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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory. His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age. Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?” What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #reader insert #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #creepypasta fanfic #A cure for insomnia

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ais-for-alex · 3 years ago

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The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 23

Hope y’all enjoy the chapter 🥰

“Why is it every time I see you, you look even more exhausted than when you left?” Fabian said only half joking while looking him up and down critically. Leo huffed a sigh as he dropped his bag and plopped down next to his friend to start lacing up his skates.

Leo chuckled in response, “I don’t know man, it’s just been… an emotionally charged week.”

“Yeah? Didn’t you just move in with that guy, I thought you would be happy? Is it already not working out?”

“No,” Leo answered quickly, making Fabian glance over at him in surprise, “no, it’s been great, Finn is great. There’s just…” Leo let his voice trail off, not entirely sure what it was he wanted to say. His mind flicked back to the night before, falling asleep in Finn's bed, the man himself wrapped up tight in his arms, the warm velvety timer of his voice lulling him into unconsciousness as he painted pictures with his words. Then this morning when he woke up alone, the warm sheets his only companion.

When the early morning sunrays began streaming through Finns open blinds Leo had slowly blinked his eyes open a bit nervously. He couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering inside him, he was scared to see where he would stand with Finn now that the cover of night had been stripped away by the golden light of morning. However, it seemed his fear was unwarranted as the redhead was nowhere to be found once Leo had finally opened his eyes. Glancing down at the empty space Finn’s body had once occupied, Leo found a slip of paper; one edge was ragged like it had been torn from a notebook and in neat angular handwriting was a message.

Good morning Nutter Butter. I went out for a run to clear my head this morning so I probably won’t see you until later. Have a good day at practice, I’ll see you tonight.

At the bottom he had signed his name and added a little doodle of a fish. Leo smiled softly reading the words over again, he trailed a fingertip over the paper feeling the little indents from where Finn's pen had pressed into the paper. And when he wandered back over to his own room to get ready to head to practice Leo took that paper with him, he so very carefully tucked it into his nightstand wanting to keep it safe.

“There’s just a lot,” he finally finished.

Fabian nodded, seeming to catch some of the meaning behind those words, “Hey, you know what? How about after practice we head to the coffee shop and you can tell me about that lot that you have going on. Maybe an outside opinion can make it easier, or even just talking about it might help.”

Leo felt a little jolt of affection for his friend, after all Fabian had been the first one to welcome him to Gryffindor with open arms and had since remained as a constant support.

“That actually sounds really great.”

“Alright, well it’s a plan,” he said with a crooked grin, “but now we need to get out on the ice before Madam Maxine comes searching for us, cause believe me it would not be fun.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Leo said with a laugh following Fabian out of the locker room and towards the ice. The two of them parted and began working through their warm ups, Leo melted into the motions stretching and loosening his shoulders, his hips, making sure his muscles were warm and ready to let him fly.

Once he had finished his warm ups Leo set to work on the second of the new jumps Madam Maxine had added to his program. The quads were challenging, that’s an understatement, Leo thought to himself as he pulled his body off the ice for the umpteenth time rubbing at the sore bruise forming on his ass cheek.

“Leo, come.”

Leo glanced up to see that Madame Maxine had glided elegantly onto the ice herself and was beckoning him over to her. Skating closer Leo blinked a bit in shock, he was always thrown when he came across someone taller than himself and his coach positively towered over him on her skates.

“You’re making progress,” she said, accent thick around the words.

“Thank you Madam,” he nodded.

“You still need to work on your expressions though, your face is completely blank when you skate. I can see the gears turning in your mind as you perform.”

“Uh… yeah, I’m still working on that,” Leo said, feeling a self-conscious flush rise in his cheeks. He still had no idea how to make his feelings come across in his performance, after all he had begun figure skating as a way of running and hiding from the feelings inside him, how was he supposed to simply just let them out for everyone to see?

“Have you settled on a composition? You should really be working with your music at this stage.”

“No, um not quite,” he said, brushing a bit of hair out of his face nervously. Leo knew that he should have picked his music a long time ago but for some reason anything that he listened to just didn’t feel right, it didn’t fit.

“Hmm, you have one more week to choose,” she said sternly, “if you have not selected a piece by then, you will not be ready to compete.”

“Alright, I’ll have something by then,” Leo replied, Madam Maxine simply nodded and gestured for him to continue his work before she skated away to speak to Gilderoy. With a little sigh Leo got back to it.

***

Leo groaned at the ache in his bones when he finally left the ice, making his way into the locker room on his blade guards. Sitting down on the bench to unlace his skates Leo snagged a water bottle and his phone from his skate bag only to realiz there were several new notifications waiting for him. He huffed a laugh at the name that popped up when he clicked on the message.

(Mighty Mouse): Video attached

Leo clicked on the video and suddenly Logan’s face was filling up his screen as he held the camera in front of himself.

“So, when I got to the rink for practice today, guess what I found waiting for me?” Logan’s voice fell from the phone's speaker filled with exasperation. He shifted the camera to what looked like his stall in the team’s locker room, pushed to the side was a pile of what looked like children’s hockey equipment in the Lions colors.

“This,” he said, turning the camera back to himself dramatically, “is the aftermath of what one James Potter considers a prank.” Logan reached down and grabbed something out of the pile and held up a ridiculously small jersey that had read Tremblay 10. “He came in here and replaced every single piece of gear in my stall with equipment meant for six year olds,” there was a pained look on Logan’s face as he said that but Leo couldn’t help the cackle that ripped through him at the thought of Logan walking into the locker room to find everything in his spot miniaturized.

“And then!” Logan continued on the video, “when I being a little confused as to where all my crap went, asked what was going on, this bastard had the audacity to look me dead in the eye and say ‘Oh, I thought these would fit you better, with how small you are and everything.’”

Leo completely lost it at that coupled with the crazed look on Logan’s face, he could barely breathe through his howling laughter.

“I swear, if he didn’t need them to play I would have taken his knee caps right then and there,” Logan zoomed the camera a little closer to his face and let his voice fall a bit to a whisper, “but I’ll get him back, believe me I’ll get him back.” Logan’s eyes glowed with mischief, “I’ll keep you posted,” he said with a wink just as the video ended.

Leo was still chuckling as he clicked the next attached video clip which looked like it was sent a little later than the first. Logan was now in what looked like a weight room, he had changed into a Lions logo muscle shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and he had his curls tucked up under a snapback. Leo struggled to pull his focus onto the words coming from Logan’s mouth as his strong arms and shoulders were now in full view.

“So,” Logan started glancing over at the door to make sure no one was coming, “I’ve devised the perfect payback.” Logan grinned deviously at the camera and held up a little container that made Leo gasp when he recognized it, “well, if you don’t know, this here is citric acid and even just a tiny bit will turn something into a tart little surprise.” Logan chuckled and grabbed a bottle of blue Gatorade, “this is James’s, he’s pretty much the only one that drinks the blue. Honestly, he’s a little obsessive about it. Well, let’s see how much he likes it with… let’s say a hefty amount of citric acid in there.”

“Oh no,” Leo couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out as he watched Logan unscrew the cap and dump more citric acid than should ever be consumed into the Gatorade. He gave the bottle a shake and placed it over by someone’s gym bag.

“And now we wait,” he grinned and wagged his eyebrows at the camera suggestively as the clip cut out.

Leo didn’t hesitate for a second before clicking on the last video Logan had sent, from the timestamp only a few minutes ago. This clip was a little different, Logan was no longer holding the camera; he must have propped his phone up against an unused weight plate as Leo could now see the rest of the weight room. There were now several more people there using various machines, Leo’s eyes instantly snapped to where Logan was off to the side doing deadlifts, he had to stop himself from gasping aloud at the sight. Tearing his eyes away from Logan to glance at the others, he spotted none other than Sirius Black standing and chatting with a slightly shorter man with a mop of curly brown hair and thin wire framed glasses. The two were near where Logan had placed the contaminated Gatorade bottle. As they talked the man with glasses, who Leo assumed must be James, reached down and snagged the bottle. Leo cringed in anticipation as he watched James laugh carelessly at something Sirius said then finally bring the bottle up to his lips.

James had taken the biggest gulp imaginable of the sour liquid and Leo watched the exact moment his very soul left his body as it hit tongue. What happened next must have only been milliseconds but Leo still could see as James face first went green, then ghostly pale, his eyes wide and panicked before he sprayed the drink directly into Sirius’s face.

Leo was laughing so hard he wasn’t even making noise anymore just clutching his stomach and shaking from it as he watched James drop to his knees and spit trying to get the sour taste out of his mouth while Sirius was spluttering in disgust. In the background Leo could hear the rest of the guys in the weight room laughing just as hysterically. Suddenly, Logan's face came into frame just as the video ended.

“What was that about?”

Leo glanced up at Fabian who had settled next to him to unlace his own skates. Still trying to suppress his laughter, Leo just shook his head, “nothing, just a friend doing something stupid.”

“Yeah? You know, I think that was the first time I’ve seen you actually laugh like that.”

“That’s not true,” Leo immediately shot back, “I laugh all the time, it’s not my fault you aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

Fabian made a scandalized face and put a hand over his heart, “Ouch, that hurt. I am mildly offended. I am a hoot.”

Leo scoffed at that.

“And besides I’m talking like actually laughing, not that polite little chuckle you do.”

Just then Leo felt his phone buzz in his hand, when he glanced down he nearly choked at the image waiting for him. Logan had taken off his shirt, revealing his entire chest and torso glistening in a sheen of sweat leftover from his workout, his curls were fluffing out from under the edges of his snapback and he had his face scrunched up like he was laughing super hard. The caption ‘I Won’ was written across the image, in the background Leo could just see both James and Sirius glaring daggers at him.

“Is that this ‘friend’ that seems able to make you laugh uncontrollably?” Fabian asked leaning over to sneak a peek at the picture.

“Hmm, yeah,” Leo answered, his eyes still roving over the image of Logan on his screen, a soft smile pulled at his lips, “this is Logan,” he turned the screen a bit showing Fabian.

“Wait, Logan? As in Logan Tremblay? From the Lions?”

Leo simply nodded.

“From that look on your face I take it he has something to do with everything you’ve had going on lately?”

He nodded again.

Fabian chuckled and leaned down to pull off his skates, “Well, hurry up and get changed then you can tell me all about him, and Finn.”

Leo rolled his eyes fondly but slipped his phone back into his bag and began pulling off his own skates. It wasn’t long before the two of them, now clad in their street clothes, had made their way to Polaris Coffee claiming a cozy booth in the corner to chat.

Leo wrapped his hands around his drink, the heat bleeding through the ceramic into his palms. He couldn’t help but think back to the last time he had sat in this coffee shop, a different redhead smiling at him across the table. Fabian was almost uncharacteristically quiet, evidently waiting for Leo to feel comfortable enough to share the things that have been on his mind over the past weeks.

“So…” Leo began not entirely sure where to start.

“So…” Fabian mimicked raising his eyebrows teasingly, making Leo laugh. A bit of tension bled out of him as he took a sip of his coffee, he let the warm rich flavor wash over his tongue and calm his nerves.

“I think I’m falling in love with my roommate… and his best friend,” Leo said, jumping straight into the heart of the matter. And just like that it was like a dam breaking, words tumbled out of Leo’s mouth as he told Fabian about his time with Finn and Logan. He glossed over the parts about his past, but he told him about every subtle look, every gentle brush of fingertips, and sweet embrace. By the time he had run out of words Leo’s heart ached with the knowledge that he was utterly fucked by the intensity of his feelings for these two.

“You know,” Fabian started setting his mug down with a soft clunk on the table, “to me it sounds these people mean a lot to you, I’m honestly not seeing a problem here.”

Leo sighed and flopped back against the booth, his head knocking against the wooden part, “They really do, and well, I guess it’s not so much of a problem as just a bit complicated. I mean I like them, both of them. But Finn and Logan have this… thing between them. Like I get the vibe that they like each other, but then there’s moments with each of them that makes me think just maybe they like me. I just… I don’t know Fab.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” Fabian asked, “Like I know that sounds like the cliché answer but honestly, I think that’s really the only way you’ll be able to know how either of them are actually feeling. About you, and about each other.”

Leo snagged his mug off the table and took a sip before replying, “I know,” he sighed. “I know I need to talk to them. I don’t think it’ll be bad with Finn, from what I’ve seen so far he’s pretty open with his thoughts but Logan, Logan will be a challenge.”

Fabian shot him a sympathetic look at that, “Well, I’m always here for moral support,” he raised his mug in a little salute.

Leo chuckled and rolled his eyes but clinked his own mug against it before taking another sip of his drink.

Read on ao3

Chapter 22 Chapter 24

#sweater weather #coast to coast #leo knut #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #writing #figure skating #hockey #the scars of our past

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

CURSED: CHAPTER ONE

"He was a boy, She was a girl"

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: Mack meets a new guy at school, Kai Parker

Warnings: swearing?

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Mackenzie pulled open the car door and climbed into the passenger seat, leaning over the middle console and planting a sweet kiss on Ben's lips. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away.

"Morning babe." He said happily.

"Morning." She smiled back.

Mack dropped her bag by her feet and sat back, pulling her seatbelt across her body and plugging it in. Ben revved the engine and began driving off in the direction of the school, arguably way to fast.

The whole way to school Ben hammered on about how annoying the freshmans would be and how he was so ready to be the quarterback this year. Mack nodded along and made sounds of agreement every now and then, but she really didn't care much for Ben's popular boy life. Mack was the quiet girl who got good grades and sat on her own at lunch. She only went to parties and attended football games so she would appear the 'perfect girlfriend' as Ben said.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Ben turned to her and cupped her face, pulling her in for a long kiss that was only really to give everyone else a show. And that made her stomach drop. They got out the car and instantly she felt Ben's arm wrap around her waist, pulling her into his side tightly.

As they wandered through the halls everyone waved and said hi to Ben, completely ignoring Mack. Ben received the wanting stares of girls and some claps on the back from some of the guys on the football team. As they reached her locker Mack stopped and unlocked it, shoving her books inside and grabbing her sketch book.

"I still don't know why you even bother with those, you're not good enough to get a scholarship." Ben said bitterly, motioning to her sketch book. Mack furrowed her brows and slammed her locker shut, charging off to her first period class. She heard Ben call after her but ignored him, knowing it'd come back to bite her later.

The head splitting noise of the clock ticking filled her ears, the screeching of chair legs against the scratchy floor and the constant first-day-back chatter of her classmates slowly driving Mack insane. She'd been in the room for less than five minutes and she was already ready to self combust just to get out of this hell-hole. The graphite gilded across the page as she drew, sketching god knows what and doodling all over her sketch book pages. Someone coughed obnoxiously above her and Mack instantly looked up, coming face to face with a super hot boy she'd never seen before.

"Is this seat taken?" He spoke with a hint of cockiness, gesturing to the empty seat beside Mack. She shook her head and watched as he made his way round and pulled out the chair, dumping his bag next to the table leg and plopping down into his seat, leaning back and crossing his ankles. He looked over to Mack and her head snapped back down, her attention back on her sketches.

The teacher walked in and Mack quickly placed her textbook over her sketches, hiding them and pretending to pay attention. In actual fact, she already knew what the teacher was talking about, the droning sound of his voice like a white noise.

About half way through the lesson Mack felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked to where it came from only to see the boy from before studying her intently.

"So what's the deal with you? I don't think I've heard you mutter a single word since I've seen you." He asked, slightly confused. Mack shook her head and looked down at the desk before looking back up again, her sight instantly catching the boy's captivating blue-grey eyes.

"Who are you? I've never seen you before." She asked shyly, speaking more than she'd like to. The boy grinned widely before offering his hand for her to shake.

"Kai, Kai Parker. And I just moved here last weekend. My twin sister is also in our grade." Mack nodded and kept sketching, hoping he'd leave her alone now. But he didn't. "So how long have you lived here? What's your name?" He continued. Mack sighed.

"All my life, and I'm Mack Grace." She said almost too quietly. The sound of his voice made Mack rest her head in her hands and try to tune him out, but nothing worked.

"Mack? As in Mackenzie? That's an awful long name. Do you go by a nickname? Mack - no, too many people call you that, I bet it's what you tell everyone to call you. Oh, oh what about Kenzie? Actually, no. Too long. Ohhhh I know! I'll call you Kenz. There we go, short, sweet and catchy. Nice to meet you Kenz." Kai babbled on, not realising Mack had completely ignored him.

She'd just met the guy and she already hated him. Mack felt awful but he was just so annoying. Hot, but annoying. The rest of the lesson continued like that, Kai chatting incessantly in Mack's ear as she tried to get the work done so she could go back to her sketching and ignoring him.

"Those are soooo good." Kai basically whispered as he leant over Mack's shoulder with wide eyes, entranced as her pencil moved over the page. She snapped the book shut to stop him from looking and he turned away, muttering an offended, "O-kay." And whistling while rolling his eyes. He was staring at just the page she'd done that lesson, which was now almost completely covered in sketches of people in their class, from all the angles Mack could see them from her seat. She rolled her eyes and kept drawing, letting her long hair fall as a curtain to hide herself from him.

The sound of the bell was like music to her ears and Mack instantly stood, scooping her books into her arms and charging out the class and down the hall. With her eyes kept trained down, Mack didn't realise someone was in front of her until she collided with them. They both fell to the ground and Mack's sketches were littered all over the floor, pieces of loose paper floating down around them. She scrabbled to her knees and crawled around aimlessly, picking up the pages and stuffing them back into her book. She went to grab the last page but the other girl got there first, Mack's eyes drifting up to meet hers.

"S-Sorry." Mack said shyly, taking the page from the mystery girl and slowly standing up. The other girl joined her, giving Mack a warm smile.

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault. I'm Jo." She said reassuringly, offering her hand to Mack, who hesitantly took it before shaking.

"I'm Mack." Jo smiled at her and let Mack's hand go, stepping back slightly and speaking up again.

"Do you know where Mrs Price's class room is? I'm totally lost and totally new here." Jo admitted bashfully, looking at Mack with pleading eyes. Mack nodded and motioned for Jo to follow her before they both walked down the hall, side-by-side.

"You don't talk much." Jo observed - not in a rude way though - as they approached the door to the classroom. Mack nodded and opened the door, letting Jo walk in first. She thanked Mack before heading inside and picking two seats at the back for her and Mack.

"I was never really listened to, so I stopped talking." Mack said simply, sitting down and folding her arms over the desk. Jo nodded slowly and turned her attention to the front of the class, where Mrs Price was introducing herself to the class.

As the lesson went on Mack felt as if she could sleep, she hated American History. It was so dull and useless, not to mention Mack could probably correct Mrs Price in every 'fact' she told. Finally they were set some work and a sheet landed on her desk. Mack picked it up and examined it, just a boring old worksheet. Mack turned to Jo, hoping to find out more about her.

"So you said you were new?" Mack began. Jo made a noise of confirmation before elaborating.

"We only moved here last weekend, family of 10. I have a twin brother and a bunch of younger siblings." Mack nodded and furrowed her brows in thought.

"A twin?" She pushed.

"Yeah, he's a good brother but is extremely annoying." Jo chuckled. That's when it clicked.

"By any chance is your twin Kai?" Mack asked, suddenly realising the resemblance between the two. Jo nodded and wrote something down.

"You've met him?" Jo said while writing.

"Yeah, I sat next to him in first period. Does he ever shut up?" Mack said with a laugh at the memory of Kai chatting in her ear for the whole hour. Jo laughed too.

"Sometimes. If he's eating or-" Jo cut herself off quickly before she said too much. Mack tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"Or what?" She asked.

"Oh, um, or if he's listening to m-music." Jo answered quickly. Mack nodded uncertainly and begun her worksheet too.

Mack slowly wandered out to the car park from her last period lesson, really not wanting to spend the whole ride with Ben, but knowing she had no other way home. She walked up to Ben's car and saw him leaning against the car door, arms folded over his chest.

"Hey babe." He smirked, pulling her into a kiss. Ugh, Mack hated the name 'babe' but decided to say nothing. She smiled and said hi back quietly before opening her car door and plopping down on the seat, leaving her bag on the floor at her feet. She began humming a tune, tapping her nails lightly against the armrest as she did so. Mack looked over at Ben as she felt him sit down, shutting his door with a thud and putting the keys in the ignition. She turned her attention to her window, watching as couples walked by holding hands and friends gossiped about their first day back after winter break.

"Please stop humming, it's almost as bad as listening to you talk about fucking art scholarships." Ben snapped, huffing frustratedly and pulling out the parking space. Mack stopped and frowned, looking out the window again and ignoring whatever shitty music he put on.

Her mind drifted as they drove home, thinking about her day. Meeting Jo might've been the best thing to happen to her, seeing as she was a potential best friend. Mack and Jo really clicked, they just kind of understood each other. After their second period had ended, Mack had asked Jo to sit with her at lunch and she agreed.

The other person she thought about was Kai. God, Kai. She new he was annoying, a typical grade-A asshole and extremely attractive. She knew she should stay away, and that she shouldn't think about a guy as attractive as him when she had a boyfriend, but she didn't care. He was probably the most talkative person she'd ever met and also the most annoying, but Mack felt drawn to him, strangely.

"Mack, Mack!" Ben repeated, waving his hand in front of her face. Mack snapped out her thoughts and looked over at Ben, who didn't look too happy. "We're here." Is all he said, gesturing to Mack's small house behind him. She fake smiled and thanked him for the ride, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before grabbing her bag and getting out the car.

"Hey Dad." Mack Shouted as she walked through the door, dropping her bag on a chair and walking into the small kitchen and reaching for a glass from the cupboard. She filled it with water and gulped it all down, setting the glass down on the counter before sitting at the small dining table and opening her bag.

"Hey Wolfy." Mack's Dad smiled, ruffling her hair as he walked past. "How was school?" He asked.

"Good I guess, I think I made a new friend." Mack said happily, pulling out her textbooks and starting her math homework.

"Good good." Her dad said, sitting down on the plush old armchair that was fading from age. He picked up his book and put on his glasses, opening it up and peering over the top at Mack. "Your sister has the night shift tonight and I'm meeting Tony for a meeting about the company at eight, so you have the house to yourself tonight." He said before redirecting his eyes to his book.

Mack's dad helped run a company with his best friend Tony, but it wasn't very big. They struggled with money so her sister wasn't in college, so she already worked at a local business and often took on an extra night shifts to help with money. Mack worked a weekend job, but spent lots of her time on her school work and drawing. She was insanely smart, getting straight A's in every subject with almost no effort, but she'd never get a scholarship off of that alone. The only thing she had a shot at was an art scholarship, otherwise she wouldn't get to go to college at all.

Mack looked up at the sound of the phone and so did her dad, but before she could answer it he got there first. He listened for a moment before holding out the phone for Mack to take.

"It's Ben." He said before walking off.

"Hey are you doing anything tonight?" Ben asked. Mack chewed her lip, contemplating her answer before deciding he'd be able to tell if she lied.

"No, Kim is taking the night shift and my dad is going out at eight." She said, still not sure if she should've just said she was busy.

"Perfect. I'll come over for eight thirty?" Ben said.

Mack gulped. This would be the first time she was home alone with Ben and for some reason the thought scared her rather than excited her.

"See you at eight thirty."

#smut #elena gilbert #image #images #stefan salvatore #the vampire diaries #chris wood #damon salvatore #kol mikaelson #tvd #kai parker image #kai parker x reader #kai parker smut #kaiparker #kai Parker #kai Parker fanfic #tvd fanfic

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raendown · 4 years ago

Link

Pairing: KakashiSakuraGenma Word count: 3156 Soulmate au: The one where the first time your soulmate touches your skin it leaves a permanent mark

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 222

He met Kakashi first. Well, that was kind of obvious. Genma met the last of the once proud Hatake line when they were both in the academy, not technically age mates although they attended all of the same classes. Back then Kakashi hadn’t covered so much of his body at all times but he’d still carried with him the sort of air that made others stay away, the air of one who stood above the rest even if he was good enough not to rub that in any of their faces. Genma watched Kakashi from afar because he was talented and interesting but never made much of an effort to actually get to know him. They ran in different groups of friends and there only ever seemed to be two or three people Kakashi deigned to give his attention to. No point in trying to make friends with someone who didn’t want any.

It wasn’t until they were both nearing the end of their teenage years and Kakashi had been broken in so many ways it hurt just to look at him that Genma realized they had never touched before. He realized only because, well, because they touched. For the very first time. And when he pulled his hand away from where he’d clapped it down on to Kakashi’s shoulder with a great deal of frustrated exasperation the imprint of his hand stayed behind. Some of it, at least.

“Just leave it be, Genma,” Kakashi was saying. “I’m paying my respects. The dead don’t care about rain so I don’t see why I should. Look, if you’re worried about me being late for the mission I’ll catch up, okay?”

“Kakashi…”

“Go on ahead without me.”

“No, shut up for a damn second!” Blinking several times in rapid succession did nothing to clear the mark from his view. Half a handprint. He’d never studied his own fingerprints very closely but he knew that mark hadn’t been there a second ago so it couldn’t really be anyone else’s. What he did know for sure was that he definitely had a whole hand on that arm the last time he’d checked.

Kakashi only had one eyebrow visible at the best of times and when he turned away from the monument it was lifted in question, his uncovered eye dark with the shadows he’d been carrying with him since Obito’s death.

“Alright, I’ll shut up then,” he said. Amazingly his words came out with just the slightest undertone of humor rather than insult. If Genma’s brain weren’t currently exploding he might have appreciated that a bit more.

“Look at your shoulder. And don’t you dare try to run!”

So Kakashi looked. By some miracle he didn’t even try to flee, although that might have had something to do with the way his knees wavered and folded underneath him. When he lifted a hand to trace the shape of one on his shoulder his cheeks danced through several different colors that Genma wished he knew how to properly interpret. Trying to figure out what was going on in this guy’s brain had always been more guessing game than exact science.

“Half?” Kakashi whispered eventually. “What...does that mean?”

“Oh no you don’t, I know exactly where your head is going, don’t even try to say you must be broken or unwanted or any of that! We’re just...probably waiting on another, you know?” Genma licked his lips nervously, passing the senbon in his mouth from side to side.

“Another!?”

“Well yeah. You know, like how Raidou’s got two mums and a dad? Or how Shizune’s got two mums and two dads? We just got to find our other one probably.”

Kakashi chewed that over for several minutes. While he thought Genma did his best to be subtle about inching closer. He’d been excited about finding his soulmate since he was old enough to know what they were but he knew there were less and less people like him every generation, shinobi more and more frequently taught from a young age not to look forward to something that could end up being used against them. Some people even hoped they never found their match to avoid the chance of testing their own loyalties. Privately Genma had always questioned any loyalty that didn’t leave room for questions.

Slowly the minutes passed as his shuffling took him closer and closer. They really were supposed to be leaving on a mission, were supposed to have left almost a half hour ago, but it wasn’t like the man they were being sent after would die any different if they arrived at night rather than midafternoon. Well, their pay might be cut some if they didn’t make it look quite like the accident they were contracted for but that wasn’t the end of the world. This was more important. If he used his best puppy eyes the Sandaime might not even punish them.

Eventually Kakashi lifted his head and took a deep breath, startling to see that Genma was so much closer but very tellingly not protesting. When he spoke every word carried the faintest tremble.

“I get...two?” he murmured. “Two people who want me?”

“Oh is that- that’s what you were thinking about? God damn it, Hatake!” With a roll of his eyes Genma flopped down on to the ground and threw both arms around Kakashi’s shoulders, more than aware that he was risking a knife between the ribs but also more than willing to take that chance. “We’re your soulmates. We wouldn’t be matched if we weren’t what you needed, you know? I want you, let's be clear on that, and I’m sure they’ll want you too.”

“Not dumb. I’m a genius.”

When their eyes met Genma was cheered to see that spark of humor had returned. His first soulmate had a lot of issues but that was fine, they could work on those together. They’d be fine until the day they could finally be whole.

It took a while. Quite a few years. More than a decade, actually, but Genma would be happy to tell anyone that neither of them had really minded the wait all that much. They had each other through it all and despite the idiot’s protests they spent most of them working Kakashi through the worst of his abandonment issues until he could be called something at least adjacent to mentally stable. In that time they both did their rounds in ANBU and left the organization to seek healthier ways to serve their village. Where Genma chose to fall back in to the regular mission roster Kakashi found himself roped in to taking on a team of genin, something neither of them thought was a really good idea but neither could see a way to get around.

The kids were, collectively, almost as messed up as their sensei had been. Out of the three the most normal was a little pink bubblegum girl named Sakura who spent most of her time swooning over the last of the Uchiha line. Kakashi did what he could to avoid contact with them just as he did for most people, a habit that Genma found entirely exasperating.

“How are we meant to fill out the rest of our marks if you won’t touch people?” he’d asked once.

“Maa,” Kakashi had waved him off. “They can touch you.”

Genma had rolled his eyes and very carefully not traced the colors filling half of his right palm.

Leaving the village periodically had been a part of life since he first graduated the academy but knowing that he was leaving Kakashi behind, trapped inside those massive walls until he felt that his new team might be able to survive the world beyond them, that was new. Mostly it was a new amusement. Genma made sure to bring home as many tales of the outside world as he could, playing them up for all the amusement he could squeeze out of watching Kakashi rock between wistful and jealous. Neither of them had ever really known what to do with kids until three of them were unceremoniously dumped in Kakashi’s lap so Genma didn’t feel much guilt over not coming to see the little rugrats. He knew all he needed to know about them from the horror stories his partner told him.

Or at least he thought he did until the years began to turn and slowly the rest of the village started talking about them. It figured that Kakashi would stumble his way in to accidentally raising some of the most important kids of their generation. If the last of the Uchiha wasn’t notable enough then he had the son of the Yondaime Hokage and if that still wasn’t notable there was always the bubblegum girl who picked herself up off the ground and apprenticed herself to the Godaime, smiling deceptively at anyone who pleased her only to punch straight through the sternum of the ones who didn’t. Genma, when he finally met her face to face, decided that they could definitely be friends after she gained a few more years.

He didn’t realize exactly what such an errant and mindless thought would become.

Keeping his distance from Kakashi’s kids became a lot harder once they stopped actually being kids, growing steadily in to adulthood until one day he met his partner at one of the dingy bars they both shamelessly adored only to find that Kakashi wasn’t alone, slightly harried looking where he sat in the middle of four other bodies all smiling and trading jokes about his new haircut. Genma was already laughing a little to see Naruto poking at the spikes now several inches shorter and neater than they had been earlier in the day.

“It’s certainly an interesting look, senpai,” Cat was telling him - or Yamato, Genma remembered he was supposed to call him now.

“Maa, it’s an accidental look,” Kakashi admitted. Genma slid in to the seat next to him with a little wave to everyone else, barely reacting when Kakashi swooned dramatically in to his shoulder. “One of the ninken knocked in to me when I was trimming and I took a massive chunk off the left side. It was either leave it like that or make everything match.”

“Well I think it looks nice,” Sakura offered. Oddly enough she even seemed to mean it.

Kakashi nodded gratefully in her direction only to wilt when he spotted the notepad that Sai had whipped out, already doodling an outline of the new haircut. Apparently the reminder of his own reflection was not a welcome one.

“So cruel,” he moaned. “All of my loved ones are so cruel to me!”

“I’m sure we’d all be a lot nicer with more alcohol in us.” Well aware that he wasn’t being at all subtle, Genma could only offer a beaming smile when his partner leaned away to glare at him.

“Extra cruel.”

“Does that mean you’re not paying for my beer?”

Kakashi harrumphed his way out of his seat and stomped away towards the bar, gumbling under his breath about joint accounts and shared finances. With most of the table laughing along with him it was only too easy for Genma to ignore Sakura’s narrowed eyes. They’d crossed paths several times during her apprenticeship to Lady Tsunade, a source of much amusement for him whenever he pulled guard duty, but he’d never really had a chance to get to know her more than that so he could probably be forgiven for not knowing what that particular look on her face meant. Or what doom it spelled for those that might ignore it.

When Sakura got up to walk after her old sensei Genma figured she was only going for another drink. Maybe popping off to the bathroom. He would have thought she was going to powder her nose if he had ever seen her wearing more than mascara but even the village civilians knew that the Yamanaka girl was the one obsessed with painting her face. If he had to guess he’d probably say Sakura’s version of dressing up had a lot to do with picking an outfit that best showed off her admittedly impressive biceps.

Not, of course, that he was disparaging such choices. He’d always been attracted to competence more so than a painted face.

It took several minutes for Kakashi and Sakura to make their way back across the bar but when they did they were both wearing faces like they’d seen the meaning of life itself and lived to talk about it. Genma was out of his seat and reaching for Kakashi in an instant, baffled when the man only stood there and blinked at him.

“Genma-san can we talk to you outside?” Sakura asked in a strained voice.

“Sure. Yeah. Did you…break him?”

“I think I might have,” she breathed. Then she turned and walked towards the back entrance with jerky steps.

Without bothering to answer any of the questions from those left behind Genma took his partner’s hand and dragged them both after the pink hair bobbing away from them. Sakura’s compact little body was built much better than either of theirs for weaving her way through the crowd, enough so that by the time they stumbled out in to the back alley Genma was a little worried she might have had time to disappear on them. Thankfully she hadn’t. He did, however, note that her eyes were just as wide as Kakashi’s and both of them looked rather like they would have loved to flee if only they could figure out which direction to go in.

“Alright, who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” he said. Kakashi gurgled a little.

“I, ah, okay so...please don’t be upset.” The leather of Sakura’s gloves creaked in protest as she wrung the poor things between her bare hands with perhaps a little too much violence.

“No promises. Go on then.”

The look she gave him was utterly devoid of humor but luckily for his bones she chose not to punish him for trying to lighten the mood. After a few more times wringing her gloves she allowed them to drop to the ground, taking one very deep breath before turning both hands to reveal her palms. One of them was half colored in.

“Look I know he’s your- I know that you two- I didn’t mean to! Genma-san I’ve never seen anything like this! I was just trying to get his attention so I put a hand on his shoulder and I guess I’ve just never touched him skin to skin before and-”

“Woah, calm down, calm down. Don’t start hyperventilating. It’s...you left a...a soulmark?”

All the breath in his lungs whooshed out of him with some indeterminate noise when both Sakura and Kakashi nodded in the affirmative. It felt like suddenly there was no more oxygen left. Distantly Genma could tell that his legs were trembling but he couldn’t be bothered to care about that at the moment, not when everything he’d been waiting so long for was coming true right in front of his eyes.

He didn’t realize how long he stared for until Sakura cleared her throat and he peeked up to see that she looked even closer to flight. Only then did the rest of her words finally sink in and he understood why she didn’t look happier about such an auspicious discovery.

“You idiot!” Kakashi flinched when Genma reached over to smack him on the back of the head. “How many years have you known this girl and you never told her we’ve got another soulmate!?”

“A- a what?” Sakura breathed.

“We- oh sweet chakra farts just give me your hand, here.”

Impatient to seal them all together, Genma didn’t wait for permission to reach over and clasp Sakura’s hand in the one of his own that looked very much like hers, colored in on one half where he’d first touched Kakashi in the same place she had. All it took was a brief press of skin and then he was pulling away to turn his hand over. They still matched, of course, only now they both sported palms entirely covered with the beautiful mix of colors that made up their soulmarks, each half ever so slightly unique to show that they were both bonded to a third. No doubt Kakashi’s mark looked identical and for the space of a single moment Genma thought to pity his first partner that he didn’t have the same ability to just sit and stare at his own mark.

The moment passed quickly. Kakashi was a sappy guy under the front he put up for others but he wasn’t quite that sentimental. Which was good. Sometimes Genma needed a little help tossing out his old ripped clothing because those shirts had been with him through so many missions they almost felt like friends.

“Oh.” The breathy whisper of Sakura’s voice brought him back from whatever tangents his brain had been trying to distract him with. “I...both of you!?”

“Maa, sorry about that,” Kakashi offered sheepishly.

“Don’t be- you- and you- and you think I need you to say sorry?”

“I’ve been chipping away at those self esteem issues for years, trust me. Might be nice to have some help with that.” Genma chuckled to cover his nerves. “Seriously though, you don’t mind do you? We’re both maybe a bit old for you but we’ve been keeping a spot on the couch warm for whenever we found you. If you need some time to think about it that’s okay. Just, ah, just know that, um…”

He was cut off from having to finish that thought by deceptively slim arms throwing themselves around his neck. Genma closed his eyes and reveled in the instant familiarity until Kakashi very shyly pressed himself in from behind and then that was it. They were complete. It would have been impossible to find words to describe the difference but it was there and Genma was just as happy to feel it instead of talking about it. After all this time they had found her, the missing piece in the beautiful puzzle of their bond.

“Who needs time?” Sakura mumbled against his neck. “I’ve got so much to catch up on.”

“Later,” Kakashi insisted very quietly.

It wasn’t hard to guess his meaning. Genma smiled when he felt one of Sakura’s arms tighten around him even as the other let go to reach for Kakashi, all three woven together exactly as they were always meant to be. This, he decided, was one of the better things the universe had created. He might give fate a hard time for all the shit it had thrown at them over the years but it had always been clear to him that this right here, the three of them together, this would always be worth it.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #kakasakugen #kakashi #sakura #genma #fanfiction

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donteattheappleshook · 5 years ago

Text

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 12/14

Ready to find out what happened between Emma and Killian five years ago?

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4 for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. This story exists because of and is dedicated to you! (Thanks for the support even though I keep making you angry with all the angst!)

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 12 - Falling Slowly

Well, you have suffered enough / And warred with yourself / It's time that you won / Take this sinking boat and point it home / We've still got time

Five years ago

Killian burst into Liam’s room, ignoring the way his brother cursed, the way Belle shouted at him to 'get the hell out', 'what time is it?'. He didn’t care. He walked up to the hotel room bed and threw the sheet music onto their annoyed, half-asleep forms.

“What the fuck is this?” Liam demanded, picking up the pages and frowning at him, looking like he was a second away from murdering him.

“A song,” Killian said. He couldn’t contain his grin, he was too happy. His heart was light, his chest full in the best way, every one of his muscles was singing with excitement and adrenaline.

“I can bloody well see that,” Liam snapped. “But why do you feel the need to throw it at me at -” he looked at the clock beside him. “For fuck’s sake, Killian, six in the morning?”

“I couldn't sleep,” he told them. He’d been up all night, too happy, too ansty, lyrics and music dancing around in his head, begging to be written, filling him with the kind of joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So you decided none of us should?” It was Belle this time and she sounded just as annoyed as his brother, like she wanted him dead - and she was more likely to do it, he mused.

“I think this could be it,” he said. “I think this could be that hit that the producer was looking for.”

They’d been approached by a music producer, an agent who was interested in them, liked their sound, liked their vibe. But he’d said there was something missing. They needed something more, a real hit, something that would pull at heartstrings and make people want to dance and cover it and would make critics sing its praises as ‘real music’.

It had been a ridiculously high, stupid bar to set, one they thought was impossible, and Killian didn’t want to toot his own horn but he was pretty sure he’d done it - somehow. Not somehow, he knew exactly how.

Liam looked at the pages in his hand and Killian saw the moment his expression turned from annoyed to impressed, to hopeful. He handed the pages to Belle. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blonde woman who lured you off the stage last night would it?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“It has everything to do with her,” he answered honestly. It did. She… Emma, even thinking about her sent a thrill through him, made his heart pound, made his breath catch. She’d come into his life out of nowhere, had brightened it, had made him suddenly want to write again, had made him want to love again. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of it again, not after Milah. But between the car and the bar and being with her in that dressing room, her promising to meet him today… it gave him hope. Hope that he could love again, hope that he wasn’t broken, that he would find that happiness again, the one he thought he’d lost forever.

It was far too soon, far too quick, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. The second he’d seen her there, angry and glaring at the road and then the way her whole face had lit up, the way she’d smiled at him on the dance floor, the way she’d touched him, the way she’d challenged him, the way she’d responded to him when they were together. He just - he knew. It was as simple as that. He knew that he could love her and that if he did, he would love her forever.

Liam was eyeing him warily. “Be careful, Killian.”

Killian ignored him. He didn’t have time for Liam’s pessimism, for his caution. He’d spent enough time being cautious, enough time guarding his heart. It was time to let himself believe that he could have love again, to let himself believe that he deserved it.

“I’ve gotta go,” he told him, dismissing his warning with a wave of his hand. “Share that with the guys, will you? I’ll see you at the show tonight."

“Where are you going?” Liam demanded.

Killian smiled. “I’ve got a date!” He slammed the door behind him.

He was early. Way too early. His date wasn’t until noon. He circled the block a few times, walked through the streets of New York, got to know them a little, but he couldn’t let himself stray too far. What if she arrived early too and got scared and changed her mind? So he stayed near, circling, until finally, at 8 he gave up and went inside the cafe. Whatever, he would order a dozen coffees and wait around until noon. He didn’t care. He was too nervous.

His leg bounced under him as his mind raced, remembering the night before, remembering the way she’d felt in his arms and under his hands but also, more than that, the way she’d smiled at him up on stage, the way she’d laughed at him in the car, the way she’d danced with him, the way she’d kissed him before leaving last night.

He got up, asked the barista if he could have some paper and a pen. She handed him some old order sheets, blank on one side and a sparkly pink pen, apologizing and saying it was the only one she could find.

“It’s perfect,” he told her. The smile she gave him was shy and a little flirtatious. If it had been any other day, any other morning before this one, he’d have flirted with her, smiled at her and maybe even asked for her number. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not when he knew that any minute - any hour, he reminded himself - Emma would walk through that door.

He returned to his table with another coffee - that was probably a bad idea considering the jitters that were already running through his system, but he liked it, liked this excitement and anxiety - the good kind, the kind he hadn’t felt in years. He wrote. He was having trouble stopping. He thought of her, of her forwardness and her brazenness and how strong she’d been and the tiny, miniscule bit of vulnerability he’d been allowed to see, thought of the shade of her hair and the curve of her face and he wrote.

He wrote three more songs before he looked up, the bell above the door ringing as someone walked in. It wasn’t her. That was okay, it was still only 11:30. He looked at his phone. He wished he’d gotten her number - idiot, he thought. But she had his. He waited, doodling on the edges of the page.

11:45. 12:00. 12:15. He checked his phone again. She had his number. Would she call if she was running late? 12:30. 1:00. 1:30. The energy that had been rushing through him started to diffuse, like air from a balloon. 2 oclock. Dozens of people came in and out of the shop, the barista brought him more coffees and with each one her smile grew sadder, sympathy clear on her lips. Was it that obvious? Was it written across his face that he was waiting for someone, someone who wasn’t showing up.

He made excuses, she’d gotten lost, she’d gone to the wrong coffee shop, she’d had to leave early… but she didn’t call, she didn’t text. He waited another two hours, and then another two more. At six oclock, he finally gave up, crumpling the bits of paper, the songs, in his fist. He walked over to the barista again, handed them to her.

“Throw this out for me would you?” he asked before walking out the door.

Present Day

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to avoid waking up as long as possible. Her head hurt, she had expected that, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. No, that wasn’t what was worrying her about waking up. What was worrying her was the leather that was under her cheek, sticking to her face and probably leaving creases, and the warm breath on the back of her neck, the arm slung heavy across her waist.

Killian. He was still here. She couldn’t understand how he hadn’t run away after her embarrassing display last night, after she shunned him then tried to molest him and then dumped all of her emotional baggage on him. But she knew he couldn’t stay. There was no way anyone would stay after that - not for her, never for her.

If she shut her eyes, forced herself back to sleep then she wouldn’t have to be awake for the moment when he eventually woke up, realised what a terrible, terrible mistake he’d made getting involved with a mess like her and snuck out of his own room and out of her life. She was used to that, used to being left behind. She’d survived it with Neal and she would - probably - survive it with Killian. Probably not, but she’d have to.

She felt him stir behind her, heard his sharp intake of breath as he froze for a moment. Here we go, she thought. He breathed out heavily, the sound relieved, his muscles relaxing. The arm that was around her waist tightened a fraction and her eyes blinked open. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he bolting? She’d given him every reason to. His nose buried into her hair, he pressed his lips to her neck and she turned in his arms, frowning at his still half-asleep face. He smiled at her, one of those big, almost disbelieving smiles that made his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“You stayed,” he said and her heart started to race in her chest.

“I stayed?” she asked in disbelief. She stayed? Why wouldn’t she stay?

“I worried that you’d… regret what you said last night.” His eyes widened then. “Do you remember what you said?”

Did she remember? Did he? She’d poured her goddamn heart out to him last night, told him she wanted to be with him, told him all of her damage and her baggage and her fears… why had he stayed? Her chest tightened.

“I remember,” she said and the look of relief that crossed his face was a little heartbreaking. But so was the insecurity, the doubt.

“Emma, if you didn’t mean it - if you’ve changed your mind I-” He was giving her an out, she could tell. Maybe she should have jumped on it, taken it as a chance to run, to get away from this terrifying situation, from the possibility of letting herself love him and of letting herself be hurt. But he stayed. He stayed despite all the terrible things he’d learned about her and now he was afraid that she’d regret it, that she’d run.

She couldn’t blame him. She’d given him plenty of reasons to think she would. And that was when she realised… he hadn’t given her any reason to think he would run. He’d stayed tonight, yes, but he’d also stayed despite all the times she’d pushed him away since they met again two months ago. He stayed despite the fact that she’d run once before. She was an idiot. How in the hell had she ever doubted him?

“I don’t regret it,” she said and the worry left his eyes so quickly that it hurt, but it also made her smile a little, the corner of her mouth turning up as his did.

“And, um,” he scratched that spot behind his ear. “Do you remember what I said?”

She nodded, could feel her cheeks warming. “You said you were in this for the long haul.” He looked shy, still that bit of uncertainty but he met her eyes with an earnestness that sent her blood racing.

“I mean it, Emma,” he promised. “I want this. I want you. If you don’t, please tell me now because I don’t think I could take it if you changed your mind.”

“Warts and all?” she asked, only half-joking.

He laughed. “Warts and all.”

“You don’t…” It was getting harder to look at him so she settled for looking at his chest instead, fiddled with the pendants hanging there. “... mind them?” she finished lamely.

“I like your warts,” he said.

“Ew.”

He poked her in the side and she squirmed away. He didn’t let her go though. “I mean, that your past doesn’t scare me. I’m honored that you shared it with me. All it is is another part of you, another part of what made you who you are… and I’m quite fond of that woman.”

She smiled, finally meeting his eyes again. He wasn’t lying. “I…” Ugh. Words. “I like your warts too.”

He gave her an amused, affectionate grin. “Then are we doing this? Are we trying?”

She nodded, not wanting to stumble over words anymore and brought his face to hers. She kissed him and his hand came to her cheek, his touch gentle and sweet and she could feel his lips curling under her own. When she pulled back there was an expression she couldn’t read on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“I just - I was so afraid that you’d run again,” he confessed and the words were like a lead weight on her heart. He had every right to think that. But she’d run so many times in her life, not just from him, from everyone. And she was tired of it. She’d always been willing to lose the things she ran from before. But not now, not him.

“I already made that mistake once,” she said and she heard his intake of breath. They hadn’t ever talked about it, he hadn’t brought it up, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hang over them like some giant betrayal, a giant broken promise that gave him every right to doubt her, to never believe a thing she said again.

“Five years ago I-”

“Emma,” he said and she knew he was going to let her get away with it, dismiss it. But she couldn’t let him. He deserved better.

“No, let me finish. Five years ago I got scared because I was afraid of how much I liked you - even back then. And all I’ve ever done was run, so I ran away and I’m sorry. I don’t want to do that again.” She turned her eyes to him and he was looking at her with that softness that was so often on his face when he looked at her, when she tried to talk about her feelings - poorly. “I regretted it, you know. The second I got home.”

He gave her a surprised, hesitant smile, his eyebrow ticking up, and then kissed her again. “I forgive you,” he told her, because he knew that’s what she needed to hear. She took a moment to once again be amazed by how well he understood her.

“But, um,” he cleared his throat. “Now I’ll have to ask you to forgive me as well.” She looked at him in surprise - what could he possibly have to apologize for? “I broke our agreement.”

She raised a brow at him. “What agreement?”

“I wrote a song about you.” A smile tugged at her lips and she watched as the hesitation on his face turned to relief and then a little bit of that teasing glint she liked so much. “In my defence, I wrote it before we agreed to those terms.”

“When did you write it?” she asked, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“Five years ago.” He looked at her nervously and she smiled, feeling almost shy but her heart raced in her chest, hoping she was right, a little afraid that she was right, but choosing hope, choosing happiness over the fear.

“Liam didn’t write your first hit, did he?”

“He wishes.”

She laughed and could feel the warmth spreading through her as he gave her another one of those smiles.

“Well, I guess you’re forgiven since you didn’t technically break the rules,” she allowed. He rolled them over suddenly and she was on her back with him hovering over her, his face bright and happy.

“I hope you’re in a forgiving mood then, because I’ve written about six more since.”

She laughed even as he brought his mouth down over hers and she reached for his shirt, pulling him down so she could wrap her arms around him and so that he could kiss her properly like he’d refused to last night. She moved to wrap her legs around his and squealed as she nearly had her toes squished.

“Are you wearing shoes in my bed?” she demanded, realising that he was still dressed in his coat and his boots.

“If you recall, you lured me into your bed last night fully clothed.” She scoffed, lured.

“Take those off. You’ll get the sheets dirty.”

He sighed dramatically, making a show of rolling his eyes.

“And so it begins. We’ve only been dating ten minutes and you’re already telling me what to do?”

She didn’t bother to hide her smile at the casual way he said ‘dating’. She couldn’t have if she wanted to. She liked the way it sounded way, way too much. He conceded though and rolled back off of her, onto his back so he could kick them off. He threw her a mischievous grin, one eyebrow raised as he looked at her over his shoulder. “Anything else you’d like me to remove while I’m at it?”

She wanted to laugh but stopped herself, cocking her head at him instead. She turned onto her side, propping her head up on her knuckles. “Well, that jacket feels a little overdressed,” she said casually. The smirk he gave her was sinful before he shrugged it off his shoulders.

“Better?” She raised one shoulder dismissively. “What?”

“I’ve never been a fan of that shirt, honestly.” That was a lie. He looked really, really good in that shirt. But he would look much better out of it.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, pulling at the front and glancing down at it. She bit her lip to hide her smile as he pulled it over his head, messing his hair up in the best way.

“Much better,” she said as she reached for his belt and used it to drag him back over to her. He laughed at her that way that he always did when she got a little eager - and she was eager. It was hard not to be when he looked like that and he went around talking about how they were dating and how he was in this for the long haul.

He didn’t get to say anything as she got up on her knees with him and slanted her lips over his, grabbing hold of that soft, lovely hair and holding him against her. He was happy to comply, his hands coming to her back, sliding under her shirt, his fingers warm against her skin and causing goosebumps to break out where he touched her.

She pushed her hips against him, wanting him closer, needing that confirmation that he wanted her as much as she did him and he groaned, hands sliding down to her ass, squeezing and pulling her against his already hardening erection. Lust shot through her and she pushed him down onto his back, and threw a leg over his hips so that she could sit astride him.

“You’re being very pushy,” he commented, an amused smile on his lips.

“Aren’t girlfriends allowed to be?” she teased and her heart stopped when his brows shot up.

“Girlfriends?” he asked and she felt her face flush.

“Shut up,” she said, leaning down and sealing her lips to his so that he couldn’t make another teasing remark if he tried. He groaned under her, his hand finding its way back to her ass and the other into her hair as he very happily let her keep him quiet. “I like it,” he said as she moved to trail kisses down his neck, his breath hitching when she reached a particularly sensitive spot. His fingers had found their way under the material of her panties, inching closer and closer to where she was already desperate for him.

“What’s that?” she asked, growing more confident as his breathing continued to become more laboured under her mouth on his neck and her hands on his chest, his stomach, his hips. “Me calling myself your girlfriend or me being pushy?”

He let out a choked sound when her hands reached a little lower. “Both,” he said, the word caught in his throat. Oh really? she thought. That could be fun. His hands came up to her sides, one wrapping around her waist as he started to sit up, probably to flip them over but she stopped him.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down against the pillows. “No,” she said, holding him down to make sure he’d stay there. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, in challenge really and she held firm until he conceded, dropping his hands back to his sides.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want him in control - she loved it really. But he was always taking care of her, always putting her first, generous and considerate. And last night he’d taken care of her in a whole new way, one she wasn’t used to. She couldn’t return that favor now in kind but she could certainly return it in other ways - thank him in other ways. She needed to remember to put him first sometimes. That was part of being a girlfriend right?

Right now though, all she could focus on was the way he was watching her, with nervous excitement and desire. And on the length of him hard under his jeans, pressed against her where their hips met - she was pretty focused on that too.

She pulled her shirt over her head, mostly so that she could watch the way his eyes darkened, the way his teeth bit down on his lip and his hips pushed up against hers just a fraction. His hand came up to reach for her and she smacked it away nearly laughing as he pouted. He looked like he was gonna say something, like he was gonna change his mind about liking her pushy, but she rolled her hips over his and his head fell back and then he didn’t look like he could think much of anything, let alone say it.

She did it a few more times, revelled in the way he cursed softly under his breath, and she fought the urge to just rip his pants off now and let him sink into her. She leaned down, not stopping the motion of her hips, a slow, steady grind as she restarted her assault on his neck, licking and sucking and nipping at the skin there until he swore again.

She trailed her lips down his chest, finally having to stop rocking against him so that she could slide down lower, press open mouth kisses to the spot under his belly button, to each of his hip bones. He really had a habit of wearing his pants ridiculously low. She could see his hands fisting at his sides, his knuckles white, his chest heaving as she teased the skin above the denim waistband. She looked up at him coyly and a thrill ran through her. He looked wrecked and she’d barely even started.

“I don’t know if I’m crazy about these jeans either,” she said casually as she trailed a finger over them, over the hard ridge of him pressing against the material.

“Get rid of them,” he insisted and the desperation and the urgency in his voice made her laugh. Apparently he’d lost the ability to banter back. She waited, ran her hand over him a few more times, barely touching, light enough to nearly drive him crazy as she watched his jaw clench. “Swan, please,” he whined and she took pity on him. She was supposed to be thanking him after all.

She undid the buckle of his belt and the button of his jeans, slid the zipper down until she could see him, spilling out of his pants, hard and straining. Fucking hell.

“Emma w-” his words caught in his throat, turning into a strangled moan when she dragged her tongue along the length of him. “Fuck,” he panted, hand coming up to fist in her hair. She loved seeing him like this, seeing him desperate and needy and out of control. He had her like this so often - it was nice to be reminded that she had the same effect on him.

She slid his pants further down his legs, enough so that she could take hold of him. She waited, her mouth a breath away until he looked at her. She felt a stirring in her gut both at the way he looked at her and at the words she was about to say. “You were a real gentleman last night,” she told him, her hand sliding slowly up and down. “You took such good care of me.” She sped up the pace, watched as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “But you’re not gonna be now,” she said and his eyes snapped open, widened as he stared at her. “You’re gonna sit there and watch while I suck you off. You’re gonna let me take care of you.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” he groaned and his words sent a fresh wave of lust and heat to her core, had her pressing her thighs together to try relieve the ache. She kept up the movement of her hand, brought him to her lips as she watched him watch her, saw the heady desire in his eyes.

“Got it?” she asked, waiting for an answer before she did anything, before she gave him what he wanted.

“Yes,” he cried, half whisper, half moan and she took him into her mouth. “Fuck. Fuck,” he called out as she licked and sucked at him, taking more of him in before pulling back and swirling her tongue around the head of him. His hand fisted in her hair, hard enough to hurt and she felt a sort of pride at reducing the eloquent Killian Jones to a few monosyllables and curses.

God, she wanted him. But this wasn’t about her. Well, it was a tiny bit, she mused as she looked up again to see his eyes fixed on her, to see the way he was staring at her like she was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. It made her feel like she was, and to know how much he wanted her, how good she could make him feel was a heady combination.

She’d kept her pace fairly slow, drawing it out until she heard his whimpered “Emma, Emma please. I need -” He hadn’t finished his sentence, his eyes screwing shut and his mouth falling open as he gasped, his hand pulling at her hair now. She gave in, she’d teased him enough. She pulled him deeper into her mouth, hollowed her cheeks as she sucked and bobbed her head faster, letting him sink further with each drag.

He was still watching, still doing his best to anyway, but his eyes kept screwing shut, his lids heavy when they were open as his breathing became more erratic. She felt his hips thrust up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat before he caught himself. She thrilled that he’d lost control, even if just for a second.

“Fuck, Swan, yes. Gods, you feel so good,” he rambled desperately. She loved how vocal he was. Even that first time, the way he spoke, the dirty, filthy things he let roll off his tongue while he fucked her had turned her on more than anyone had managed to before. “I want to -” he stopped, swallowed the words. She pulled back, let her hand take over, kept up the pace as she looked at him.

“You want to what?” she insisted, refusing to give him back her mouth until he answered, despite the subtle way his hand in her hair kept trying to nudge her back. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, I want to come in your mouth,” he cried. “I want to come down your throat and feel you swallow it.” Emma moaned, she actually moaned, his words sending a wave of heat straight to her clit, a fresh shock of desire soaking the fabric of her underwear. She’d done it. She’d conquered the gentleman.

He was looking at her, waiting, his face starting to look nervous, shocked like he couldn’t believe what he’d said. She brought his cock to her lips and let her tongue dart out, meeting his eye as she swiped over the tip, watching the way his darkened before she slid her mouth back over him, sucking and licking and pumping, setting a punishing pace.

She could feel how close he was, felt him harden and swell under her tongue and she pushed forward, let him sink to the back of her throat, hit it once, twice before he came with a hoarse shout, holding her against him for just a fraction of a second too long as his whole body tensed before he relaxed and his hand fell from her hair.

She released him, smiling proudly as she rolled over onto the bed beside him looking over at where he was laying. He looked absolutely ruined, naked and panting with his head still thrown back against the pillow, eyes shut tight and breath passing roughly through his parted lips. She loved how he looked when he was like this. He was gorgeous, indecent and rakish and she bit her lip, thighs rubbing together to try and calm the ache his appearance stirred in her. Maybe that hadn’t totally made them even for him punching Neal in the face for her and taking care of her all night, but she thought it was pretty fucking close.

He looked over at her finally, his head flopping over onto its side against the pillow, his eyes only half open. “That was…”

She raised an eyebrow teasingly at him. “Oh, I could tell.”

He reached for her weakly and she let him pull her to him, let him catch her lip between his, open under her and let his tongue slide slowly and lazy over her own. “You’re amazing,” he sighed as he pulled back and she laughed against his next kiss. Sated Killian was absolutely adorable and she’d only just begun to realise it, had only just started to stick around long enough to see him in his soft, almost drunken glory.

She’d been an idiot, missing out on so many things because she was scared, missing out on getting to know him, on seeing all these new sides of him. She liked every new bit that he revealed to her. And the bits she wasn’t crazy about, she still found endearing because they were uniquely him, because they made up the man that she’d finally allowed herself to admit she wanted in her life - indefinitely.

His kiss became more insistent, the hand on her cheek tilting her face, letting him open her mouth wider under his, his tongue tasting and exploring her mouth with deep, deliberate strokes and she moaned against his lips. He rolled her onto her back before she knew what was happening, his hand sliding down to her breast, teasing her nipple into a stiff peak as she whimpered and arched into his touch. She felt his smile against her lips just before he pulled away to pay attention to her neck.

“Killian, you don’t -” she tried to say but she was cut off by the gasped ‘oh’ that left her when his fingers trailed down, his mouth taking their place over her breast, rolling the rosy bud under his tongue. “You don’t have to,” she managed to force the words out. “That’s not what this was about,” she tried to explain.

“Hush, Swan,” he said, his fingers trailing over her hip now, groping at her ass sliding under the fabric, nails biting briefly at her flesh before trailing back around to the front, toying with the elastic. “This is what boyfriends do,” he said seriously, but she could feel his smile against her skin and her heartbeat picked up at the word ‘boyfriend’. She felt like a high schooler but in the absolute best way. Her heart practically stopped when his fingers dipped down into her panties, to where she was already hot and desperate for his touch.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he cursed. “You’re soaked.” She could only nod, tongue coming out to wet her lip when he teased her entrance, then slid slippery fingers up to her sensitive nub, circling it slowly. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked with awe and lust heavy in his voice as he continued his feather-light touch. She squirmed against him. “Did you enjoy sucking me off? Making me beg you for more? Making me come down your throat? Did it turn you on?”

“Yes,” she breathed desperately and he rewarded her with more pressure, making her cry out against his skilled ministrations. She was already rolling her hips against his fingers wantonly, seconds after he’d started touching her. She couldn’t help it, making him fall apart had brought her so close to the edge already. He let her ride his hand for another moment, growling low under his breath, before he slipped out of her panties and she cried out in protest.

“I think it’s only fair,” he said, settling into the open space between her thighs. “That since you got to taste me,” he gripped the fabric at her hips, slid it down past her ankles. Her heart was pounding against her ribs in anticipation, at the look in his eyes - like he wanted to eat her alive. “I should get to taste you.”

Fucking yes, she wanted to scream but it was swallowed by a gasp as his lips closed over her, pulling her clit into his mouth with no preamble. Holy shit, she was going to come right here and now if he kept that up. His tongue flicked out, teasing the nub with a few, quick strokes before he released it, his mouth opening hot over her core and she didn’t know whether to moan in frustration or in pleasure.

He licked her slowly, bottom to top, once, twice, before sliding his tongue into her, thrusting and curling against her walls. “Jesus Christ,” she cursed and he groaned appreciatively against her, the feeling vibrating through her core and sending a fresh wave of heat and slickness between her thighs. He groaned again.

She couldn’t take it. She needed to come. She was too wound up, too high, too close. She couldn’t take the teasing. “Please,” she begged, hoping he’d take pity on her like she had on him. He pressed another hot, open-mouthed kiss against her before finding her clit again, pulling it between his lips and sucking as he pushed one finger and then another inside of her.

“Yes,” she sobbed as he found the perfect rhythm, the way he always did, the steady rocking of his fingers and the pulsing against her sensitive nerves driving her higher and higher. She grabbed for his hair, needing to hold onto him, needing something to ground her to reality. “Don’t stop,” she begged between frantic gasps and cries. He redoubled his efforts, increasing the speed of his fingers, sucking harder, curling, licking, flicking, and she broke, her whole body convulsing, her thighs gripping the sides of his head, a shout bursting from her as the world went silent for a moment. The only thing that existed was the feel of his mouth on her and the shudders wracking through her.

He eased her down, slowing his caresses until her aftershocks subsided and she melted against the mattress in a boneless heap. She laughed, a disbelieving, weak sound leaving her. She’d heard that sex got better when there were feelings involved but she’d always thought that was a load of bull. But now, ever since that night a week ago where she’d decided to try, each time they were together was more intense, more powerful, more earth-shattering. And this time - Jesus fucking christ she had not been prepared for this time.

“That was...” she rasped, mirroring his words from earlier.

“I know,” he said and she looked down to see him smirking, cocky and smug. He crawled back up, wiped his mouth with a tissue and pulled her in for a sweet kiss before tucking her against his chest. “You know, I think I’m gonna like this boyfriend thing,” he mused. She smacked his chest lightly and he laughed. He was right though. She was definitely already liking it.

She hitched a leg over his hip and smiled when he grunted, feeling him stir against her. “How late are we for breakfast?” she asked, knowing that their friends would likely be waiting for them downstairs as they did most mornings so they could all eat together in the hotel restaurant.

“A bit,” he admitted. “I’m sure they’ll understand though that last night was -”

“No, you misunderstood me,” she interrupted him, grabbing his bicep and pulling to roll him over on top of her again. “How late do you think we can get away with being for breakfast?” His grin matched hers as he leaned down to kiss her again.

***

They missed breakfast. They arrived in the hotel dining room just as their friends were heading back to their rooms to get ready to board the bus in an hour. They had a three hour drive, a sound check, a little downtime to settle into their hotel, and then a show at eight. Emma didn’t notice the nervous, concerned glances Mary Margaret and Ruby shot her when she walked in - or the way they changed to shock when they saw her smile, her hand clasped firmly in Killian’s. Mary Margaret’s mouth hung open in disbelief, looking quickly back and forth between the two of them. Ruby’s grin was wicked, pleased and knowing.

“If it isn’t our new celebrity,” Liam exclaimed as they reached them. Killian rolled his eyes, waiting for whatever his brother was building up to. “Congratulations on going viral,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “And twice in one night, too.”

‘What are you talking about, brother,” he sighed, but Emma knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he was pretending to be, he was too happy - she could tell, she was too.

Liam handed over his phone to show him two articles, one after the other. The first was a rumor about them, a suspicion that they were together, with photos of them singing last night, a picture of them with their arms around each other. The second article was about the party, with photos clearly taken on someone’s phone, of him knocking Neal out. Emma tried not to smile at the way Neal was referred to as ‘a one-hit wonder who had been mostly absent from the music scene after his second album failed to live up to his debut’.

“You’re trending on Twitter,” Liam told him scornfully.

“And instagram! And Tik Tok,” David added with more excitement. “There’s a looped video of you knocking him out - they set it to music. Here, look, it’s pretty great.” David moved to show him but Liam stopped him, displeased.

“Lighten up, Liam,” Killian said. “You’re just jealous that I’m going to have the ‘bad boy’ rep in the band now and not you. Besides,” he added. “He deserved it.”

Some of the anger left Liam’s face then, his eyes flickered briefly to Emma. “Yes, I know.” Her heart swelled a little. She knew that her friends must have told him some version of what happened with Neal, but to see Liam support her was… kind of touching. Liam was fairly aloof. It was nice to know he cared.

She looked around to see the others wearing similar expressions and she realised then how much she’d gained when she agreed to go on this little adventure. She’d found Killian, but she’d also gained three brothers, and another sister in Belle. She loved this little makeshift family they’d created (albeit a fairly incestuous one) but she loved them and she planned to hold on to them.

“I wish I’d done it,” Ruby muttered. She looked at Killian then. “But I’m glad you did. That was very cool of you.” A look passed between them, some sort of unspoken understanding and Emma wondered what secret they had, what score had been settled.

“We should get going,” Belle said, glancing at her watch and they all nodded in agreement. Emma’s stomach growled. Not having eaten since before the show last night and having consumed an entire bottle of whiskey leaving her hungry and desperate for something unhealthy. Killian glanced around the room and grabbed a couple of pastries before they were put away, snuck them quickly out into the lobby with their friends. He handed her one. She smiled and thanked him as they walked, their arms bumping against one another, far closer together than was necessary.

“So are you two together now?” Graham asked when they reached the elevators. The others didn’t say anything, but Emma could see them all watching them out of the corner of their eyes.

“Are you?” Killian shot back, looking between him and Ruby with a raised brow. She knew what he was doing, knew he was still trying to protect her, not wanting to announce their newfound relationship before she was ready. But she was ready. She’d kept him a secret too long. It wasn’t fair to him. She wanted them to know.

Graham grinned. “I asked you first.”

“Yes,” Emma said and watched as seven pairs of eyes widened in shock - Killian’s included. She shrugged them off, taking a bite of her pastry. She felt Killian’s smile pressed against the crown of her head, his arms slipping around her waist.

“Oh god, it was bad enough when they were hiding it,” Ruby groaned. “They’re gonna be insufferable now.”

Emma glared at her but it was half-hearted, the grin pulling at her lips much stronger.

***

They had just finished their set, Ruby, Mary Margaret and Emma all taking their bows and shouting their thanks at the cheering crowd. Emma smiled at her friends. They all had equally massive grins on their faces. Each show they played they had a bigger round of applause. Each time they were up there, there were more people in the stands, people coming to see them rather than only to see Abandon Ship! and tolerating the opening act. There had been signs today in the stands, signs with her name on them, with Ruby’s and with Mary Margarets, decorated with hearts and catchy slogans and drawings of swans. This was really happening. They’d really made it.

They said one final farewell and rushed off the stage, hearts racing and adrenaline singing in their veins. The cheers continued, they usually did, people now warmed up and ready for the main act. She found Belle waiting for them on the side of the stage, a wide smile on her face.

“I think they’re ready for the guys,” Ruby laughed.

Belle shook her head. “Listen.” They looked back towards the stage, paid attention to the cries and the cheers. It wasn’t for Abandon Ship! - it was for them. They were screaming her name, demanding another song. Her jaw dropped as she turned to the other women.

“What do we do?” she asked and Belle’s brow quirked up.

“You go back out there and give the people what they want,” she said.

“Our first encore,” Mary Margaret squealed. “How exciting!”

“What do ya say, Em?” Ruby asked. Emma nodded but paused, her friends watching her eagerly.

“Do you think… look maybe this isn’t the best time to go up there and improvise but do you think we could try something new? Do you think you guys could follow me?” she hesitated. It was a big ask, risking their first encore for her to take a chance and finally, finally put herself out there.

“Fucking absolutely,” Mary Margaret said and Emma’s eyes shot up at her friend’s language.

“What she said,” Ruby laughed. “Just go out there and play. We’ve got your back.”

“Always,” Mary Margaret added.

She was so goddamn lucky. She had the best friends - the best family - she could ever ask for. She grabbed both their hands, felt them squeeze hers tightly and together they walked back on the stage. Emma sat down, picking up her guitar - one of those acoustic-electric ones she was so fond of, and looked back at her band. They were ready, instrument and sticks in hand. They offered her reassuring nods.

“Thanks for that,” she said into the mic and the crowd cheered loudly. She smiled. Sometimes she understood why Killian hamed it up so much up here. She didn’t have that in her though. “If um,” she hesitated. “If it’s alright with you I’d like to try something new.” Another collective cheer. “I’ve never played this before for anyone -” she looked back at the girls. “We’ve never even played this one together so, uh, bear with us,” she joked. The crowd erupted again when she started strumming.

This was it. She could do this. It was time to put her money where her mouth was and finally play something real - something scary and vulnerable and so goddamn terrifying, but she needed to. And she knew he would hear it - knew that the sounds from the stage travelled to the dressing room where he and the boys were getting ready - knew that he’d hear it and that he’d know - he wasn’t the only one who’d broken their rule.

She thought of him when she sang and it made her feel braver. She’d thought of playing the one they wrote together - the first one - but she’d changed her mind. She didn’t want the first real, honest song she played on stage to be about Neal - he didn’t deserve that. Killian did. Ruby and Mary Margaret joined in after the first chorus, always able to read her so well, and that made her braver too. She didn’t have to feel vulnerable on stage because she wasn’t alone. She had backup. She had family.

The crowd was dead silent for a moment when they finished and Emma’s heart hung somewhere in her throat, waiting, terrified to see if they would like this as much as they liked what she’d played before, if it was enough. The screams filled her ears, a roar that went through the room, echoing across the stadium, blending into a single, booming sound that seemed to go on forever. Ruby and Mary Margaret joined her, wrapped their arms around her and thanked the crowd, their voices barely heard over the noise despite their microphones. She was too stunned to say anything, her eyes stung.

They left the stage and it was a moment before she could hear her friends’ voices - over the crowd yes, but also over the blood rushing in her ears.

“That was amazing, Emma,” Ruby hugged her. Mary Margaret joined in from the other side, sandwiching her between them so that she could barely breathe. She laughed, tears still wetting her eyes but with joy, with excitement. They’d liked it. They’d liked her music - liked the real her and she could feel that thought swelling in her chest, opening it, like all the doubts and the fears she’d kept locked away in there to protect herself were finally being set free - she didn’t need them anymore.

“Have you found him?” she heard Liam’s voice saying, a little frantic, almost scared.

“No,” Belle said, her voice equally worried. “Graham’s got people searching the whole building and David’s checking out back in the alleys in case he stepped out. Emma’s heart seized. Belle, Liam, Graham, David. That left only one person. Where was Killian?

“What’s going on?” she asked and Liam turned to her, his face hesitant, like he didn’t want to tell her and it scared her because she knew that look. That was the look people gave when they were protecting someone, when answering your question put someone else at risk. After a moment he sighed, still looking panicked. “Killian’s missing.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t in the dressing room. We thought he was out here watching you play but he’s not. Nobody’s seen him in over an hour when he got a phone call and stepped out to take it.”

“Has he done this before?” Emma asked, her heart now pounding heavily in her chest thinking of all the places he could be, all the terrible things that could have happened.

Liam winced and nodded. “The last time he did this... We found him a week later. He’d gone on a bender. He didn’t even remember where he’d been.” He hesitated, like he was worried whatever he said next could upset her. “Did anything happen last night? Or this morning? Anything that could have set him off?”

She wanted to be sick. Was this because of them? She knew Killian had his own issues, his own baggage. But he was so carefree, so lighthearted and so kind that sometimes she forgot about the darkness he had inside of him - about what he’d lived through. She worried that maybe he’d acted the way she had in the past - sabotaged something good because he was too afraid of it, because he didn’t think he deserved it.

“We need to find him,” she said. Liam nodded and they all grabbed their coats.

“Belle, stall as long as you can,” Liam told her. “If we’re not back in thirty minutes… cancel the show.” Belle understood, agreed, Emma saw her squeeze his hand tightly, reassuringly before he left.

“Find him,” she said.

They searched for over two hours. Looked in every hotel and bar they could find, called his phone, called the police, called the hospital. Liam even called a couple of local AA meetings. Nobody had seen him. The show was cancelled but that was the least of her worries. She needed to find him. She needed him to be safe and with each passing second she imagined worse and worse fates that might have befallen him.

She was the one to find him, in a bar nearly ten miles away from the venue. He must have walked there. She felt a fist gripping her heart, trying to pull it out of her chest when she saw him. He was sitting at the counter, a bottle of rum and an empty glass on the table in front of him. She pulled out her phone, texted Liam who said he’d be there in ten. She approached him slowly and felt the grip loosen when she saw that the bottle was still sealed.

“Killian?” she asked and he started, turned to look at her. His expression relaxed when he recognized her. He looked angry - he looked heartbroken, defeated, and sad, but the anger simmered under the surface. She sat next to him, reeling at how familiar this scene was, how quickly their roles had reversed. He had the glass between his fingers now, was glaring at the bottle and she couldn’t tell which pull was stronger - how much he wanted it or how much he hated it.

“What happened?” she asked and he didn’t answer for a long while, his fingers playing along the edge of the glass. At least he’d started focusing on it now and not the bottle. When he finally spoke his voice was hollow, even the rage gone from it now.

“Gold,” he said and Emma tried not to let the confusion show on her face, wanted him to say what he needed to, to explain. “Milah’s husband. He’s up for early release.” Fuck. She didn’t know how to comfort him, what to do. How do you help someone deal with the man who murdered his love being released from prison?

“Good behaviour,” he scoffed. “What that really means is that he has his hand in enough people’s pocket.” She put her hand on his arm and he finally set the glass down, finally looked at her. “I’m leaving,” he said.

“What?” she asked, hating how small and broken she sounded.

“I’m going back to England. There’s going to be an appeal. Milah didn’t have any other family. There’s nobody else to stand up for her - nobody else to tell people what a monster he was. I need to go back.”

Emma tried not to listen to the voice in her head, the one that repeated over and over: I’m leaving. I’m leaving you. But it only grew louder, more insistent. He hadn’t asked her to come with him, hadn’t needed her help. He was leaving. Just like that. It hurt how easy that decision seemed to be.

She saw Liam and David coming through the door. She stood up, nodding her head, fighting the tears that were burning her eyes and her throat. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t let him see her break, couldn’t make this about her. But she had to get out. She couldn’t stand by to watch him leave her. She deserved this, she figured. She’d left him more than once and karma was a bitch.

She left him there, with his brother and his best friend. He didn’t even try to stop her, didn’t seem to notice her leaving. Ruby and Mary Margaret were outside when she got there. They took one look at her face and wrapped her up in their arms, asking what happened, what was wrong.

“It’s over,” she said. “Everything.” She’d tried. She put herself out there, risked it. And he’d still left. “Let’s just go home. I’m done.”

#of cars and bars #cs fanfiction #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fanfic #cs au #captain swan au #cs smut #captain swan smut #cs angst #captain swan angst

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siempre-pedro · 6 years ago

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My Kid Punched His Kid

Single Dad!Ben Hardy x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: A playground fight between two 8-year-olds bring together 2 lonely single parents.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I’ve wanted to do this for like a month now! Let me know what you think and if you’d like to see part 2? :D

The sun was shining brightly on a nice Sunday afternoon in London. Y/N sat with her iPad in her lap, doodling concepts for a work assignment and taking in the August weather. Grumbles of displeasure fill her ears, her Y/E/C colored eyes peer up from her tablet to her 8-year-old who was staring her mother down with the same colored eyes. “Can I go now?” She asks impatiently as she shoved bites of her pb and j in her small mouth.

“Finish it Abagail,” Y/N tells her.

Abby grimaces when her full first name is said, she starts to chop on thsandwichch faster making Y/N laugh. She crumples the plastic baggie and throws it into the picnic basket. Her mom reaches forward to remove the crumbs off her baby pink shirt “Now?”

“Did you finish your carrots?”

“Mom,” she groans.

“I’m kidding, go, have fun. Don’t break anything,” Y/N warns and shoos her off. Abby grins widely and races towards the large playground shouting a quick thank you. The woman smiles and straightens out the plaid blanket before kicking off her sandals. She checks the playground one last time before getting lost in her work.

She didn’t know how long it had been before she heard a high pitch yell, a chill runs through her body but before she could look up an ever so slightly deeper voice cried out. She automatically pushes her tablet aside and stands up, looking out at the playground, her heart pounding. Abby sits slumped over in the sandbox with tears in her eyes there is also a blonde boy about her age cradling his eye cross from her “Son of a bitch,” Y/N curses before she picks up the fabric to her long leaf patterned dress and racing down the playground.

“Abby are you ok?” She asks worriedly as the small girl stands up and attaches herself to Y/N’s leg. She looks down and inspects her face, a little dirty but no scratches.

“What happened?” A man voice asks worriedly. Y/N looks up and sees a blond man kneeling in front of the boy inspecting him. If there wasn’t an altercation she would dare to say the man was extremely good looking. The boy starts to sob and tells him something inaudible between the sobs.

“Abagail, what happened?”

“He threw sand on me and pushed me,” Abby whispers, wiping her nose on her mom’s dress. Y/N’s blood started to boil, she removes herself from her daughter and taps the man on his shoulder roughly. At first, he doesn’t react to the taps, his attention fully on his son. She growls and taps him again harder. He slowly looks up and locks eyes with the enraged mama bear. His green eyes match her same anger. But oh damn, his green eyes are marvelous.

He thought the same, her Y/H/C lightly waved the wind god he wanted to run his fingers through it. He thought the red in her cheeks from the anger was adorable. Her eyes were beginning to suck him in, but he was too angry for these thoughts no matter how tempting.

“Your son threw sand and pushed my daughter,” Y/N was fuming. He stands and towers over her, his hands pull his son behind him in defense.

“Your daughter hit my son in the eye,” he jabbed back.

“I highly doubt that, she’s not the violent type.” She crosses her arms in defense puffing out her chest.

The man does the same, mimicking her body language “Then do you care to tell me why his eye is turning purple?”

“Who teaching their kid to throw sand?”

“She probably threw the first punch.”

Y/N scoffs “Did you just accuse her?”

“I’m not denying it!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her jaw clenched tightly “Where did he learn his manners?”

As the adults go back and forth with the accusations and the questioning of parenting methods, the two children peak out from behind their parents’ protective defense. The boy slips away and walks over to Abby, his hand still holding his eye. Abby clutches to her mom’s dress but curiously takes a step forward “I’m sorry I hit you,” she whispers.

The boy smiles and takes his hand away from his face to push back the blond curls that got stuck to his forehead “I’m sorry I threw sand at you…and pushed you. I just wanted to play with the dump truck,” he sighs sadly, fiddling with the hem of his blue and white striped shirt. Abby’s pink lips form a smile and she steps away from her mom, who was still arguing with his dad.

“Do you still want to play? We can share,” she offers. The boy smiles a toothy grin and they walk away from their parents to play together.

The parents stay locked in a bitter battle of words until Y/N looks down “They’re playing,” she observes.

“James let’s go!” The man takes one more look at Y/N before huffing to his son and whisking him away. James complains as he’s ushered away, looking back at the women. Abby waves apologetically and looks up at Y/N who was still fuming.

“Good riddance, that man is terrible. Hot, but terrible…let’s go, Darling, you need a bath.”

Abby puts aside the dump truck and stands up, wiping the sand off her hands “Can we come back?” she whines.

“Maye this weekend, we have a big day tomorrow.”

And it was a big day, it was the first day of school. Abby looked up at the tall building and gulped loudly as she clutched onto the strap of her pink backpack. 3rd grade was a big deal “Do you think I’ll be good at reading?” she asks.

Y/N runs her hand through the girl’s brown curls “You’re going to be amazing, Abs.” Y/N kneels down and rubs her daughter nervous shoulders “Are you ready?” she asks kindly.

Abby sighs sadly but nods in agreement “Yeah.”

Y/N shifts her head and sees her friend at the top of the stairs “There’s Aunt Lucy, let’s go say hi,” she suggests, holding onto her hand. Abby puts on a brave smile and nods following behind Y/N.

“Y/N!” Lucy gasps in excitement pulling her friend into a tight hug. Y/N hugs back patting Lucy’s back “Are you ready?”

“For 8 hours of peace? Hell yeah,” Y/N laughs as they pull away. Abby and Lucy’s daughter had already started laughing, checking out each other’s new backpacks.

“We’re more excited then they are,” Lucy notices, biting her lip.

Y/N laughs and follows the girls into the school, weaving in between the school children. Abby freezes in the hall when she sees a familiar face with a darkened eye “James!” She calls happily as he goes into a classroom. She grips the pink straps and runs off catching the attention of her mom.

“Abby?” Y/N questions, walking in the direction of the room she went into. Ironically it was the classroom she’d be in. She raised an eyebrow and looked inside ‘Mr. Ben Jones’ was nicely written on the chalkboard. She starts to look around when all the blood drains from her face, a look of shock taking over her expression. The man from the other day was talking to other parents with a kind smile, his hair lightly slicked back, the sleeves of his blue dress shirt was pushed up to his elbows. Her eyes trail down, those dress pants were doing his defined legs justice. His appearance aside…he’s be teaching her daughter!

“Y/N?” Lucy nudges her friend in concern of her frozen state. Ben looks up and matches Y/N expression.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he mutters, placing his hands on his hips.

“Son of a bitch,” Y/N whispers.

Lucy switches her gaze between them “Do you guys know each other?” she asks.

“My kid punched his kid in the face.”

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy oneshot #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fanfic #roger taylor #ben hardy!roger taylor #ben!roger taylor imagine #borhap

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magmahurricane · 5 years ago

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A decade of friends - in no order, here’s to all the amazing people in my life old and new!

@shinkumancer : I remember following your work waaay back in the Archie Comic days. I had always been too shy to approach you, but I loved your work. I still remember so much of your Egg Boss art and it’s insane how far you’ve come. You’re still one of the sweetest, kindest people I know and I always enjoy the little drawpile sessions we have!

@zlatis-art : We haven’t been friends for very long - it’s roughly been a year, now, but it feels like we’ve been friends longer. Something just... clicked when we met, and god I came on strong looking back! I don’t regret it tho - taking the plunge and letting you into my life was such a good call. You’re super patient and you strive so hard to treat everyone fairly and give people so much love. You’ve come such a long way with both your OCs and your art, and our calls are always so much fun!

@sege-h : Would you believe I actually don’t remember exactly how we met...? I know it had something to do with the Sonic RPC iirc. But you’ve always been such a wonderful source of optimism and joy, and I love our talks! You’ve always been so supportive of me and I don’t know how to thank you for it?? I need to draw Storm and Carey doing more shenannigans when I get better!

@rainingautumn : I also don’t recall how, other than vague recollections of the Sonic RPC I think. I feel like I learned so much from you - you’ve provided me with different perspectives, which really helped me open my eyes to a lot of things. You’ve always been such a warm, positive presence while still standing firm and speaking up for yourself, which is so hard to do. I love your little messages, even if I don’t always know how to respond to them!

@boy-of-silence : You’re legit one of my oldest friends around and looking back on where we started it’s honestly kind of insane? We met on dA and we were practically babies like??? It’s insane, I remember so much and it all blurs together like mad, but we’ve always just sorta stuck by each other and I’m always so happy to see you on my dash. You got me into Homestuck, and you made me curious about Bioshock (I still need to finish Infinite), and I still remember the little art collabs we used to do...! I got nothing but good memories!

@kismeti : We don’t talk much, but I’m hoping to change that soon! I love your work, and you’ve put so much into your OCs. Seeing you tweet about petsites makes me think about Neopets and I age 500 years every time,, You honestly seem so sweet and kind and I can’t wait to see what more you’re gonna share with us in the new year!

@fini-mun : I don’t talk with you as much as I should (purely because I’m shy as all get out) but you’ve honestly been such an inspiration to me. You’re so incredibly kind and patient -- I still have that doodle you sent me while I had been down in the dumps. I remember I found you so intimidating when I first met you on dA, when I first tried to commission you -- and watching you grow as an artist and getting to know you has been so great! You don’t know how much I smiled that night when I expressed how I knew nothing about BatIM and you up and streamed the entire game live. I know we were both excited to play FO76 together and that was a let down for like, the entire fandom. But we should definately hang sometime and do stuff! Give your ratties my love!!

@oddpastrys : JAAADE,,, I vaguely remember meeting you in one of Kaden’s streams,, and then in Joan’s weird campaign. You’ve always been such a fun, energetic person and you always bring the best jokes. Deadass, watching RWBY with you both ruined it and enhanced it. You’re so much fun to be around and you always work so hard to cheer everyone up and please everyone, and we don’t say thank you often enough - I don’t thank you often enough. You’re so sweet and fun to be around and I’m 100% not sorry about all the horrible, horrible things I’ve made you see.

@calderscauldron : Kaden!!! You’re another one of my oldest friends, and it’ll never be wild to me how insanely lucky it was that I happened to move to the same state as you. I remember when we were dumb kids on dA, and how you used to joke about kidnapping me -- and how my first thought when getting to Texas was “I should see where this guy lives and meet up!” sjkfdjkfs It’s been a helluva ride and I don’t regret it. We had our bumps and fallouts but we’ve always worked through it all -- and your art has come such a long way. You’re always so sweet and so much fun to be around. You deserve so many nice things and I can’t thank you enough for sticking by my dumb ass for so long!

@haunted-pixel : Yet another decade-old friendship! Bronwyn it’s been such a fucking wild ride. I still remember your old OCs from back in the day; I remember our gryphon friend group, and our lizard group and screaming about digimon, I remember getting really into Kimba/Jungle Emperor Leo cos of you and your OCs, I remember all the drawings of Z and Miki. I remember Nuki and the others. It’s been such a long time and so much has changed around us both. We don’t talk as much anymore but I’m always thrilled when we do hit eachother up on twitter!! I seriously gotta draw more Carey x Zanity sometime. You’ve also just, improved so much as an artist and branched out so much?? Your plushies and your fursuits are absolutely amazing and I can’t believe how far you’ve come! I also still have the sketches you and your sister did for me when I was technically homeless and stuck in the hospital and I’ll always treasure them - and the Nack you made for me is still sitting cozy on my shelf, along with the yeen and Sonic you sent!

@nuttyrabbit : My absolute best friend!!! And probably most unexpected friend! I remember seeing your posts in the Archie Sonic tag way back when, and how my asshole ex used to rant about how she hated you for w/e reason. I used to be so intimidated by you because you told it how it is, and I respected your opinion so I was always lowkey afraid you thought I was stupid and hated my ideas/OCs. But even before we got close, you stuck your neck out for me when things got bad between my ex and me. And in 2018, we finally just started to click with our OC stuff. Lady Luck became a huge comfort dynamic for the both of us. You always argue against it but I still say you’re one of the kindest people I know. You always try to look out for me and find ways to lend a hand when things get tough, you’re always trying to help me when I’m down and you go out of your way to cheer me up and I can’t thank you enough. Meeting you at RTX this year was incredible. Thank you so much for being you. <3

@finitevus : We don’t talk much but I can’t not add you!!! You’ve been so kind and supportive to me, and artistically you’ve always been such a big inspiration. I love your character designs and your writing is so so good, and you always strive to be so positive and warm to others and I promise I’m not ignoring you when you reach out; I’m just very shy and dumb ankjdjkfs I need to,,, say hello on discord sometime. And draw you many things!

@lightdax : You’re always a whole lot of fun and I refuse to apologize for your eyes with half the shit you’ve been exposed to by proxy. You’ve always been really sweet and you’ve really been pushing to improve this past year and it shows! Take time off your mayoral duties for the town of Cuckoldia and put up your OC bios tho! @nvllspace : I,, gotta tag ur RP blog cos IDK ur personal but JACKKIIEE. You’re so sweet and fun and your art is always such a treat. You came through with helping me realize just how toxic a certain person I needed to cut out of my life was, and you’ve always been so kind and supportive. You’re always a blast in our calls and I love your AUs so much! Also you need to stop having so many gorgeous characters cos holy shit,,,

@frecklefacefromouterspace : Nixe! You’re usually busy these days but whenever we do catch you it’s always fun. If it wasn’t for your old server, the current server wouldn’t have even existed and you brought us all together! You’re always so sweet and bubbly and you have one of the cutest, most distinct styles I know.

And to all my other mutuals - thank you all so much for sticking by me! I’m having difficulty typing now so I’m sorry I couldn’t get to everyone but sincerely: thank you, all of you, for making these past years such an amazing ride. I’ve learned so much from each of you and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for 2020!

#I'M SAPPY SO SUE ME #<3

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aestheticsandwriting · 5 years ago

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One-Shot a Day, Day 4: Power Outage. RvB

Day 4: Power Outage. The overnight blizzard has caused a power outage. Thankfully the cabin Tucker, Junior, and Wash are staying in has plenty of firewood and candles, and the three brought plenty of card games and board games to keep them busy.

“Hey, bud, how long have you been up?” Wash jogs down the stairs, spotting Junior sitting on the couch, doodling in a notebook, blanket draped over his hoodie-clad torso, taking note of the early time; about six-thirty.

“Not too long, but I moved down here to sleep about two this morning. My room got too cold.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty chilly in here. Had breakfast yet?” Wash tries to set the coffee pot going, not thinking about the lack of electricity until it won’t start, sighing and walking back over to the couch, glancing down to see Junior’s dragon drawings. “I’m going to put some more wood in the fire, and then get me some cereal or something. We’ll have to move all our cold and frozen stuff outside at some point today since the fridge isn’t running.”

“Nope, not too hungry right now. Papa Wash?”

“Yeah?” He smiles at the new name.

“Can I help you put the wood in the fireplace? Dad’s never let me cause he says it’s too dangerous.”

“Sure, I’ll let you help with a couple of small pieces. Big pieces can be really hard to put in cause they roll sometimes, but we can do a few smaller ones instead of one or two big ones.”

“Yay! Thanks!” Junior throws his notebook and pencil on the coffee table and scrambles to the small wood stock they laid next to the fireplace the previous night. The blond man knees down, showing the boy how to put the wood into the fireplace safely, using the poker to make sure the wood is back far enough before they close the door again, rinsing their hands and deciding to get some cereal for breakfast, taking the milk outside and setting it on the porch to stay cold.

After washing out their bowls and spoons, Junior looks at his dad’s boyfriend. “Papa Wash?”

“What’s up?”

“Will you tell me some stories?”

“What kind of stories do you want to hear?”

“I know you don’t like to talk about some of it, but would you tell me about some of your time as a soldier? I want to know what it’s like to be one.”

“Yeah, I think I can tell you some things. I have some funny stories from basic training.” The two lay down on the couch, Wash throwing his arm over Junior’s torso, wrapping them both up in the blanket. “There was this one time in basic,” a chuckle at the memory, “we had this obstacle course we had to do some days in PT. And one of the sections was kind of like a rope wall thing we had to climb. I was terrible at it. Well, that particular day I got my foot caught in one of the ropes, I just dangled there while everyone else was climbing all around me and I couldn’t get free. I had to re-do the course all by myself in front of everyone after they all finished to make sure I could do it in the right amount of time.”

Forty-five minutes and three stories later Wash pauses, glancing down curiously even though the boy can’t see him. “Why have you become curious about my time as a soldier recently?”

“Oh… well. I just am.”

“Junior… what’s going on? If you’re just curious, that’s fine you can tell me, but is there something else?”

“Well… both you and dad were soldiers, so I thought that you would want me to be one, too.” A pause as the boy fidgets slightly, the older man seeing that he wants to say more, so he stays quiet. “And, I figured I should know as much as possible about what it’s like in the military so that way I don’t disappoint you and dad.”

“Oh, Junior.” Wash squeezes the boy tight against him. “Your dad and I want you to do whatever you want to do. If you truly want to be in the military, you can go into the military and we’ll both be very proud of you. But if you want to go to school and become a scientist or a veterinarian, or a nurse, or doctor, or if you want to go to trade school to become a mechanic, or welder, or carpenter, then that’s fine too! We want you to do something that you can be happy or content with. Trust me, it is not worth it to be doing a job that you hate if you have other options. You’re a smart person, and both your dad and I agree that we think you could do whatever you want if you set your mind to it.”

“Oh… So you don’t expect me to go into the army?” Junior squirms, turning himself in his step-dad’s arms so he can face him, concern bright in his dark eyes.

“Of course not.” Wash drops a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Like I said, if you’re just curious about my time as a soldier I’m happy to tell you, and if you want to be a soldier, then your dad and I will be proud of your choice, but that’s not our expectation just because we were both soldiers.”

“Oh… Okay! I like that much better. Cause I was thinking I might want to be an artist.”

“And I think you’d be amazing at it.”

“Could you tell me some stories about when you were a kid?”

“Did I ever tell you about my cat, Loki?”

“Nope.”

“Ooooh man. We had him back when I was a kid. Loki was always getting into trouble. One time he got stuck in a tree in our backyard.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah. My mom’s about to call the fire department when dad stops her. Says he’ll handle it. So he sends her inside and gets out his chainsaw. Dad was never a cat person. So he starts to cut down the tree, but it falls the wrong way. Right into the power lines!”

“What happened to Loki?!”

“Poor cat was electrocuted, falls thirty feet out of the air, lands on his feet, and then walks away like nothing ever happened.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah! Another time, we found him in the dryer once ma had finished a load of laundry. And another time we found him in the engine of dad’s truck. That cat lived to be twenty-five years old.” Wash continues, telling him a few more stories of his childhood, Junior giggling as he obviously embellishes a few of them, and that’s how Tucker finds them close to two hours after Wash had come downstairs.

“Hi, dad!” The boy calls, having stayed in his facing upward position so he could see Wash’s face while he was story-telling, giving him a perfect view of the open landing above.

“Morning, T, nice of you to finally join us.” Wash grins up to where his boyfriend is standing.

“Yeah, I must’ve really needed the sleep. What have you boys been up to?”

“Wash has been telling me about when he was a kid! He had a cat named Loki that could live through anything!”

“Ooooh, that sounds fun. Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah, we both had cereal. The milk is already outside to stay cold. I didn’t measure, but it looks like the blizzard last night dropped about two and a half feet of snow, but I turned my phone on to check the forecast quick, and it looks like it’s supposed to start warming up enough tomorrow to melt it. But who knows how long the electricity will be out, so we should probably move the rest of the cold stuff our there and surround it with snow.”

“Oooh, I’ll put my snow clothes on and pack the snow around stuff if you and dad bring it out!”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s let your dad eat breakfast first, though, okay?”

“Okay. Oh, dad! Wash taught me how to put small logs in the fire this morning, too!”

“I hope that’s okay with you? I didn’t let him put in anything too big.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. He’s grown a lot since last year, and I trust your judgment.” Tucker finally descends the stairs, dropping a kiss on his son’s forehead and his boyfriend’s lips before walking into the kitchen, grabbing a pop-tart and heading back into the living room, nudging Wash feet. “Move, lemme sit.”

“That’s pleasant.” The blond grins at him as he moves his feet, plopping them back down on Tucker’s lap after he sits.

After Tucker finishes, the three don their winter clothing, Junior bundled heavier than the two adults, still volunteering to stay outside and surround their food items with the snow to keep them cold. They set to work, carrying the food out and insulating it.

After that job is done, Tucker sets to work turning on and heating up the gas stove to heat water, dumping in hot chocolate packets once it’s hot enough and passing mugs to his son and boyfriend, picking up his, and then settling on the couch with them again.

“Dad, Papa Wash?”

“What’s up?”

“Can we play some games? Like Uno, or Clue or something? I’m starting to get bored. Wash and I were gunna play more of the racing game today, but we can’t do that until the power comes back on.”

“Yeah, go pick a game and we’ll play!”

“Yes! Be right back!” Junior hops off the couch, running up the steps to his room where the game bag had been placed, running back down with the whole bag a minute later. “I thought it’d be smarter to just bring the whole bag so I don’t have to go back up when we want to change games.”

The trio spends the afternoon and evening playing various games like Uno, Clue, Sorry, and even a round of The Game of Life before deciding to break for dinner. “Wash, will you go out and grab the stuff out there that we need for the quesadillas? I kept the chicken in here thawing cause those will cook with the gas stove and don’t need the oven since we can’t use it right now.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

Once Tucker has the ingredients, he sets to work, cutting up the chicken, placing it, cheese, sauce, and beans on tortillas, folding them, wrapping them in foil and placing each of them on a stove burner, keeping a careful eye on them to ensure nothing catches fire as they cook.

“Dinner’s ready, guys,” Tucker calls, carefully pulling back the foil from the last of the quesadillas, setting them on plates for each of the others to grab as they come into the kitchen and dining area. “Hey, Junior, are you going to sleep down here tonight or do you want to bunk in mine and Wash’s room if the power still isn’t back on?”

“I’ll just sleep on the couch. It’s pretty comfy, plus I’m getting too big to be sleeping in the same bed as y’all.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Yep! Can we play another game of Clue after dinner?”

“Sure, bud.”

After dinner, Tucker sets about finding the candles he knows the landlord stores for power outages, lighting them and setting them around so they can see, Wash re-stocking the fireplace with more wood, also grabbing more from the covered woodpile on the deck to bring in for the night, taking some up to his and Tucker’s room, rekindling that fire, too.

After a few more hours of games, and Junior nearly falling asleep during the last game, Sorry this time, Tucker tells his son it’s time for bed and that tomorrow they’ll put the tree up and decorate it weather they have electricity for the lights or not since it’ll be only two days until Christmas.

The three trudge up the stairs, Junior to put his pajamas on and brush his teeth, Wash and Tucker retreating to their room for the evening, taking a few candles with them for light, making sure Junior has his battery-powered lantern and that all the candles downstairs had been put out and dosed with a slight bit of water for safety. “Come in and tell us goodnight before you head downstairs, J, but make sure you knock first if the door is closed in case we’re still changing.”

“Okay, dad.” Junior’s voice muffles as Wash closes the bedroom door behind them, him and Tucker changing into their pajamas as well, each man throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, not needed anything heavier due to the fireplace in their room.

“Goodnight dad, goodnight Papa Wash. I love you both.” Junior walks into the room, his father having opened the door after they finished changing, signaling to the boy he could come in whenever.

“Goodnight, Junior. I love you, too.” The couple says in unison, Wash hugging him and dropping a kiss to his forehead, before the boy’s father moves to do the same.

“If you wake up cold in the middle of the night cause the fire’s dying, come wake one of us, yeah? I trust you, but I still don’t want you putting in new firewood by yourself, especially not in the middle of the night, okay?”

“Okay, dad, I will.”

“Good. I love you.” He drops a second kiss on his son’s head before Junior turns and walks out of the room, the couple hearing his footsteps fade away down the stairs.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing him call me that.” They each step into the bathroom, brushing their teeth and readying for bed in their normal routine for whenever Wash decides to stay at Tucker’s. “So Junior and I had a talk this morning,” Wash’s voice is soft as the couple crawls under the covers, the dark-skinned man tucking himself into the light-skinned man like normal, and Tucker notes the slight caring concern in the voice that he gets when they talk about an important subject.

“Yeah?” Tucker turns his head enough to make eye contact with his boyfriend. “About what?”

“His future job. He was asking me all sorts of questions about what it was like to be a soldier. At first, I just thought, ‘well, okay, he’s a ten-year-old boy that’s interested in this kind of thing.’ But then he kept asking about things, and when I questioned him about it he told me he thought we would want him to become a soldier because we both were, and he wanted to know what to expect that way he could have plenty of time to be prepared and not disappoint either of us.” A sigh from the younger of the two breaks the silence that had been left by Wash finishing his sentence.

“I wonder where he ever got that idea.”

“No idea.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” Wash pauses for a second, internally marveling at how much Tucker truly does trust him with his child; it’s still so hard to believe sometimes. “That we both want him to do something that he can at least be content with, and hopefully happy doing. And that if he truly wants to become a soldier, we’d be proud, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be proud if he does something different. That was okay, right?”

“Yes, Wash, that was wonderful. You did great. You know Junior really does see you as another father, right? He was ecstatic when I asked him what he thought about you moving in with us.”

“Yeah, I know. I just… Sometimes it doesn’t seem real.”

“I know. Did he say anything about what he might want to do after he found out we don’t expect him to go into the military?”

“He said he might want to be an artist. He’s good at it. I’m sure if he applied that into digital design he could do really well.”

“I bet he could make a killing at that. That or an animator of some kind. But he’s got plenty of time to decide and even change his mind. I can’t believe he’s going to be eleven in a couple months, though.”

“Ugh, stop that, you’re making me feel old.”

“It’s cause you are old.” The younger of the two grins, laughing when Wash playfully slaps him, pretending to be offended.

“Really? Cause I’m pretty sure old guys can’t do this.” The blond slings a leg over Tucker’s waist, straddling the younger man and leaning down to kiss him, grinning when he hears Tucker mumble the word ‘asshole’ against his lips.

“Yeah, but you chose to have me around.”

“True.” As the word leaves Tucker’s mouth the light from their bathroom, which had been on when the power went out the night before, flicks back on, the heating system almost kicking on due to the thermostat being in the cold hallway, not the room filled with the heat from the fireplace.

“I’m going to go lower that temperature so it doesn’t run too much overnight since we have the fires going.”

“Sounds good. I’d like to not wake up in a puddle of sweat.”

“Agreed.” Wash climbs off Tucker, heading into the hallway, and Tucker stands to turn off the bathroom light, getting back into bed when Wash walks back into the room.

“Come ‘ere Mr. not-so-old guy,” Tucker smirks, kissing Wash again as he climbs into bed. “Let’s get some sleep, I have a feeling we’ll be playing in the snow with J tomorrow.”

“Agreed. Goodnight, Tucker, I love you.”

“I love you too, Wash.”

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random-contemplations · 6 years ago

Text

So here’s the fanfic, I might write a pt2 if I get round to it. Also sorry the spacing is a bit shit on mobile, I promise it looks better on the desktop version!

Edit: the whole thing is up on my A03 which is random_contemplations if you want to check it out!

#crisana #skam españa #cris soto #joana bianchi #croana #crisana fic #croana fic #fanfic #tp

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captainkippen · 6 years ago

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I'm sad and if you're still taking prompts, could you write a fluffy prompt of a universe where TJ does dress up as the summer to Cyrus's salt and they're just being all cute and the Mt. Rushmore costume is still completed and things are happy

I GOT YOU BRO.

Costume day is one of Cyrus’ favourite days of the year. It’s the one day of school where everyone seems to really go all out for once. People put a lot of effort into their outfits and it’s always fun to try and guess what some of the more obscure ideas are in between classes. This year, with TJ asking him to do a joint costume, he’s even more excited than usual. He feels a little bad about bailing on Andi because he knows how much she loves the Mount Rushmore costume (it’s been lurking in her closet waiting for a chance to rise again for ages much to the exasperation of everyone else - not that they’d ever ruin her fun by telling her that though). However, it’s hard to be too worried when he knows they’ve got Marty as a backup and TJ wants to do a joint costume. A joint costume of their own inside joke no less. It’s pretty awesome.

When he gets to school he picks self-consciously at the hem of his shirt until he spots TJ walking towards him and he can’t help himself from beaming. TJ’s face lights up in response. He looks so good in his board shorts and flip-flops. They greet one another with the usual handshake and bro hug, lingering for a moment when TJ doesn’t drop Cyrus’ hand immediately.

“Looking good, Teej,” Cyrus says, poking at the sunglasses on his face.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” TJ smiles. “I like the strainer. Nice touch.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Cyrus does a little bow, the strainer sliding forward as he does. TJ catches it quickly with a loud bark of laughter and places back on his head with light fingers.

“Hey, guys!” Comes Buffy’s voice from behind them and the two of them turn to see her with Marty, Jonah and Andi carrying a large papier-mache mountainside with four head holes. Cyrus’ grin widens.

“Good morning,” he greets them.

TJ gives them an odd look. “What’s with the… boulder?”

“Mount Rushmore,” Andi chirps. “That’s what we’re going as. We just have to do the makeup and stuff, we’re on our way now.”

“Oh man, you guys are going to look awesome,” TJ says. “That’s such a cool idea.”

“What about you guys?” Marty asks, then gestures excitedly at Cyrus. “Wait… don’t tell me! I totally get it. Salt!”

Buffy snorts.

“But I don’t get what TJ is meant to be..”

“Summer,” Cyrus provides helpfully.

“Salt and summer?”

“Oh! Summer-salt!” Andi says. “That’s so cute.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Marty sighs. Jonah nudges him and shrugs as if to say ‘me either’.

TJ smiles and throws an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders. “It’s an inside joke.”

The rest of the day follows in a similar fashion but Cyrus finds that he doesn’t mind explaining the costume to people over and over again. Every time they do, TJ gets this big soft smile on his face like he’s really proud of himself for thinking of it and that makes it hard to feel anything but pleased. It’s confirmation over and over again that TJ really cares about their friendship, that he actually enjoys being around Cyrus and thinks about the memories that they’ve made on a regular basis.

It probably shouldn’t take as long as it does for everything to click for him.

He’s sat in English class before lunch and totally zoning out on whatever their teacher is talking about because he’s thinking about TJ’s smile when someone asked to hear the somersault story a little while ago. When he looks down at where he’s been doodling mindlessly on the page he realises that he’s filled the corner of his notes with little scribbled hearts. Oh no.

The bell goes and all of a sudden he’s incredibly glad that Buffy is in this class with him because it makes it so much easier to grab her as they head out the door. He pulls her aside and sort of just flails at her for a moment, letting loose incoherent babbling mess of words at about eighty miles an hour while she stares at him with wide eyes.

“Cyrus,” she says, putting her hands her shoulders to ground him. “Speak slower. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

And with that, he calms down just enough to say, “TJ.”

“What about him?”

“I think I have a crush on him,” he blurts out.

There’s a pause. Buffy diverts her eyes upwards like she’s praying for boys to be less stupid then looks back at him, exasperated. “You’re only just figuring this out now?”

“What?!” He squawks. “What do you mean I’m only just figuring this out? You knew? How did you know?! I didn’t even know, how could you have possibly known that!”

“We just figured-”

“We?!”

“Yes, me and Andi.”

“Andi knows?! How do you-”

Buffy clamps a hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him for the time being and gives him an impatient look. “You guys spend a lot of time together. Like a lot. And that wouldn’t be unusual except for the fact you’re always touching each other and looking at each other like you’re the only two people in the world. Did you know you talk about TJ literally all the time? And he’s the same with you. You’re in a couples costume, Cyrus. I can’t believe you didn’t realise this earlier.”

He says something but it’s muffled by her palm and she drops it. “What?”

“I said,” he repeats in disbelief. “Are you implying that TJ also has a crush on me?”

“Obviously.”

“But we don’t even know if he likes boys…”

“Cyrus, he brought challah to your Bubbe’s shiva. He reported Reed’s gun to the police for you. He made up with me, Jonah and Andi because of you. He taught you how to do a somersault and then came up with a costume for it. If he doesn’t like you I’ll eat my own foot.”

Cyrus leans back and lets his head thunk back against the wall in a stunned daze. Buffy’s right. Oh God, she’s so right. He has actual, legitimate, romantic-type feelings for TJ Kippen and TJ probably has those same feelings for him. How the hell did this even happen?

“I know your brain is like exploding right now,” Buffy says, only half-sympathetic. “But can we go get lunch now? I’m starving.”

Cyrus and TJ walk home together and the two of them end up sitting by the pond in the park. It’s become one of their top places to hang out, ever since the gun incident, and the peaceful way that the sun falls on them while a soft breeze blows over the water does not match the pace of the reeling thoughts in Cyrus’ head at all. He knits together a chain of daisies as he thinks - he, Buffy and Andi used to spend hours making all sorts of flowery jewellery just like that. It’s soothing.

“You okay?” TJ asks, knocking their elbows together. “You’re really quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts? Though… I don’t think I actually have a penny on me. The pockets on these shorts suck,” he jokes and Cyrus can’t help but laugh a little.

He’s always doing that. He’s always making Cyrus smile and laugh without even thinking about it. Things are so easy around TJ and it’s all hitting him at once. He’s never felt like he had to be anything but himself around him. Never felt pressured to try and be ‘normal’ or change. TJ listens to his rants and his rambles and his info-dumps. He listens to Cyrus talk about his hyper fixations non-stop, then he goes away and looks them up so he can take part in the conversation in a meaningful way. In return, he shows Cyrus the things he loves and always looks so happy to do so… as if he wants Cyrus involved. He wants Cyrus to be a part of his world.

Cyrus wants to hold his hand and cuddle up to him on the couch when they watch television. He wants to go on picnic and bowling dates, to the movies and arcade together. He wants to steal TJ’s hoodies, take tons of cheesy pictures for Instagram and make so many inside jokes together that they can’t possibly remember them all. When he looks at TJ it’s like his heart is overflowing with emotion. How did he not see it before?

“Why did you want to do a costume together?” He asks.

TJ shrugs and picks at the grass beside him. “It seemed like fun. It was a cool idea, right?”

“It was awesome,” Cyrus confirms.

“Why d’you ask?”

Cyrus shrugs and looks away. “It’s nothing. Just… don’t worry about it. Here,” he finishes threading the daisies into a circle and drops it over TJ’s head so it falls around his neck. TJ beams at him and the butterflies in Cyrus’ stomach erupt into an excited flurry.

“Do I look pretty now?” TJ asks teasingly.

Cyrus can’t stop himself when he says, “You always look pretty.”

He feels himself going red and TJ raises his eyebrows in surprise. He doesn’t look mad or uncomfortable though, just slightly amused and like he hadn’t expected Cyrus to say it. He supposes that’s fair - he hadn’t expected himself to say it.

“Thanks, Underdog,” he replies. The sincerity of his tone is startling. “You look pretty too. All the time.” And then he kisses Cyrus on the cheek, leans back and bites his lip nervously. “Sorry, was that okay?”

The space on his skin where TJ’s lips pressed is still tingling and Cyrus lifts a hand to his cheek to press his fingers against it softly as he nods. “More than okay.”

“Great,” TJ says, his dopey smile returning full force, and he lifts his own hand to take Cyrus’ from his cheek and thread their fingers together. “I’m glad you said yes to the costume.”

“I’m glad you asked.”

They grin at each other and return to talking about their days. The daisy chain that hangs around TJ’s neck gets pressed between the pages of a book and kept in a box of memories for years to come. Ten years after that day by the pond, Cyrus hangs a picture of the two of them in their matching costume on the wall of the living room in the first house they buy together. It’s pretty awesome.

#tyrus #andi mack #my writing #anonymous

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asexualbert · 5 years ago

Text

#NewsiesQuarantineProject

Week 3, day 3!

This is really just the BEGINNING of a thing. But I don't know if the thing will ever get compleated so...🤷

Ship: Albert/JoJo

JoJo looked around the mostly empty lab, trying to decide on the best seat. He knew well enough how a high-school worked; you pick a seat the first day and that becomes your seat for the rest of the semester. He assumed that was the same in public schools.

He eyed the front row distastefully. His aunt would want him front and center, to soak up all that good learning or whatever it was she thought happened up there that didn't happen in the back other than the board being a little blurry.

Screw what Meridith would want. She wasn't here anyway. He liked physics and had no interest in wearing his reading glasses anymore than he had to.

He took a seat in the back of the room, satisfied. He knew it was kind of pathetic as far as acts of rebellion went, but his aunt was good to him and she'd never really given him much reason to rebel against her anyway. It was more the principal of the thing. Independence. He was nearly eighteen, he should be able to make his own decisions.

"Hey! Watch yourself! You're gonna pull out the new one!"

"Well that's what you get for piercing something in my swinging range!"

"Everything's in your swinging range noodle arms!"

JoJo had just pulled out his notebook and begun doodling absently when he heard the two laughing voices from the hallway. He didn't intend to eavesdrop but they were loud and his doodling wasn't particularly captivating anyway.

"You're so mean to me! I don't know why I keep hanging out with you, I should just dump your right now."

"Well if you do that, then you won't have anyone's basement to live in when the whole kid genius thing proves to be a total sham."

"I'll live with Jack."

"The art major?"

"Valid point. I guess we'll have to keep you around, he'll need a basement too."

"Well then I'll just have to get rich and buy a really big house for you two to mooch. Shouldn't be too hard. Not rocket science. Oh, wait."

"Yeah yeah. Get to class NASA," the second voice was laughing and JoJo looked up just in time to a boy backing into the classroom, hands up in surrender, laughing at his friend.

"I'm goin' I'm goin'."

The boy tuned around, shoving his hands into his pockets and... Crap. He was really attractive.

He was also everything Aunt Meridith would want him to avoid. If one were to open his aunt's personal dictionary to "bad influence" there would be a giant picture of this exact boy.

As far has JoJo could tell, there wasn't anything wrong with him really. He would just be much too... Alternative for his aunt's tastes, as she would put it. He was wearing a dark green snapback backwards and JoJo could just see bright red hair that was buzzed on the left side, showing off about five piercings in his left ear. He was wearing an extremely flattering black leather jacket, with patches all over the sleeves and back.

He snapped his eyes back to his page. Meridith was always telling him, no girls until he was out of school. He had to focus.

He'd always assumed the same rule applied to boys. And for boys with spiky earrings and chains on their belts? Well, the time rule was probably extended to "never."

That didn't mean he couldn't look though. Maybe this guy would sit somewhere that gave him a good view. He kept an eye on him without looking up from his page. He didn't want to everyone to know he was watching a hot guy choose a seat. And he definitely didn't need Leather Jacket to catch him looking.

But as is Murphy's law...

He glanced up, to see where the guy had ended up since the last time he'd looked barely a second before to find him walking straight in his direction. So as not to look like the creep staring at a stranger in the middle of a physics classroom, he averted his eyes again, hoping the guy was going towards a corner or something, and would pass quickly. For a second he thought that was exactly what was happening, until a tattered black backpack was tossed down next to him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Albert DaSilva, as he'd found out was his name, turned out to be the absolute worst.

As suspected, the seats they'd chosen had become pretty permanent, and with a full class, JoJo had found himself sitting next to the leather clad asshat for the past two and a half weeks.

Albert hadn't said or done anything specifically wrong he supposed. But he sat there everyday, in an AP physics class. A class for good, dedicated students who actually cared about what was being taught and who would put in an effort and didn't just pull out their phones and fool around and barely take notes because Albert couldn't possibly be writing anything of substance since he looked at his notebook maybe twice per class.

The guy just bugged him.

And the worst part was that he never seemed to be struggling in the class. Despite the fact that he spent all his class time on his phone, fooling around, napping, staring at JoJo like he knew something he didn't, or asking ridiculous questions that would have nothing to do with the topic of the lesson, he always seemed to do well on tests, always had the answers to questions he was asked... It was infuriating.

Well... Maybe that wasn't the worst part, he thought as he glared subtly at the boy sitting next to him, smirking at his phone and paying absolutely no attention to the teacher. The worst part was that he really was insanely attractive. And now there was just no way that was fair!

"Alright, looks like we're running a little close here so we'll leave it there for today and pick up right away tomorrow. I'm not going to say you have to because I know most of you won't, but if anyone's interested, take a look over pages 178-182, it should give you a little extra information and get you ahead a little. Have a good day guys."

The teacher's voice snapped him back to attention as she wrapped up the class. He glanced down at his notes,

"Shit..." He'd missed a pretty decent chunk.

He quickly scribbled down the homework, it couldn't hurt to get ahead and maybe the reading would help fill in gaps in his notes. He stood to collect his things, very intentionally not looking at stupid Albert DaSilva with his stupid devil may care attitude and the stupid way he made JoJo miss so much of the stupid note, and started making his way back to his locker.

#newsiesquarantineproject #watchwhathappensfromafar

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 years ago

Text

The Magnificent Guide to Magic

Introduction

I’m gonna fucking kill those guys I’m gonna hex them really I am

Hi, my name’s Marvin and I’m a magician. I know that sounds like the introduction to a primary school “all about me” paper, but I got nothing better to start this with. So I’m gonna give you lovely readers a background as to what you’re reading and why I’m fucking writing this.

Yeah, magic exists. If you immediately called me crazy, don’t worry you’re not the first. But apparently I gotta write this, so your opinion means fuck all here. Get rid of them for a little bit and read.

I told you I’m a magician. That means that, surprise, I have magic. Poof! ✨ Enjoy my sparkle doodle cause I’m not erasing it. Thing is, I’m not the only magician in the world. There are a shitload of us, all part of an underground society like Harry Potter. This is something that I did not know for most of my life as a magician, because apparently the way I discovered my powers is not usual. I was looking up normal magic tricks—slight of hand, you know, and I found an actual spell. I figured “hey, let’s try it out for the lols and also the words could add some pizzazz to my tricks” and then it actually worked. I started looking up more spells, trying them out, developed my magic, and then next thing I know I’ve attracted the Magic Police.

Okay that’s not what they’re called but it’s what they are. Because magicians have that, to stop other magicians from committing crimes with magic. Especially crimes against people w/out magic. And amoung that list of things against the law are putting spells on the Internet but not on one of the official spell websites. Those are a thing. And according to the Magic Police, I never once visited one, only illegal sites. Which, they said, is forgivable because I didn’t even know the magician community was a thing. It’s apparently pretty rare to be self-taught. Usually some other magician senses your power and finds you and trains you, or you grow up already knowing what’s going on.

So they let me off the hook, provided I didn’t consult any more non-official sources that could be dangerous and made my own book of spells. It’s a tradition, I guess, and it’s also supposed to contain info I’ve discovered and experiences I’ve had. Naturally, I agreed to this. And then once they left, I went “fuck the police” on them. Guess what Magic Police? I checked your official sites and locations, and none of them are as actually useful as all the off-the-grid stuff I got so far! And writing a book is gonna be a huge waste of time when I’ve got more important shit to be doing.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were wondering why I ended up writing this. Did I change my mind? See the benefits my book of spells could offer future generations of magicians?

Nah, my friends just locked me in a closet.

So what happened: I was over at my friend JJ’s house with my other friend Schneep trying to make a plan of attack just catching up, and I mention the Magic Police incident. The two of them were like, “hey, shouldn’t you do what the Magic Police says?” and I was like, “not if it’s fucking stupid.” Then they looked at each other and I honestly should’ve guessed something was up at that point. It was a look of “you know what we need to do” communication but I just brushed it off as a “this worries us because we’re your friends” look. We kept plann chatting, eventually JJ leaves the room for a long time to “go to the bathroom” and then comes back and we keep going, and then Schneep’s like “ah yes ve need somezing from ze closet let all ov us go to get it even zo it should not take all ov us” (he’s gonna murder me for writing his accent that way well not if I murder you first doctor-man) so we go to the closet, JJ’s like “Marvin you go in first,” I do, and they slam the door on me and say they won’t let me out until I’ve gotten a good portion of writing done.

It’s not a bad closet, at least. Pretty big, there’s a couple lamps and candles so I can see well. I only feel the walls closing in on me a little bit hahahahaha I need to hurry and write this thing and maybe should’ve told the two of them at some point in our months and years of knowing each other that Im pretty fucking claustrophobic maybe they wouldve at leastchosenabiggerroom

Okay moving on and channeling anger at my traitor friends so that there’s no room for panic attacks, anyway they said I’m in enough trouble with the law already (long story—basically the Normal Police think I kidnapped my friend Chase’s kids and I didn’t—long long long story) so I shouldn’t anger the magic authorities. They left me some snacks and water, an empty book with a fancy leather cover, and one of JJ’s fountain pens—yes, the scribbles on the last page are me trying to get used to it.

So if for some reason you decided to pick up this book and read it, I want it known that I was forced into writing this and that’s why it’s basically only a semi-organized collection of notes and snarky remarks. Yes that last part is necessary. So strap in unfortunate readers Imma word dump all my knowledge on you hopefully before my heart gives out from beating too fast. Let’s fucking go!

((Ayyy new series-ish. Mini-series. I dunno, I figured if I’m gonna write a magician on a regular basis I might as well set up some established rules for this world’s magic and supernatural occurrences. I have absolutely no idea how long this will be, I’ll probably just write as the rules occur to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’ll be a thing with no set schedule for that reason too, but hopefully people will enjoy this anyway ^-^))

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #magnificent guide to magic #this is gonna be the set rules in both the aus as well btw

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exploradora-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Secrets: A Red Dead 2 Fanfiction

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur takes the day off from working and spends time with Mary Beth. Getting curious about each other's journals, they play a game of dominos in order to potentially catch a glimpse of the other's secrets.

Word Count: 2.2k

Note: Thank you to @girllwonder and @little-box-of-flower-pots for helping me out and supporting me as I write. Thank you @arcadiaforamateurs for the gif. This story just shows more friendship related themes as opposed to romance, and I overall enjoyed writing it. Thank you to those who read it!

**********************************************

Arthur returned to camp late into the night, the stars and full moon shining overhead. He hitched his horse and trudged over to his tent, bags already present under his eyes. While he was no religious man, he decided tomorrow would be his own day of rest. He knew for a fact he didn’t want to do any work tomorrow, no matter how minuscule the task. After all he had had to endure that day, he certainly deserved a break.

********************************************

The next day Arthur rose and poured himself a cup of coffee. Suddenly, Ms. Grimshaw came storming after him across the camp.

“Mr. Morgan! I can’t help but notice you’ve slept in a bit.”

Arthur scowled. “Pipe down, Ms. Grimshaw, I got back to camp a bit late last night and-”

Arthur was taken aback by a light smack on the shoulder. “I don’t want to hear none of your excuses, Mr. Morgan! We’re all putting forth effort to make this camp run smoothly, and I can’t have any lazy bums hangin’ around here moochin’ off of everyone else? Is that clear, Mr. Morgan?”

He let out a sigh and continued to sip his coffee. “Ms. Grimshaw, I just need one day where I just... take a break. I’ve been hunting for Pearson, collecting debts for that old bastard Strauss. Hell, why don’t you put Uncle to work? That man probably ain’t worked a damned day in his life.”

Ms. Grimshaw let out a loud huff. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get that old coot to work. It just ain’t in his blood.”

“Well, can I please just get one day for resting, Ms. Grimshaw? I promise I’ll be right back to work first thing in the mornin’.”

Ms. Grimshaw rolled her eyes. “Fine, but it’ll cost you!”

Arthur, almost out of habit, pulled out a small stack of bills and handed them to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. First thing in the morning, are we clear?”

“Clear as the day, Miss.”

***************************************

Arthur sat on a tree stump near the camp, struck a match on the bottom of his shoe, and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag before beginning to blow smoke rings. He stared into the sky, clouds drifting through the sea of blue. He let out a long sigh. What a beautiful, boring day, he thought to himself, but at least he was relaxed. That was all that mattered to him at that point.

“Good morning, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped and looked where the voice was coming from.

Mary Beth.

“You doin’ alright?” She asked. “It ain’t like you to just sit here doin’ nothing. Something on your mind?”

“Nah, it’s nothin’ just... takin’ a break is all. Grimshaw said it was okay, but not after smackin’ me first.”

To that remark, they both giggled.

“Mind if I join you?” She asked.

“Sure.”

She plopped down next to the stump. He noticed her clutching her journal to her chest.

“You write anything good lately, Mary Beth?”

She blushed slightly and looked down at her feet. “Not much, just some short poems, a few doodles here and there. Doesn’t matter much, they’re all poppycock anyhow.”

Arthur chuckled a bit. “Nothing wrong with writin’ poppycock. What do you think my journal’s filled with?”

They continued laughing while Arthur pulled out a cigarette.

“Wanna smoke?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not!”

Arthur struck another match, lighting his own cigarette, then hers. He handed it to her, which she accepted and placed it between her delicate lips.

Inhaling and letting out a puff, Mary Beth looked to the sky.

“You sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about Arthur?”

He thought about it for a second, then said “You just got me to thinking about my journal again.” He pulled it out of his satchel, the leather slowly starting to show visible signs of wear.

She smirked. “Oh really? Well, I’ve always wondered what sort of secret things you always write about in there.”

Arthur chuckled. “Slow down there, Mary Beth, there ain’t no way in hell I’m letting you read this thing.”

“Tell you what: I’ll show you a page of mine if you show me a page in yours. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Arthur shook his head. “There’s a such thing as knowin’ TOO much, Mary Beth.”

She let out a huff. “Fine... you’re no fun.” She arose and started to walk off.

“Wait, hold on....” Arthur let out a defeated sigh. “Tell you what... how about a game of dominoes?”

She paused. “I’m listening...”

“Well, let’s just... keep at dominoes for now, then maybe later we can share a page or two out of our journals. Sound good?”

She turned back to face him and smiled. “Well, Arthur, you’ve peaked my interest. You’re on!”

*****************************************

Arthur sat down with a groan and dumped out the box of dominoes. He began to mix them up in a large pile.

“Alright, you ready, Mary Beth?”

“Of course.”

They began the game. The goal was to get to sixty points. The game progressed with Arthur having only a few points more than Mary Beth. Eventually, the two of them were tied 48-48.

“Damn, this is a close game!” Arthur exclaimed.

Mary Beth laughed. “You’re tellin’ me!” She looked down and gave a little smile.

Arthur looked up at her and frowned. “What are you thinkin’ about over there, Mary Beth? I know it ain’t nothin’ good.”

“Oh nothing, Arthur. I was just going to suggest we raise the stakes a little.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“Well, what if the winner gets to read THREE pages out of the loser’s journal instead of just one?”

Arthur sighed. “You’re pushin’ it, Mary Beth.”

She laughed again. “It’s anyone’s game, Arthur. Who knows? Maybe YOU’LL be the one who gets to read MY journal!”

Arthur scratched his chin in thought. There honestly wasn’t much that he desperately wanted to find out about Mary Beth. At the same time, he didn’t want her to up and quit dominoes on him. He was bored, and anyway, what was the worse she could have read in his journal? His had some doodles here and there like hers. He remembered just how close the point totals were, and suddenly, he became drunk with confidence.

“Ah, what the hell! What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I knew I’d get to ya, Arthur! Let’s get this over with so I can read that journal of yours!”

“Slow down, it’s only three pages, Mary Beth, and don’t assume you’re gonna win until you do!”

The game commenced once again. Arthur lost the next round and counted the point values of his dominoes.

12 points, the exact amount needed for her to win.

“Yes! I win, Arthur! Now let’s see that journal!”

Arthur rolled his eyes “Calm down, it ain’t that big of a deal. You get three pages.” He looked around. “Let’s get away from camp before someone hears all my secrets.”

She giggled as they returned to the stump near the camp. Before Arthur could sit on it, Mary Beth plopped down on it.

“I believe this seat is for winners only,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes once more. “Okay, here you go.” He hesitantly handed over his journal. “Three pages...”

She accepted the journal. “Might as well start with the first page.”

She began skimming some parts and reading out loud others.

“Hmmm Blackwater.... got this journal....”

Arthur sighed out of embarrassment. “I know, I write like a fool.”

“No Arthur, it’s fine. This is just the introduction to the entire thing after all. It’s not bad, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for...”

“Well what are you lookin’ for, Mary Beth? All of my deepest darkest secrets? You got two more to go...”

He looked down out of shame.

Mary Beth closed her eyes and flipped to a random page. She stared at it for a second, then a huge grin formed on her face.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, trying to look over her shoulder.

Mary Beth giggled and turned the journal to face him. It was a picture of a brown and white stallion.

“You didn’t tell me you were such a good artist, Arthur!” She exclaimed.

Arthur blushed profusely. “Oh that... that’s uh....” he continued stumbling over his words.

Mary Beth continued smiling. “Don’t worry, Arthur. I won’t let anyone know the ‘Big Bad Arthur Morgan’ is actually a talented artist.”

Arthur put his head in his hands, but couldn’t help laughing at her remark. “Just read the last page...”

Mary Beth continued laughing and lightly thumbed to the next page. She skimmed through and read out loud a few things to herself.

“Dream... hmmm... mhmmm.. Nightmare...they were...gone.”

Her smile quickly faded and she froze.

“Mary Beth, what...”

“I’m sorry... Arthur I...”

“It’s alright. What is it?” He began to grow more worried.

“I had no idea about umm....” she cleared her throat. “Eliza...”

Arthur froze and remained still. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Mary Beth handed the journal back without making eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, Arthur, it was my stupid idea. I shouldn’t have made you share anything so personal.”

Arthur shook his head and mumbled “It ain’t your fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.” He took his journal and walked away with his head down.

“Arthur, wait! It’s okay!”

But Arthur continued to walk away in silence.

***************************************

Arthur lay in his cot in a state of worry. What was wrong with him, allowing Mary Beth to read something that personal to him? He remembered when he first agreed to her bet, he figured, ‘what’s the worse she could have read?’

A hell of a lot, he thought. He felt like the most dimwitted man in the world.

A pit began forming in his stomach and his mind swam with troubled thoughts, that she was telling other people about...her. About Eliza.

Eliza... no one knew about her except Hosea and Dutch, and even they were sworn to secrecy.

Suddenly, he heard the flap of his tent and a rustle.

“Arthur, it’s... Mary Beth. Do you want to talk?”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. “Sure, come on in.”

She opened the tent flap fully and stepped in. “Arthur, I just wanted to say-“

“Mary Beth, it ain’t your fault. I... shouldn’t have let my guard down.”

Mary Beth shook her head. “Arthur, it’s okay to be upset, but I don’t want you getting down on yourself just because of something I suggested. I also came by to... well... to ask you if you wanted to go for a walk with me?”

Arthur hesitated a bit, but eventually nodded. They stepped outside of the tent into the warm sun and began to walk.

The two of them strolled onward in silence for what felt like ages, neither of them making eye contact with the other one and both looking at their feet. Mary Beth was the first to break the silence.

“Lots of people have secrets, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Mary Beth paused before asking, “did I ever tell you about my mama?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Well, not a lot of people know this but... she died when I was fairly young. We were poor but... we had each other. She taught me to read, taught me how to steal for a living, and taught me that love was all that mattered in life. When I lost her, I was devastated to say the least. She was... murdered,” She paused for a few seconds, then quietly added “and sometimes I have nightmares about it.”

Arthur nodded in contemplation. “Yeah, my mama died when I was young, too.” He sighed. “We sure do live in a cruel world, don’t we, Mary Beth?”

Mary Beth smiled. “You’re one of the few men, the few people even, that recognizes that, Arthur. My point is, most secrets you want to keep, but sometimes it’s nice to share some of these things with those closest to you, because you know they won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone your secret Arthur.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “And I know you won’t tell anyone mine.”

To this, Arthur smiled. “Thank you, Mary Beth.”

She smiled. “Would you like me to share one of my silly poems with you?”

He laughed. “Sure!”

They both found an area to sit down as she cracked open her journal.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she began to read.

‘I cannot help but stop and look at the intense passion.

Are you enthralled by how pure it is?

Does it tear you apart to see a passion so strong?

I cannot help but stop and look at the delicate romance.

Never forget the fine and lovely romance...’

She stopped reading. “That’s all I have so far,” she started to blush and laugh.

“Well uh... good job Mary Beth.” Arthur’s face turned red as well.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s absolute hogwash...”

“No, it was good! Better than any one of my silly old horse drawings.”

They both started laughing. “So are we even now, Arthur?”

Arthur chuckled “Of course!” He looked to the sky, seeing the sun slowly setting. “We should probably head back to camp.”

“Let’s keep this between us, shall we?”

“Of course.”

With that, they both headed back to camp, neither of them relishing the thought of resuming work tomorrow. Perhaps they could discuss their writings another day. For now, simply being in the presence of a supportive friend was the only thing they really needed.

#arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #red dead redemption fandom #red dead redemption #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #susan grimshaw

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lentaska · 6 years ago

Text

Height Difference - Part 3

Have been busy with job and class, another crazy week passed soon :)

Note: Featuring Madman Fulton. First person POV, OFC from non-wrestling background. New oc is out and he is a good-looking asshole :) This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them.

oc: Birdie (some doodles)

Tagging: @thecristsandcallihanmadness @monstersmaid @morie-leigh

Part Three “what if he loses you”

Trying new things would help people to know more about themselves, for example, this morning - the first morning of our “cohabiting experiment” - I just learned that I actually hit Fulton in sleep.

“And it’s not only the hit, you also kicked me. I woke up once around 5 am.” Fulton added more information. “The good thing is, you behaved after tucking yourself into my arms.”

Now I had the answer for why I woke up in Fulton’s arms and he looked like just had a battle.

“Sorry, I didn’t know that before. Did I hurt you?” I asked, rubbing his hand.

He chuckled, “with your strength? Of course. You will definitely defeat me in the ring.”

An odd idea popped up - it’s probably because I had watched one wrestling match and was motivated - I might be able to fight him for real.

This was also a naive idea, Fulton tried hard not to laugh at it and discourage me, although I still could see the grin he hid. He announced in joking tone, “if you lift me up for even half inch, you win.”

“I’m taking it seriously.”

“I know.” He opened his arms to me, grinning, “c’mon Birdie.”

The rule was simple. I took a deep breath, grabbed his waist and lifted him up - or tried to lift him up because he was not moving AT ALL, so I did another attempt but still failed. Wondering how this was possible, I heard Fulton’s voice, “wanna take a break?” based on the cheerfulness in the tone, he was holding back laughter.

“It’s warm-up.” I explained indignantly, making myself sound tough.

“Alright, alright.” Fulton snickered, “take your time.”

In a match or challenge related to strength, longer it took, less chance to win because the strength would come to exhaustion eventually, hence my third attempt was much worse and I couldn’t help gasping. I knew Fulton was built and strong, but I didn’t expect him to be this... heavy. This man was a brick wall, if I ever accidentally knocked against him, I would be dizzy for a while.

“Are you ok?” asked Fulton.

Managed to catch breath, I found myself the worst excuse, “I’m... hungry. You know, I have no strength when I’m hungry.”

Fulton nodded, pretending to believe my words.

I gave up, “I can’t do this. I was being silly to think that I can fight you.”

“Let me see...” he check the clock, “Five minutes, good job.”

“Take that smirk back.” I elbowed him gently.

Fulton grimaced and acted like he got hurt from my “attack”.

Rolled my eyes at him, I asked, “are you still taking me to your match tonight?”

“Of course, but this time you don’t need to make script about what to say to my friends.”

I guess he would not let go of any silly thing I did. He thought those things were “cute”. Like the time I freaked out on his Jason costume on Halloween and screamed “don’t kill me”, he still brought it up. It didn’t annoy me though, probably because of the affectionate way he used.

When I arrived locker room with Fulton, the ambience was uneasy, the Crist brothers and Sami looked anxious, I had never seen them behave in such way, something serious happened.

I looked up at Fulton, who responded with the same confused expression. Noticed our appearance, Jake waved at us first, then Dave and Sami came to us.

“Do you know that your opponent is replaced?” asked Sami.

Clearly Fulton was not informed in advance, “whom I’ll be facing then?”

“The new guy just joined 3 weeks ago, we don’t know much about him.” Dave shrugged, “I don’t remember his name.”

Jake let out a sigh, “How can you forget one simple name... his name is Vasiliy. ”

The name brought Fulton on the alert. Subconsciously, I grasped Fulton’s hand more tightly. I did this when I was on nerve and I found myself doing this more often since dating Fulton, mainly because I had panic every time he had match. “Is he difficult to deal with?” I asked, praying that Vasiliy guy was just a regular wrestler.

Sami snapped in detestation, “he is plague.”

If the Death Machine himself commented a person so negatively, then this person was a real trouble.

“Sami is right.” Jake frowned and turned to me, “although it’s highly unlikely, if you ever run into that guy, leave immediately.”

Another Crist nodded, “something is wrong with him.”

I froze at their words. There was one moment that I wanted to ask Fulton not to go, but I couldn’t, it’s his match and I needed be supportive. I took a deep breath, said - more like to comfort myself, “Fulton will win easily, I have faith in him.”

I was very wrong.

When Vasiliy showed up, I had goosebumps. He wore a plain mask with antlers, both hands were covered by bandage, and he was holding barbed wires. The audience had two contrasting reactions on his entrance, some cheered him while the others hooted in disapproval, but one thing was for sure, the world was almost when he took off the mask. It’s not exaggerated to say, Vasiliy had the most angelic face I had ever seen.

However, his moves were far from “angelic”. He hit Fulton right on belly several time with barbed wires twined around his hand, and then his face. I almost screamed in shock. Since I was close to the ring, the excitement on Vasiliy’s face was clear enough to make me sick.

“We shouldn’t let the fun end too soon, shall we?” the man chuckled, dumping one of the boxes which were set in the ring for their match. It’s a box of Lego blocks.

Fulton struggled to get up, but one foot stomped on his back maliciously. Grabbed a full hand of blocks, Vasiliy gave a harmless smile, then he forced Fulton to open his mouth, stuffed the blocks in and smashed his face to the ground.

My stomach twitched in agony. I knew wrestling match could be violent and wrestlers were trained to limit the hurt to opponents, but I could tell that Vasiliy’s doing was on purpose. He wanted hurt his opponent in the most painful way.

Although Fulton gained the upper hand later on and won the match, the prince was high, he almost collapsed due to multiple wounds and exhaustion. It hurt me to see him in such terrible shape, so I left auditorium and found my way to the backstage, all I wanted was to return to the locker room and hug my dreadlock bear.

But I ran into someone I shouldn’t. The black-haired man whom Sami referred as “plague” blocked my way, smiling innocently. The aura of him was like poisonous mist, whirling and tangling

“Vasiliy...”

I took one step back. The Crist brothers cautioned me against getting involved with him, plus what he did in the ring, he was the last person I wanna see now.

“My honor to be remembered by you.”

“It’s a... nice match” I said, against my will.

“I can imagine how much you loved to witness Fulton’s victory.” he giggled. “But I did have fun in making him bleed.”

The memory of him stuffing Lego blocks in Fulton’s mouth and smashing his face disgusted me. I wasn’t sure how this match went into such way, but that scene made my stomach twitched in agony. And now he said making Fulton bleed was “fun” with no regret? Was the personality and behavior he showed in the ring actually a reflection of himself in life?

I forced myself to be polite, “it’s late, I have to go...”

“To find your boyfriend?” he tipped his head a little, in the most harmless way I could imagine, but somehow I was alarmed. “Although joining this brand happened only weeks ago, I consider myself to be informed. I know Fulton loves you dearly. I’m quite curious: what if he loses you?”

I saw the excitement on his face, his smile twisted. He was serious.

Vasiliy’s eyes locked on me, “when I was seven, mother bought me a parakeet. She was beautiful and docile, I cherished her with my heart, but a stray cat killed it. Beautiful things never last long, do they?”

In the next moment, his hands were on my neck, I heard his sweet but malicious voice, “how adorable you are, I wonder what your scream sounds like.”

The strength pressed on was squeezing air out of me, I struggled, the suffering from suffocation and instinct for survival made me fight back for the slenderest hope, even though what I could do was nothing comparing his power.

“Scream, lil’ bird,” Vasiliy sneered, “or you prefer to suffer?”

Tears welled up from fear, it might be easier if I just screamed - he might let me go - but I could not let him win.

I attempted to get out of him by kicking and smacking, although I got him couple times, those attacks didn’t help me but instead stimulated his desire for destruction.

When I was about to give up, I heard Fulton’s furious roar, “you fucking leave her alone!”

The pressure on my neck was released, I was pulled into a firm embrace. Fulton had one arm locked me tightly, another arm was in defence posture. Based on how messed up Vasiliy looked, he already got punch on face from the mad dreadlock bear.

Stroking where Fulton hit, Vasiliy chuckled, “you’re almost late to save her. I was about to make her scream but she’s a tough one.”

Fulton gnashed, almost rushed out to give him another good punch, “you touch her again and I will break your fucking face, you hear me?!”

“‘Stupidity is also a gift of God, but one mustn’t misuse it’, you never know how naive you are, but it’s fine. We will meet again and have better game to play.” the angelic-looking man waved goodbye at me.

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” Fulton checked on me, “what else did he do?”

“Nothing besides strangling me.”

Unbuttoned my collar, Fulton’s face clouded over with anger. I was nervous, “what’s wrong?”

“You should see it by yourself.”

In the phone camera, I saw faint hand print on my neck.

“I’m gonna kill that scum...”

“He was serious about hurting me, but why? I didn’t even know him.”

“Vasiliy was new in the brand but he had feud with Sami in another brand, and it’s not only in rings. We act like crazy and bad dudes in the ring, but he is different. His personality in real life is what he shows in the ring.” Fulton wiped away my tears and patted my back, I saw how scared he was. He thought he would lose me.

“So he attacked me because I hang out with oVe?”

He nodded, whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong. And don’t think I’m gonna keep distance from you guys, because I like your friends and I will learn to protect myself. If Vasiliy ever does stupid thing again, I’ll kick him between legs hard.”

Chuckled, the dreadlock bear stroked my cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Yet I didn’t realize Vasiliy would become the most horrifying nightmare.

#Wrestling #Wrestling Fanfic #sawyer fulton #madman fulton #Fulton #fanfiction #fanfic #OC #impact wrestling

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