular person would hate hanni’s guts, and a part of you does! but for the most part, she makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. you hated her for that, too.

a few minutes later, you calmed yourself down and walked out to see your friends sitting there. you let out a breath of relief and ran to engulf minji in a hug. “thank you.” you whispered, confusing the girl. “um, you’re welcome?”

“oh, you’re so dramatic.” hanni sassed, “we were alone for ten minutes. it wasn’t that bad.” you watched her roll her eyes and cross her arms, sending you a glare shortly after. so much for being civil.

‘if being alone with me for ten minutes is so torturous, why does she like me?’ hanni thought bitterly. she didn’t want to admit it, but she was jealous. she’s always been jealous of minji. you were close, always showing each other affection. hanni barely remembers a time when you weren’t on top of each other. it irked her–you irked her. you initiated all of that with minji; why couldn’t you do it with her? knowing how you feel for her, she feels a sense of entitlement over you. you should be hugging her like that. she didn’t pause for a second to think about how quick of a jump it would be for the both of you, nor did she pause to think about the fact that you had no idea that she felt the same way.

you made your orders and began debriefing about anything and everything that’s happened in the past week. however, hanni was too busy staring at you to listen to the conversation, deciding to kick you under the table to earn your attention. you flinched and stared at her with confusion written on your face. “what’s that?” she mouthed, pointing at your drink.

“whipped cappuccino,” you answered, raising your eyebrows at her. “can i try?” she asked, and you nodded at her in response. she grabbed your drink and placed her lips on your straw. your eyes widened at her actions, and hanni felt accomplished with your reaction. “yum,” she responded, sliding your drink back over to you.

“what was that.” hyein said, staring at the two of you incredulously. “what the hell was that.”

“what was what?” hanni asked casually, taking a bite out of her pastry. “she poisoned you. y/n unnie poisoned you. there’s no other explanation.” you scoffed at hyein, waving her off. “please. if i wanted to poison her, i would’ve done it years ago. why would i have willingly put up with her all this time?”

“oh really? yeah, why would you willingly put up with me all this time? honestly, i wish you would’ve poisoned me so i wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore.”

“hyein, they were doing so good.” haerin muttered, throwing her head into her hands.

“you’re lucky to know me, i’m great to be around with! you didn’t mind my company at the party last week.” you retorted. “yeah, well you didn’t mind my company either.”

“why can’t you guys just be friends?” minji asked, clearly exasperated with your dynamics. “i–we are..! um.. friends..! right, hanni?”

“..just friends?” she replied.

“w-what?!”

“what.”

“huh?!”

“pause.”

“...”

“y/n and i need to talk outside!” hanni sang, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the café. (and ignoring your friends and their comments)

“what the hell was that?!” you shrieked, still taken aback by her question. “it–you–i like you too, idiot!” she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. “i don’t actually mean the insults i throw at you. that’s what i was trying to tell you before minji called.” you felt your entire world stop and in the moment you felt like your head was about to explode. “why the hell didn’t you tell me after?!”

“i was scared! i didn’t know how you’d react!” she responded, equally as hysterical as you. “well, i fucking told you i liked you, of course i’d react well, you fucking moron!”

“don’t call me a moron, i’m not a moron! you’re a moron!”

“why are you yelling at me?!”

“why are you yelling at me?!” she retorted, causing you to change your demeanor. “oh, i’m sorry. i’m just freaking out. i don’t know what to do. what do we do now?” with a sigh, hanni shook her head. “i don’t know. i just feel stupid, we’ve liked each other for so long and we just.. wasted time. i wished i told you sooner.”

“me too, but there’s no better time than the present..? ..right?” you beckoned, earning a small smile from the girl in front of you. “you still want to be with me..?”

you took a step closer, “if that’s okay with you?” hanni chuckled, grabbing your hands and wrapping them around her waist. “yeah, that could be arranged.”

“and we wouldn’t try to kill each other?”

“and we would compliment each other.”

“sounds gross,” you joked, yelping shortly after. “ow!” rubbing your arm with one hand and keeping the other around her waist. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

you giggled, poking her sides. “you like me.”

“you like me too, don’t let it get to your head.” she grumbled, pulling you closer to her. she closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around you and placed her head on your shoulder. for so long, she’s dreamt about the warmth of your embrace and now that she was in your arms–she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“wait, so you don’t think my outfits are bad?”

“don’t ruin the moment, you loser.”

“you owe all me 50 bucks,” dani cheered with a grin on her face, groans from the other three following suit.

im going to die now, thank u. not proofread !!!!

#hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader #newjeans x reader #kpop x reader

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unholyhelbig · 4 months ago

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any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Kate bishop x reader #Hawkeye #Hawkeye fanfiction #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #hurt/comfort #Ask #bobbi morse #lance hunter #mockingbird #clint barton #Reader has fire powers

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gyllenhaalstories · 5 months ago

Text

ALIBI — RUSTY SABICH

summary: rusty seeks comfort in someone from his past to hide from both the present and the future.

warnings: mentions of cheating & the murder, mostly angst, smut (pussy eating, penetration, marking & hickeys, accidental creampie, some elements of noncon). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4075

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i was going off the vibes from the trailers but there are spoilers from the first two episodes. this was supposed to be all smut but then i didn't feel like writing smut so it was all angst but then i remembered i'm bad at writing angst so now it's... a mess. sorry? 👓 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it startled you.

You had been on the edge all day, ever since you received a mysterious letter in your mailbox. The enveloppe was bare, the paper did not look much better. It could have been a bad prank for all you knew, it was not addressed to anyone specifically nor did it have the information required to return it. If it had not been of the familiar penmanship that wrote the words I'll be here at midnight, you would have believed that the letter was completely anonymous.

Rusty stood on the other side of the door, his body completely frozen while his mind and his heart raced faster than ever before. It was a bad idea, one of the worst ideas. He tried to make sure that nobody had followed him, but how could he know? How could he completely be sure there was not a car parked in the darkness of the night?

You ripped the metaphorical bandaid off. "What are you doing here?" You gripped on the door knob tightly, fighting the urge to slam the door back in his face.

He looked down at his feet. "You got my letter."

You were not having any of his misplaced timidity. He reached out, he needed to face the consequences. He needed to face you. So, you stepped out of the way and let him make a decision. Whether he walked away before it was too late, or whether he...

Rusty's shoulder bumped against yours while he made his way into your home. Memories flooded his mind. Memories of the two of you talking, laughing, kissing and...

"What are you doing here?" You repeated, this time with more annoyance in your voice.

He stopped reminiscing the past you shared. "I had nowhere else to go. I have no one else, but..."

"You don't have me either. You made that very clear when you disappeared. It's been so long, I started to believe you forgot I even existed. When was the last time we talked?"

When Carolyn started working. "It's been a long time, I know."

"You know everything, don't you?" You stated and closed the door. Rusty stood there, almost as clueless as you about his presence. You eyed him from head to toes and scoffed.

He flinched, expecting you to go on with another lecture about how he was such a horrible man. You did not, you knew he would like that too much.

You walked towards the living room and crashed on couch, as far as you could be from him. The distance made you feel safer. Only this safety was ephemeral and fragile.

"I, huh... I just," he stuttered and clenched his jaw while trying to compose himself. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I needed you."

You scoffed again at the use of past tense. Before you could talk back, he continued.

"I need you."

That confession weighted heavy in the air for several long, agonizing minutes. He came to you. He would have to work hard to get whatever he wanted from you.

Rusty fidgeted with his ring finger. Muscle memory.

You crossed your arms against your chest. You had showed this man more patience than he deserved. "Do you want a hug? Do you want me to tell you everything's gonna be okay?

He glanced in your direction, just long enough for you to notice the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I'm not the lawyer who's gonna defend your fake alibi, I'm not the detective who's gonna scrap pieces of evidence for you. I'm not the one who's going to get you out of trouble." You bombarded him with all of these options that he had once considered, crossing them off his list one after the other. "I'm not what you need."

"Yes, you are!" He raised his voice and you lifted a brow at his outburst. He hated being cornered, he hated being on the receiving hand of a tactic he had used one too many times in court. "I need you!" He shouted, he surprised himself.

You blinked and suddenly he was in front of you. He stood, tall but not strong. The louder he yelled, the weaker he felt.

"I need you to help me." You locked eyes with him, daring him to go on. "I need you to help me forget." He did not need to speak her name for you to figure out he was talking about Carolyn.

You laughed at him, as if you were hit with a sudden case of hysteria.

Your reaction made him walk away with his tail between his legs. He sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"You think you're so brave. Huh?" You smiled at him, in complete disbelief. "You were talking shit about how you wanted to leave your wife for me. The worst part is... I believed you." He seemed surprised once again. "Then you left me for another woman who died because of you. And now..." Your smile faded and your arms fell to your sides. "You're crawling back to me because you feel lonely?"

This was a mistake. He thought, he hoped, you would be different. He had enough of people berating him. He sprung to his feet and paced around your living room, planning his next move... His next words.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek while he behaved like an animal in cage. "Rusty..." You sighed, slowly giving in without your own consent. You opened the door of the cage.

"I know you feel lonely too." Rusty clenched his jaw. He stood firm in his word. Suddenly he remembered a conversation he had, not too long ago, about taking responsibility. "And I know I'm asking for a lot." His upper lip curled, his body reacting strangely to this rare case of acknowledgement and awareness. Perhaps it could have been... Guilt.

It was your turn to be surprised. This was uncommon, unnatural. You could not quite decipher if he was genuine or not. The longer you stared at him, studying and scrutinizing him, the harder it became to figure out what was going on inside his head. However, you noticed a shift.

Rusty knew he was getting to you. You no longer had the entire control over this conversation. He reentered your house and your life. While you told him you did not want him back, your body was saying something completely different. You expected him to visit, yet you dressed up so lightly in a shirt that hugged your curves and pants he could easily rip open. You never missed an occasion to drink him in, to appreciate the countless hours he spent at the pool to swim through his thoughts. The tough version of you that opened the door with an anger-filled soul softened up faster than he had imagined.

You eyed him up and down again. "This isn't going to end well." You spoke mostly to yourself. He heard you, but did not acknowledge the bad omen.

Rusty knelt before you. Not once did he break eye contact while he crawled, bringing your words into reality. He leaned back when he reached your legs and waited. He waited for you to tell him no, knowing it would only make him crave it more. Rusty rarely took no for an answer anyway.

You reached your hand to stroke his hair. You waited, too. You waited for him to realize he was taking the wrong decision. You waited to gather enough courage, although you were not too sure what to used that courage for.

He leaned into your hand that slid down to his cheek. You reminded him that the chase of thrills and butterflies could hardly compete with someone who had the magical power of calming him down, of making the whole world disappear.

You leaned forward and reached for his glasses that you gently removed. You took a moment to admire the sight of him: the muscles of his thighs almost bursting through his jeans, his chest heaving as if his hoodie made him so hot that he was melting, his eyes begging for your permission.

He watched you set his glasses away on the couch, safe and sound. He turned his head back to you while you lifted yourself off the couch to take off your sleeping pants. Rusty helped you pull them off, he threw them as far away as he could. He decided for you that there was no turning back. He then placed his hands on your knees, ready to part your legs open.

"I'm gonna regret this." You would, but Rusty would not. You locked eyes with him again and drowned into his darkened gaze. "You better make sure it's worth it."

Rusty faced a dilemma: he was unsure whether he wanted to take his time and savour the moment or dive into it head first. The throb of his cock, confined under his clothes, decided for him.

Your body showed no resistance to his touch, your legs opened easily with the light pressure he applied. His tongue licked a long stripe on your inner thigh while he made his way to your core.

You adjusted your position, sitting more lazily on the couch while he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He peppered kisses on your pussy before he used his thumbs to spread it open for him. At the first taste, he was addicted. More so, he was reminded of the addiction that had him sneaking out day and night just to eat you out.

Your back arched, pressing yourself against his mouth when he sucked on your clit. You fought back your moans, but, once again, your body betrayed you.

"Missed you so much," Rusty spoke against your skin. He spat on your pussy and caught the drops that dripped down with his tongue. He made a mess, not that he had to try very hard for it. You were already wet for him, he liked to think it was just a reflex you had failed to break since the day he left. "I missed you so fucking much."

You placed a hand on his head, pulling on his short hair. You refused to believe his words, but they sounded so nice. Almost honest.

Rusty began to lap at your folds, making his nose bump against your clit. He swallowed the juices that leaked from your entrance, but he was still left craving more.

You gasped loudly when his tongue teased your hole. You pressed his face against you, as if he could get even closer than he already was.

Rusty palmed at his rock hard cock, moaning into your pussy as he did that. He touched himself over his clothes while he finally focused on your aching clit, flicking his tongue on it to make you squirm. He tried to fight against the movements of your hips, making sure his mouth never left you.

Your legs started to close around Rusty's face, which did not bother him in the slightest. You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch him while he brought you closer to the edge. He just looked so beautiful.

The vein on his temple was bulging, almost pulsating to match his heart beat. He let go of his crotch and helped you to put your thighs on his broad shoulders, encourage you to let go, to give in.

You were not ready to satisfy him just yet. You wanted this moment to last, you wanted it to be worth the guilt and regret you would experience the moment he would walk out the door.

That only made him hungrier. He devoured you like it was the last time, he shared the mutual feeling that it could very well be. He pulled away from you just long enough to catch his breath one last time. He was determined to get what he wanted from you.

In a matter of seconds, your vision got blurry and your toes started to curl.

Rusty's moans only made the sensations greater while his tongue worked you over and had your entire body shaking for him.

You did not need to speak, to tell him to keep going, he knew what to do. He knew how to make you feel better than anyone else ever could. That remained one of his biggest problems, he was a heartless cheater but he was just so fucking good at it.

He slowed down until your thighs relaxed around him and he helped to set them down, still wide open for him to admire the mess he made between your thighs. You were dripping of your own wetness and of his spit. He could have kept going all night, but he had a more urgent need to take care of. He scrambled back on his feet and, without a word, he took off the rest of his clothes.

You did the same, not without admiring his body and especially the throbbing and leaking cock that he stroked.

He admired you too: the way your clit throbbed for him, how your forehead was covered with a layer of sweat despite just sitting there and doing nothing besides screaming while you were cumming.

He surprised you with a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth. You did not want to reciprocate, you wanted to pull away and to protect yourself from falling harder for this man. It was simply pointless. You kissed him back with the same passion that left you both gasping for air.

Rusty helped you to change positions so that you turned around and you were kneeling on the couch and you leaned on the back of the furniture. He leaned forward to kiss your shoulder and all the way down your back. He wanted to print the memory of you in his mind.

Neither of you felt brave enough to speak. You let your bodies do the talking with moans and grunts that blended into a melody while Rusty pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance. His tongue failed to prepare you for the delicious stretch of his cock.

He squeezed your ass cheeks open, trying to catch a glimpse of your pussy gripping on him. That was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He helped you arch your back, taking in the perfect position for him to use your pussy to get off. You felt so fucking good, so tight and wet around him. How could he have waited so long to feel you again? How did he manage to wait all this time?

You bit on your lip so hard that it tasted faintly of blood when he bottomed out. He stopped moving for a few moments, letting you adjust to him.

He pressed his toned chest against your back, cooing at you. When he felt your walls relax around his length, he started moving. The small but deep thrusts made tears pool into your eyes.

You held on the back of the couch for dear life when he fucked you harder, when he let you feel every inch of him nice and deep.

Rusty grunted louder and louder. The noises echoed in your apartment, filling the silence alongside the sound of your skin slapping against his. He was getting closer than he wanted to to admit it, so he stalled again.

You felt his hands on your skin, gliding down your arms. He held your hands in his, making the cushion of the couch cave in under the pressure. You looked down at his left hand, but your eyes closed blissfully before you could notice whether he was wearing his wedding ring or not. Your skin was so hot too, you could not even feel it the metal.

You could not feel anything else than Rusty's cock that was balls deep inside of you or his lips that sucked a few marks on your shoulder.

He kissed his way to your neck, where he nibbled and licked. He was buying time and you could feel it. You could hear it too, with the whimpers that came out of his mouth. He murmured at your ear while he marked you. "I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum."

"Pull out, just, fuck," your voice sounded hoarse from the moans. "Just pull out!"

Rusty cursed under his breath, his thrusts felt more like twitches than anything. His left hand moved down to squeeze on your hip, a rough and bruising grip. "I can’t," his body pressed down on yours. You could barely stay up on your knees. "You feel too fucking good on me."

"No! No, no…" You wanted to get him to move, or even to get off him. Anything really, but your pussy clenched on him with vice-like grip. It was already too late.

Rusty held your hip and your hand tight, giving you no room to escape. He grunted at your ear while he emptied himself in you. Multiple ropes of cum coated your walls and made both yours and his eyes roll to the back of your heads. It felt so good, so wrong yet so right. He should not have done it, he should have pulled out and avoid another situation. He never learned his lessons. This was forbidden. He loved it even more.

"Rusty! That was so fucking stupid." You shouted, there was more shock than anger in your voice. Your poor attempts at squirming out of his embrace failed. Your pussy milked him to his last drop.

The room went painfully silent. No moans, no skin slapping, no couch squeaking. Nothing. There was nothing but erratic breaths and the gears turning silently in your minds. What did he do? He did what he needed to do. He did what he knew you wanted him to do. Even if you told him otherwise, even if you tried to convince yourself of the opposite. "I'm sorry."

It was crystal clear that his apology was empty. As if the lack of conviction in his voice was not enough to prove it, the slow thrusts of his hips sealed the deal.

Languid strokes that made him appreciate the warmth he had craved for so long. "I know, this was wrong." He pressed his clean shaven cheek against yours. Slowly, he picked up the pace until he properly fucked you against the couch. "I'm so fucking sorry." He punctuated each word with a thrust that made you moan louder and louder. He was not going to stop anytime soon. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you until he was ready for a second load.

Only Rusty could fuck you this good. He made sure you learned that lesson, rewarding you with orgasms the more you surrendered to the pleasure he shamelessly gave you.

*~*~*

You felt Rusty's arm slide away from your body, goosebumps spreading on your skin from the sudden lack of warmth. You tried to stay immobile, although your eyes fluttered from struggling to stay closed. You knew he would leave. He always did.

He knew he would leave. He could not stay. He could not stay and drag you down with him once more. Rusty had hurt enough people for the time being, he needed to learn to be careful. To calculate the risks. The risks were too high when they involved you.

A part of you had hoped it would be different this time. Maybe he would stay for breakfast. Maybe he would offer to shower together and go at it again. Maybe he would make another promise he would inevitably break.

Rusty surprised you with a kiss to your cheek, one that lingered and communicated more than words could convey in the moment. He stood up on his tired legs and he stepped over your body to search for his clothes.

You opened your eyes a bit, squinting to catch a glimpse of his naked body roaming around your place. He looked so beautiful, so irresistible. His large back, his muscular legs, his toned ass that he quickly covered with his boxers. You could admire him for days on end. He would never grant you so much time in his presence.

He turned around, guilt and regret stabbed him in the stomach. Unfamiliar feelings. You looked so beautiful, so tempting. The delicate features of your face, the curves of your body, your steady breathing that he'd love to fall asleep to again. He wished he could stay with you and forget about the rest of the world.

You felt his eyes on you. You felt him stare and linger on the marks he left on your body, on the other places he'd love to bruise for his own pleasure.

Before he got riled up and, most importantly, before he failed once more to think with his brain, he finished dressing up in a hurry. If he made it back home before sunrise, no one would know about his escapade.

"Wait." Your mouth spoke despite your mind yelling at you to stay quiet and to pretend to sleep a little longer.

Rusty froze in place. He refused to turn around and look at you. Unless you asked him to.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around your body that he had seen one too many times; your body that he could not even see in the moment. You used the blanket as a shield. An armour to brace for the upcoming impact. "Is she," you cut yourself off. "Was she special?"

You watched his torso rise and fall from the several deep breaths he took before answering. "Very." He did not need one more interrogation, one more trial.

You nodded slowly. "Am I special?"

You watched him experience a myriad of emotions, just by the change in his breathing and how his body tensed up while he searched for an honest answer. This question was a trap.

"Very." He repeated in a whisper. "The most special."

You snickered. His answer felt like just as much of a trap as the question you asked. If you had been the most special to him, why did he pursue Carolyn? Why did he have this grand affair with her and not with you? Why did he risk everything for her and not for you?

As if he could hear the questions running through your mind, he spoke again. "You're the only person I've tried my hardest to protect." He referred to his children that he hurt and sacrificed, to his wife that he lied to and cheated on... To his mistress who died because of his insatiable lust.

It was only then that you finally accepted to face the truth: nobody knew who you were, in relation to Rozat Sabich. He kept you in the shadows, he locked you in a cage. He protected you in this bubble of stolen kisses and broken promises.

If nobody knew that you two shared a long and complex history, he would never have to involve you in this situation more than he already did the night before. He would not need yet another alibi to cover up the messy trail he left behind.

You held your head in your hands. You hated to see him leave, each time felt like it got closer to being the last time he would walk out of your life for good.

Rusty put on his hoodie and fixed his glasses. He was now facing you, but it was his turn to need an armour so he maintained the distance between the two of you. He stared at you, time felt like it had stopped. His lips parted open to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth.

However, you turned to look at him just in time to catch him mouth the dangerous words I love you. You smiled sadly at him with a tear falling down the same cheek he kissed. It was your way to say I love you too.

And just like that, Rusty opened the door and left without another glance in your direction. The wall between the two of you built itself back up in an instant. That way, he protected you from the world. Most importantly, he protected you from himself. All the history between the two of you would remain a secret.

You were his best kept secret.

#jake gyllenhaal #rusty sabich #rusty sabich smut #jake gyllenhaal smut #presumed innocent #jake gyllenhaal imagine #rusty sabich imagine #rusty sabich x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader

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killjoycatlady · 20 days ago

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I want to highlight two campaigns I saw on Twitter:

Osama Tahsen | link | $4075 / 30000

Atta Al-Jabour | link | £408 / 5000

If you are on Twitter you might know Mohammed @/moh7medjbour (the owner of Leo the cat!) who posts frequently about his life in Gaza; Osama and Atta are his brother and cousin respectively and he has promoted their campaigns. Donations have slowed recently for both of them; they’re both low on funds and I’d like as many people to donate to them as possible.

Tagging for reach:

@metamatar @valtsv @sivavakkiyar @toesuckingoctober @iamfarfromvibingrightnow

@girlinafairytale @petewentzisblack1312 @bauliya @gothhabiba @megabuild

@turian @papasmoke @familyabolisher @kibumkim @appsa @tododeku @frigidwife

@brutaliakhoa @captain-of-the-roses @infectiouspiss @prisonhannibal @ashwantsafreepalestine @sayruq @thatsonehellofabird @fading-event-608 @furiousfinnstan

#free palestine #free gaza #gaza genocide #gazaunderattack #save palestine #palestine genocide #all eyes on palestine #gaza strip #gaza #save gaza

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hd-junglebook · 7 months ago

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Does He Know?

Part 1 - Word Count 4075

Masterlist

Authors Note: before you scroll away lets pretend Vince is not a hockey player for the plot.

Summary - In this you will meet Vince and Y/N, the beginning is so cute ngl I was kicking my feet imagining this in real life. Jack is introduced later, pls lmk what you think after you read. Enjoy !

warning - cuteness, hot men, cursing, men being men. the rest I cannot write because it's a spoiler.

Next Chapter Link Here

Y/N and Vince were snuggled up on the plush, charcoal gray couch in their cozy apartment. The living room was bathed in the warm, soft glow of the floor lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors.

On the television, an episode of "The 100" played, the sound of the dramatic post-apocalyptic dialogue filling the room. As the show cut to a commercial break, Vince turned to Y/N, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering light from the TV screen.

A thoughtful expression crossed his handsome face, his brows furrowing slightly as he contemplated his next words.

"Hey, I've been thinking about something lately," he said, his deep voice barely audible over the background noise of the television.

She shifted slightly on the couch, the soft fabric of her oversized sweater brushing against Vince's arm. "Mhmm? What's on your mind, baby?" she asked, caressing his curls.

Vince took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What do you think about the idea of starting a family? Of having a baby together?"

Y/N's eyes widened. A mix of joy and excitement washed over her delicate features, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. "Really? You want to have a baby with me?"

Vince nodded, his smile growing wider, revealing a hint of the dimples that Y/N adored. "Absolutely. I can't imagine anything better than creating a life with you, raising a child together."

Y/N felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the love and happiness that swelled in her heart. She threw her arms around Vince, hugging him tightly. The delicate clink of her silver Pandora bracelet filled the air as she caressed the soft strands of his hair.

"I would love that," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I've always dreamed of being a mom, of having a family with you."

Vince held her close, his strong arms enveloping her in a warm embrace. He stroked her hair gently, his fingers running through the silky strands.

"Just think about it," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear. "When you're tired from a long day, I'll come home and rub your feet, just like this."

He reached down and took Y/N's feet in his hands, massaging them gently. Y/N giggled, the sensation tickling her skin. The sound of the television faded into the background as "The 100" resumed, the dramatic music and dialogue a distant hum compared to the intimate moment they were sharing. Y/N giggled, the sensation tickling her skin.

"Keep going," she encouraged, sighing in contentment.

Vince grinned, continuing his ministrations, his fingers kneading the soft skin of her feet. "And whenever you get cranky or have cravings, I'll go to the convenience store and grab all your favorite snacks. I'll take care of you, every step of the way."

Y/N felt her heart swell with love for this man, for the future they were planning together. She gazed into his eyes, seeing the reflection of their dreams and hopes mirrored in their depths.

"And our baby," she said softly, "they'll have my face and your hair." Vince chuckled. "A perfect combination. They'll be the most beautiful child in the world."

They were in love, they were happy, and they were ready to start the next chapter of their lives together.

…

Four months later…

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft rays of gold across the spacious living room of Y/N and Vince's upscale apartment in Hoboken. Y/N stood by the window, sipping on a cup of coffee with way too much milk, her gaze fixed on the bustling city below.

"Vince," Y/N called out, turning away from the window to face her partner, who was hastily getting ready for work. The sound of Vince throwing his pajamas on the ground echoed through the room, a subtle indication of his frustration.

Y/N watched as Vince moved around the room, gathering his things and preparing for the day ahead. "Can't you stay for just a few more minutes? We barely see each other anymore."

Vince, already halfway out the door, paused for a moment, a hint of frustration flickering across her features. Vince's dark brown hair sat perfectly, catching the sunlight as he turned to face Y/N. The olive hue of his skin seemed to glow in the morning light.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Vince replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "I've got an early meeting today. I can't afford to be late again."

Y/N's heart sank at the familiar excuse. It seemed like work always came first for Vince, leaving little time or energy for her relationship.

This became an everyday occurrence, her begging for the bare minimum and him pushing her away but always finding a way to make up for it in the bedroom. And even that had gotten boring. She forced a smile, masking her disappointment.

"That's what you always say, Vince! It's always about work with you. What about us? What about our relationship?"

Vince's eyes narrowed. "You know how important my career is to me, Y/N. I'm doing this for us, for our future."

"But what kind of future will we have if we never spend any time together? You’re not doing this for us, it’s for you," Y/N countered, her voice rising. "I feel like I'm living with a ghost. You're never here, and when you are, you're too tired or distracted to really be present."

"That's not fair," Vince argued. "I'm working hard to provide for us. I thought you understood that."

"I do understand, Vince. But I have a hard job and I’m not neglecting you. There has to be a balance. I need more than just financial security and whiskey dick every once in a while. I need a partner who is actually present in our relationship."

Vince glanced at his watch, his impatience growing. "Look, Y/N, I don't have time for this right now, I can’t stand your nagging so early in the morning. Can we talk about this later?"

Y/N threw up her hands in exasperation. "When Vince? When will you have time for me, for us? Because it feels like that time is never going to come."

Vince sighed heavily. "I promise I will come home early tonight, and we will talk. I'm doing the best I can, Y/N. I'm sorry if that's not enough for you."

With that, Vince turned and walked out the door, leaving Y/N standing alone in the bedroom. She wandered back to the office, where her computer sat waiting on the desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N sank into the chair, her mind filled with thoughts of the growing distance between her and Vince.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Her eyes wandered to the framed photographs scattered throughout the room, memories frozen in time—vacations, celebrations, moments of laughter and love shared between them and Vince.

Each image seemed to mock Y/N, a painful reminder of the happiness they once shared. After a moment of introspection, she finally rose from the chair and made her way out into the hall, heading towards her office.

She busied herself with work, trying to drown out the nagging doubts and insecurities that gnawed at her mind. Hours passed in a blur, the click-clack of the keyboard the only sound in the silent apartment.

As the afternoon wore on, Y/N's phone chimed with an incoming text. Her heart leapt for a moment, hoping it was Vince with good news, but her hopes were quickly dashed. "Working late again tonight. Don't wait up. - V" the message read.

Y/N sighed heavily, disappointment washing over her. It seemed Vince was always working late these days. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a relaxing evening together, just the two of them.

Trying to shake off the melancholy thoughts, Y/N decided a hot shower might help clear her head. She made her way to the master bathroom and turned the faucet on, letting the water heat up as she undressed.

Steam began to fill the room as she stepped into the tub and slid down until she was sitting, knees pulled up to her chest, letting the spray of water cascade over her.

The heat seeped into her tense muscles, Y/N's mind drifted to happier times with Vince. She thought back to their early days of dating, how attentive and affectionate he had been.

Weekends spent exploring the city, lazy Sunday mornings tangled up in each other, stolen kisses and inside jokes. They had been so in love, so sure of their future together.

But somehow, over the past three years, they had gotten off track. The demands of both their careers meant less and less quality time together.

At first it was just dinners cut short or date nights postponed. But soon, it felt like they were two ships passing in the night, occasionally sharing space but never really connecting.

Silent tears mixed with the rivulets of water running down Y/N's face as she sat there lost in thought. How had they let things get to this point?

Was there still a way to find their way back to each other? She wasn't sure anymore. But she knew she wasn't ready to give up on their marriage yet, even if it felt like Vince already had.

With a sigh, Y/N reached forward and shut off the water, watching the last of it swirl down the drain. She couldn't hide in here forever.

Grabbing a fluffy towel, she stepped out and began drying off, resigned to another solitary evening.

…

Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Vince. In the week since their argument, his behavior had only become more erratic.

Late nights at the office were becoming more frequent, and when he was home, he always seemed to be on the phone, speaking in hushed tones and ending the call abruptly whenever she entered the room.

She had tried to convince herself that it was just work stress, that Vince was dealing with a big project or a demanding client. But the canceled plans and missed dinners were starting to pile up, and Y/N's suspicions were growing.

Y/N felt like a detective, piecing together clues and trying to unravel the mystery of her husband's behavior. But the picture that was emerging was not a pretty one.

Deep down, Y/N feared that Vince was hiding something from her, something that could shatter their already fragile marriage.

Amidst these swirling doubts, Y/N found herself at a family gathering, surrounded by well-meaning relatives who were all too eager to pry into her personal life. Her mother, who had never been a fan of Vince, was particularly persistent that night.

"Y/N, dear, have you met Ellens second son?" her mother asked, practically dragging a tall, handsome man over to where Y/N was standing. "He's single, successful, and quite the catch if you ask me."

Y/N's mother dragged her towards Jack, who was standing next to the piano with a champagne flute in hand. Y/N cursed under her breath as she walked hastily beside her mother.

As they approached, Jack looked up, his eyes as clear as the ocean. Y/N found herself momentarily transfixed by his gaze, a mix of confidence and intrigue.

"Hello, I'm Y/N," she introduced herself, trying to maintain her composure. "I'm sure you already know my mother." Y/N plastered on a polite smile, trying to ignore the twinge of annoyance she felt at her mother's meddling.

But as Jack started to talk, she found herself drawn in by his warmth and charm, forgetting all about the encounter.

Jack's lips curled into a small grin as he extended his hand. "Jack," he said simply, his voice smooth and inviting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N."

They shook hands, Y/N couldn't help but notice the firmness of his grip, the warmth of his skin against hers. There was something electric in his touch, a spark that made her heart skip a beat.

Her mother, sensing an opportunity, quickly excused herself. "I think I see Ellen in the crowd," she said with a knowing smile. "You two get acquainted. I'll be right back."

Y/N watched her mother disappear into the throng of guests, a mixture of relief and nervousness washing over her. She turned back to Jack, who was watching her with a curious expression.

"So…" she began, taking a sip of her margarita. "How come I haven't met you yet? I've met Quinn, but I've never seen you before."

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I guess we just run in different circles. Quinn's always been the social butterfly of the family." Jack sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. "And what about you? What's your story, Y/N?"

Y/N hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to reveal to this handsome stranger. But there was something about Jack that made her want to open up, to let down her guard.

"Oh, you know," she said with a wry smile. "Just hangin around. I don’t really do much just work and sleep. Navigating life.

Jack's grin widened. "Aren't we all?" he said, raising his glass in a toast. "To the adventures that await us."

Y/N clinked her glass against his, feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation. There was something about Jack that made her feel alive, made her forget about the troubles and doubts that had been plaguing her.

He had a quick wit and an easy laugh, and Y/N found herself relaxing in his presence. Jack seemed genuinely interested in her, asking questions about her life and her interests. It was a stark contrast to the distant, distracted Vince she had been living with lately as they sipped their drinks.

As the evening wore on, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Jack's eyes lingered on her, the way his hand brushed against hers as he reached for a drink. There was an undeniable attraction there, a spark that she hadn't felt in a long time.

But there was also something else about Jack, an edge of fun and mystery. He had a bit of a bad boy vibe, the kind of man her mother would normally warn her away from. Maybe that was part of the appeal, the thrill of a chase.

As the party wound down and Y/N said her goodbyes, Jack slipped a piece of paper into her hand. "My number," he said with a wink. "In case you ever want to grab a coffee and chat."

Y/N tucked the paper into her pocket, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt. She knew it was wrong to even consider reaching out to Jack, not when she was still married to Vince. But the seed had been planted, the temptation was there.

“I’m married, but I hope this isn't the last time we cross paths." y/n said as she took his hand in hers once more. "It was great meeting you, Jack."

"I hope not either," he said softly, meeting her gaze.

With a final squeeze of her hand and a roguish wink, Jack turned and melted into the crowd, leaving Y/N standing alone with her thoughts and her racing heart before she composed herself.

…

The soft click of the front door lock echoed through the quiet apartment as Vince stepped inside, a bouquet of vibrant red roses in one hand and a rustling plastic bag filled with Y/N's favorite snacks in the other.

The sweet, floral scent of the roses mingled with the aroma of buttery popcorn and rich chocolate wafting from the bag, creating an enticing blend that filled the entryway.

Vince's footsteps were muffled by the plush, cream-colored carpet as he made his way into the living room. The soft glow of the table lamp cast a warm, inviting light across the space, illuminating the cozy leather armchair and the intricately patterned throw blanket draped over its back.

As he rounded the corner, Vince's eyes fell upon Y/N, curled up on the overstuffed sofa, a well-worn paperback novel resting in her lap.

She looked up at the sound of his approach, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the sight of him standing there, an apologetic smile on his face and his arms laden with gifts.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, a myriad of emotions passing between them in the silence. Y/N's gaze flickered from the roses to the snack bag, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion.

"What is that?" she asked, her voice soft and tinged with curiosity.

Vince took a step closer, extending the bouquet towards her. The crinkle of the cellophane wrapping seemed to punctuate the moment as he held them out, a peace offering.

"I'm sorry I ditched you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I'll be home more from now on."

Y/N's expression softened as she reached out to take the roses, her fingers brushing against Vince's as she accepted them.

She brought the blooms to her nose, inhaling deeply, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she savored their delicate fragrance.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a hint of forgiveness in the curve of her mouth.

"Thank you," she murmured, setting the roses down on the coffee table with a gentle thud. The polished wood gleamed in the lamplight, reflecting the deep scarlet of the petals.

"And the snacks?" she asked, eyeing the bag with a mix of amusement and appreciation.

Vince grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sensed her mood shifting. He plopped down on the sofa beside her, the cushions giving way beneath his weight with a soft whoosh.

"All your favorites," he said, rummaging through the bag, the crinkle of plastic and the rustle of packaging filling the air. "Popcorn, those little chocolate truffles you love, and..." he paused for dramatic effect, pulling out a small, familiar blue box, "your favorite tea."

Y/N let out a small, delighted laugh, the sound like music to Vince's ears. She reached for the box, turning it over in her hands, the cardboard smooth beneath her fingertips.

"You remembered," she said, her voice warm with affection.

"Of course I did," Vince replied, his tone light and teasing. "I may be forgetful sometimes, but I could never forget the little things that make you happy."

Y/N leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, the softness of her hair brushing against his cheek. Vince wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her body seeping into his own.

For a moment, they sat there in comfortable silence, the soft ticking of the clock on the mantle and the distant hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the room.

"I really am sorry," Vince said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I haven't been around as much as I should be, but I promise, that's going to change."

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes searching his face, a glimmer of hope and love shining in their depths. "I believe you," she said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing gently across his skin. "We'll make this work, together."

Vince turned his head, pressing a tender kiss to her palm, the warmth of his lips a silent promise.

…

It has been two weeks since her encounter with jack, now here she sat at her desk. She couldn't deny the spark she had felt, the way he had made her feel seen and desired in a way she hadn't experienced in a long time.

But even as she replayed their conversations in her head, a nagging sense of guilt tugged at her heart. She was still married to Vince, even if their relationship had been strained lately, he had done his best to come home earlier but duty calls.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Y/N turned her attention to the pile of mail on her desk. She began sorting through the envelopes, her mind only half-focused on the task.

Bills, junk mail, a postcard from her sister's latest vacation...and then her hand stilled on a plain white envelope with no return address.

Frowning, Y/N tore open the envelope, her curiosity piqued Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded in half. As she unfolded it, her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

It was a hotel receipt, dated from last weekend. The name on the receipt was Vince's, but the room was booked for two people. And there, at the bottom of the receipt, was a charge for a bottle of champagne and a couples' massage.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as the reality of what she was seeing sank in. Vince had been at a hotel with someone else, someone he had been intimate with. The betrayal hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs.

With shaking hands, Y/N reached for her phone. She scrolled through her recent calls until she found Vince's number and hit the call button.

It rang once, twice, three times before he picked up. "Hey babe, I’m really busy right now, can I call you later?” Vince's voice sounded casual, unaware of the bombshell that was about to be dropped.

"We need to talk," Y/N said, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Can you come home please? It's important."

There must have been something in her tone that alerted Vince to the severity of the situation because he agreed without hesitation. "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Y/N hung up the phone and took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn't know how she was going to confront Vince, what she was going to say.

All she knew was that their marriage, their life together, was about to change forever.

…

When Vince walked through the door, Y/N was waiting for him in the living room. His clothes were scattered around the apartment and their photos had been broken, the glass shards still remaining on the floor.

The smell of a floral perfume that definitely was not hers wafted into her nose.

She held up the hotel receipt, her eyes filled with tears and her voice shaking with anger. "What is this, Vince? And don't you dare try to lie to me."

Vince's face paled as he realized what she was holding. "A receipt?”

"No, you idiot!” Y/N cried, the tears now flowing freely down her face. "You've been cheating on me? You've been lying to me, sneaking around behind my back?"

"It's not what you think," Vince tried to defend himself, but his words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"It's exactly what I think!" Y/N shouted. "How could you do this to me, to us? You were out getting rub downs at some hotel, Vince. I loved you."

Vince reached for her, but Y/N recoiled from his touch. She couldn't bear the thought of him touching her, not now, not after what he had done.

“I would cry myself to sleep next to you and you would turn away and complain. You didn’t care that you weren’t loving me the way I deserve to be loved!”

"Y/N, please," Vince pleaded. "It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. I’ll end it right now, just...just please stop crying."

But Y/N wasn't listening anymore. She was lost in her own pain, her own sense of betrayal. The man she had built a life with, the man she had trusted with her heart, had shattered everything with his infidelity.

Y/N shook her head. "I don't know if we can fix this one, Vince. I don't know if I can ever trust you again. What am I supposed to do?" she questioned, her voice trembling with emotion as she looked up to meet his eyes with more emotion she had ever felt in her life.

“How long has this been going on.”

Vince's gaze faltered, his expression clouded with guilt and regret. He looked down at the cream-colored carpet, unable to meet Y/N's gaze. "Remember when I asked you to start a family?" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A flood of memories washed over her—dreams of a future together, plans for a family they had once shared.

…

Taglist <3

@rebelatbay @destineyxo13

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daily-slugpup · 2 months ago

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can you do my baby 4075

Here they are! they picked up a bomb, I confiscated it so they wouldn't accidentally explode or something

#rain world #rw slugpup #rainworld #video #asks

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ynbne · 2 months ago

Link

#4075 #Commerical #Development #Office #Oxley #YourNeighbourhood

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drunknillawafer · 2 months ago

Text

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader (part 8)

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend, Zuko. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 7 Part 9

hellooo now that I have a pinned masterlist I'm only going to add the last & next part to these... hope that's okay! this one took a min... it's around 4075 words... i wanted to write something longer for y'all... I'm super excited for the next part... i keep re-reading my part 1 and I'm just like wait we've come... a long way from then... i promise more zuko x reader in the future but for now... these characters are not mine and i do not own them! hope u enjoy hehe rmr to like reblog or comment if u do & let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list :3 enjoy reading!

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I’m walking across the swamp we landed upon a few days ago. Shades of moss encompass me. I can’t see the sun from where I’m standing. The trees that are larger than life cover the sky. For miles and miles on end, I can only see emerald and pine.

The swamp gives you an eerie feeling that begins in your stomach. Your cells know there are other beings here that aren’t human. They aren’t evil, but they’re not like you and me. I’m completely alone.

In the far distance, I see a figure. It’s a boy. He’s surrounded by age-old trees.

“Hey!” I call out, itching for the comfort of another human being.

The individual turns, beckoning me to walk toward him.

As I step closer and closer, I realize it’s Zuko. He cut off his ponytail and his entire head is covered in short new growth. My heart flutters, I like him like this.

“Zuko, are you here alone?” I ask him.

“No.” Such a short answer was uncharacteristic of him. He usually tells me everything he’s feeling, even if it’s about what he ate for breakfast.

Behind me, I hear a sinister giggle. I know exactly who it is.

I turn, and she’s standing in front of me. Azula.

“Get her!” She instructs. I turn around to Zuko, vanished. When I face Azula again, he’s standing next to her and they’re both ready to chase after me.

I dash in their opposite direction, dodging a swarm of vines in my way. I step in muddy puddles and over roots that came out of the ground. Briefly, I look back as I’m running and they’re both coming after me. Any sign of familiarity gone from Zuko’s face. I’m just another enemy.

Suddenly, I’m sliding down a long tree root covered in moss. At the end of the make-shift slide, I bump into another person in blue—

I gasp as I wake up from my deep slumber. Immediately, I sit up to notice if anyone’s woken up. Tonight, we slept in a row for protection: Aang, Katara, me, and to my right, Sokka.

Aang and Katara are deep asleep in their respective sleeping bags, but I can’t say the same for the boy in blue.

“Are you okay?” A sleepy Sokka grumbles.

“Bad dream.” I tell him and he sits up while rubbing his eyes. Sokka never has his hair down, only when floating across the river or when the day is over. But in these tiny moments, I stare longer than I usually do. I look up to avoid the rush of blood coming to my cheeks.

The sky is that shade of periwinkle it makes when the sun is begging to come up, right on the horizon. I figure we’ll get up soon anyways.

“What was it about?” Sokka pokes.

I decide to trust him with it. It’s been long enough now. I’m no longer in the sienna trees with Jet, hiding my identity, fears, and trauma. I can talk about these things. “The swamp, and what I saw.”

Last week or so, we had been riding on Appa to travel to other Earth Kingdoms in hopes of finding Aang a new earth-bending teacher. The air-bison slowly started to travel downward when we were above the mysterious swamp, causing us to crash and lose our furry friends in the process.

While trying to find each other again, every last one of us saw a vision. Katara encountered her mother, Aang chased after an unknown little girl, and Sokka saw Yue. I kept my vision to myself, not knowing how it’d land on him after our last discussion about he-who-shall-not-be-named.

“What was your vision?” He’s awake now, but his eyes are still puffy as he slowly returns to his usual self.

A light wind grazes our faces, chilling them from the heat of sleeping. Typically, I don’t have anyone to talk to in the morning. Under the day-break fog, it’s just me and the nightmare I woke up from. “It was Zuko,” I pause, awaiting his reaction but it’s blank, “and Azula. They were chasing me, like they both turned on me.”

“Well, they did, didn’t they?” He’s still sour.

“I guess so. This time it felt like they teamed up.” Sokka thinks about his reply, not wanting to be too pessimistic in a moment where I’m finally trusting him with my feelings. Before he says anything, I continue. “I’m sorry… about Zuko and how I reacted.”

He sighs. “I don’t like seeing you like that and he caused it. I hate him, he’s—”

“Annoying.”

“Very!” He goes on, “And you’re my friend. I’ll always want to protect you.”

It’s only now, sitting side-by-side enjoying the morning dust, that I’m able to see what drew me to Sokka in the first place. Why he’s been upset about this particular topic. He’s noble and benevolent. Something in me always knew he was kind beyond his years. And I’ve been treating him like dirt.

“Friends?” I question.

“I mean—yeah, that’s what we are,” He coughs, “right?”

We stare into each other’s eyes for a second. I’m always amazed by what I see in his. The stone and arctic hues swirling around begging to be noticed.

I turn to face the sunrise. “Right.” A soft laugh escapes my lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you ever going to stop using your swords? You’re a fire-bender, you don’t need them.”

“It’s a habit from my Freedom Fighter days, I think. I don’t want to stop using them. They’re a part of me now.” It’s true. Sometimes I find myself using my swords in situations where bending would’ve been more helpful. But it’s always fun to return to them for a bit.

A delicate smile slowly grows on Sokka’s face. “Fire-bending’s overrated.”

“I agree.” I grin to punctuate my response and for a moment, it’s just the two of us. Constantly traveling in a group of four doesn’t allow for many opportunities like these. In the silence, we fix any damage our time at the Northern Water Tribe might’ve done to us. It’s weeks ago now and we can get back on track to… wherever we were before.

“Good morning, guys.” A groggy Katara awakes, popping Sokka and I’s bubble. We turn our attention to her. I wish we could’ve kept going, my mind tells me.

We reply in unison. “Morning.”

Lastly, Aang wakes up and we get to our daily routine: Aang shaving his head, Katara tying two strands behind her head, Sokka tying his wolf's tail, and me separating my hair into two braids. We head straight toward another Earth Kingdom town. The hunt to find the Avatar’s earth-bending teacher is still going and he’s being picky.

We end up at Gaoling, a village with no Fire Nation influence.

“It can’t be just anyone.” Aang goes on. We’re walking through the main central market of the village. There’s rows and rows of booths set up selling fruits, cabbages, items weary travelers may need. They go on and on, offering anything someone passing by could want. The square seems like a maze, but every Earth Kingdom village does to me. I’ve never seen so much green in one place. That’s probably how they feel about the red. “Bumi told me to find someone who listens.”

“Oooo!” Sokka squeals, leaving us behind for a green purse he spots at a stand.

Katara crosses her arms. “At least you know it’s not Sokka.” The boy in blue sticks his tongue out at his sister while walking toward his newfound treasure. I follow him to stay close while Aang and Katara catch up to us.

The bag is really a satchel, and you can tell it’s produced by the Earth Kingdom. Its stitching is refined and repetitive, a dark green pattern of squares tying all the edges together. There’s a golden emblem in the middle, working as the latch to hold the bag closed. Sokka takes a closer look. “Do you think I should get it?” His eyes never leaving the bag.

I shrug my shoulders in amusement. “How much is it?”

He inspects it further. “It’s pricey… but I do like it.”

By now, Katara and Aang have joined the conversation. She pokes her own fun into this. “Get it, you deserve something nice.” The hint of sarcasm riding right over her brother’s head. Aang sits down on the floor, bored with the back and forth of it all.

“I do, don’t I?” Sokka answers earnestly to her sarcasm. “But no, it’s too expensive… I shouldn’t.” His shoulders drop and he lets the bag get comfortable on the stand once again.

“Then don’t.” Katara says and we all nod at each other, signaling that we’re done here, and we should keep walking.

But before we’re too far, Sokka dashes back to the booth. “Never mind. I’m going to get it!” He states for no one, but he smiles to himself, giddy about his impending purchase.

As we stand and wait for Sokka to finish paying, a villager approaches Aang with a flyer. “Psst!” He whispers. “You kids like earth-bending?” I grasp onto my sword in immediate suspicion. “Then, check out Master Yu’s earth-bending academy!” He hands Aang the paper and goes on about his day, most likely to give more future earth-benders the advertisement. I let my sword rest against my hip once again.

When traveling with the Avatar, you can’t be too careful.

The opportunity, however, excites the last air-bender. “There’s a coupon on the back!” He flips it over and shows Katara and I. “The first lesson is free.”

A moment of consideration passes by.

“Who knows? Master Yu could be exactly the earth-bending teacher you’re looking for.” Katara replies.

“Doesn’t hurt to give it a try.” I add.

Once Sokka’s done with his purchase, bag gladly in his hands, we head over to the academy.

The siblings and I sit outside on a stone bench by the exit, waiting for Aang to finish his lesson.

Soon enough, Aang walks out of the academy defeated. “He’s not the one.” His eyes are glued to the floor. When Katara, Sokka, and I are gloomy, it’s never a downer on the day. But when Aang isn’t his usual optimistic self, everyone feels it and we’ve decided it’s our most unproductive.

Before we let the disappointment hang over us, two earth-bending students walk past us, talking as they head back into town. “I think the Boulder is going to win back the belt at Earth Rumble 6.”

“He’s going to have to fight the best earth-benders in the world before getting to the champ, no way!” The other boy replies.

With another chance of finding a teacher dropping in our laps, Aang perks up and walks up to the teenagers. “Excuse me! Where is this earth-bending tournament?” He says in all his giddiness.

“It’s on the island of noneya—nonya business!” The students of Master Yu burst into a fit of laughter as they continued walking away. Unfortunately, so does Sokka.

His laughter booms through the trees of Gaoling. “That’s a good one!”

I lightly hit him on the arm, reminding him of what’s important here. “Hey! Don’t make fun of him!”

Katara walks up to a defeated Aang and soothes him with a pat on his back. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.”

“Hey, wait up!” Is the last thing she says before turning the corner.

A few seconds later, she returns with the good news. “We’re going to Earth Rumble 6!”

“How did you get them to tell you?” Aang tilts his head in confusion. The boys weren’t that nice to him.

Katara mischievously blushes. “Oh, a girl has her ways.”

☆

Later that day and well into the evening, we arrive at the mountain hosting the earth-bending tournament.

We head inside toward our freshly purchased seats and look at the stadium in front of us. Stairs made from silver stone serving as bleachers for the audience surround the middle stage—a rectangular base with the Earth Kingdom emblem in the middle. The room is vast from the inside, you almost forget you’re inside a mountain.

“Hey! Front row seats. I wonder why no one else is sitting here.” Nothing gets past Sokka. On a comedic cue, a giant heavy rock hits the seats right next to ours.

I look around the room and notice: no one’s sitting in the first couple of rows throughout the stadium. “I think that’s why.”

I sit between Aang and Sokka, eager to watch the match. Watching competitive bending is one of life’s few gifts to enjoy. You can learn something for yourself or watch closely how to take down your competitor but most of all, it’s just fun. Briefly, I consider what non-benders think about this type of entertainment.

A man with long black slick hair rises from the middle of the ring, announcing himself as host. He’s dressed in the iconic Earth Kingdom green, clearly the leader of this operation. His demanding deep voice echoes throughout the room. “Welcome to Earth Rumble 6! I am Xin Fu!”

Katara, uninterested in the brutal sport, stares at her nails. “This is just going to be a bunch of guys chucking rocks at each other, isn’t it?”

Sokka grins a toothy smile at her. “That’s what I paid for.”

I guess non-benders can enjoy this too.

Xin Fu continues exciting the crowd, explaining the rules to any newcomers. Kick your opponent off the ring, and you win. When he’s finished, he leaps onto his podium and the bell rings. “Round one! The Boulder versus the Big Bad Hippo!”

The two players step onto the ring and this is when my adrenaline begins to rush.

The first throw by the Boulder barely makes the Hippo flinch. I can see him chew the rock in his mouth from here. Then, Hippo jumps in a constant beat to make the ground of the ring rock back and forth. The Boulder almost gets knocked out of balance before he makes a comeback, throwing another slab of rock at the Hippo to distract him.

The Boulder picks up the earth the Hippo is standing on, straining as he does so, and chucks him off the stage for good.

“The Boulder wins!” Xin Fu announces, and the crowd goes wild, including me and Sokka.

Earth-bending is another element completely different from what I know. While the flame of fire-bending has a heartbeat of life, it doesn’t have the mass of earth-bending. I require breath control and precision, earth-bending requires inner and outer immense strength.

“What about the Boulder?” Katara asks.

Aang shakes his head. “I don’t know, Bumi said I need a teacher who listens to the Earth. He just listens to his big muscles. What do you guys think, Y/N, Sokka?”

“Ha Ha! Whoo!” Sokka stands up from his seat to shout. We’re both clapping and whistling at the first win of the night.

“YEAH!” I cheer. Katara and Aang look almost surprised at my energy. “What? I like things.”

“So bending tournaments are the one thing you don’t brood about?” Sokka jokes, prompting laughter from the rest of them.

I join them in on the fun. “How could you brood about this?”

Xin Fu announces the next match. “The Boulder versus Fire Nation man!”

Playfully, Sokka nudges my side with his elbow. “Oooo, watch out Y/N!” An Earth Kingdom citizen dressed in red clothing waving a Fire Nation flag enters the ring. The entire crowd boos, including the boy who has a crush on me.

“Hey!” I nudge him back.

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up, “Except you!” It’s almost sincere until he turns around and joins in on the boos again. I can’t blame him.

Fire Nation man starts to sing, rather terribly, the infamous anthem of my birthplace. “Fire Lord / My flame burns for thee…” and this just makes the hisses and hoots get louder.

I get in a pitch of laughter, unable to stop. It’s healing to watch an entire room dislike the common enemy.

Sokka throws a rock at the player and yells, “Go back to the Fire Nation!” He turns to me again, “Except you.” And winks. He never misses an opportunity to flirt.

I join him in standing up, too excited to see how the Boulder takes this guy down.

The Boulder lowers Fire Nation Man into the ground using his bending, efficiently trapping him in a hole. Then, he lifts himself up with a tall tower of rock, jumps, and by landing on his knees, chucks his enemy out of his trap. Fire Nation Man bursts into the air and starts flying toward our direction. He lands on the first rock that nearly took us out in the beginning.

This makes Sokka and I go wild. Chants of Yeah and Whoo’s come from us two as we cheer on the show. Aang and Katara are still contemplating on any player’s ability to teach him how to earth-bend.

We watch the Boulder take every single opponent out, one-by-one.

“If not him, then who else?” Sokka yells above the noise from the crowd.

Agreeing with Sokka, I say, “He’s beat everyone!”

The Avatar is unimpressed by the show. “Not the champ.” Immovable in his stance about the Boulder.

“Now,” Xin Fu interrupts our conversation, “the moment you have all been waiting for—your reigning winner: The Blind Bandit!”

The announcement of the champion silences us for a minute as we take her in. It contrasts with the rumble coming from the stands.

The Blind Bandit is a little girl. She can’t be older than twelve. The women standing by her, ready to hold her championship belt as she fights, highlight the fact even more.

“It’s a kid.” I break the tension.

“She can’t really be blind.” Katara gasps. “How would she bend?”

Aang is speechless. His eyes are trained on the girl we’re all taken aback by. “I think she is.”

Sokka, oblivious to anything but the Boulder, joins the crowd in their cheers. “I think she is… going down!”

Boulder steps onto the ring and I share looks of worry with Katara and Aang. Are we really watching a grown earth-bender take on a little blind girl?

I sit and pull Sokka down with me. He takes this chance to hold onto my hand, not letting go as we watch in anticipation of the match. Whether you’re in support of the champion or in shock of the next challenge, you’re eager.

I try not to think about his hand in mine, so public and sure of itself. I try not to think about what it would feel like if we held hands more often.

I know when it’s time to let go, I’m not going to like it.

The Blind Bandit taunts the Boulder, calling him a scared little girl. She even sounds young. But I love her already, she’s bold and strong-minded. She can win this, I assure myself. She is the champion, right?

The Boulder replies to her taunts, ego bruised by the young bender’s winning title and hurtful truths. “It’s on!”

As he launches his heavy attack on her, she stands still. In a few seconds, she holds out her hands, palms out, and positions her feet in a swift movement. Then, she digs her right foot into the ground, bending a line of rocks toward Boulder’s feet, spreading his legs into a split.

The muscle man whimpers in pain. This is our first indication that the Boulder is about to lose.

She uses three fingers to bend three vertical rocks that knock into the Boulder’s side and out of the stage. The bell rings. She wins.

The four of us sit there with our mouths wide open, unable to process what happened.

Aang finishes before the rest of us, his mind set on a new teacher: The Blind Bandit. “It’s her.” He speaks. No one replies, but no one needs to. We know.

While Sokka’s disappointed in his favorite player’s loss, Katara asks the question we all want the answer to. “How did she do that?”

Aang replies, his tone much happier than it has been in a while. “She waited and listened.”

☆

Sokka’s shining Aang’s Earth Rumble 6’s championship belt under the night sky. It’s another token of our travels now. We’re on Appa’s saddle, ready to move on to another Earth Kingdom village.

Meeting the Blind Bandit—or Toph only brought us back to square one. Her father couldn’t believe his dainty, helpless little daughter was one of the best earth-benders around. He refused to let her teach Aang. It was frustrating, he saw her ability for himself. But we digress. There’s nothing we can do about it now.

I glare at Sokka. “Your belt matches your purse.” He shoots a playful look at me, and we smile at each other. I prefer us like this.

Katara and Aang make their way on top of Appa and get ready to depart. Before we’re off the ground, I hear footsteps. Slowly, she comes up the hill.

The smile returns to Aang’s face as he sees her too. “Toph!”

When’s she’s close enough to Appa, the Blind Bandit explains. “My dad changed his mind. He said I was free to travel the world.”

If I was anyone else, maybe someone whose father changed his mind the way Toph is lying about right now, I would’ve believed her. The three of them glance at me to see if I do. And I don’t.

We all know it’s a lie, but we don’t care. Toph was the little girl Aang saw in the swamp, and she has always been destined to be here with us.

Sokka looks up from his—Toph’s belt with a satisfied look on his face. “Well, we should get out of here before he changes his mind again.”

☆

It might’ve not been what his uncle wanted, but Zuko couldn’t help but feel like it was time to be alone. Maybe it’s some sort of teenage phase, he told himself. But either way, it had to be done.

He starved, he thirsted, he met an impoverished family living in a dry wasteland. They graciously took him in and shared the little they had. After feeding and housing him for a few days, he helped in return. Zuko protected the family from the corrupt soldiers who were supposed to serve the Earth Kingdom but only served themselves.

It did nothing for his Fire Nation identity. The family still rejected him in the end. He was Prince Zuko, son of Ursula and Ozai, heir to the throne, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The lingering questions came back.

Did he want to go back home when this is all over? Would it be the same, knowing his destiny is woven with the war-makers? Could he go back and be quiet the way his father wanted him to be?

Zuko wished he could talk to Y/N at this very moment. They could lay on the grass and watch the clouds move by as he's doing now. She would know what to say. Even if she didn’t, he’d still prefer to have her here next to him anyway.

She’s working with the Avatar now, officially a fugitive of the Fire Nation like him and his uncle. But it’s different. Zuko hadn’t made a decision yet.

He could still go back. He could be happy with it. It could be enough. He would have his Father and Azula and finally be a part of the family he’s always wanted to have.

What he learned from the poor family would stick with him forever, though. He knew it. He’d go back to those crimson sheets and patient servants and the rejection would still burn into his brain as he tried to fall asleep.

Zuko wouldn’t forget the way the little boy’s admiration for him changed from elixir to venom.

Disgusted is one way to describe the feeling toward himself.

Determined to make it right, another. Whatever it means.

Without reaching a full conclusion or clear solution, Zuko took a deep breath and pushed it all away.

For now, he’d track Azula and see if she’s any closer to the Avatar than he was.

For now, that would keep him busy.

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

tag list <3: @camilleverreault @staygoldsquatchling02 @yunloyal

#atla #avatar #aang #avatar the last airbender #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #sokka x reader #zuko #atla zuko x reader #prince zuko x oc #prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #sokka x oc #atla fanfic #atla fic #zuko fanfic #sokka fanfic

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 9 months ago

Note

Sorry but I think I lost your plot kiss WHEN (/silly)

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 27

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 4075

Embarrassing things always happen right before good things.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Reader’s POV, Hiccup’s POV

You didn’t pause in your quick scramble away, boots tapping against the wooden planks, though you kept your hands on your face, which felt as if it was on fire.

You were so embarrassed. You had no idea where you were going.

You yanked your hands away from your eyes as you stumbled.

The sound of hurried footsteps over wood quickly became the sound of padded soles against grass as you reached the outskirts of the village, slightly crouching as you made to half jump half slide off a short ledge made by an outcropping of rocks, hand braced against the top of it.

You heard the sound of the wind whistling a bit too late.

Instead of the feel of solid ground underfoot, your stomach lept as you felt something enclose on you, gripping like a vice around your upper arms as you were tugged into the sky.

You let out a yell, half out of embarrassment, partly out of surprise as your feet left the ground, kicking in the air as if you’d still been running.

You glanced up quickly, in a way which hurt your eyes as they strained in their sockets, up towards the big black, scaly chest of a dragon.

Claws curled and adjusted themselves securely around your arms in a way that was nearly uncomfortable, like if you were a sheep about to be scolded.

You heard what might have been a sorry get lost in the wind.

You knew you were screwed the moment you were pulled over the ocean, legs flailing soundlessly.

You’d stopped putting as much effort into your wiggling as you’d gotten halfway from the island to the sea stacks on one end of Berk, wind blowing into your face so hard your eyes were almost squinted forcefully shut.

Your arms were stiff and unable to move because of the way Toothless was holding you and the force of his vault through the sky. He wasn’t clenching as hard as he could have been, still light enough that you could feel the drag of the air against your sleeves.

You flew dangerously close to the tops of the stacks and you yelped as he let go, leaving you to stumble and nearly fall off the other end as Toothless circled backs, turning incredibly sharply and loudly, clumsily hopping to his feet behind you.

The sea far, far below bobbed and crashed against the side of the sea stack, which felt much too thin for you to be comfortable.

You felt blown through, that same sharp feeling rising and shivering sharply through all your limbs as if you were falling through the air already as your vision zoomed in and out comedically, like you were watching a distance shot in a cartoon.

You shivered in a way that was cold and tingly and unsettling in the way shivers were only when you had a fever.

You could hear Hiccup ‘Woah-ing’ and asking his dragon, “What the hel was that for?” as you pinwheeled your arms by the edge, the toes of your boots tipping dangerously against the place sunny green moss became smooth stone.

He quickly rushed up behind you, tipping you back as the wind let out a particularly rough gust against your back.

You felt the collar of your tunic pull, tugging you back presumably by the gentle drawn force of Hiccup's fingers.

“Be careful-”

You landed on your butt against the hard-ish rock, making a sour noise in the back of your throat, nearly falling backwards.

“Sor-sorry,” You glanced up vaguely to see the apologetic, hurried expression pasted on Hiccup’s face as you scooted back clumsily.

You didn’t stop scooting until you were on ground you deemed was safe, which was a hard guess given the sparse distance the top of this sea stack covered. It only spanned maybe three lengths of your height.

You were just a few feet away from the edge, Hiccup backing up behind you in order to make space.

Your heart picked up at the thought, drumming in your chest like hands on a small bongo.

You weren’t sure how you were going to explain just about… Anything, to Hiccup.

A further ways away, meaning only about a yard or two, Toothless was perked and crouched as if to rush after the two of you -both you and Hiccup- if you fell, scrunched up uncomfortably to make up for the little room by the other edge of the stack.

After some grumpy grawping and the extending of his wings as you turned, which made you want to lean away, he jumped to another sea stack, flapping his wings clumsily in an effort to propel himself over.

“What was that- back there?” Hiccup dropped to his knees in front of you as you made a clumsy effort to scoot back around.

“What do you mean?” You squeaked, though you knew a hundred percent what he was talking about, your shoulders so stiff they were nearly at your ears.

The thin dusting of grass and moss under your hands was damp with dew and other sea things, water gathering around your fingers as you shifted from where you leaned back on your arms.

Hiccup furrowed his brows.

“Do you… I mean-!” His face looked a bit reddish as if he’d been sunburned.

“I don’t-I don’t know?” You responded, stuttering.

“But-”

“You were going to kiss-” His face was a thick puce color now and you weren’t sure if it was because of you or if he was going to have a stroke, “Why did you run away?”

“I-I-”

“Are you-you're shy-?!” Hiccup asked, leaning forwards on his hands and knees. He probably hadn’t met anyone who’d been shy in a moment ever in his life besides Fishlegs, maybe. Did he know that was a thing you could do? “So is it fine if I-?”

“No! I mean, yes? But there-” You inhaled a large, shaky breath, “I mean, you can, but-”

With mild frustration, Hiccup leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

It happened too quickly for you to liken it back to anything. He moved suddenly and it was nothing more than a press, clumsy and a bit uncomfortable as in one instant one of his front teeth mashed against your lip.

The hairs on the back of your neck pricked and you couldn't tell if it was from unease or something else but you could feel your face heating even further anyways, even as his hand shook, thin fingers falling sort of uneasily over yours.

You weren’t sure if it was a flattering kiss or not. You would definitely thing about it and wonder later, retrospectively.

You sat there, your eyes still open, neck scrunched slightly back in a way that definitely gave you a slight double chin.

Your jaw and shoulders were stiff though you couldn’t think of much else besides that fact that you were there and so was Hiccup.

You couldn’t register anything else, not with any sort of permanence, besides the fact that his lips were dry, probably from flying all the time and letting the forge smoke dehydrate them. But you couldn’t help but to find that charming.

You could feel his arms standing unsteady too as you pulled our hand out and reached forwards, grabbing onto his sleeves, stiff and twitching and firm through trying to be nothing but malleable.

You didn’t push him away.

You closed your eyes and with what you knew, you tried your best to make it something good.

It was a simple thing but it strung something sharp and thin and incredibly raw, sending odd tingles up your legs like sharp growing pains, a feeling you’d become quite familiar with on Berk, though you weren't sure if that was good or bad.

It was definitely weird being so out in the open. The breeze was strong against your back, making you feel sort of translucent and hollow.

You both parted naturally, separating with wide eyes.

You were enamored.

There was nothing else you focused on but you and Hiccup on the sea stack, and vaguely a quietly displacement of air from somewhere around, a whistled flapping that could have just been the sound of the wind whistling through the narrow crevices in the stacks or Toothless having his fun jumping around and laughing at the two of you.

“I-I- uh,” Hiccup stammered.

You flushed a dusty something, heat dancing over the upper part of your cheeks.

And it was you who initiated another light press like butterfly kisses, a bit too forceful as you threw too much weight behind your hands, still shakily holding onto his arms.

In an effort to balance, the two of you fumbled, Hiccup grabbing onto your arms maybe a bit too hard, pushing you backwards.

You fell onto your back, bumping your foreheads. It was slightly jarring.

You pulled back quickly and with shut eyes, you managed a press of lips to his crown, slightly damp skin and hair pressing against yours.

“Hiccup!”

You both startled, your eyes going wide as Hiccup’s brows furrowed, head turning sharply.

The voice came from- You looked around, though Hiccup seemed to find where his Dad was before you.

“Dad- What-?” He spoke eventually, voice prickly.

The Chief was on his dragon. Thornado. …And then there was Gobber.

He was on a purple dragon -a Nightmare- with a large wingspan, definitely borrowed because you knew he didn’t have a dragon. He and it were bobbing and nearly ramming into Thornado as the sour-looking mount dealt with Gobber’s clumsy waving, his arm on its horn and the rapid shifting of his weight as he spoke and gestured.

They were too far away for you to feel anything but a gentle breeze from the beat of their dragons’ wings, though what they had in distance, they more than made up for in vocal range.

You broke out into nervous laughter, letting your head fall back against the grass, wincing when you felt your skull hit stone, “ow.”

“-Well, we go’ nothin’ to worry about then, eh Stoick?” Gobber chortled. You hadn’t caught the first part of that sentence but you could definitely guess at what he had been talking about. You didn’t want to, though.

Hiccup got off of you, sitting up and quickly pulling away the arms by your head as if he’d been burned, nervously rubbing them off on his fur coat, which had you quirking your lips at him with a skeptical frown.

“I’ll leave yeh to it!” Gobber cheered gruffly before kicking his dragon in the chest with his prosthetic.

The dragon looked as if it was on its last straw, glaring and grumbling up at him in deep, reverberating, raspy growls, yet it turned anyways, nearly whacking the Chief in the head.

And then after a few moments of silence and listening to Gobber wrestle and argue with his temporary dragon, it was just you and Hiccup and Stoick and the dew dampening the back of your shirt.

“Son,” Stoick seemed incredibly uncomfortable, glancing towards you. His shoulders were slightly hunched, arms closer to the base of Thornado’s neck than his sides, which was awkward as there wasn’t much he could do to be smaller.

You felt incredibly self conscious, aware now that there was nothing keeping you to the floor while the Chief was hovering right in front of you.

It was then that you found it pertinent to sit up, dusting off your sleeves and sort of shivering and shaking your shirt, holding it out at the base, in an effort to clear anything you could off the back.

You didn’t think it was soaked through, just damp enough for you to feel a slight chill when you were laid down, so whatever was there would evaporate on its own in its own time.

You wondered how something so high up could be so wet.

You didn’t look anyone in the eyes.

“I will see you back at the village,” You heard Stoick confirm gruffly to his son before you heard the obvious sounds of him leaving on his dragon, “...It’s about time.”

“Oh, Gods,” Hiccup said, finally, as you turned your attention away from your tunic and the grass and the slight burning of your neck, “My Dad-”

You saw him out of the corner of your eye and heard him clearly- Toothless seemed to have been laughing at him a ways away, chortling in deep inhuman tones. Something about the whole situation seemed to tickle his lizard brain.

“-I can’t believe it,” Hiccup finished, hand on his face.

You wanted to squeak or curl up into a ball right there in the stack, knees up to your chin, or something. You weren’t sure when the last time was that you’d been a part of something so embarrassing.

“What-?”

“I mean, for the past few years I’ve been trying to-” He turned quickly to you then, as if realizing something, “Did you know that I-?”

“What-?” You wanted to ask what he meant but you knew.

The clamoring for attention from something was impossible to miss- the fact that you’d just always seemed to be in its general vicinity, now that you had hindsight, was indubitably harder.

“That I-You,” You knew what he was trying to say- really, your thoughts were going a mile a minute and you guessed his were too.

“I kind of knew but I kind of didn’t? I don’t know,” You burst out, squalling, “But why- me?”

“I think you’re really- Great?” Hiccup said, “I think you’re great.”

You were slightly confused by that, but it sounded like it meant something to him.

It would mean something to you. If there was anyone you were going to date, then it would be him.

“I- are you sure?” You asked quickly.

He was the most normal guy on the island- average and smart and snarky when he didn’t think you were looking in ways that made you feel at home sometimes.

He was your closest friend- the closest friend that you had in your age group, anyways.

You weren’t sure whether angry fishermen or bulky older women counted.

“What?”

What were you worth to him? Could he even date you? Really?

It was a jarring thought- mostly jitters that had come to interrupt your quick back-and-forth stutter fest.

You’d been over it a million times already.

Hiccup was so much- He went from a character to a person to someone you might want to spend beach days with and go on picnics with and help out in the forge with small things.

Was it fair, when parts of his life were laid so plain out for you to see?

Sure, a few pieces ad been missing and a few things hadn’t really gone the way you’d expected but you knew things about his past and future you, under normal circumstances, would have had no right to know

“You don’t know where I’m from, and I can’t- I’m not sure if I can tell you?” You said pitifully, as Hiccup furrowed his brows, “I don’t know how. I mean- If we’re… I want to be honest.”

He was confused.

You would be freaked out if he wasn’t.

You were crazy, compared to everyone else on the island. This alone was enough to make you crazy, if you didn’t consider any of the other things you’d brought back from the future.

You knew the Viking equivalent of the looney bin was Outcast island, thrown into chaos definitely, now that Alvin was missing. They tended not to be kind to girls, you heard.

If they had any, they were never in good enough shape to show face during war. You had a hard time believing they weren’t all dead, with the way the other Vikings talked about it.

“We can… Work on that,” Hiccup said finally, looking a bit confused, hands pressed flat on the grass in front of him.

Yeah, you could do that.

You hoped he didn’t wonder about why you couldn’t tell him. If he kb=new, he’d think you were insane. Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind too much- he brushed it off pretty quick.

He seemed fine, but he didn’t understand. He wouldn’t.

What would he do, if he ever found out?

You knew what was going to happen with the Red Death -what was going to happen with him- beforehand and you did nothing. Was this something you were going to have to die with?

You supposed things didn’t need to happen now, there was always an eventually. You were going to have a hard time breaking a few things to him, though, when that time came.

You would be dropping hints, though. You owed him and yourself that.

Things didn’t need to be the same, either. If sameness was any sort of real metric, then you would have thrown off its geiger like a bag of salt to the pH of a pool.

He wasn’t supposed to be here at this moment with you, and yet he was.

“So,” Hiccup suggested with a dumb, slightly guilty look, shrugging as you tugged your feet underneath your knees in criss-cross position, “Pick up where we left off?”

“I-” You paused, and raised your eyebrow at him.

Were you really just going to pick up where you’d left off? Right after his Dad left. Wow.

Hiccup looked almost guilty, mostly eager.

You pursed your lips and thought about it for a moment longer, then you laughed hysterically with nerves, cheeks flushing, nearly biting on your nails, nodding, “I guess so.”

You leaned forwards and Hiccup followed suit before you paused for just a second, heart pounding, thinking back to the moment you shared down by the plaza. Did you really have the courage to try this again?

You would definitely be crossing a line, walking straight and completely face-first into crazy the way you had been trying to avoid most of the time you’d spent on Berk, not that you’d succeeded in that front in the first place.

If this was your life now, was it worth it?

You had to say it was.

You clenched your eyes shut and leaned further before you could be deterred by either your own nerves or Hiccups wide-eyed stare. Then you yelped as something small and very, very hot hit your back.

You startled as you were uninterrupted again, hooking your arms under Hiccup’s as you fell forwards.

You were fifty percent sure you’d heard a sizzle and a pat as whatever it was fell off, tumbling against the sea stack.

You made sure he fell down on the wide side of the stack, the two of you sliding back slightly on damp moss, all elbows and noses on sharp bones.

Hiccup grabbed at your elbows and you nearly slipped as you tried to sit up, turning and scooting around, pulling your knees up to your face as you reached a clumsy hand back to vaguely pat at where it had hit you.

It didn’t sting or burn or anything else so you hoped there wasn’t anything you needed to care for there.

It was glowy and orange and very, very tiny, uncurling itself and hopping around wherever it could find dry moss and grass, singing it underfoot.

This small glowy thing was recognizable to you like a sentence you read briefly once from a passage in a book, though you hadn’t known it -laid eyes on it, had time to become more familiar with it- for very long.

It was the tiny Fireworm from Fireworm island. The first one, as you’d remembered, who’d come to you to retrieve some sandwich. The one who reminded you of Hiccup. Sandwich was too good a boon not to run after, you supposed.

“Is that….?” You asked, anyway.

“What,” Hiccup started, before trailing off, having sat up behind you. You had glanced backwards at him as if to confirm, though there was no one else on the sea stack but you, so it was a kind of stupid thing for you to do.

In front of you, he -the Fireworm- was quivering and skittering and... Dancing? It was sort of like how he had done it before, many small arms waving in enthusiastic greeting, even as it’s eyes stayed wide and unmoving,

The little guy squirmed and danced around in front of you, waving many arms like a small bee trying to communicate hellos and celebrations.

That could have been it. He was from a hive.

The little guy looked like he’d had a long journey, sort of patchy in his glowingess, and you wanted to pick him up but you knew he’d burn your hands.

You wondered if he’d really flown all the way across the ocean to you guys. It couldn’t have been too harrowing. Many of the other Fireworms made it over and back regularly.

Still, though. He looked like he needed a few sandwiches.

Hiccup shook off his coat besides yours, bringing the leathery inside down, scooping the Fireworm up, carefully wrapping it in his furs in a way that kept most of the dry, fluffiest parts away from its glowing.

“Is it going to burn?” You asked. It would be bad if his furs turned to kindling.

Hiccup looked over at you uneasily, “I hope not. I did try and fireproof it before, but… We’ll just have to see.”

You didn’t know he did that. You hadn’t been spending as much time around the forge- driven away by nerves and other shy things.

If you were standing, you would have scuffed your feet into the grass. You pulled your knees higher up under your chin instead, listening to the deep swoosh of air under leathery wings as Toothless gilded back behind you

You hadn’t been paying as much attention to the big dragon, probably off laughing on his own and staring off into the distance, admiring the world in ways animals sometimes did.

He leaned his large, scaly head over the both of you and sniffed at the little Fireworm.

Hiccup looked at you out of the corner of his eye, an expression that came off as sly even as Toothless threatened to droop over his head, trying to get a closer look at the worm.

Hiccup held the Fireworm out further, away from Toothless.

Your heart calmed and the adrenaline pounding in your ears faded, though you were still on high alert.

“What does he eat?” You asked anxiously, though Hiccup’s attention was still on Toothless and the Fireworm, he didn’t answer, so you said, slightly petty, “... I should probably ask someone, later.”

Things had nearly come to what felt like a nice emotional diminuendo.

Hiccup frowned slightly, resisting the urge to grumble pettily in the back of his throat as he handed the Fireworm in the coat over to you.

He wasn’t as great at categorizing and taking down notes on dragons. He knew a lot, but he was sure he wasn’t the one you meant to ask later. He was right there, after all.

He knew who you meant to ask.

Fishlegs.

He knew on some level that Fishlegs wasn’t into you, but he was always anticipating a change, or something from the large boy. It didn’t help that he had no idea how you felt about him at all.

“Fishlegs is really into Ruffnut,” You suggested.

You picked the Fireworm up carefully, with large eyes as it squirmed slightly in your hold.

Hiccupfelt pretty pleased with that answer, sitting a bit straighter.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he spends all his time thinking about her. When he’s not thinking about Dragons. His mother complains about it a lot.”

Like the end credit scene of a movie, you sat next to each other, looking out over the empty ocean side of the sea stack, the only thing in front of you being a short cropping or rocks sticking out from the ocean and a large-looking stone arch also dusted with moss and whatever plant could have somehow made it over here from Berk.

You held the little Fireworm in your hands in Hiccup’s vest jacket.

“I guess maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”

You hummed in agreement, though your voice was tinged with slight confusion.

It seemed you were still in denial about a few things, after all.

Hiccup still really wanted to kiss you.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #x reader #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #female reader #toothless #fem reader

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geocitiesdig · 11 months ago

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From /SouthBeach/Port/4075/ on Geocities.

#geocities #old web #nsync #boy bands #music #SouthBeach #SouthBeach/Port #2000s #2000 #banner

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forasecondtherewedwon · 7 months ago

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seven degrees east - chapter three

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairings: multiple Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 3 / ? Word Count: 4075

read on tumblr: one | two

The roof was considered an obvious and necessary extension of the dorms. Which was to say, the boys were not encouraged to spend time up there, but it was widely acknowledged by the administration to be an inevitability. Which was to say, there was a standing rule that they were not allowed on the roof, but it was understood to exist for insurance purposes only. Which was to say, the rule had been enforced before, but not in a way that singled out any one student’s rooftop proclivities. Which was to say, John Egan, specifically, had been banned, and, yes, the photograph from his school record had been used on the poster taped to the roof-access door. Which was to say, the boys had taken to reaching the roof via the decidedly more dangerous yet not technically banned route of climbing out their windows and getting a foothold on the sill.

It was already after dinner when Crosby decided to swing his legs out the window and scale the wall. He preferred to do this with Bubbles, who he trusted implicitly to map the wall with his eyes on the fly and find the best handholds, but Bubbles was at the library, likely sniffling in the stacks. He had come down with a small cold, and Crosby had urged him to stay in bed. Unfortunately, he suspected it had been his offer to make dinner that had caused Bubbles to flee. Crosby tried not to mind. They were frequently at playful odds over exactly what constituted a “good meal.” Crosby had no defense for his Bagel Bites, but maintained that they wouldn’t put “Chef” in front of “Boyardee” if the canned ravioli wasn’t imbued with superior nutritional and gastronomic value. Bubbles vocally doubted that Jean, Crosby’s long-distance girlfriend, would agree.

Rosie was smoking on the roof when Crosby scrambled up. As their eyes met, Crosby offered a meek and panicked smile, which Rosie correctly interpreted to mean Help! Rosie tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and leant down to give Crosby a hand. Crosby’s shoes came scrabbling up brick, then slipping across the gritty surface of the roof. Rosie released him, laughing, once Crosby had found his footing.

“You probably don’t want to try that alone again,” Rosie observed, plucking the cigarette from his lips and exhaling into the wide sky that arched above their heads.

“No shit,” Crosby panted. He eyed Rosie. “Thanks.”

Rosie shrugged this off. He waved his carton in offering, but Crosby patted the back pocket of his jeans to indicate he’d brought his own smokes.

“Nice job on the seminar today,” he offered, lighting up.

It was Rosie’s turn to reply, “Thanks.”

Neither of them had counted on the company, but, equally, neither was bothered by it. They smoked in silence. Rosie watched Crosby like he was waiting to see what he would do next. Crosby watched the smoke from their cigarettes, how it trailed and dwindled in the air, how it looked dirty and hazy against the prolonged light of a summer evening. He felt that it polluted the world, that he, himself, was an irritant in the eye of the nature that beheld him. But self-loathing was just the kind of thing a guy felt, Crosby knew, when his shoes were tied a little tight, or he hadn’t eaten a vegetable in a while, or he had to go looking for fun without his best friend.

Rosie wasn’t sure he had a best friend. He had admirers—some for his scholastic confidence, many for his mustache—and he appreciated the respect with which he was treated, but he did sometimes feel as if he were in a place the others weren’t. (He had pondered this deeply while standing alone on the roof.) In a way, it made him feel adaptive, flexible, primed. It also gave him probably too much opportunity to heft unnecessary weight onto his own shoulders, to summon into existence pressures that would strain but not quite break the idea of himself that he believed in: tireless, committed, an emotional island. Rosie didn’t see that he felt much the same as they all did, but then none of them did. All listening too hard to their own tell-tale hearts to realize no one else would ever hear them if they didn’t make a noise.

Exhaling until he couldn’t see the smoke from his third cigarette in his breath, Rosie turned his body towards Crosby to indicate that he wanted to speak. He cleared his throat for good measure.

“You wanna rent a movie tonight?”

Crosby picked the cigarette from between his lips like he was picking food from his teeth. There was a showy machismo in the sharp line of his movement, like he thought about closing his fist around the cigarette so the tip would burn his palm, just to give him some little pain to endure. The motion was too deliberate, a little stupid, and Rosie’s slight smile reminded Crosby of that much. Rosie wouldn’t say anything outright though, lest they find themselves in a Mexican standoff—Crosby and his touches of noir versus Rosie and the mustache which stood as a symbol for his allegedly mournful, tortured soul.

“Yeah, sure,” Crosby said with a shrug.

“Cool. I’ll grab Nash.”

“Nash is gonna want a Meg Ryan flick.”

“So?” Rosie stared at him. “They can’t all be Lauren Bacall, Croz. At least try to pick an actress from this half of the twentieth century. Julia Roberts?”

Crosby made a sound of partial assent, then narrowed his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter though, does it? You’re just gonna overrule us and pick whatever the hell you want to see anyway.”

Rosie grinned.

“I drive, I pick.”

“I hate how that works,” Crosby grumbled.

“I know you do,” Rosie said, patting him on the shoulder.

—

“Adapt or die,” Bubbles said, settling himself before one of Thorpe Abbotts’ two new Macintoshes and depressing the power button. His voice was cottony due to his stuffed-up nose.

“Die,” John decided.

He didn’t spare the Mac so much as a sideways glance, continuing to knock out his essay on the same electronic typewriter he always used. The school wanted to appear cutting-edge—especially to the British universities they continually sensed, correct or not, were breathing scornfully down their necks—and this time, John had had to haul the typewriter from the closet at the end of the space increasingly referred to as the “computer room.” It wasn’t a perfect machine, but John preferred to grapple with the devil he knew rather than submit before the unexplored complexities of a sleeker word processor. Where was the glory in that? Where was the struggle? The allure of the logo on the front of the Macintosh was wasted on John, who thought Eve’s theft of the apple had more style than Thorpe Abbotts’ foisting of the new technology upon its students.

They weren’t supposed to smoke in there, but John had the window cracked, and he flapped a hand to fan the smoke from his cigarette towards it as he paused to review what he’d typed so far. It would do, he thought. If it provoked Professor Harding’s urge to murder him back out of its currently dormant state, so be it. John liked his enemies where he could see them. Except in a mirror.

The truth was, he’d been wrestling back some impulses since Gale had shared news of his and Marge’s breakup. Impulses to avoid Gale, impulses to stand at his elbow and wait to be noticed. It made John’s skin itch, this newly single Buck Cleven, with his hair like American wheat.

“What’s Buck gonna do?” Bubbles suddenly asked.

John stiffened. Ash flaked onto his fingers before he brushed it into the primeval coffee cup he was using as an ashtray.

“What?”

“Well, is he a luddite like you?” Bubbles wondered, nodding towards John’s typewriter.

John exhaled slowly.

“We’ll see.”

“He should get his essay typed up soon,” Bubbles said. “Always takes longer than you think. Maybe he’s distracted thinkin’ about the breakup.”

John drew smoke into his lungs to calm himself, then scratched at the side of his head like Bubbles’ remark was something he could scrape from the surface of his brain.

“Nah, Buck’s fine.”

“He’s lucky he has you.”

Bubbles made sure his eyes were on the Mac’s brightening screen when he felt John turn to look at him. He didn’t think he shouldn’t have said it, but he didn’t want John’s expression to make him feel like he needed to backtrack or add a joking insult so they—specifically John—could move past it without having to accept that Bubbles had intended it genuinely. You didn’t just tell a guy to value the closeness of his friendships, point out that those friends valued him in turn. Bubbles knew nobody thought of him as particularly risky, particularly brave. That was how he got away with it, his sincerity slipping in under their radar. And while they were thinking about themselves, they would never notice that he had a vested interest, that he counted himself luckiest of all to have Crosby as the other pea in his two-pea pod.

Before John could insist on a confrontation on the battlefield of his feelings for Gale, he saw Ken Lemmons walk past the doorway.

“Yo! Lemmons!” he shouted.

Ken re-entered his line of sight walking backwards and looking both quizzical and ready. He usually did look like that; an undergrad with a possibly bottomless bag of mechanical and technological tricks, Ken had become a dogsbody around campus. If he couldn’t immediately fix whatever needed fixing, he didn’t require long to figure it out. He’d gotten a job locally that summer instead of going home to the States. Everyone who knew or knew of Ken Lemmons felt the luckier for it.

“Egan,” Ken greeted with a grin, gripping the doorframe and leaning into the room. “Bubbles.”

“How’s the wife?” Bubbles inquired.

“She’s great, thanks, Bubbles.”

The fact that Ken, just 19 years of age, was a married man should perhaps have triggered in them some instinct to defer to his emotional maturity. Instead, it only made them feel more fatherly towards him, and, incidentally, act more childish.

“What the hell have they got you running around for now?” John demanded teasingly. “Go enjoy your fuckin’ summer. You should be at a rave or a topless beach or something.”

“Lotta those in England, you think?” Ken joked back. His feet and attention shifted. “Printer’s on the fritz.”

“Don’t you worry too much,” Bubbles soothed. “The summer edition of the journal isn’t that important.”

“Tell that to Kidd.”

“Yeah,” John said, gaze wandering back to his essay. “Jack’s probably sweating bullets.”

“Sure is. Poor bastard. You’d know if you ever took a position on the journal.”

“Nah. I’m just one of the people, Ken. I don’t want to run shit.”

Ken shrugged.

“Got some empty pages too,” he said in a hopeful tone, glancing between John and Bubbles. “Either of you have an essay you want to put in?”

John grunted noncommittally—it took him a long time to know what to think of his own work—but Bubbles said, “I’ll talk to Croz. I think he might write something.”

“Sounds good.”

“Don’t say anything to Kidd yet,” Bubbles added quickly. “Croz might get a little… nervous if he thinks Kidd’s waitin’ on him.”

Ken gave him a loose salute in understanding and pushed out of the doorframe, hurrying down the hall once more.

Bubbles released a massive sneeze and collapsed over his keyboard, forehead nudging the mouse aside. John shot him a look.

“Don’t get that thing sick.”

“Your computer virus jokes are tired,” Bubbles mumbled.

But they seemed to invigorate John, who began to type rapidly as the setting sun blazed through the window. The shadows of his hands were jumping spiders. Bubbles watched them as he summoned the strength to begin transposing his own essay.

—

It was foolish for more than three of them to attempt to decide on one movie. It was foolish for three, or even two. Nash wandered the aisles of the video store, the protective coating on the empty VHS cases too shiny and bright under the fluorescents. He wouldn’t try to pick anything until Rosie and Crosby squabbled at the check-out. That first squabble was only ever the opening salvo; they would then sigh their way back into the aisles under the disinterested gaze of the minimum-wage kid at the register, feeling the pressure (that wasn’t really there) to make a better selection. Even that would not necessarily be the moment for Nash to insert his own filmic preferences. He would wait and see. The key was to pounce in the moment when both his friends were feeling highly frustrated by the impasse, solving the problem with the simple solution of offering the movie neither of them wanted to see (Nash’s first choice du jour).

Yes, they could have rented more than one video, but they didn’t. They never did.

Nash stood and contemplated the latest Scorsese; he and Gale had once talked for an hour of their love for the director’s Age of Innocence adaptation, but Nash wasn’t sure about Casino. Seemed like more of a Crosby thing. Nash was lifting his gaze to the genre signs positioned along the top of each aisle when he spotted something more compelling: girls. Two—no, three—girls clustered by the far wall, chatting as they perused the titles. All three were brunette and Nash’s heart fluttered hopefully as he thought of Helen, the memory of her dark waves pulling at him like a current. (John had been going on about Gatsby lately, repeating the final lines with a rhythmic insistence that had formerly threatened to put Nash to sleep but now seemed to assist in holding him in hypnotic stillness.) Without looking away from them, Nash reached out with the empty copy of Casino. There was a plasticky clatter as he fumbled the case back onto the shelf.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Crosby asked, coming down the aisle—a witness to Nash’s episode.

“I think—”

Nash stopped speaking as quickly as he’d begun and cleared his throat. She’d turned her head, laughing; it was Helen. The world was a good place, the arc of history bending towards justice and peace and harmony amongst all people. Nearly thirty years prior, humans had walked on the moon, and tonight, Nash would be reunited with that beautiful girl from that one night at the bar—a miracle even Kennedy would not have had the balls to prophesize. Nash wished he were wearing a nicer shirt, but he smoothed a hand down the front of the baggy sweatshirt he’d—at some point—borrowed from the laundry hamper of John or Curt or maybe Crank, over winter semester, and blindly pressed Crosby aside to clear his path to her.

Crosby gave Nash a head start before alerting Rosie, because he recalled how Rosie had shouted at this girl (by Nash’s transfixed reaction, he assumed it was the same girl) across the bar, embarrassing Nash. But, because Crosby was also preparing to be greatly entertained by the scene that promised to play out, he needed Rosie to join his audience. What were friends for if not laughing at other friends’ awkward attempts at romance? It was necessary to physically remove Hitchcock’s Rebecca from Rosie’s hands, but Crosby got his attention.

“Our boy’s lovesick so often it’s practically a chronic condition,” Rosie pronounced, grinning.

“Yeah, too bad we’re all studying to be the wrong kind of doctor,” Crosby added.

As much as they loved to rib Nash for putting himself out there so very frequently that he could rarely be considered in, they watched, slightly awed, as Nash confidently approached the girl and was greeted with a wide smile after her initial surprise.

“Huh,” they said together.

“Well, we’re not letting Nash have all the fun,” Rosie decided, smacking the back of his hand into Crosby’s chest to get him moving.

Nash didn’t mind his friends joining him. He didn’t mind Helen’s friends looking on, or that they would almost certainly talk about him as soon as he left their vicinity. Only the way Helen was looking at him was important, and she was doing that with a gaze that didn’t wander, that didn’t light up with greater interest when Crosby locked his puppy-dog browns on her, Rosie his glittering blues. Helen just went back to looking at Nash, talking to Nash, and soon, they had drifted slightly apart from the others, engaging in a lively conversation about Meg Ryan’s filmography. When Herbert Met Helen, Nash thought, entirely captivated by Helen, from the toes of her Mary Janes to the lettuce-edged sleeves of the t-shirt she wore beneath her spaghetti-strap dress.

Rosie was alarmed by his dissipating impulse to humiliate Nash. He’d only come over to keep Nash humble, and to make sure the girl—Helen—who’d caught his friend’s eye twice now seemed worthy of Nash’s at least momentary captivation. He hadn’t counted on Helen’s friend. Very quickly, he’d learned that she went by “Liss,” considering the name that’d been passed down from her grandmother old-fashioned, that she was studying law, and that the way she combed her fingers through her straight-across bangs while she talked was damn cute. Really fucking cute. Rosie forgot about Nash, about Crosby, about Hitchcock. The Flaming Lips’ “When You Smile” poured distantly through the video store speakers and Rosie realized he might be falling into love at first sight—and that it came with none of the doom reading Poe had foretold.

In contrast, Crosby felt he was having everything his hard-boiled books had ever taught him about women confirmed. Had Rosie not been otherwise occupied and noticed Crosby with Helen’s other companion, he would’ve said, Whoa, Croz. He would’ve said, Careful. Because there was Jean, back home, and Crosby wasn’t thinking about her at all as he watched Sandra bite the end off a string of red licorice.

“You’re supposed to pay for those first,” he said, glancing at the other movie snacks by the check-out, their packages stacked in neat rows.

Sandra’s lipstick was as red as the licorice and Crosby swallowed when she did, watching her mouth spread into an unconcerned smile.

“Don’t I look trustworthy?” she asked him, and Crosby felt a rush of sympathy for every detective who’d ever been drawn in by a femme fatale. Which was exactly what he’d determined this girl to be. If he were correct, he should’ve grabbed the boys and run—but then, if he were correct, Crosby figured, it was probably already too late.

As Sandra looked back at him, not knowing about Jean or Chandler or Hammett and seeing only a young man with expressive dark eyes full of seductive fatalism, she thought, Why not? and offered Harry Crosby a long piece of licorice.

—

Inside, they’d gotten so stoned they couldn’t remember what they were talking about, and so Curt and Gale had decided to climb to the roof for fresh air that would clear their heads. The evening was warm and breezy, but Gale loved the wind, and Curt tended to roll with the circumstances as they presented themselves. Which didn’t mean the way he’d flailed onto the roof was graceful.

After a while, they’d picked out the loose thread of their last conversation. Like many conversations the boys had, this one landed on a book recommendation as predictably as a plastic Life car landed on “Taxes due.” Curt was trying to sell Gale on the works of James Baldwin. He was a cheerful inebriate, confident that all his points were compellingly made and that his audience was keen to hear them. He was touchy as well, tugging Gale’s sleeve when he talked about Baldwin’s voice. Gale didn’t mind this, since he roomed with John, who was far touchier. That was at least half the reason he was smiling as Curt talked, the weed he’d smoked helping him construct little mental sandcastles and wash them away again: John’s elbow on his shoulder as he asked what Gale, sitting at their desk, wanted to add to the grocery list; John’s foot prodding Gale’s hip to tell him to change the channel even though he was sitting sideways on the couch, reading instead of watching TV; John’s hand on Gale’s knee, then his thigh, the other day in Harding’s class, not long before Gale had named the woodchopper.

Like wet sand, the woodchopper and John got mashed together in Gale’s head as he listened to Curt launch into his pitch for Gale to read Giovanni’s Room.

“It doesn’t matter that he’s gay,” Curt was saying.

“Of course it matters that he’s gay,” Gale countered.

“No, like, it matters, but—”

“What the hell else matters?”

“It’s bigger than that! It’s about what it means to be a man,” Curt insisted. “Socialization, alienation, internalization…”

“If you throw one more ‘ation’ at me, I’m pushing you off the roof,” Gale warned waggishly.

“It’s fucking Baldwin, man! He had his thumb on the fucking pulse!”

“His finger, not his thumb. You can feel your pulse in your thumb, so using it to find a pulse doesn’t work.”

“Whatever,” Curt said, grinning and waving him off. “Fucking pedant. Read your fuckin’ Baldwin.”

“Never said I wouldn’t,” Gale asserted.

“Good.”

Curt gently patted his pockets. He couldn’t remember if he’d brought a joint to the roof or left all the ones he’d rolled on the table. He also didn’t want to stow one in his pocket and forget about it. He’d definitely made a mistake tossing a pair of jeans in the wash in the past.

“It’s just that Brideshead Revisited is a little more up my street,” Gale added.

“Oh, fuckin’ BRIDESHEAD REVISITED,” Curt shrieked, setting Gale laughing quietly. “You can’t even tell those assholes are gay!”

“’Course you can,” Gale argued at a lower volume. “If you’re paying attention. You can tell if you’re paying attention.”

Curt, who was paying even less attention in that moment than he had been while reading the novel, said, “Fuckin’ EVELYN WAUGH!”

Gale shook his head in amusement. Happening to glance out away from the building atop which they were perched like eaglets in their eyrie, he saw Rosie, Nash, and Crosby ambling towards the dorms from the rear parking lot.

“BOYS!” Gale called down sharply.

Three faces tilted up towards the address. Crosby threw up an instinctive middle finger that Curt heartily returned.

“Meet you inside?” Rosie shouted back.

“My place!” Curt offered, receiving Rosie’s nod.

Gale lived with John, Nash with Rosie, and Crosby with Bubbles, who Curt knew to be sick at present. Curt lived with no one. Well, he lived with Dickie, but Dickie wouldn’t be back until the fall. Technically, Curt should have been getting charged more in residence fees living as a bachelor for four months, but between being well liked by faculty and staff, and the students who’d elected to remain on campus through the summer knowing Curt was shy about neither bringing guests back to his room nor the type and amount of noise that emanated from such visits, he paid the same as he did when he had a roommate. He tended to be quite smug about it. Regardless, his friends didn’t complain; they’d have happily paid less and did not begrudge Curt his good fortune. Curt’s temporary lack of roommate also made his dorm the perfect place to go whenever any of them were annoyed with their own. Anyway, Curt loved to host.

When he got all the boys inside, sprawled over his furniture, he found that the air on the roof had un-addled him a bit, but not enough to easily follow the trio of narratives unfolding at once. There was Nash gushing about finally getting Helen’s number and Rosie wearing a dopey smile while he explained about Liss and the haunted and yet lustful look in Crosby’s eyes when he talked about Sandra and—

“Who the fuck are all these girls?” Curt cut in.

“You met them at the video store?” Gale, who had caught slightly more, clarified. “What’d you rent?”

Crosby, Rosie, and Nash glanced at one another’s dreamy eyes and empty hands.

It was Crosby who voiced their joint realization: “Uhhh… we forgot.”

#seven degrees east #my writing #MotA #Masters of the Air #Harry Crosby #Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal #Joseph 'Bubbles' Payne #John 'Bucky' Egan #Ken Lemmons #Bucky x Buck #Herbert Nash #Sandra Westgate #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #Curtis Biddick

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